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THE 
WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

VOLUME    II 


IRiSlRAM    ANU    IShLLT 

A ,  „■    ,hf  painting  hy  Xcel  L,  A'libet 


Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


THE    WORLD'S 

HERITAGE 

OF  •  EPICAL  •  HEROIC  •  AND 
ROMANTIC  •  LITERATURE 

BY  DONALD  A.  MACKENZIE 

WITH  •  ILLUSTRATIONS  •  BY 
NOEL  •  L.  NISBET  :  IN  •  TWO 
VOLUMES  :  VOLUME  •  TWO 


THE  GRESHAM  PUBLISHING  COMPANY  LTD: 
66  CHANDOS  STREET  COVENT  GARDEN  LONDON 

MCMXIX 


P/V 


SANTA  BARBARA^^^ 


■J 


V.2 


(?^ 


Preface 


The  first  volume  surveyed  the  world's  great  epics  from  the 
dawn  of  civilization  till  the  Miltonic  Age.  This,  the  second 
volume,  deals  with  a  representative  group  of  heroic  and  romantic 
narratives  in  verse  and  prose,  some  of  which  will  be  found  to 
have  epical  characteristics  and  tendencies.  Most  of  them  are 
of  medieval  origin,  and  all  of  them  have  exercised,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  a  degree  of  influence  on  the  growth  of 
modern  literature.  The  interests  they  possess  for  students 
are  as  varied  as  they  are  fruitful.  Apart  from  their  merits  as 
works  of  art,  they  are  of  special  value  and  importance,  for 
instance,  to  those  who  desire  to  devote  attention  to  the  evidence 
they  afford  of  racial  and  national  characteristics  that  persist  in 
a  country's  literature  and  impart  to  it  a  distinctive  colouring. 
As  in  the  fabled  magic  glass,  a  people  is  revealed  in  its  lays 
and  romances,  and  this  is  especially  true  of  the  literary  re- 
mains surviving  from  periods  of  crisis,  when  the  national  con- 
sciousness was  passing  through  early  formative  stages.  The 
ancient  poet  or  story-teller,  in  his  capacity  as  an  entertainer, 
had  of  necessity  to  make  popular  appeal.  In  doing  so,  he 
became  an  interpreter  of  the  culture  with  which  he  was  most 
familiar;  he  portrayed  national  habits  of  life  and  thought. 
Even  when  he  dealt  with  the  past,  he  maintained  the  attitude 
of  his  own  Age,  voicing  its  ideals  and  revealing  its  fundamental 
tendencies.  His  works  have  consequently  an  undoubted  his- 
torical value.  We  do  not,  of  course,  expect  from  him  reliable 
records  of  events.  As  a  rule,  the  poet  played  havoc  with  history, 
especially  when  he  glorified  great  heroes  like  the  knights  of 
Arthur  and  Charlemagne.     Such  traditions  as  he  found  at  hand 


vi  PREFACE 

had  previously  been  coloured  by  folk-imagination,  and  perhaps 
fused  with  others  that  had  clung  to  earlier  heroes  or  even  to 
gods  of  remote  antiquity,  and  he  invariably  reshaped  his 
material  in  accordance  with  the  traditions  of  his  art.  The 
poet,  however,  may  give  us  what  is  often  sought  for  in  vain 
in  the  writings  of  prosaic  chroniclers  of  events  —  glimpses  of 
the  inner  life  of  his  times,  impressions  of  the  men  and  women 
to  whom  his  characters  appealed,  and  indications  of  their  ideas 
of  right  living  and  right  thinking.  Withal,  he  could  not  help 
revealing  himself  as  a  representative  man  of  his  Age.  He 
seems  ever  to  say  to  us.   in  Shakespeare's  words, 

Everj'  word  doth  almost  tell  my  name, 

Showing  their  birth  and  where  they  did  proceed.^ 

In  some  of  these  literary  relics  of  the  past  can  also  be  traced 
cultural  influences  that  passed  from  one  country  to  another 
along  the  available  channels  of  communication,  or  were  im- 
ported by  invaders  whose  descendants  mingled  what  had  been 
brought  with  what  had  been  found  in  the  conquered  country. 

A  beginning  is  made  in  this  volume  with  Beonmlf,  the  out- 
standing masterpiece  of  Anglo-Saxon  literature,  which  is  some- 
times called  an  epic,  but  is  more  aptly  described  as  a  heroic 
poem.  This  notable  work  is  a  product  of  an  obscure  period 
in  English  history,  when  the  Angles  and  Saxons  and  the 
subject  British  peoples  were  readjusting  the  conditions  of  life 
amidst  the  confusion  caused  by  the  shock  of  invasion  and  con- 
quest. Although  it  does  not  deal  with  events  that  happened 
in  England,  it  reflects  the  habits  of  life  and  thought  of  the 
military  aristocracy  formed  by  the  intruders.  Beowulf,  the 
hero,  entered  England  as  a  stranger,  and  he  has  remained  in 
it  as  a  stranger,  splendidly  isolated,  for  there  is  no  Beowulf 
cycle  in  English  literature,  ancient  or  modern.  He  came  with 
the  invaders  from  northern  Denmark  and  southern  Sweden, 
and  his  history  must  therefore  be  traced  on  the  other  side  of 
the  North  Sea.  The  culture  of  which  he  is  a  symbol  and  a 
relic,  was  subsequently  obscured  when  Norman -French  and 
Celto-British  influences  became  powerful  and  widespread.      As 

'  Sonnet  Ixxvi. 


PREFACE  vii 

is  shown  in  the  introductory  notes  to  the  summary  of  Beowulf, 
indications  are  afforded  by  the  poem  that,  before  it  had  reached 
its  final  stage  of  development,  there  had  occurred  in  England 
a  fusion  of  imported  and  local  cultures,  suggesting  a  fusion 
of  the  conquerors  and  the  conquered. 

An  interesting  contrast  is  presented  by  the  Deirdre  romance 
which  follows  Beowulf.  It  is  representative  of  Celtic  culture 
as  it  flourished  in  Ireland  during  the  period  when  England 
was  being  overrun  by  Angles  and  Saxons.  Beowulf  has  a 
strong  masculine  note,  and  certain  Miltonic  characteristics.  It 
is  a  good  example  of  Anglo-Saxon  realism,  with  its  clear, 
graphic  pictures  and  precise  statements  of  fact,  occasionally 
relieved  by  pleasing  and  graceful  imagery,  as  when,  for  in- 
stance, a  boat  is  compared  to  a  bird  and  called  a  "foamy- 
necked  floater ".  The  poet  never  shrinks  from  the  obvious 
and  the  commonplace,  and  is  prone  to  detail,  like  a  stock-taker, 
the  various  articles  of  treasure  captured  by  a  hero  or  gifted 
by  a  king.  To  him  the  sea  sings  no  mysterious  ditty,  nor 
makes  any  appeal  to  his  sense  of  wonder;  its  currents  wash 
the  waves  against  the  sand.  Deirdre,  on  the  other  hand,  dis- 
plays to  a  marked  degree  Celtic  impressionism,  with  all  its 
charming  word  magic  and  deft  and  airy  touches.  Emotions 
are  suggested  rather  than  expressed  in  detail,  and  there  are 
but  vague  indications,  for  instance,  of  the  construction  of  dwell- 
ings or  the  habits  of  seafarers.  Although  much  has  been 
written  about  what  is  called  "Celtic  gloom",  Deirdre,  like 
many  other  Gaelic  literary  relics,  is  found  to  be  full  of  the  joy 
of  life.  Love  is  exalted  as  an  ideal,  and  there  is  a  characteristic 
passion  for  nature  and  an  unaffected  delight  in  its  beauties  and 
human  associations.  A  sea  cliff  glistens  artistically  in  Beowulf; 
it  awakens  a  world  of  tender  and  alluring  memories  in  Deirdre. 
There  is  much  colour  in  the  old  Gaelic  story.  Colour  is  infused 
even  into  the  gloom  of  its  tragedy;  its  night  obscures  a  radiant 
sunset  and  the  twilight  lingers  long.  In  contrast,  Beotmdf  re- 
sembles more  a  gloomy  winter  day  drifting  to  a  rayless  end. 
Like  Dr.  Johnson,  its  hero,  or  rather  the  Anglian  poet  who 
sang  of  him,  is  a  fatalist,  morbidly  conscious  of  doom  and  the 
vanity  of  life.  Johnson's  saddest  words  might  well  have  been 
written  by  the  author  of  Beowulf.     "Our  sense",  declared  the 


viii  PREFACE 

immortal  doctor,  "is  so  much  stronger  in  what  we  suffer  than 
of  what  we  enjoy,  that  the  ideas  of  pain  predominate  in  almost 
every  mind.  What  is  recollection  but  a  revival  of  vexation,  or 
history  but  a  record  of  wars,  treasons,  and  calamities?  Death, 
which  is  considered  the  greatest  evil,  happens  to  all.  The 
greatest  good,  be  it  what  it  will,  is  the  lot  of  but  a  part."  Yet, 
gloomy  as  he  was,  Johnson  was  a  strong  and  brave  man. 
Similarly,  the  gloomy  Anglian  hero  Beowulf  was  ever  manly, 
resolute,  and  fearless,  and  he  was  upright,  withal,  according 
to  his  lights.  It  may  be  that  the  appeal  he  now  makes  is  so 
severely  limited  because  he  is  an  exponent  of  might  rather  than 
right;  he  represents  the  conqueror  rather  than  the  liberator,  for 
even  his  struggle  with  Grendel  is  intended  to  emphasize  his 
superhuman  powers  rather  than  his  adherence  to  a  benevolent 
cause  or  a  great  ideal.  His  ethical  code,  it  may  be  added,  is 
not  a  high  one.  When  he  is  dying  he  is  content  to  find 
satisfaction  in  remembering  that  he  never  picked  treacherous 
quarrels  or  murdered  any  of  his  relatives.  The  chivalrous 
note  that  characterizes  the  wildest  of  Celtic  tales  is  conspicuous 
by  its  absence.  Yet,  w^hen  all  is  said,  the  poem  possesses  an 
enduring  charm  and  value  from  a  literary  as  well  as  a  historical 
point  of  view.  Its  gloom  is  a  characteristic  of  early  Anglo- 
Saxon  literature,  which  is  in  reality  more  gloomy  than  anything 
genuinely  Celtic. 

Deirdre  is  followed  by  the  beautiful  Arthurian  romances, 
which  belong  to  a  new  Age.  Old  English  literature,  which 
had  come  under  Latin  influence  after  the  introduction  of 
Christianity,  was  arrested  in  growth  by  the  Norman  Conquest. 
Romance  was  then  revived  in  the  land  of  the  ancient  Britons, 
for  French  culture,  as  absorbed  by  the  Normans,  infused  the 
literature  of  England  with  a  new  and  higher  life  that  happily 
stimulated  the  development  of  native  genius,  which  was  destined 
to  find  expression  in  the  greatest  poetry  in  the  world.  The 
very  language  underwent  a  process  of  change;  the  English 
of  Beowulf,  which  had  been  decaying  prior  to  the  Conquest, 
became  quite  obsolete.  Arthurian  romance  was  an  "outcrop" 
of  the  Charlemagne  cycle,  but  the  son  became  not  only  greater 
but  more  virile  than  the  parent,  for  although  the  influence  of 
the  chansons  de  geste  has  long  passed  from  French  literature. 


PREFACE  ix 

the  legend  of  Arthur  has  continued  till  our  own  day  to  stimulate 
the  imaginations  of  great  poets. 

A  new  dawn  in  our  literary  history  was  ushered  in  when 
the  goodly  king  and  his  Knights  of  the  Table  Round  crossed 
the  Channel  and  went  pricking  over  the  plains  of  England. 
They  did  not  come,  it  would  seem,  as  entire  strangers,  although 
speaking  a  strange  tongue;  indeed,  it  may  be  held  that  they 
were  returning  to  their  country  of  origin,  for,  as  will  be  gathered 
from  the  evidence  summarized  in  the  Introduction  to  the  repre- 
sentative Arthurian  romances  included  in  this  volume,  it  is 
probable  that  their  prototypes  were  of  northern  origin.  The 
struggles  waged  by  the  Scots,  the  Britons,  the  Picts,  and  the 
Angles  in  various  parts  of  southern  Scotland  may  well  have 
provided  much  of  the  legendary  matter  incorporated  in  the 
Arthurian  romances.  There  was  a  real  Prince  Arthur  in  Scot- 
land;  he  was  the  son  of  a  Christian  king.  In  the  Lancelot 
story  are  undoubted  traces  of  the  Dermaid  and  Grainne  legend, 
and  the  germ  of  the  Tristram  and  Iseult  tale  is  to  be  found 
in  a  Gaelic  legend  located  in  Ross-shire;  the  lovers'  graves 
may  still  be  seen  on  an  island  in  Loch  Maree,  where  they 
are  marked  by  sculptured  stones.  The  Arthurian  cycle,  how- 
ever, be  the  origin  of  the  legends  what  they  may,  undoubtedly 
grew  under  French  influence.  In  the  famous  romances  Medi- 
aeval French  religious  mysticism  blends  with  themes  of  love 
and  heroism  and  with  ideas  of  chivalry  akin  to  those  that 
pervade  the  Charlemagne  cycle  and  the  much  older  Cuchullin 
cycle. 

The  influence  of  the  new  culture  as  it  spread  like  reviving 
spring  over  England  is  apparent  in  Layamon's  Brut,  which 
strikes  a  higher  imaginative  note  than  Beowulf.  This,  the 
first  great  English  poem  after  the  Conquest,  was  composed  on 
the  banks  of  the  Severn,  where  Celtic  as  well  as  Anglo-Norman 
influences  must  have  prevailed.  Extracts  from  the  Brut  are 
given  in  the  section  devoted  to  it,  and  portions  of  the  poem 
have  been  drawn  upon  in  the  Arthurian  section. 

After  the  Brut  comes  Barbour's  Bruce,  a  poem  which 
strikes  a  distinctive  national  note,  celebrating,  as  it  does,  the 
Scottish  War  of  Independence.  Interest  in  it,  however,  is  not 
confined  to  the  people  of  whom  it  is  a  symbol  and  to  whom 


X  PREPACK 

it  is  a  record  of  great  achievements.     Indeed  the  Bntce  makes 
international  appeal  by  reason  of  its  underlying  theme. 

Ah,  Freedom  is  a  noble  thing ! 

is  the  keynote  of  the  poem. 

The  mental  habits  and  fundamental  tendencies  of  a  people, 
which  have  been  shaped  and  fostered  by  social  and  political 
conditions,  are,  as  in  the  Bruce^  vividly  set  forth  in  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied,  the  so-called  "national  epic"  of  Germany.  It  affords 
us  picturesque  glimpses  of  military  aristocracies  and  is  per- 
vaded by  an  atmosphere  of  old  romance,  but  the  subdued  note 
of  chivalry  in  the  first  half  of  the  poem  is  hushed  by  scabbard- 
rattling  and  the  jingling  of  stolen  treasure.  The  lay  may  be 
briefly  characterized  as  an  unconscious  study  of  ideal  villainy. 
Treachery  and  even  murder  are  justified,  or,  at  any  rate,  given 
sympathetic  treatment;  for  the  villain  of  the  piece  —  the  un- 
chivalrous  and  bloodthirsty  Hagen,  who  stabbed  Siegfried  in 
the  back  and  robbed  his  treasure — becomes  ultimately  the  hero 
of  the  minstrel  and  his  audience.  A  materialistic  note  pervades 
the  entire  poem,  which  is  quite  devoid  of  idealism.  In  the 
Arthurian  romances,  the  knights  go  riding  forth  in  quest  of 
the  Holy  Grail.  The  knights  of  the  Lied  are  ever  in  quest 
of  gold,  and  this  quest  involves  not  only  the  murder  of  Sieg- 
fried, but  the  treacherous  slaughtering  of  his  widow's  kinsman 
at  the  instigation  of  the  widow  herself.  This  lay  was  popular 
in  mediaeval  times,  and  its  popularity  has  been  revived  of 
recent  years.  In  these  days  it  is  invested  with  more  than  a 
literary  interest,  for  it  seems  to  shed  a  lurid  light  on  German 
mentality. 

A  larger  and  healthier  atmosphere  pervades  Norse  saga 
literature,  to  which  a  section  is  devoted.  The  northern  sea- 
rovers  knew  nothing  of  mediaeval  chivalry,  but  their  spirit  of 
adventure  and  their  struggle  with  elemental  forces,  as  well  as 
with  rival  peoples,  imparted  hardy  virtues  which  commend 
them  to  modern  minds.  Olaf,  nicknamed  the  "Peacock", 
comes  closer  to  us  than  does  a  Perceval  or  a  Galahad.  Norse 
saga  literature  strikes  quite  a  modern  note.  The  characters 
are  as  realistic  as  those  in  a  latter-day  novel.  To  the  historian, 
saga  literature  is  of  undoubted  importance,   because  it  throws 


I'REFACE  xi 

light  on  a  period  of  our  history  of  which  our  surviving-  records 
are  all  too  scanty.  The  hardy  Norseman  crossed  the  North  Sea 
not  merely  as  a  plunderer  and  conqueror,  but  also  as  a  trader 
and  colonist,  and  in  certain  areas  in  these  islands  not  incon- 
siderable proportions  of  the  population  are  partly  of  Scandi- 
navian descent.  The  settlements  effected  were  considerable, 
but  ultimately  the  native  population  achieved  an  intellectual 
conquest  of  the  intruders. 

France  is  represented  by  the  finest  of  the  chansons  de  geste, 
The  Lay  of  Roland^  in  which  French  chivalry  and  heroism  is 
vividly  revealed.  Charlemagne  was  an  ambitious  conqueror, 
but  in  the  metrical  romances  he  is  an  idealist — a  knight  of 
Christendom.  As  such  he  appealed  to  minstrels  and  courtly 
audiences.  In  the  Lay  as  in  the  Lied  there  is  a  villain,  but 
while  the  Germanic  Hagen  is  glorified  into  a  hero,  the  French 
Ganelon  meets  v/ith  speedy  punishment.  His  loyalty  to  the 
king  is  not,  as  in  Hagen's  case,  regarded  as  justification  for  his 
treachery.  It  is  impossible  to  think  of  a  France  which  would 
exalt  Hagenism  into  a  virtue.  Roland  symbolizes  the  heroism 
of  his  countrymen,  which  has  ever  been  intensified  in  times 
of  crises.  He  is  a  greater  and  nobler  figure  than  Siegfried,  and 
his  faithful  betrothed  bride  Aide  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a  more 
womanly  woman  than  Kriemhild. 

The  maritime  fame  of  Portugal  is  enshrined  in  that  remark- 
able heroic  poem,  deserving  of  the  name  epic,  The  Lusiads  of 
Camoens.  Its  hero  is  Vasco  da  Gama,  who  discovered  the  sea 
route  to  India,  and  inaugurated  maritime  commerce  between 
East  and  West.  The  poet  was  as  notable  a  man  as  his  hero 
and  kinsman.  Himself  a  wanderer  and  adventurer,  he  was  one 
of  those  poets  who  ** learn  in  suffering  what  they  teach  in  song". 
The  story  of  his  life,  as  summarized  in  the  introductory  notes,  is 
more  remarkable  than  that  of  Da  Gama's.  He  discovered  no 
new  kingdom,  but  he  made  a  nation  discover  itself;  The  Lusiads 
symbolizes  Portugal  as  truly  as  does  its  national  flag;  it 
imparted  enduring  qualities  to  the  Portuguese  language,  and  it 
made  possible  a  distinctive  Portuguese  literature.  The  Lusiads 
is  the  greatest  literary  work  that  Portugal  has  produced,  and  it 
occupies  a  notable  place  in  the  literature  of  Europe. 

In  the  Poema  del  Cid  the  heroism,  idealism,  and  glamour 


xii  PREFACE 

of  romantic  Spain  are  given  eloquent  and  enduring  expression. 
The  hero  was  a  historical  personage,  who  captivated  the 
imagination  of  a  people  after  they  had  suffered  long  from  alien 
oppression,  and  had  happily  won  ascendancy  over  the  con- 
queror. It  has  to  be  recognized  that  the  Cid  of  romance  is  a 
better  Christian  than  was  the  hero  in  real  life;  the  legends  that 
gathered  round  his  memor}''  were  coloured  by  national  ideals, 
and  it  is,  consequently,  the  romantic  Cid  who  is  most  repre- 
sentative of  Spain.  Just  as  the  prophet  judged  Israel  by  its 
gods,  so  should  the  Spanish  people  be  judged  by  their  Cid. 
No  country  has  a  more  picturesque  or  larger-hearted  national 
hero.  He  is  presented  to  us  as  a  man  of  supreme  courage,  a 
faithful  subject  and  ally  even  when  wronged,  an  intense  patriot, 
a  hater  of  sham,  who  despises  the  intriguer  as  heartily  as  he 
does  the  coward,  a  faithful  husband  and  father,  and  not  only  a 
champion  of  the  Christian  faith,  but  an  exemplary  Christian, 
who  succours  a  despised  leper,  to  find  happily  that  he  has 
entertained  an  angel  unawares. 

The  volume  closes  with  Don  Quixote^  that  famous  and 
immortal  satire  of  knight-errantry  and  decadent  romance,  which 
has  long  been  a  classic  not  only  in  Spain  but  in  almost  every 
country  in  Europe  and  in  the  Americas.  Its  influence  on 
modern  literature  can  scarcely  be  overestimated.  Cervantes 
lingers  at  the  elbow  of  every  writer  of  poetry  or  prose  as  a 
friendly  critic,  who  throws  ridicule  on  false  poses  and  empty 
bombast,  and  urges  that  salvation  may  be  found  in  the  realities 
of  life  without  necessarily  forgetting  high  ideals  of  thought  and 
action.  Although  essentially  a  humorist,  he  was  also  a  great 
teacher,  who  by  precept  and  example  showed  that  enthusiasm 
does  not  necessarily  justify  itself,  however  intensive  it  mav  be, 
and  that  great  literature  need  not  involve  slavish  attachment  to 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  past.  Withal  he  was  a  supreme 
master  of  style,  whose  whole  heart  was  devoted  to  perfecting 
his  art.  As  he  was,  therefore,  a  constructive  as  well  as  a 
destructive  critic,  it  is  appropriate  that  such  a  volume  as  this 
should  be  brought  to  a  close  in  the  healthy  atmosphere  of  his 
gentle  irony  and  not  unkindly  humour. 


CONTENTS 


VOLUME    II 

Pagre 
THE   BEOWULF   EPIC— 

Introductory    i 

Beowulf 9 

I.  Fights  with  Night  Fiends 9 

II.  Fight  with  the  Fire-Drake 17 

THE   DEIRDRE   ROMANCE— 

Introductory    23 

Deirdre - 33 

I.  The  King's  Vow-        -------34 

II.   Deirdre's  Love  Dream 38 

III.  The  Mission  of  Fergus        - 42 

IV.  Deirdre's  Life  in  Scotland  ------  45 

V.  Deirdre's  Farewell  to  Scotland 49 

VI.  The  Doom  of  Deirdre         _.-...  52 

THE   ARTHURIAN   ROMANCES— 

Introductory    61 

I.  Purpose  in  Arthurian  Literature         .         ...  61 

II.  The  Historical  Arthur          -..._.  71 

King  Arthur  and  his  Knights— 

I.  The  Coming  of  Arthur        -.--..  83 

II.  The  Tale  of  Balen  and  Balan    -----  97 

III.  The  Knights  of  the  Table  Round       -         .        .         .  109 

IV.  The  Mystery  of  Merlin 116 

V.  The  Treachery  of  Morgan  le  Fay      -         -         -         .  122 

VI.   Pelleas  and  Ettarre      --.-...  131 
xiii 


xiv  CONTENTS 

King  Arthur  and  his  Knights  {Continued)—  Page 

VII.  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac -  140 

VIII.  The  Jealousy  of  Queen  Guinevere      .        .        .         .  148 

IX.  The  Lady  of  Shalott 152 

X.  Tristram  of  Lyonesse 160 

XI.  Tristram  and  Iseult -  169  . 

XII.  The  Quest  of  the  Holy  Grail      -         -  -         -  181 

XI II.  The  Passing  of  Arthur        -  .         ,         .         .  203 

LA VAMON 'S    "BRUT  "— 

Introductory    -        - 211 

The  Brut 217 

I.  The  Quest  of  Freedom         .-__.-  317 

II.  The  Royal  Airman 224 

III.  The  Story  of  King  Leir 226 

IV.  The  Coming  of  the  Englishmen         .         .         .         .  231 

BARBOUR'S    BRUCE- 
introductory    -    235 

The  Bruce         -        . 247 

I.  Scotland  in  Thraldom 247 

II.  The  Treachery  of  the  Red  Comyn     -         -         -        -  253 

III.  A  King  in  Exile-         -.--...  257 

IV.  The  Battle  of  Bannockburn 261 

THE   NIBELUNGENLIED— 

Introductory    -- -    269 

The  Xibelungenlied 277 

I.  The  Wooing  of  Kriemhild 277 

II.   How  Brunhild  was  Won -  282 

III.  How  Siegfried  was  Slain 286 

IV.  The  Vengeance  of  Kriemhild 290 


THE    NORTHERN    SAGAS— 
Introductory    - 


29s 


The  Son  of  the  Slave  Wo.man 305 

1.  The  Boyhood  of  Olaf 305 

II.   Oiaf's  Voyage 310 

ill.   How  Olaf  was  Honoured 314 


CONTENTS  XV 

ROLAND   AND    OLIVER—  Page 

Introductory     317 

The  Song  of  Roland 323 

L  Ganelon's  Mission 323 

IL  Thie  Plot  against  Roland    ------  327 

II L  The  Battle  of  Roncevaux 329 

CAMOENS'   LUSIADS— 

Introductory     - 341 

Os  LusiADOS  (The  Lusitanians) 351 

THE   CID— 

Introductory    ----------  361 

POEMA    DEL    CiD 367 

I.  The  Count  Who  Would  not  Eat        -        -        -        -  367 

II.  The  Cruel  Sons  of  Carrion         -----  372 

CERVANTES'   DON   QUIXOTE— 

Introductory    -- 379 

Don  Quixote -..  389 

I.  How  the  Hero  became  a  Knight       -        -        -         .  389 

II.  The  Cruel  Master,  and  the  Jocular  Merchants         -  395 

III.  The  Story  of  the  Windmills        -----  399 

IV.  Combat  with  the  Brave  Biscayan       ...        -  402 
V.  Adventures  in  a  Wood  and  at  an  Inn       -        -        -  408 

VI.  The  Battle  with  an  Enchanted  Army        -        -        -  411 

VII.  A  Night  of  Terror       -------  415 

VIII.  Sancho  gets  his  Island  and  governs  It     -        -        -  420 

IX.  Don  Quixote  overcome  by  a  Strange  Knight  -        -  430 

X.  Sancho's  Profitable  Penance        -----  433 

XL   Don  Quixote  makes  his  Will  and  Dies     -        -         -  ^37 

INDEX 439 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

Tristram  and  Iseult  (in  colour) Frontispiece 

The  Dying  Beowulf  gazes  upon  the  Fire-drake's  Treasure   -      20 
Merlin  and  Nimue  -        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        .        -118 

To  the  Ship  they  bore  the  Holy  Grail     -----    201 

Bruce  and  De  Bohun     ----_.__-    264 

Brunhild  casts  her  Spear  at  the  Trial     -----    283 

Roland  blows  his  Horn  in  the  midst  of  the  Battle  -  -  333 
The  Cruelty  of  the  Sons  of  Carrion  -  -  .  _  _  ^74 
Don  (Quixote,  Sancho  Panza,  and  the  Fair  Dulcinea     -        -    4<x) 


THE 
WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

VOLUME    II 


THE    BEOWULF    EPIC 

Introductory 

One  of  the  greatest  and  most  highly-valued  treasures  of 
early  Anglo-Saxon  literature  is  the  tenth-century  manuscript  of 
BeoimUf,  which  is  preserved  in  the  British  Museum  Library. 
It  is  bound  up  with  other  literary  relics  in  a  parchment  codex 
rescued  from  an  eighteenth-century  fire  in  Ashburnham  House, 
Westminster,  of  which  it  bears  traces.  It  had  previously  been 
in  the  possession  of  Sir  Robert  Cotton  (1570-1631),  the  English 
antiquary  and  collector  of  literary  relics,  whose  magnificent 
library  of  ancient  charters,  records,  and  other  manuscripts  was 
acquired  by  the  nation  in  1706.  The  i^eoTyz^//"  manuscript  had 
originally  come  from  some  old  monastery  library.  Fortunately 
England  received  Christianity  from  Ireland  and  Scodand,  with 
the  result  that  the  early  English  churchmen  followed  the  example 
of  the  Gaelic  monks  by  collecting  and  preserving  the  national 
literature  and  stimulating  its  growth. 

The  Beowulf  poem,  which  is  of  epical  character,  had  been 

copied  on  the  old  manuscript  by  two   monastery  scribes,   not 

particularly   well-educated   men,   one  of  whom  wrote  a   larger 

"hand"  than  the  other.     The  dialect  is  West  Saxon,  but  it  is 
Vol..  n.  1  30 


2  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

believed  that  the  poem  was  originally  written  in  the  Anglian 
and,  perhaps,  the  Mercian,  dialect.  Its  author's  name  has  not 
come  down  to  us.  He  probably  composed  his  epic  during  the 
latter  years  of  the  seventh  century. 

Beowulf  was  a  Dane.  Although  Rydberg  and  others  have 
identified  him  with  Balder  and  Hermod,  and  he  has  been  called 
"a  form  of  the  sun"  and  a  "light  hero"  by  those  who  would 
have  us  believe  that  ancient  "wandering  minstrels"  engaged 
themselves  chiefly  in  personifying  the  forces  of  nature,  it  is 
possible,  and,  indeed,  highly  probable,  that  he  was  a  real  his- 
torical character.  The  hero's  uncle,  King  Hygelac,  was  the 
Danish  King  Chocilaicus,  who  lived  during  the  fifth  century. 
Beowulf  had  become  the  subject  of  many  a  bardic  lay  before  the 
Angles  settled  in  England.  He  was  imported  into  England  by 
invaders,  just  as  Finn-mac-Coul,  Ossian,  and  other  heroes  of 
song  and  story,  were  imported  into  Scotland  by  migrating 
Gaels  from  Ireland. 

When  the  hero  lays  and  folk-legends  that  had  gathered 
round  Beowulf's  memory  were  utilized  by  the  early  English 
poet  who  composed  the  epic,  the  memory  of  the  homeland  had 
grown  somewhat  faint.  No  towns  are  mentioned,  and  the 
scenery  of  portions  of  the  poem  is  difficult  to  locate.  In  the 
first  part  the  action  is  in  the  Danish  island  of  Zeeland,  which 
is  inhabited  by  the  Scyldings  —  so  called  because  they  are 
descendants  of  the  semi-mythical  hero  Scyld  of  the  Sheaf,  the 
Danish  Tammuz-Osiris,  who  introduced  the  agricultural  mode 
of  life  by  coming  over  the  sea  as  a  child  with  a  sheaf  of  barley 
for  a  pillow.  The  Scyldings  occupied  also  a  portion  of  southern 
Sweden.  Hrothgar,  King  of  the  Scyldings,  is  believed  to  be 
the  long-bearded  Roe,  or  Roa,  in  Saxo  Grammaticus  (Book 
VIII),  one  of  "the  most  famous  of  the  captains  that  mustered 
to  Harold"  in  the  Swedish  war.  Beowulf  is  called  a  Geat. 
Geatland  formed  a  buffer  State  between  the  Danes  of  Scedeland 
in  southern  Sweden  and  the  Swedes  north  of  the  lakes  Wener 
and  Wetter. 

It  is  impossible  to  locate  the  cave  of  Grendel  (the  "  Destroyer" 
or  "  Grinder")  and  his  mother  in  the  first  part  of  the  epic.  The 
reason  for  this  seems  to  be  that  Beowulf  was  not  associated  with 


THE    BEOWULF    EPIC  3 

the  monsters  until  after  the  Angles  had  settled  in  northern  Engf- 
land.  There  is  no  trace  in  the  so-called  North  German  cycle 
of  romance  of  these  monsters.  "I  have  sometimes  thought," 
Stopford  Brooke  wrote  in  this  connection,  "  that  the  Angles 
alone  threw  the  myths  and  tales  of  it  (the  Grendel  adventure) 
into  lays,  and  that  when  the  whole  body  of  them  emigrated  to 
our  island,  they  left  the  Continent  naked  of  the  tale.  ...  I  con- 
jecture that  something  broke  the  literary  connection  on  the  Con- 
tinent, or  that  the  story  was  developed  only  when  the  Angles  got 
into  Britain."  ^  The  Grendel-and-mother  type  of  story  is  quite 
common  in  the  giant-lore  of  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and  there 
are  traces  of  it  in  western  England.  Hags  like  Black  Annis 
of  Leicester,  and  the  *'big  old  wives"  of  Gaelic  folk-lore,  were 
mothers  of  man-eating  giants,  who  came  forth  to  avenge  their 
sons'  deaths.  Cuchullin  was  pursued  in  Ireland  and  Scotland 
by  the  mothers  of  giants  he  had  slain.  When  Finn-mac-Coul 
visited  the  Kingdom  of  Big  Men,  he  slew  the  mother  of  a  sea- 
giant  after  slaying  her  son. 

There  is  no  reason  for  assuming  that  the  Angles  and  other 
invaders  of  England  did  not  become  acquainted  with  the  folk- 
beliefs  of  the  British  peoples  they  conquered  or  allied  themselves 
with.  A  good  deal  of  intermarrying  must  have  taken  place, 
and  the  children  were  likely  to  concern  themselves  more  about 
the  supernatural  beings  of  England  than  those  of  the  Continent. 
No  Beowulf  cycle  grew  up  in  English  literature,  the  hero  having 
been  forgotten,  and  the  Celtic  Arthur  inspired  the  mediaeval 
poetic  masterpiece  Layamon's  Brut — an  imaginative  poem  far 
above  the  level  of  early  Anglo-Saxon  literature.  These  signifi- 
cant facts  suggest  that  the  greatness  of  English  poetry  is  not 
derived  from  the  Angles  and  Saxons  alone,  but  owes  much  also 
to  the  ancient  British  strain  in  England.  The  earliest  relations 
between  Saxon  and  Celt  were  not  always  of  a  hostile  character. 
Saxon  mercenaries  served  Queen  Meave  and  other  Irish  rulers, 
and  are  referred   to  in  Gaelic  manuscripts.^     These  wanderers 

^  History  of  Early  English  Literature. 

*  Some  Irish  scholars  hold  that  Saxons  had  settled  in  Kent  prior  to  the  Roman  invasion. 
After  the  Romans  evacuated  England  Saxons,  Angles,  &c.,  filtered  in  steadily  for  a  century  or 
two.  The  Irish  invaded  tlie  western  coast,  but  not  until  they  became  the  political  rivals  of 
the  Saxons  were  racial  antipathies  intensified. 


4  THK    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

must  have  acquired  a  knowledge  of  Gaelic,  as  Gaelic  heroes 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  dialects.  CuchuUin. 
for  instance,  appears  to  have  visited  England  as  well  as  Scotland. 
On  one  occasion,  while  on  his  travels,  he  met  a  maiden  who 
welcomed  him  and  named  him.  "  He  asked  her  how  she  knew 
him,"  runs  the  tale  in  an  old  Irish  manuscript.  "  She  answered 
that  they  both  had  been  dear  foster-children  with  Wulfkin  the 
Saxon,  '  when  I  was  there,  and  thou  learning  sweet  speech 
from  him,'  said  she."'  The  "sweet  speech"  may  have  spread 
farther  than  those  who  introduced  it.  Bantu  dialects  are  found 
in  Africa  far  beyond  the  areas  of  Bantu  occupation. 

There  are  some  interesting  points  of  resemblance  between 
the  habits  and  customs  revealed  in  Becnvidf  and  in  the  Irish 
heroic  tales.  King  Hrothgar's  warriors,  who  feast  and  drink 
deeply  in  his  hall,  named  Heorot,  are,  like  the  Red  Branch 
heroes  of  King  Conor  of  Ulster,  military  retainers  of  noble 
birth.  The  Coast  Guardian  is  an  Ombiht^  a  name  probably  of 
common  origin  with  the  Irish  Gaelic  Amus  and  the  Gaulish 
Amhus — Caesar's  Ambacti,  who  surrounded  Gaulish  noblemen. - 
Beowulf  is  attended  by  an  armour-bearer  called  an  Ombiht 
Thegne.  The  Aoembetsman  of  Sweden  is  the  viceroy.  These 
retainers  in  Ireland,  England,  Sw-eden,  and  Gaul  received  gifts 
and  free  food  and  drink  from  the  nobles  and  monarchs  they 
served.  Scyld,  the  ancestor  of  the  Scyldings,  is  lauded  in 
Beowulf  a.s  a  generous  giver  of  money  gifts  to  his  "willing 
companions",  i.e.  his  military  retainers;  the  throne  is  a  "gift 
chair",  and  the  king  a  "gold  friend".  Hrothgar  provided 
his  hall  to  accommodate,  feed,  and  entertain  his  mighty  force; 
he  rewarded  Beowulf  for  his  services  with  rich  gifts.  In  ancient 
Ireland  a  king  similarly  kept  up  his  force  of  warriors  "by 
constantly  feeding  them  ".    According  to  the  "  Lawof  Fenechas", 

If  he  be  a  king 

Who  knoweth  a  king's  lawful  riglits 

With  bounty,  after  meals 

He  regales  his  hosts. 

Beer  drinking  was  not  confined  to  Beowulf's  kinsmen  and 

'  Arckaological  Revieiv.  \'ol.  I.  i8fc8.  -  De  Bell.  Gail..  VI,  15. 


THE    BEOWULF    EPIC  5 

billies.     In   this  connection   it  is  interesting  to  find  that  in  an 

Irish  poem,  which  celebrates  a  hero  of  the  seventh  century,  it  is 

stated: 

The  Saxon  ale  of  bitterness 
Is  drunk  with  pleasure  in  Imber  in  Rig, 
About  the  land  of  the  Cruithne^  about  Gergin, 
Red  ales  like  wine  are  freely  drunk. 

It  may  be  that  the  early  Saxons  made  their  beer  bitter  with 
a  berry,  as  did  the  Norse,  before  hops  were  introduced  into 
England.     Irish  ale  was  sweetened  with  honey. 

Beowulf,  like  Cuchullin,  yearns  for  glory;  he  goes  into 
battle  to  perform  a  warrior's  duty,  and  win  victory  or  fall;  he  is 
chivalrous.  Chivalry  in  the  Gaelic  sense,  however,  was  foreign 
to  the  Angles  and  Saxons.  Such  a  combat  as  that  waged 
between  Cuchullin  and  Ferdia  is  not  traceable  in  Anglo-Saxon 
literature.-  Nor  do  we  find  Cuchullin  considering  it  necessary 
to  boast,  as^oes^  Beowulf,  that  he  never  picked  treacherous 
quarrels  with  his  relations  or  murdered  any  of  them.^  A  higher 
ethical  code  prevailed  among  the  Gaels  of  the  same  period,  as 
can  be  gathered  from  their  literature. 

One  of  the  charms  of  the  BeoimUf  epic  is  the  natural  de- 
scriptions of  scenery;  the  poet  wrote  "with  his  eye  on  the 
object".     The  scene  at  Beowulf's  embarking  is  characteristic: 

Then  the  well-geared  heroes 
Stepped  upon  the  stem, 
While  the  stream  of  ocean 
Whirled  the  sea  against  the  sand.  .  .  . 

They  sailed  on 

Till  at  last  the  seamen 
Saw  the  land  ahead. 
Shining  sea-cliffs, 
Soaring  headlands. 
Broad  sea  nesses. 
So  this  Sailer  of  the  Sea 
Reached  the  sea-way's  end.^ 

^  Britons  in  Ireland.  The  Scottish  Cruithne  are  the  Picts,  but  the  Irish  Cruithne  were 
never  called  Picts.  The  Welsh  P  became,  in  this  case,  C  in  Gaelic — that  is,  "Priten"  became 
"Criien"  (phonetic  spellings). 

'  There  are  many  combats  fought  according  to  rules  in  Saxo  Giamm^iticv^,  but  there  are 
no  referenoes  to  embracing  and  kissing,  or  to  lamentations  over  fallen  heroes. 

•'  Beo-arilf,  lines  2738-40.  ■*  Stopford  Brooke's  translation. 


6  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGH: 

Gaelic  poetry  similarly  rings  with  love  of  the  sea: 

There  is  a  distant  isle 

Around  wliich  sea-horses  ghsten: 

A  fair  course  against  white-sided  wave-swelling.  .  .  . 

When  the  wind  sets  from  the  south 

Across  the  land  of  Saxons  of  mighty  shields, 

The  wave  strikes  the  Isle  of  Scit 

It  surges  up  the  summit  of  Caladmet 

And  pounds  the  grey-green  mouth  of  the  Shannon.  .  .  . 

The  ocean  is  in  Hood,  the  sea  is  full, 
Delightful  is  tlie  home  of  ships, 
Tiie  wind  whirls  the  sand  around  the  estuary, 
.Swiftly  the  rudder  cleaves  the  broad  sea.  .  .  . 

Bitter  is  the  wind  to-night, 

It  tosses  the  ocean's  white  hair: 

To-night  I  fear  not  the  tierce  warriors  of  Norway 

Coursing  on  the  Irish  Sea.' 

The  Scottish-Gaelic  poem  The  Bark  of  Clanranald  is  *'  perhaps", 
writes  Professor  MacNeile  Dixon,  '*the  most  remarkable  sea- 
piece  in  any  language  ".  ^  Of  course  the  history  of  British  sea- 
life  and  sea-love  dates  back  to  the  period  when  the  Romans 
adopted  the  Celtic  pattern  of  vessels  in  British  waters.  A 
British  squadron  was  included  in  the  fleet  of  220  Veniti  war- 
ships that  opposed  the  Romans  in  the  English  Channel.  Sails 
and  hulls  were  coloured  blue.  These  vessels  were  veritable 
Dreadnoughts.  "  For",  Caisar  wrote,  "neither  could  our  ships 
injure  theirs  with  their  beaks  (or  rams),  so  great  was  their 
strength,  nor  was  a  weapon  easily  cast  up  to  them,  owing  to 
their  height."  Yet  some  writers  would  begin  the  history  of 
British  shipping  with  the  period  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  invasions, 
and  of  British  sea-love  in  poetry  with  Bcowulfl 

In  Beowtdf  tht  women  are  "home-stayers";  they  engage 
in  intrigue,  and  are  diplomatic  in  their  dealing  with  warriors; 
they  attend  banquets,  and,  when  heroes  fall  out,  act  as  "peace- 
weavers".  There  are  no  Amazons  like  Queen  Meave  of  Ireland, 
the  Scottish  Scathach,  or  the  British  Queen  Boadicea,  who 

Rushed  to  battle,  fought,  and  died. 

'  Ancient  Irish  Poetry.      London,  191 1.      E.Kliacts  arc  rrom  (iilfcrcni  poems. 
-  The  ['.dinbnrgh  Book  of  Scottish  Fcrsc,  p.  xv. 


THl-:    B1':0\VULF    EPIC  7 

The  style  of  Beonuilfxs  dignified,  terse,  and  vigorous;  there 
is  alliteration  but  no  rhyme;  the  metre  has  not  survi\'ed  in 
English  poetr)^  and  modern  readers  find  it  "jerky  "  and  mono- 
tonous. The  poem  is  infused  with  fatalistic  gloom.  ''There 
is  undoubtedly  less  colour  about  the  second  part  than  the  first," 
writes  Dr.  J.  R.  Clark  Hall,  "and  more  gloom.  .  .  .  The 
sadness  is  even  more  English  than  the  vigour.  It  permeates 
Anglo-Saxon  poetry  to  such  an  extent  that  we  cannot  get  away 
from  it."  This  gloom  comes  from  "the  habit  of  foreboding". 
That  it  is  not  necessarily  Celtic  because  it  is  found  in  "The 
Death  of  Cuchullin  ",  or  English  because  it  pervades  Anglo- 
Saxon  poetry,  is  made  evident  when  consideration  is  given  to 
the  closing  parts  of  the  Indian  epics. 

There  are  no  dramatic  touches  in  -S^ow//*^ comparable  to  the 
characteristic  Gaelic  one  which  reveals  in  a  poetic  flash  that 
Cuchullin  has  died — ^^ He  seemed  to  be  alive'\  It  may  be  that 
it  was  because  the  realism  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  was  fused 
with  the  idealism  of  Celtic,  when  the  rival  races  were  in  process 
of  being  fused  into  a  homogeneous  whole,  that  no  country  in 
the  world  has  produced  so  brilliant  and  remarkable  a  galaxy  of 
great  poets  as  has  England.  French,  Italian,  and  classical  in- 
fluences would  never  have  stimulated  poetic  art  in  the  land  of 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  Shelley,  and  Keats  had  native  genius  been 
awanting.  "Poets  are  born  not  made",  and  all  great  poets 
have  been  inspired  by  that  indefinable  but  no  less  real  influence, 
the  national  temperament,  which  is  nurtured  by  immemorial 
modes  of  thought  inherited  from  remote  times. 

BeoTvulf  opens  with  a  review  of  the  ancestors  of  King  Hroth- 
gar,  beginning  with  Scyld  of  the  Sheaf,  the  "culture  hero" 
and  ancestor  of  the  Danish  dynasty  of  Scylding  kings.  The 
poet's  audience  is  assumed  to  be  acquainted  with  the  myth 
regarding  the  coming  of  the  slumbering  foundling  who  reached 
a  safe  harbour  in  a  little  boat,  his  head  pillowed  on  a  golden 
barley  sheaf.  Scyld  ultimately  became  king,  and  the  poem 
relates  that  when  he  died  his  body  was  set  adrift  in  a  boat, 
surrounded  by  treasures  and  ornaments,  but  "who  received 
that  fair  ship's  burden",  sings  the  poet,  "no  man  can  tell". 
Hrothgar  was  a  great-grandson  of  Scyld's. 


Beowulf 


Lo !  we  have  learned  of  those  warrior  lords — 
The  Spear-Danes  of  old  who  did  valorous  deeds; 
Of  Scyld  of  the  Sheaf  who  brought  with  him  back 
Mead-benches  he'd  snatch'd  from  troops  of  the  tribes- 
By  his  foes  was  he  feared ! 

A  foundling  at  first 
He  came  to  our  keeping;  he  furthered  his  fame — 
High  grew  under  heaven  the  honour  he  gained; 
While  round  him,  and  over  the  whale-road  afar, 
Took  he  tribute  from  tribe-folk — a  high  king  was  he: 


I.   Fights  with  Night   Fiends 

King  Hrothgar  won  great  renown  in  battle,  and  the  number 
of  young  warriors  who  served  him  increased  greatly  so  that 
he  had  a  mighty  force  at  his  command.  He  resolved  to  build 
a  large  hall  in  which  he  would  feast  them  and  give  them  gifts 
of  gold  and  ornaments. 

When  the  hall  was  built  it  resounded  daily  with  merry- 
making; minstrels  sang  hero-songs  and  twanged  the  harp,  and 
the  warriors  feasted  and  drank  there  to  their  hearts'  content. 
Then  \yas  a  hell-fietid  roused  to  jealous  wrath.  He  was  named 
Grendel,  anH  for  long  had  been  an  evil  haunter  of  moorland 
and  fen  and  rocky  retreats.  Of  the  brood  of  Cain  was  he,  like 
the  elves  and  demons  and  sea-nikkers^  and  the  giants  also,  who 
aforetime  waged  war  against  God,  for  which  He  gave  them 
their  due. 

One  dark  night  Grendel  entered  the  hall   to  discover  who 

'  Author's  rendering. 

"  Nikke,  a  Norse  and  Dutch  sea-demon.  Nixy  is  a  water  fairy.  Odin  was  "  Nik",  and 
"  Old  Nick  "  became  a  name  for  the  devil. 

9 


lo  THE    WORLD'S    1  HERITAGE 

slept  there  after  beer-drinkinc;-.  He  beheld  a  band  of  high-born 
war-men,  who  had  feasted  and  were  fast  asleep:  they  had  for- 
gotten sorrow,  the  woeful  heritage  of  men. 

The  furious  monster  seized  thirty  men  and  carried  them  off 
to  his  lair,  rejoicing  in  that  gorge  of  flesh.  At  daybreak  there 
were  tear-shedding  and  loud  wailing  when  this  foul  deed  was 
discovered.  King  Hrothgar  was  grief-stricken.  Moodily  he 
sat  him  down,  gazing  at  the  blood-track  left  by  the  fierce  demon. 
Deep  and  enduring  was  his  distressing  sorrow. 

Grendel  returned  on  the  next  night.  Steeped  in  crime,  he 
was  devoid  of  pity.  Then  did  many  begin  to  find  refuge  in 
inner  chambers,  for  these  alone  were  safe  from  the  fiend. 
Grendel  became  master  indeed  when  none  would  sleep  in  the 
hall. 

The  monster  continued  to  haunt  moor  and  fen.  Youns:  and 
old  he  seized ;  nor  could  the  greatest  warrior  expect  to  strive 
against  him  once  he  was  seized.  Hrothgar  lamented  much; 
he  made  offerings  to  idols,  praying  for  release  from  the  demon, 
but  all  in  vain.  For  twelve  long  years  the  kingdom  was 
terrorized  and  ravaged  by  Grendel. 

Then  did  Beowulf,  a  thane  of  Hygelac,  King  of  the  Geats, 
come  to  hear  in  his  fatherland  of  the  deeds  of  the  foul  fiend. 
To  his  men  he  spake,  saying:  **Get  ready  my  good  wave- 
traverser.  I  shall  go  over  the  swan-way.  Hrothgar  has  need 
of  men." 

Those  who  depended  on  his  aid  did  not  attempt  to  hold  him 
back;  rather  did  they  urge  him  on,  while  they  looked  eagerly 
for  favourable  omens.  He  selected  fourteen  of  his  finest  war- 
men.  A  sea-skilled  mariner  he  selected  also — one  who  knew 
the  landmarks  along  the  path  of  ocean.  To  the  ship  they  all 
went  together;    it  lay  beached  below  a  sheltering  headland. 

Then  the  well-geared  heroes 
Stepped  upon  the  stem,  while  the  stream  of  ocean 
Whirled  the  sea  against  the  sand.     There  into  the  ship's  breast 
Bright  and  carved  things  of  cost,  carried  then  the  heroes, 
.And  their  armour  well-arranged.     And  the  men  out-pushed 
Their  tight  ocean-wood  on  adventure  long  desired. 
Swiftly  went  above  the  waves,  with  the  wind  well  filled 
Likest  to  a  fowl,  their  Floater,  with  the  foam  around  its  throat. 


BEOWULF  II 

All  night  long  they  sailed  on,  and  when  a  new  day  dawned 

the  seamen  saw  the  laud  ahead, 
Shining  sea-clifFs,  soaring  headlands, 
Broad  sea-nesses.     So  the  Sailer  of  the  Sea 
Reached  the  sea-way's  end. 

The  voyage  was  over  and  done.  From  the  ship  all  leapt 
speedily;  they  made  it  secure.  Their  armour  clinked  as  they 
turned  inland,  while  they  thanked  God  that  the  sea-way  had  been 
made  pleasant  for  them. 

Then  came  towards  them  on  horseback  the  coast  guardian 
of  the  Scyldings.  Shaking  his  spear-shaft,  he  called  to  them 
as  he  drew  nigh,  saying:  "  Who  are  you  that  have  come  over 
the  sea-way,  well  armed  and  carrying  weapons?  Be  it  known 
that  I  keep  watch  on  the  shore  lest  sea-robbers  do  harm  to 
Denmark.  I  have  never  seen  strangers  landing  more  openly. 
You  know  not  the  password  of  friends.  .  .  .  Nor  have  I  ever 
gazed  on  a  greater  earl  than  this  one  among  you.  Unless  his 
looks  belie  him,  he  is  no  home-stayer.  Noble  is  his  bearing! 
.  .  .  Before  you  advance  farther  to  spy  out  the  land  you 
must  tell  me  who  you  are.  Listen  to  me,  strangers  from 
over  the  sea!  My  advice  to  you  is  to  state  frankly  v^hence 
you  come." 

Said  Beowulf;  "We  are  Geats  and  hearth  friends  of  King 
Hygelac,  and  have  come  hither  to  seek  King  Hrothgar.  Be 
our  guide.  The  purpose  bf'our  visit  need  not  be  concealed. 
It  has  been  told  to  us  that  a  malignant  fiend  works  evil  by 
night  among  the  Scyldings.  I  shall  advise  Hrothgar  how 
the  enemy  can  be  overcome,  so  that  his  sorrow  may  have 
end." 

"  You  are  friends,"  the  fearless  shore  guardian  made  answer. 
'*  Pass  onward,  bearing  your  weapons.  I  shall  be  your  guide, 
and  my  comrades  shall  guard  your  ship,  so  that  your  noble 
warrior  may  return  over  the  sea-tides  to  the  borders  of  the 
Weders.  I  am  assured  he  will  come  all  unhurt  through  the 
battle  crash." 

Then  Beowulf  and  his  followers  were  led  to  the  high  gold 
decked  hall   of  Hrothgar,    and   there    the    shore    guardian    left 


12  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

them.  Sea-weary  were  the  strangers;  they  put  oft' their  armour 
and  laid  aside  their  weapons. 

When  it  was  told  to  Hrothgar  who  had  come,  he  said:  **  As 
a  youth  I  knew  Beowulf.  He  comes  hither  as  a  true  friend. 
He  has  the  strength  of  thirty  men.  The  holy  God  has  sent 
him  hither  to  aid  us  against  dreaded  Grendel." 

He  welcomed  Beowulf,  who  spake,  saying:  "I  have  heard 
of  Grendel,  and  my  people  urged  me  to  hasten  to  your  aid, 
knowing  well  that  I  have  avenged  the  sufferings  of  the  Weders 
by  binding  five  enemies,  slaying  a  brood  of  giants,  and  killing 
sea-nikkers  by  night.  Alone  will  I  combat  with  this  demon, 
the  giant  Grendel.  ...  I  shall  wrestle  for  life,  foe  against 
foe." 

When  they  all  sat  at  feast  together  the  queen  bore  the  cup 
to  Beowulf,  and  the  king  said:  "Be  mindful  of  your  renown. 
Let  your  great  might  be  known  to  all.  Be  watchful  against 
the  foe.  You  shall  lack  for  naught  if  you  survive  the  con- 
met." 

The  king  and  queen  then  went  from  the  hall,  leaving  Beo- 
wulf with  his  warriors  to  guard  it. 

Then  the  good  (warrior),  Beowulf  the  Geat, 

Spake  boasting  words  as  he  went  to  his  bed; 

"  Not  myself  do  I  reckon,  in  mightiness  of  warfare. 

In  deed?  of  the  war,  any  worse  tiian  Grendel. 

So  him,  with  the  sword,  I  will  not  put  to  sleep, 

Deprive  him  thus  of  life,  though  I  well  can  do  it. 

Knows  he  not  the  good  (war-)  way — that  he  may  strike  me  back 

Hew  upon  the  shield — though  he  may  be  strong 

I  n  the  works  of  warfare. " 

Thus  did  Beowulf,  laying  aside  his  armour,  resolved  to  fight 

Grendel  without  weapons,  and  he  prayed  that  God  would  give 

him  victorv. 

Then  lay  down  the  war-brave, 
His  cheek  pressed  the  bolster. 
The  face  of  the  earl;  and 
Round  about  him  many 
A  sea-hero  read\' 
Bent  to  his  hall-rest. 

None  of  the  warriors  believed  he  would  agai?i  return  to  his 


BEOWULF'  13 

home   and    his    folic   and   his  free   burg   "where  he  had   been 

fostered  ". 

But  they  had  been  hearing 
That  by  far  too  many 
Erewhile  in  that  wine  hall, 
Slaughter  death  had  taken 
From  the  Danish  folk.' 

Grendel  came  stalking  across  the  moor  through  the  black 
mist.  He  saw  the  high  hall,  and  hungered  for  human  flesh. 
The  door  was  shut  and  strongly  bound  by  iron  bands,  but  he 
struck  it  with  his  fist  and  it  flew  open.  His  eyes  flamed  in  the 
darkness  as  he  entered  and  saw  the  slumbering  warriors,  and 
he  resolved  to  devour  each  one  ere  the  night  went  past.  But 
he  had  come  to  his  last  feast  of  human  flesh. 

Beowulf  was  awake.  He  lay  watching  the  fiend,  and  saw 
him  snatching  up  a  man,  tearing  him  asunder,  and  devouring 
him  until  he  had  swallowed  even  the  hands  and  the  feet. 

Then  Grendel  darted  towards  Beowulf  with  outstretched 
claws.  The  hero  clutched  the  fiend's  right  arm  and  threw  his 
weight  upon  it.  Never  before  had  Grendel  felt  a  stronger  hand- 
grip, and  he  was  suddenly  stricken  with  terror,  and  endeavoured 
to  escape.  In  vain,  however,  did  he  struggle  to  break  free,  so 
that  he  might  take  flight  through  the  blackness  of  night  towards 
the  demons  of  his  gang. 

Beowulf  leapt  from  his  bed.  Then  loud  clamour  resounded 
in  the  hall.  Terror  seized  upon  the  Danes,  who  fled  to  inner 
chambers  as  the  hero  struggled  with  the  demon.  .  .  .  Soon 
arose  a  loud  and  awesome  scream.  In  the  darkness  Beowulfs 
men  struck  at  Grendel  with  their  swords.  A  great  wound  was 
gaping  on  his  shoulder;  it  was  torn  wider  and  wider  by  Beo- 
wulf; the  sinews  snapped,  the  flesh  burst.  Sick  unto  death, 
Grendel  must  indeed  escape  to  his  joyless  lair  below  the  dark- 
some fen,  knowing  that  his  life  days  were  spinning  to  an  end. 
So,  tearing  himself  away,  he  left  his  right  arm  and  shoulder  in 
Beowulf's  hands. 

Thus  did   the   hero  achieve  his  desire  and  fulfil  his  boast. 

I  Extracts  from  word-for-word  translation  by  Stopford  A.  Brooke,  imitating  metre  of 

original. 


H  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

When  the  people  entered  the  hall,  tliey  gazed  with  wonder  at 
the  arm  of  the  night-fiend  which  had  been  suspended  from  the 
roof. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  that  day.  King  Hrothgar  praised 
Beowulf,  and  said:   *'  Your  fame  will  endure  for  all  time." 

Said  Beowulf:  "  Would  that  I  had  held  down  the  fiend  until 
he  died,  but  I  could  not  prevent  him  going  aw^ay." 

A  great  feast  was  held,  and  Queen  Wealhtheow,^  wife  of 
Hrothgar,  having  given  the  golden  cup  to  the  king,  carried  it 
next  to  Beowulf,  to  whom  she  gifted  two  golden  armlets,  a 
mantle,  and  a  jewelled  collar. 

On  the  next  night,  when  all  the  warriors  thought  they  were 
safe,  Grendel's  mother  came  to  the  hall  to  avenge  the  death  of 
her  son.  She  seized  in  her  grim  claws  the  sleeping  warrior, 
-^schere,  the  well-beloved  shield-bearer  of  Hrothgar,  and  carried 
him  away. 

The  king  entreated  Beowulf  to  follow  the  she-fiend  to  her 
lair  under  the  cliffs,  where  a  stream  fell  downward  into  an 
underworld  flood  below  a  tree-girt  mere.  Nightly  was  a  wonder 
beheld  there — fire  in  the  flood  !^ 

Said  Beowulf:  "Not  in  earth's  bosom,  in  mountain  wood, 
or  in  the  sea  depths,  go  where  she  may,  shall  the  kin  of  Grendel 
escape  me!     Be  patient  in  your  grief  this  day,  O  King!" 

Beowulf  and  a  force  of  war-men  followed  the  track  of  the 
demon  across  the  moor,  and  came  to  the  stony  places  and  cliffs, 
the  home  of  sea-monsters.  The  hero  put  on  his  armour,  and 
took  from  Unferth  his  iron  blade,  named  Hrunting,  that  had 
been  forged  with  twig  venom,  and  had  never  failed  him  in 
batde. 

"I  shall  achieve  fame  with  Hrunting,"  said  he,  *'or  death 
shall  take  me." 

He  plunged  into  the  surging  waters,  and  sank  downward 
for  a  day's  space  ere  he  found  the  bottom.  Then  the  she-demon 
found  him;  she  clutched  Beowulf  in  her  finger  claws,  but  his 

'  I.e.  "  Foreign  maid." 

'  In  Scottish  Gaelic  this  she-fiend,  dwelling  in  water  below  a  cataract,  is  the  Fuadh,  mother 
of  the  moor-haunting  "Oorishk"  or  Brollachan.  A  Fuadh  never  leaves  lier  lair  except  at 
night. 


BEOWULF^  15 

armour  prevented  her  doing"  him  harm;'  she  drew  him  into  her 
lair.  He  smote  her  with  his  sword,  but  could  inflict  no  wound. 
Then  he  wrestled  with  her  and  flung  her  down,  but  she  struggled 
fiercely  and  threw  him  over.  In  vain  she  struck  at  him  with  a 
dagger;  his  armour  saved  him.  Throwing  her  back,  he  leapt 
to  his  feet.  Suddenly  he  beheld  among  the  armour  in  the  lair 
an  ancient  ^iant  sword.  He  seized  it  and  smote  the  demon, 
cleaving  her  neck  and  shattering  her  bone-rings.  She  sank  in 
death.  Then  a  light  flashed  through  the  cave,  and  the  hero  saw 
Grendel's  body.     He  smote  off  the  head." 

On  the  cliff  top  the  warriors  saw  blood  rising  through  the 
water.  They  thought  that  Beowulf  had  perished;  yet  they 
waited,  although  they  never  expected  to  see  the  hero  again. 

Meanwhile  in  the  wave-protected  hall  the  giant  sword  melted 
like  ice  in  the  blood  of  the  female  demon.  A  strange  thing 
was  that! 

Beowulf  took  not  any  of  the  arms  from  the  cave,  but  he  kept 
the  gold  and  graven  hilt  of  the  giant  sword.  Then,  seizing  the 
monstrous  head  of  Grendel,  he  entered  the  waters,  and  soon 
reached  the  shore,  where  he  was  welcomed  by  his  war-men. 
Quickly  did  they  unloose  Beowulf's  armour.  With  glad  hearts 
they  went  inland.  Grendel's  head  was  carried  on  a  spear-shaft, 
and  was  indeed  a  heavy  burden.  When  they  reached  the  hall, 
the  king  and  queen  and  all  the  warriors  assembled  there  won- 
dered greatly  at  the  awesome  head. 

Said  Beowulf,  addressing  Hrothgar:  "Now  you  can  sleep 
in  Heorot  among  your  warriors  as  you  were  wont  to  do,  nor 
fear  murderous  attacks  in  the  darkness." 

He  gave  Hrothgar  the  gold-adorned  hilt  of  the  giant's  sword 
— the  work  of  a  wonder-smith.^ 

Hrothgar  praised  Beowulf.  "Your  fame,"  he  said,  "is 
raised  above  that  of  any  other  hero.  With  modesty  and  prudence 
you  carry  yourself.  My  friendship  you  shall  ever  have.  You 
will  be  a  strength  to  your  people  and  an  aid  to  war-men." 

1  Black  Annis,  the  cave-dwelling  hag  of  Leicester,  had  "vast  talons,  foul  with  human 
flesh  ...  in  place  of  hands". 

-  The  Gaelic  Fuadh  dwells  in  darkness.  Tlie  light  appears  when  she  i.s  killed.  It  is  her 
fiery  spirit.  ■■  Our  old  friend  Wayland. 


10  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Further,  the  king  gave  wise  counsel  to  Beowulf,  advising 
him  to  distribute  gifts  to  his  people,  so  that  he  might  ever  have 
their  support,  and  to  avoid  vaunting  pride,  because  the  day- 
would  come  when  his  strength  must  depart,  and  in  the  end 
death  would  take  him.  ^ 

After  a  great  feast  had  been  held  in  the  hall,  Beowulf  bade 
Hrothgar  farewell.  The  old  king  kissed  the  hero  and  shed  tears. 
An  alliance  of  peace  was  formed  between  the  Scyldings  and  the 
Geats. 

Beowulf  went  aboard  his  ship,  in  which  were  placed  the 
treasure,  armour,  and  horses  gifted  to  him  by  King  Hrothgar. 

In  the  bhip  he  departed 
To  stir  the  deep  water;  the  Dane  land  he  left.  .  .  . 

The  sea-wender  fared, 
Floated  the  foainy-neck'd  forth  o'er  the  waves, 
The  bounden-stemm'd  over  the  streams  of  the  sea; 
Till  the  cliffs  of  the  Geats  there  they  gut  them  to  wit, 
The  nesses  well  kenned.     Thronged  up  the  keel  then 
Driven  hard  by  the  lift,  and  stood  on  the  land.^ 

'  Morris  and  Wvatt's  translation. 


II.    Fiffht  with  the   Fire-Drake 

o 

E'en  such  should  a  man  be 
A  thane  good  at  need. 

When  King  Hygelac  died  in  battle,  fighting  against  the 
Frisians  and  Hugs  (Franks),  Beowulf  was  offered  the  kingdom, 
but  he  refused  it.  He  protected  Heardred,  son  of  Hygelac,  until 
that  prince  grew  to  years  of  wisdom  and  strength.  Then 
Heardred  was  slain  by  a  Swedish  prince,  and  Beowulf  became 
king. 

For  fifty  years  Beowulf  reigned  wisely  and  well.  Then  a 
fire-drake  ^  (dragon)  began  to  ravage  the  country.  Alone  did 
the  monarch  combat  against  it,  but  in  the  end  he  was  the  victor. 
For  that  triumph  he  paid  out  life's  cost. 

Now  the  fire-drake  had  its  dwelling  in  a  secret  cavern 
beneath  a  grey  rock  on  the  shoreland  of  a  lonely  moor.  No 
man  knew  the  path  thither;  but  a  slave,  who  had  fled  from  his 
master,  crossed  the  solitude,  and  reached  the  lair  of  the  fire- 
drake  while  yet  it  slept.  He  saw  it  guarding  the  treasure  of  an 
ancient  war-slain  prince — armour  and  great  swords,  a  banner 
of  bright  gold,  golden  cups,  many  gems  and  ornaments  and 
collars  and  brooches,  which  giants  had  fashioned  in  days  of  old. 
The  slave  crept  past  the  monster's  head,  seized  a  rich  gold  cup, 
and  ran  away.  He  carried  it  to  his  master,  who  pardoned  him 
in  return  for  the  gift. 

When  the  dragon  awoke,  it  sniffed  the  man-scent  along  the 
rocks,  and,  seeing  footprints,  searched  eagerly  for  the  thief.  Its 
heart  grew  hot  for  conflict,  it  panted  for  revenge,  and  no  sooner 
did  darkness  come  on  than  it  flew  over  the  land  and  vomited 
hot  flames  on  the  homes  of  men.     Fires  blazed  luridly  against 

1  From  draco,  i.e.  dragon. 
Vol.  II.  17  31 


iS  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

the  sky;  the  people  were  terror-stricken,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the 
monster  resolved  not  to  leave  anyone  alive.  Far  and  near  the 
land  was  wrapped  in  flame. 

Tidings  of  the  night  horror  were  borne  quickly  to  Beowulf, 
and  the  heart  of  the  aged  king  was  stricken  with  grief. 

The  fire-drake  had  destroyed  the  earth-wall  of  the  shoreland, 
and  waves  swept  inland.     Many  houses  were  burned  to  ashes. 

Angry  was  Beowulf.  He  vowed  to  be  avenged  on  the  fire- 
drake,  and  made  ready  for  combat.  First  he  bade  his  men 
fashion  for  him  a  shield  of  iron,  for  bootless  would  be  a  wooden 
shield  against  dragon-fire.  .  .  .  Alas,  doomed  was  he  to  reach 
his  life's  sad  end,  and  that  ere  long;  but  doomed  also  was  the 
fire-drake  that  guarded  the  hoard  I 

Beowulf  scorned  to  take  with  him  a  host  of  war-men.  No 
fear  had  he  of  going  into  combat  alone,  for  he  did  not  rate 
highly  the  battle-power  of  the  fire-drake.  With  him  he  took 
but  twelve  warriors,  and  he  made  the  slave  who  plundered  the 
dragon  to  show  him  the  path.  That  poor  man  trembled  with 
sorrowful  heart.  Unwillingly  he  went  to  the  mound  in  which 
slept  the  fire-drake,  hard  by  the  rocky  shoreland  where  roared 
the  billows  in  strife  unceasing. 

On  a  grey  cliff  sat  Beowulf  gazing  over  the  sea.  To  his 
heart  comrades  he  spoke  words  of  farewell,  for  well  he  knew 
that  Wyrd  (Fate)  had  knotted  the  life-thread  of  his  web.  Sad 
was  his  soul  and  restless,  but  he  was  ready  to  go  hence.  Nor 
was  it  long  after  that  his  spirit  departed  the  flesh. 

The  tale  of  his  whole  life  was  told  by  the  king  as  he  sat 
there.  His  deeds  of  valour  he  related,  his  life's  afflictions  he 
recalled. 

Then  he  rose  to  smite  the  fire-drake.  *'  Not  a  foot's  space," 
said  he,  "will  I  draw  back.  I  shall  not  flee  from  the  treasure 
guardian.  Before  the  rock  it  shall  be  as  Wyrd  decrees — Wyrd 
who  measures  out  a  man's  life.  Ready  am  I,  and  I  boast  not 
before  the  fire-drake.  .  .  .  Watch  me  from  the  mound,  O  ye 
war-men  !  It  is  not  for  one  of  you  to  fight  as  I  needs  must  figiit. 
This  adventure  is  for  me  alone.  Gold  shall  I  win  if  I  triumph, 
and  death  is  my  due  if  I  fail." 

Fully  armoured  did  Beowulf  descend  (lie  cliff  path,  his  shield 


BEOWULF  19 

on  his  left  arm,  his  sword  by  his  side.  To  the  dragon's  den 
he  went,  while  the  stream  flowing  from  the  stone  ramparts 
steamed  hot  with  deadly  fire.  Nigh  to  the  hoard  he  could  not 
for  long  endure  the  fire-drake's  fury. 

A  battle-shout  he  gave — a  strong  loud  cry  that  went  under 
the  stone.  The  monster  heard  it;  in  wrath  the  fire-drake  heard 
the  voice  of  man.  Its  breath  streamed  out  in  scorching  flame — 
the  monster's  battle-breath.  The  eart'n  shook  as  it  moved  itself, 
and  Beowulf  stood  waiting.  The  monster  upcurled  to  spring, 
and  Beowulf  was  ready. 

Forth  came  the  fire-drake;  swiftly  to  its  fate  it  came. 
Behind  his  shield  the  king  was  sheltered,  and  his  sword  was 
drawn.  Man  and  monster  were  eager  for  slaughter,  and  each 
feared  the  other  in  that  hour. 

Swinging  his  sword,  Beowulf  smote  the  fire-drake,  but  the 
blade  glanced  off  the  knob  on  its  snout-bone.  Then  the 
monster's  spouted  fire  enveloped  the  hero,  and  greatly  did  he 
suffer. 

From  the  mound  the  war-men  fled,  fearing  greatly  for  their 
lives.  Wiglaf  alone  remained;  he  was  faithful  to  Beowulf, 
Grasping  his  ancient  sword — a  giant  had  shaped  it — and  his 
wooden  shield,  scornfully  he  called  out  to  his  comrades:  "We 
promised  in  the  mead  hall  to  give  aid  to  our  lord.  I  would 
perish  in  the  fire  rather  than  desert  our  gold-giver  now  that  he 
needs  us." 

Through  the  death-smoke  he  plunged,  and,  reaching  Beo- 
wulf's side,  spoke  to  him,  saying:  "  Beloved  hero,  as  of  yore, 
do  your  utmost  now.  Put  forth  all  your  strength,  and  I  shall 
give  you  mine  aid." 

Again  the  fire-drake  made  attack,  and  the  shield  of  Wiglaf 
was  consumed,  but  behind  the  iron  shield  of  Beowulf  he  crouched 
and  found  shelter. 

Then  Beowulf  smote  the  fire-drake,  but  his  sword  broke  in 
twain,  whereat  the  monster  leapt  upon  him  and  clutched  his 
neck  between  its  jaws,  so  that  his  blood  streamed  forth.  Wiglat 
thrust  fiercely  with  his  sword;  he  pierced  the  under  part  of  the 
fire-drake  and  the  flames  abated.  Then  Beowulf  drew  his  death- 
dagger  and  smote  with  it  fiercelv,  cutting  the  monster  in  twain. 


20  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGl:: 

Thus  was  the  fire-drake  slain;  thus  did  the  heroes  win  victory 
and  fame. 

Beowulf  had  received  his  death -wound.  The  fire-drake's 
venom  surged  in  his  blood,  and  he  sat  him  down,  gazing  at  the 
dragon's  rocky  lair  that  giants  had  fashioned. 

Wiglaf  bathed  the  king's  wound.  "Now,"  said  Beowulf 
faintly,  "  I  should  have  given  my  armour  to  my  son  had  I  had 
one.  I  have  ruled  fifty  years  and  no  neighbouring  king  dared 
meet  me  in  battle.  In  my  home  I  kept  what  I  had.  Never  did 
I  rouse  strife  by  treachery.  Never  did  I  swear  false  oaths. 
Comfort  I  get  thinking  of  these  things.  Never  did  I  murder 
a  relative;  no  such  crime  will  the  Ruler  of  Men  lay  against 
me  when  my  life  goes  out." 

Then  he  bade  Wiglaf  to  take  forth  the  fire-drake's  treasure. 
Anxious  was  he  to  gaze  on  it  ere  death  took  him.  Wiglaf  did 
as  he  was  commanded,  and  Beowulf  gave  thanks  to  the  Rulef 
of  All  that  he  was  able  to  set  eyes  on  the  treasure  he  had  won. 

"Give  to  my  people  these  gifts,"  said  he.  "Let  each  get 
according  to  his  needs.  I  have  paid  for  them  with  my  life. 
No  longer  can  I  remain.  .  .  .  Raise  my  mound  on  the  promon- 
tory of  Hronesness;^  it  shall  be  a  memorial  to  my  folk,  and 
sailors  shall  know  it  as  a  landmark  and  name  it  '  Beowulfs 
grave '." 

Faintly  he  spoke  again,  saying:  "O  Wiglaf,  you  are  the 
last  of  our  race,  the  Waegmundings.^  Wyrd  took  away  one 
by  one,  each  at  his  appointed  hour.  The  nobles  in  their  glorv 
went  to  their  doom,  and  I  must  go  too,  following  after  them." 

Then  his  soul  went  from  his  body  to  the  doom  of  good  men, 
and  Wiglaf  sat  mourning  him. 

The  battle-laggards  returned  one  by  one,  and  to  them  said 
Wiglaf:  "  Better  is  death  for  a  noble  warrior  than  a  life  of 
shame!" 

A  great  pyre  was  built,  and  it  was  decked  with  armour  and 
battle-shields.  Then  the  king's  body  was  laid  thereon.  Torches 
set  it  aflame,  and  the  people  wailed  while  the  body  of  Beowulf 
was  being  consumed.     Heaven  swallowed  the  smoke. 

Thereafter   a   high    grave-mound  was    piled   up  above  the 

'  I.e.  Whalesness.  -  A  Swedi^li  folk. 


nniLj.  NrBlT 


THE    DYING    15EOWULF    GAZES    UPON    THE    EIRE-DRAKE'S     1  REASL  RE 


BEOWULF  21 

king's  ashes,  and  much  treasure— all  that  was  in  the  hoard— 
and  there  lies  what  the  fire-drake  had  guarded— the  treasure 
which  is  of  as  little  use  to  men  as  ever  it  was. 

Twelve  horsemen  rode  round  the  mound,  lamenting  for  their 
lord.     All  the  people  sorrowed  as  they  rode. 

In  such  wise  they  grieved,  the  folk  of  the  Geats, 
For  the  fall  of  their  lord,  e'en  they  his  hearth-fellows; 
Quoth  they  that  he  was  a  world-king  forsooth, 
The  mildest  of  all  men,  unto  men  kindest. 
To  his  folk  the  most  gentle,  most  yearning  of  fame. ^ 

1  Morris  and  Wyatt. 


THE    DEIRDRE    ROMANCE 

Introductory 

For  what  am  I,  to  be  remembered  always? 

Yeats's  Deirdre. 

The  silence  of  thy  face  Is  pleasant. 

Macpherson's  Darthula. 

The  renaissance  of  Deirdre  as  a  heroine  of  the  literature  of 
these  islands  is  due  partly  to  James  Macpherson  of  Osstan 
fame,  but  mainly  to  the  modern  Irish  school  of  poets  and 
dramatists.  '■'  JEe^  rediscovered  her,"  writes  Mr.  Arthur  Lynch, ^ 
"Mr.  Yeats  wrote  a  ghosted  drama  round  Deirdre.  Synge 
gave  us  another  Deirdre.  And  now  every  budding  Irish 
dramatist  in  full  sail  for  the  conquest  of  fame  must  pass  the 
Cape  of  Deirdre.  .  .  .  Ireland  in  her  fiercest  agitations  had 
never  heard  of  Deirdre.  To  tell  the  whole  truth,  Ireland 
was  content  never  to  have  heard  of  Deirdre,  but  the  literary 
movement  wanted  a  heroine,  and  Deirdre  had  been  so  long 
dead  that  little  was  known  against  her  family."  In  this 
humorous  sally  Mr.  Lynch  refers,  of  course,  to  those  English- 
speaking  descendants  of  the  Irish  Gaels  to  whom  their  country's 
ancient  literature  has  become  a  sealed  book.  Professor  Douglas 
Hyde,  writing  in  1899,^  says  that  "when  in  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  a  few  years  ago,  the  subject  set  for  the  Vice-Chancellor's 
Prize  in  English  verse  was  '  Deirdre ',  it  was  found  that  the 
students  did  not  know  what  that  word  meant,  or  what  Deirdre 
was,  whether  animal,  vegetable,  or  mineral".  Yet  the  Deirdre 
story  had  been  known  for  centuries  among  the  Gaelic-speaking 

^  Pseudonym  of  the  Irish  poet  Russell.  ''Ireland:   Vital  Hour,  ■p.  -3,10. 

^  A  Literary  History  0/  Ireland,  p.  303. 


24  I'm-:  WORLD'S  hi:rita(je 

people  as  one  of  the  "Three  Sorrowful  Tales  of  Ireland". 
Nor  was  knowledge  of  it  confined  to  Ireland  alone.  In  the 
Scottish  Highlands,  where  many  a  place-name  keeps  green  the 
memory  of  the  ancient  heroine,  Deirdre  songs  and  stories  are 
still  current  among  sections  of  the  people.  When  James 
Macpherson  was  collecting  material  for  his  Osstan,  he  devoted 
a  "book"  to  Deirdre,  whom  he  knew  as  Darthula,  and  stated 
in  the  explanatory  foreword  that  "the  story  which  is  xhtt  foun- 
dation of  this  poem"  had  been  "handed  down  by  tradition". 
Here,  it  may  be  noted,  Macpherson  appears  to  have  let  out 
the  secret  that  in  his  Ossianic  prose-poems  he  made  exceedingl)' 
free  use  of  the  genuine  ancient  literature  of  which  he  had  know- 
ledge. In  his  Darthula  he  gave  a  characteristically  hazy, 
undramatic,  and  un-Gaelic  rendering  of  what  the  Barra  octo- 
genarian, who  recited  a  version  of  the  Deirdre  legend  to  Dr. 
Alexander  Carmichael,  referred  to  appreciatively  as  "a  good 
tale  indeed,  a  beautiful  tale ". 

The  name  "Darthula"  must  not  be  regarded,  however, 
as  a  poetic  transformation  effected  by  Macpherson.  Dr.  Car- 
michael, the  Scottish  authority  on  the  Deirdre  legends  and 
literature,  says  ^  that  "the  name  Deirdire  is  variously  given 
as  Deirdre,  Deiridire,  Dearduil,  Deurduil,  Dearshuil,  Diar- 
shula,  Deurthula.  The  form  Deirdire"  he  adds,  "seems 
to  be  confined  to  the  tale,  and  the  form  Dearduil  to  the 
poems.  In  one  form  or  another  the  name  is  impressed 
upon  localities  throughout  a  great  length  of  country,  from 
south  Argyll  to  north  Inverness,  and  probably  even  beyond 
this.  .  .  .  Loch  Ness  and  the  neighbourhood  are  identified  with 
Deirdire  and  the  sons  of  Uisne." 

In  view  of  these  Gaelic  variations  of  the  heroine's  name,  it 
is  not  surprising  to  find  that  difficulties  have  arisen  regarding 
the  English  pronunciation  of  it.  Professor  Douglas  Hyde 
recommends  "  Dare-dra",  others  favour  "  Deer'dre",  and  some 
would  have  us  say  "  Yeer'tre  "  or  "  Jeer'jir-e ".  The  Gaelic 
"d"  is  softer  than  the  English  "  d  ",  and  nearer  the  English 
"t".  As  it  stands  in  the  heroine's  name  before  a  small  vowel, 
it  sounds  somewhat  like  ''dj"  in  English  when  the  tongue  is 

'  Deirdire  and  the  Lay  vf  the  Children  of  Uisne,  p.  135. 


THE    DEIRDRE    ROMANCE  25 

placed  almost  in  contact  with  the  teeth.  The  writer  has  heard 
the  name  pronounced  by  Gaelic-speaking  western  islanders 
as  *' Djery-djery  ",  almost  "  Chery-chery  ",  which  sounded  hke 
the  soft  chirping  of  a  bird,  and  elsewhere  as  "  Djeer'djir-e  ", 
almost  '*  Cheer'chir-e  ",  a  rendering  which  is  somewhat  difficult 
for  English  speakers.  Professor  Douglas  Hyde's  English 
"  Dare-dra ",  or  "Deer'dre",  may  well  be  adopted  by  those 
who  are  unacquainted  with  Gaelic. 

Macpherson  calls  Deirdre's  lover  "Nathos".  The  writei 
prefers  "Neesha".^  Dr.  Carmichael  states  that  this  name  has 
in  Scottish  Gaelic  the  following  forms:  "  Naois,  Naos,  Naosna, 
Naosnach,  Naoisne,  Naoisneach,  with  an  open  sound;  and  Nis, 
Nise,  and  Nis  with  a  close  sound  ".  The  Gaelic  "  s  "  after  *'  e  " 
and  **i"  is  rendered  as  "sh";  in  contact  with  "a"  and  "o" 
it  is  like  *'s"  in  English;  "i"  sounds  like  the  English  "  e  ". 
The  Gaelic  "  u ",  as  in  "Ushnach",^  should  be  pronounced 
like  "u"  in  the  English  "pull". 

Neither  the  Gaelic  enthusiast  nor  the  intensely  patriotic 
neo-Celtic  bard  could  have  effected  a  "  renaissance  of  Deirdre" 
if  the  tale  in  which  that  heroine  figures  were  not  "good"  and 
"beautiful",  as  the  Barra  crofter  put  it.  Despite  the  jeers  of 
writers  like  the  iconoclastic  Mr.  Lynch,  Deirdre  is  worthy  of 
remembrance,  not  merely  as  a  historical  figure  in  an  ancient 
literature,  but  as  a  finely-drawn  and  realistic  character  who 
makes  universal  appeal.  Hers  is  the  world-old  and  world- 
wide story  of  true  love  whose  course  never  runs  smooth, 
especially  when  intruded  upon  by  a  jealous  and  vengeful  rival. 
The  writer  once  heard  a  Chinese  ambassador^  declaring  that 
Burns's  lines — 

Had  we  never  loved  so  kindly, 
Had  we  never  loved  so  blindly, 
Never  met — or  never  parted. 
We  had  ne'er  been  broken  hearted— 

were  "as  well  understood  by  a  Chinaman  as  by  a  Scotsman 
or  Englishman,  because  love  is  the  same  everywhere".     In  like 

'  Pronounced  Nee'shtl. 

*  Pronounced  "  Oosh'nich  ",  or  in  the  Uisne  form  as  "  Oosh'nS  ". 

■*  Sir  Chihchen-lo-fensr-luh,  for  a  time  Chinese  Ambassridor  in  London. 


26  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

manner  the  Deirdre  btory  can  be  understood  and  appreciated 
in  the  East  as  in  the  West.  Had  it  been  known  to  the  EHza- 
bethan  dramatists,  it  would  probably  have  become  one  of  the 
famous  love  stories  of  the  world. 

Neesha  and  Deirdre  are  the  Gaelic  Romeo  and  Juliet,  or 
the  Gaelic  Paris  and  Helen.  The  heroine  was  dowered  with 
the  fatal  gift  of  beauty.  Like  Tennyson's  Helen  in  "  A  Dream 
of  Fair  \\''omen  ",  her  shade  mav  well  make  "sweet  moan  ": 

I  had  great  beauty:  ask  thou  not  my  name: 

No  one  can  be  more  wise  than  destiny. 
Many  drew  swords  and  died.     Where'er  I  came 

I  brought  calamity. 

Deirdre's  great  beauty  is  emphasized  in  Gaelic  song  and 
story.  Dr.  Carmichael  has  found  that  among  the  Highlanders 
of  Glen  Etive,  Argyllshire,  she  is  remembered  even  in  conver- 
sation as:  "  Dearthula  nan  cneasa  geala  bu  bhuidhe  loinn 
na  oir  soir  ghrein  an  t-samhraidh "  (''Dearthula  of  the  fair 
skin,  whose  locks  were  more  yellow  than  the  western  gold  of 
the  summer  sun  '"),  a  fragment  of  genuine  folk-poetry  which 
is  much  more  effective  than  Macpherson's  "she  is  like  the 
fair  spirit  of  heaven  in  the  midst  of  his  shadowy  mist".  In 
the  Barra  "Lay  of  the  Children  of  Uisne",  collected  by  Dr. 
Carmichael,  she  is  lauded  as: 

Dearduil  the  brown-eyed,  the  surpassing  fair.  .  .  . 
Thou  fairest  branch  of  the  brown  eyebrow>. 

Evidently  the  island  bard  favoured  the  dark  type  of  feminine 
beauty.  In  the  prose  version  she  is  "a  beautiful  blood  drop". 
According  to  the  Irish  story-tellers  "she  surpassed  in  beauty 
the  women  of  her  time",  and  "she  was  the  woman  whose  form 
and  features  were  loveliest  in  the  world".  An  old  soft-voiced 
Highlander  once  described  her  to  the  writer  as  "a  white- 
skinned,  red-cheeked  girl,  with  brown  eyes  and  auburn  hair". 
But  others  have  referred  to  her  as  "grey-eyed"  or  "blue- 
eyed  ". 

In  the  Barra  lay  she  is  "the  woman  weeping"  when  she  sits 
lamenting  silently  in   the  galley  that  takes   her  back   to  Erin 


THE  dkirdrp:  romance  27 

where  death  awaits  her  and  her  lover  and  his  brothers.     The 
picture  is  revealed  in  a  couplet  of  imaginative  beauty: 

As  night  conceals  her  loveliness, 
Dearduil  is  sad  with  black  sorrow. 

Macpherson   had   probably  before  him  a  version  of  this  folk- 
poem  when  he  wrote  of  the  tragic  voyage: 

They  [the  sons  of  Ushnach]  move  in  the  gloom  ol  their  course.  .  .  . 
Who  is  that  dim  by  their  side? 
The  night  has  covered  her  beauty. 

Neesha,  Deirdre's  lover,  is  finely  characterized  in  the  Barra  lay: 

Delightful  to  Dearduil  was  the  youth, 
Whose  face  was  the  brightness  of  day; 
Of  the  lustre  of  the  raven  were  his  locks, 
Redder  than  the  rasp  were  his  cheeks. 

His  skin  was  like  the  foam  of  streams, 
Like  quiet  waters  was  his  voice ; 
His  heart  was  manly  and  generous, 
And  gladsome,  gentle  as  the  sun. 

But  when  arose  his  wrath  and  ire, 
His  likeness  was  the  ocean  fierce ; 
Like  unto  the  strength  of  the  waves 
Was  the  sound  of  the  arms  of  the  hero. 

Like  the  springtide's  violent  flood 

Was  he  in  battle  at  strife  of  swords, 

Where  Dearduil  saw  him  first. 

And  she  looking  from  the  top  of  the  tower. 

Macpherson's  lines  on   Nathos  (Neesha)  are  evidently  remini- 
scent: 

Thou  wast  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  Darthula. 

Thy  face  was  like  the  light  of  morning. 

Thy  hair  like  the  raven's  wing. 

Thy  soul  was  generous  and  mild,  like  the  hour  of  the  setting  sun. 

Thy  words  were  the  gale  of  the  reeds ;  the  gliding  stream  of  Lora ! 

But  when  the  rage  of  battle  rose,  thou  wast  a  sea  in  a  storm. 

The  clang  of  thy  arms  was  terrible;  the  host  vanished  at  the  sound 

of  thy  course. 
It  was  then  Darthula  beheld  thee  from  the  top  of  her  mossy  tower : 
From  the  tower  of  Seldma,  where  her  fathers  dwelt. 


28  THE    WORLD'S    HERIT\(iE 

One  can  detect  the  Macpherson   touches.      The  last   line,  for 
instance,   is  his,  and  he  made  the  tower  "  mossy". 
In  an  old  Gaelic  lament  Deirdre  sings: 

The  voice  of  Neesha  was  like  the  sound  of  tlie  wave  .   .  . 

Bewitching-,  my  beloved,  was  thy  beauty — 

O  alluring-  flower  of  noble  manhood  .  .  . 

Well  beloved,  steadfast  and  upright  in  mind. 

Hero  valiant  and  modest  .  .  . 

Dear  thy  ijrey  eyes,  lovely  to  woman, 

But  feared  by  thy  foes  in  battle. 

Xeesha's  brothers,  Ardan  and  Ainle,  were  not  sharply  char- 
acterized by  the  bards  and  story-tellers.  The  former  had  a 
baritone,  and  the  latter  a  tenor  voice.  They  were  both  faithfid 
followers  of  Neesha  and  devoted  to  Deirdre,  skilled  in  the 
chase,  good  mariners,  and  valiant  fighting-men. 

The  villain  of  the  piece  is  Conor,^  King  of  Ulster,  who  caused 
Neesha  and  his  brothers  to  be  deceived  and  slain  so  that  he 
might  have  Deirdre  for  himself.  He  is  not,  however,  like 
Shakespeare's  Richard  III,  one  who  declares  in  cold  blood: 

I  am  determined  to  be  a  villain. 

He  becomes  a  villain  not  by  choice  so  much  as  by  pressure  of 
overwhelming  emotion  —  the  jealousy  of  the  rejected  lover 
mingled  with  the  anger  of  the  offended  king.  Withal,  he  is 
a  victim  of  Destiny.  As  in  classical  drama,  belief  in  Destiny 
runs  through  the  whole  cycle  of  Cuchullin  or  Ultonian  stories, 
to  which  the  Deirdre  tale  belongs.  The  cycle  deals  with  events 
usually  relegated  to  the  first  century  a.d. 

When  Deirdre  was  born,  Cathbad,  the  soothsayer,  foretold 
that  she  would  cause  "  much  evil  and  calamity  in  Ulster".  The 
Red  Branch  warriors  wished  to  have  her  put  to  death.  The 
gallant  King  Conor,  however,  became  her  champion,  took  her 
under  his  protection,  and  vowed  that  she  would  become  his 
bride.  He  had  the  "child  of  fate"  confined  in  a  strong  tower, 
under  the  care  of  a  trusted  nurse,  named  Lavarcam.'  There  she 
grew  up  to  be  a  beautiful  girl.     No  man,  except  the  king  and 

'  Gaelic,  Concobar  or  Conchubhair,  pronounced  C'cnachcr.     Conor  is  ihe  English  form. 
-  Pronounced  "  L.iv'ar-cam ".     Tlio  name  indirntfs  thai  she  Iiad  a  plausible  tongue,  and 
was  something  of  a  diplomatist. 


THE    DEIRDRE    ROMANCE  29 

an  aged  tutor,  was  permitted  to  set  eyes  on  her.  When,  how- 
ever, she  was  "  ripe  for  marriage"  she  fell  in  love  with  a  comely 
young  warrior  whom  she  oft-times  watched  with  admiring  eyes 
— peering  through  a  hole  she  had  made  in  a  built-up  window — 
as  he  engaged  in  games  and  performed  military  feats  on  the 
green  plain  of  Emania.  This  youth  was  Neesha,  one  of  the  three 
sons  of  Ushnach.  She  contrived  to  hold  secret  converse  with 
him,  with  the  result  that  he  also  fell  in  love.  One  dark  night 
the  young  lovers  fled  away  together,  accompanied  by  Ainle 
and  Ardan,  and  sailed  for  Alba  (Scotland).  King  Conor  was 
wroth.  He  resolved  to  be  avenged  on  the  sons  of  Ushnach, 
and  to  win  back  Deirdre  whether  by  fair  means  or  foul.  The 
sympathies  of  his  chief  warriors  were  with  Neesha,  but  there 
were  others  who  encouraged  Conor  to  carry  out  his  evil  design. 

In  Scotland  the  romantic  couple  lived  happily  for  a  few 
years.  There  the  fame  of  Deirdre's  beauty  spread  far  and  wide, 
and  the  King  of  the  Picts,  whose  capital  was  at  Inverness,  re- 
garded her  as  a  lady  worthy  to  be  his  bride.  Accordingly  he 
prevailed  upon  Neesha  and  his  brothers  to  undertake  perilous 
military  expeditions,  hoping  that  they  would  be  slain  or  taken 
captive,  but  the  valiant  sons  of  Ushnach  always  returned  in 
triumph.  To  the  credit  of  this  monarch  it  can  be  said  that 
he  refused  to  practise  the  treachery  subsequently  favoured  by 
the  King  of  Ulster  with  purpose  to  get  rid  of  his  rival.  An 
attempt,  however,  was  made  to  alienate  the  lovers.  A  Pictish 
girl,  "  the  daughter  of  the  lord  of  Duntrone",  cast  eyes  of  love 
on  Neesha,  who  gave  her  "a  secret  kiss". 

Deirdre,  in  one  of  the  many  songs,  is  made  to  say,  referring 
to  the  incident: 

When  I  heard  that, 

My  head  filled  full  of  jealousy; 

I  launched  my  little  skifl'  upon  the  waves — 

I  did  not  care  whether  I  died  or  lived. 

She  was  rescued  by  Arden  and  Ainle,  and  Neesha  afterwards 
begged  and  obtained  her  forgiveness,  promising,  as  she  tells, 

That  he  would  never  cloud  my  countenance  again 
Till  he  should  go  from  nic  to  the  army  of  the  dead.' 

*  Professor  Douylas  Hvde's  translation 


30  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Neesha  appears  to  have  become  a  powerful  chief  in  Argyll- 
shire, but  he  always  regarded  himself,  with  a  sense  of  grievance, 
as  an  exile  from  his  native  land.  Deirdre,  on  the  other  hand, 
loved  Scotland  very  dearly,  and  had  no  desire  ever  to  leave  it. 
She  feared  King  Conor,  knowing  full  well  that  he  desired  her 
because  of  her  beauty,  and  that  he  had  grown  to  hate  Neesha, 
whom  she  loved,  as  she  ultimately  showed,  better  than  life. 
When,  therefore,  Fergus  mac  Roy  came  across  the  sea  to  invite 
the  sons  of  Ushnach  to  return  to  Ulster,  Conor  having  professed 
to  forgive  them,  she  endeavoured  to  prevail  upon  Neesha  to 
remain  in  Scotland.  But  all  her  efforts  were  without  avail. 
Fergus  had  taken  the  king  at  his  word,  and  pledged  his  honour 
that  no  harm  would  come  to  the  young  warriors.  That  night 
the  whole  party  set  sail  in  galleys  for  Ireland.  Sitting  on  deck, 
Deirdre  sang  next  morning  her  famous  song  of  farewell  to  "  the 
delightful  land.  Alba,  yon  eastern  land  full  of  wonders".  The 
pathos  of  her  destiny  pulsates  in  the  two  concluding  lines: 

I  should  never  have  come  from  yon  eastern  land 
Had  I  not  from  it  come  with  my  love. 

The  vision  of  beautiful  Deirdre  leaving  Alba,  her  heart  filled  with 
foreboding  of  evil,  to  go  to  her  doom,  haunted  the  imaginations 
of  many  an  ancient  bard  and  story-teller  in  Scotland  and  Ireland. 
For  long  centuries  tears  of  sweet  sympathy  have  been  shed  for 
her  in  the  homes  of  highest  and  lowest,  of  prince  and  gillie, 
of  laird  and  crofter: 

Our  sweetest  songs  are  those  that  tell  of  saddest  thought. 

Conor  contrived  to  have  the  sons  of  Ushnach  slain  soon  after 
their  arrival  in  Ulster.  He  found,  however,  that  his  triumph 
was  a  barren  one.  Deirdre  could  not  forget  her  Neesha.  Ac- 
cording to  some  story-tellers,  she  died  of  a  broken  heart  while 
lamenting  at  the  open  grave  in  which  he  had  just  been  laid; 
others  make  her  live  for  a  year,  refusing  to  be  comforted.  In 
the  end  she  sings  to  Conor: 

Tliat  which  was  most  beautiful  to  me  beneath  the  sky, 
.\nd  which  was  most  lovelv  to  me, 


THE   DEIRDRE    ROMANCE  31 

Thou  hast  taken  from  me— great  the  anguish — 
I  shall  not  get  healed  of  it  till  my  death.* 

Soon  afterwards  she  committed  suicide.  Fergus  avenged  him- 
self on  King  Conor  for  violating  the  pledge  he  had  himself 
been  prevailed  upon  to  give  to  the  sons  of  Ushnach.  After 
attacking  the  royal  force  of  mercenaries,  and  burning  the  palace 
at  Emania,  he  fled  to  Connaught  and  entered  the  service  of 
Queen  Meave,  whom  he  assisted  to  wage  war  against  Ulster. 
This  is  the  war  dealt  with  in  the  CuchuUin  epic  in  Vol.   I. 

In  retelling  the  Deirdre  story,  the  writer  has  drawn  upon 
various  Gaelic  versions  of  it,  and  given  metrical  renderings  of 
Gaelic  songs  associated  with  the  ancient  heroine.  The  opening 
part  is  based  upon  the  narratives  in  the  Book  of  Leinster  and 
the  Belfast  manuscript,  while  the  rest  of  the  story  follows  the 
Edinburgh  manuscript,  the  Book  of  Leinster,  the  Yellow  Book 
of  Lecan,  and  Dr.  Carmichael's  prose  version  collected  in  Barra 
— a  very  striking  variant  of  special  interest,  which  has  been 
translated  into  French  and  German.  Dr.  Carmichael  deals  in 
his  notes  with  the  various  place-names  associated  with  Deirdre 
in  Scotland.  These  include  Dun  Dearduil  (now  rendered  Dun 
Yeardil),  a  vitrified  fort  on  a  green  hillock  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Pass  of  Inverfarigaig,  and  overlooking  beautiful  Loch  Ness; 
and  Beregonium,  George  Buchanan's  Latinized  form  of  the 
Gaelic  "  Barr- nan -gobhan",  in  Ledaig,  Argyllshire,  a  few 
miles  north  of  the  mouth  of  Loch  Etive.  Other  Gaelic  names 
of  Beregonium  are  "the  ridge  of  the  king",  "the  fort  of  the 
sons  of  Ushnach",  and  "the  fort  of  Deirdre".  It  was  at 
Beregonium  that  Fergus  found  the  sons  of  Ushnach.  Like 
Dun  Dearduil,  Beregonium  was  a  vitrified  fort.  A  chain  of 
these  vitrified  forts  extends  up  the  Caledonian  valley  to  Knock- 
farrel,  Strathpeffer,  and  it  may  be  that  they  were  associated 
with  an  ancient  race  movement — perhaps  the  drift  of  the  Red 
Branch  folks  into  Ireland.  Cuchullin  and  other  warriors 
of  the  Red  Branch  visit  Scotland  to  complete  their  military 
training.  Bards  and  soothsayers  also  leave  Ireland  to  train  in 
Scotland.      It  is  an  open  question  if  the  persistent  drift  towards 

'  Professor  Donijlas  Hvde's  translation. 


32  THE    WORLDS    HERITAG1-: 

Scotland  was  really  a  drift  to  a  colony.  There  are  those  that 
urge  that  the  pre-historic  Ultonians  who  waged  war  against  the 
other  provinces  of  Ireland  were  originally  a  Pictish  (i.e.  British) 
people  from  "the  land  of  glens  and  bens  and  heroes".  King 
Conor  is  surnamed  "mac  Nessa",  i.e.  "son  of  Ness",  the 
goddess  of  Loch  Ness  and  the  River  Ness. 

Certain  scholars  have  suggested  that  Deirdre  and  the  sons  of 
Ushnach  were  originally  deities.  Dr.  Carmichael  has  recorded, 
but  without  comment,  in  his  notes  to  the  Barra  version  of  the 
story,  that  in  Uist  the  Milky  Way  is  called: 

Sliglie  Chlann  Uisne 

The  way  of  the  Clan  Uisne  (Ushnach). 

In  Scotland,  however,  there  has  ever  been  a  tendency  to  attach 
the  attributes  of  mythological  beings  to  famous  heroes  and 
heroines.  The  names  of  St.  Patrick,  Sir  William  Wallace, 
the  "  Wolf  of  Badenoch",  King  Arthur,  and  the  biblical  Samson 
have,  for  instance,  been  given  to  different  Scottish  hill  giants. 
In  like  manner  the  sons  of  Ushnach  and  Deirdre  may  have 
been  associated  with  the  spirits  of  earth,  air,  and  sky.  Deirdre's 
name,  Professor  Douglas  Hyde  notes,  is  "said  to  mean  'alarm'". 
Jubanville  translates  it:  "  Celle-qui-se  debat".  Dealing  with 
"Dun  Dearduil"  on  Loch  Ness  side.  Professor  W.  J.  Watson 
says  that  "  '  deardail'  signifies  'storm'",  and  suggests  the 
probability  that  the  place-name  means  "fort  of  storm".  "It 
may  be  added,"  he  says,  "that  the  old  Irish  tale  derives  Deirdre 
pointedly  from  the  root  of  this  word."^  The  soothsayer  who 
pfave  the  heroine  her  name  mav  have  intended  it  to  indicate  that 
she  would  cause  storm-like  alarm.  That  a  real  Deirdre  once 
lived  and  loved  and  ended  her  days  as  tragically  as  did  Shake- 
speare's Juliet,  appears  to  the  writer  to  be  the  most  reasonable 
explanation  of  the  persistency,  wide  distribution,  and  realism  of 
this  sad  and  beautiful  ancient  story. 

'  Dr.  Carmichael's  Deirdire,  notes,  p.  154. 


Deirdre 


When  thou  wert  born,  O  cliild  of  wrong, 

The  sound  of  merriment  and  song- 

Thy  sire's  house  shool<,  and  hushed  thy  cries, 

And  hushed  tlie  night-wind's  heavy  sighs, 

For  Conor  and  his  warriors  all 

Made  gladsome  feast  in  Felim's  hall. 

High  o'er  the  roof  in  darkness  flew 
The  black-winged  goddess  Morrigu,i 
Croaking  for  blood.   .   .   .  Thus,  like  a  spell, 
The  gloom  of  warfare  o'er  thee  fell — 
Ah  !  't  was  thy  fate  and  not  thy  blame 
Thy  steps  were  ta'en  through  strife. 

Then  came 
From  the  high  woods  he  treads  unseen. 
When  foam-like  o'er  the  billowing  green 
White  hawthorn  breaks  in  bloom,  the  fair 
And  blue-eyed  god  with  golden  hair — 
Angus  the  Ever  Young, '-^  who  wakes 
The  flow'rs  from  winter  sleep  and  shakes 
The  whin's  gold  blossoms  wide.   ...  To  thee 
He  viewdess  came,  and  tenderly 
His  magic  kisses  gave. 

O  child 
Of  Fate !  on  thee  the  love-god  smiled 
That  thou  might'st  bring  in  thy  full  day 
The  gracious  tenderness  of  May, 
And  shed  around  thee  like  the  fair 
Keen  hawthorn  that  anoints  the  air 
Sweetness  and  loveliness.     His  rare 

1  The  Gaelic  war-goddess,  who  sometimes  took  the  form  of  a  raven.  Her  name  signifies 
"water-queen"  or  "sea-queen".  She  links  with  the  Arthurian  "Lady  of  the  Lake"  and 
Morgen  le  Fay. 

2  The  Gaelic  love-god.  He  enjoys  perpetual  youth.  His  kisses  hover  round  lovers  as 
invisible  birds,  chirping  of  love. 

Vol.  11.  33  32 


j4  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Kisses  thee  dowered  with  bliss,  for  they 
Thee  hovered  round  by  night  and  day, 
In  dreams,  as  birds  invisible, 
Thy  soul  with  sweetest  thoughts  to  fill 
And  music  breathing  love. 

Before 
Thy  beauty  hath  a  precious  store 
Of  song-gems  fall'n  ;  for  countless  years 
The  shining  dews  of  Gaeldom's  tears, 
O  flower  of  love,  have  round  thee  clung.  .   .   . 
Dear  child  of  wrong,  long-mourned,  long  sung, 
In  this  fair  land  of  thy  delight 
To  which  thou  and  thy  love  took  flight — 
Alba  of  glens  and  bens  that  gleams 
With  silvern  lochs  and  flashing  streams, 
Thy  fame  I  sing  and  beauty  great, 
Thy  love  and  melancholy  fate.^ 


I.   The   King's  Vow 


King  Conor  sat  at  feast  with  his  Red  Branch  warriors  in 
the  house  of  Felim  mac  Dall,  the  royal  tale-teller.  They  all 
made  merry  with  loud  clamour  that  night.  In  the  midst  of 
the  feast  an  old  nurse  entered  and  told  the  king  that  a  child 
had  been  born  to  Felim.  Then  Conor  spoke  to  the  guests  and 
said:  "Ye  warriors  of  the  Red  Branch,  Felim  has  long  been 
childless,  but  this  night  is  a  glad  one,  for  to  him  a  daughter 
has  been  born.  She  has  come  into  the  world  in  the  midst  of 
merriment.     May  that  be  a  good  omen." 

The  warriors  toasted  the  new-born  babe,  and  then  King 
Conor  called  to  Cathbad,  the  soothsayer,  and  said:  "Go  forth, 
O  wise  one,  and  read  the  omens  of  the  air,  so  that  it  may  be 
made  known  to  us  what  Fate  holds  in  store  for  this  daughter 
of  Felim." 

Cathbad  arose  and  bowed  to  the  king.  Grey-bearded  was 
he  and  grave-browed,  with  blue  mysterious  eyes.  He  went 
forth  into  the  night  to  read  the  omens  of  the  air. 

Meanwhile  the  old  nurse  brought  the  child  into  the  feasting- 
hall  and  laid  her  down  at  the  king's  feet.     The  warriors  went 

1  D.  A.  Mackenzie. 


DEIRDRE 


o:) 


on  chatting  and  eating  and  drinking,  but  the  king  sat  in  silence 
and  did  naught  but  gaze  at  the  new-born  babe. 

He  wondered  how  that  spark  of  life, 

Low  flick'rinjj,  could  witlistand  the  strife 

Which  stricken  warriors  wage  for  breath, 

When  talcen  in  the  loops  of  death  .   .  . 

That  frail  life  like  a  daisy  sweet 

At  mercy  of  all  passing  feet, 

Of  with'ring  sun  and  blighting  storm, 

With  loveliness  of  hue  and  form  .   .  . 

That  life  mysterious  and  strange, 

Made  captive  in  this  world  of  change, 

Beginning,  as  all  lives  begin, 

Unstained  by  folly  or  by  sin  .  .  . 

That  life  Immune  to  love  and  hate. 

Indifferent  to  death  and  fate. 

Knowing  nor  hope,  nor  fear,  nor  care — 

Mute,  unresponsive,  unaware : 

That  life  unsought  and  Incomplete  .  .  . 

That  wonder  lying  at  his  feet 

Which  yet  could  make  its  sure  appeal 

Entrancing  through  his  senses  steal, 

Like  to  a  sweet  alluring  ditty 

Which  fills  the  heart  with  love  and  pity.  .  .  . 

Thus  Conor  pondered,  sighing  oft. 

Then  smiled  .  .  .  for  smiled  in  slumber  soft 

That  babe  so  beautiful  and  frail. 

Alone  and  apart,  in  the  shadow  of  night,  Cathbad  engaged 
himself  reading  the  omens  of  birth.  He  heard  amidst  the  moan- 
ing of  the  moorland  wind  the  cries  of  wounded  men ;  the  sound 
of  the  swaying  trees  was  like  the  splashing  of  waves  on  distant 
shores;  the  clouds  in  ever-changing  shapes  seemed  like  armies 
in  conflict.  The  soothsayer  noted  the  age  of  the  pale  moon, 
which  was  tinged  as  if  with  blood ;    he 

Read  of  wasting  wars 
Among  the  unpropltious  stars, 
Of  wanderings  and  sudden  flight. 
Of  burning  love  that  suffered  blight, 
Of  sorrow  that  outweighed  delight  .   .  . 
So,  pondering,  he  read  the  fate 
Of  Felim's  child. 

When  the  soothsayer  returned  to  the  hall  his  face  was  snowy 


36  THI-:    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

white.  There  was  sadness  on  his  brow  and  his  eyes  were  grave 
and  cold.     Like  a  phantom  he  stood 

Among  the  heroes  bton/.ed  and  bold, 
In  converse  loud,  with  eyes  that  rolled 
Mead-reddened,  round  the  board. 

Above  the  royal  chair  hung  a  wand  of  silver  from  which  dangled 
three  golden  apples.  King  Conor  grasped  this  wand  and  shook 
it  so  that  the  apples  jingled  sweetly  and  loud.  This  was  a  sign 
that  the  king  was  to  speak,  and  all  were  silent.  Said  Conor: 
"  Now  hear  the  fate  of  Felim's  child,  ye  warriors  of  the  Red 
Branch." 

"  May  her  name  be  Merry  Heart,"  laughed  a  red-bearded 
man  as  he  grasped  a  brimming  cup. 

Said  Fergus:  "May  she  never  know  grief.  May  she  bring 
plenty  and  merriment  to  all  of  us." 

Then  Cathbad  spoke,  and  his  words  fell  coldly,  like  to  a 
blast  of  night  wind  that  enters  a  warm  house  through  a  newly- 
opened  door. 

His  voice  was  low: 

"  The  wind,"  he  said,  "  was  full  of  woe. 

And  clouds  smote  clouds  in  conllict  dread, 

Breaking  in  flight;  the  pale  moon  fled 

Through  blood  and  ruin ;  stars  foretold 

Of  discord  fierce  and  friends  turned  cold, 

Contending  and  unreconciled.   .   .  . 

Lo  !  to  the  kingdom  from  this  child 

Will  dark  disasters  come." 

There  was  no  longer  desire  for,  or  thought  of,  merriment  in  the 
halK  The  terror  of  Fate's  decrees,  which  made  even  strong 
men  weak,  if  only  but  momentarily,  seized  upon  the  warriors. 
They  exchanged  burning  glances;  fierce  anger  lurked  in  their 
eyes,  and  then  they  spoke  forth  as  one  man,  saying:  "  Kill  this 
child  of  doom!"  They  set  to  reasoning  one  with  another  to 
justify  the  wisdom  of  shedding  innocent  blood. 

King  Conor  regarded  them  sternly.  His  eyes  went  round 
the  board,  reading  their  faces,  until  a  cry  from  the  babe  touched 
his  heart.  Then  he  shook  the  silver  wand  again  and  a  hush 
fell  on  the  hall — a  deep  hush  broken  only  by  the  breathing  of 
men  and  the  sigh  of  the  night  wind  out-of-doors. 


DEIRDRE  37 

'  vSaid  Conor:  "  F'elim's  child  shall  not  be  slain.  On  the 
morrow  she  shall  be  given  over  to  me.  I  shall  care  for  her  until 
she  grows  up  into  womanhood.     Then  she  shall  be  my  queen." 

None  dared  oppose  the  king's  wish.  Deep  gloom  sat  on 
every  face  in  that  hall,  which  had  resounded  with  merriment, 
but  Conor  reasoned  with  his  warriors,  saying:  "Who  can 
contend  against  Fate?  No  man  is  able  to  alter  by  his  actions 
Fate's  decrees.  You  fear  if  this  babe  lives  that  evil  will  come 
upon  us,  but  mayhap  there  would  be  greater  evil  if  we  were  to 
shed  her  innocent  blood.  She  has  already  become  dear  to  me. 
Dear  are  her  helpless  small  hands,  and  dear  is  her  smile.  It 
would  be  sorrowful  indeed  if  this  spark  of  life  were  put  out." 

He  paused,  but  no  man  answered  him.  Brows  were  wrinkled 
and  lips  were  closely  set. 

"Hear  me,"  Conor  resumed,  raising  his  voice  and  speak- 
ing slowly  and  sternly.  "  Hear  me,  ye  warriors  of  the  Red 
Branch  of  Ulster.  Although  the  grandson  of  a  soothsayer,  I 
despise  not  omens  and  foretellings,  but  I  cannot  permit  a  base 
and  treacherous  deed,  such  as  the  slaying  of  this  child  would 
be,  in  the  belief  that  the  wrath  of  the  King  of  the  Elements 
would  be  removed  by  sacrifice  of  the  innocent.  As  I  have 
decreed,  I  shall  be  the  protector  of  this  child,  and  I  now  swear 
by  sun  and  moon  that  he  who  lifts  a  hand  against  her  will  not 
live  so  long  as  I  continue  to  reign  in  Ulster." 

Then  arose  Fergus  mac  Roy^  and  said:  "O  King,  you 
have  spoken  wisely  and  bravely.  I  bind  myself  to  obey  your 
command." 

No  sooner  did  Fergus  utter  these  words  than  all  the  others 
rose  also  and  cried:  "We  too  bind  ourselves  to  respect  the 
king's  command." 

King  Conor  smiled.  He  made  a  sign  to  the  old  nurse  to 
take  away  the  child.  Then  he  had  every  goblet  on  the  board  re- 
plenished from  the  mead  vat.  The  feast  was  resumed,  and  far 
into  the  night  the  sound  of  merriment  was  heard  in  Felim's  house. 
Each  time  the  silver  wand  was  shaken  the  silence  that  ensued  was 
broken  upon  by  sweet  harp  music  and  the  songs  of  love  and  war. 

'Gaelic  Ro'igh  or  Rois.  In  Scotland  this  surname  has  become  "  Munro",  an  Englished 
(brm. 


II.   Deirdre's   Love   Dream 

Next  clay  Feliiii's  child  was  brought  to  King-  Conor's  palace, 
and  Cathbad,  the  soothsayer,  named  her  Deirdre.  She  was 
given  over  to  the  care  of  a  nurse  whose  name  was  Lavarcam, 
and  a  tow^er  was  selected  for  her  home.  This  tower  was  a 
strong  fort.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  moat  and  a  palisade  in 
which  were  the  kennels  of  fierce  hounds  that  no  one  except 
their  keeper  dared  approach.  Each  night  the  hounds  were 
set  loose,  and  they  prowled  round  the  tower  keeping  watch. 
Sentinels  were  posted  at  the  palisade  by  day,  but  the  hounds 
were  sufficient  to  guard  it  between  sunset  and  sunrise. 

Deirdre  was  tenderly  cared  for  by  Lavarcam  and  grew  up 
to  be  a  beautiful  maid.  Beside  the  tower  w-as  a  garden  full 
of  flowers  and  fruit  trees,  and  a  little  blue  stream  ran  through 
it.  In  the  garden  Deirdre  played  when  a  child,  and  sauntered 
and  mused  when  a  lovely  young  maid.  Certain  loyal  women 
were  permitted  to  visit  her,  and  they  noised  abroad  the  fame 
of  her  beauty,  which  was  unequalled  by  that  of  any  young 
woman  in  Erin.  She  had  nut-brown  eyes,  cheeks  red  as  ripe 
apples,  a  forehead  and  neck  white  as  swan  feathers,  and  hair 
golden  as  the  beams  of  the  western  sun.  No  man  ever  entered 
tow'er  or  garden  save  Cailcin,  her  aged  tutor,  and  King  Conor, 
who  had  grown  to  love  the  maiden  dearly. 

When  Deirdre  was  ripe  for  marriage,  and  came  to  know 
that  she  had  been  betrothed  to  the  king,  a  deep  sadness  fell 
upon  her.  She  moaned  in  her  sleep,  she  ate  little,  and  never 
smiled,  and  often  she  sighed  deeply.  Time  and  again  Lavarcam 
found  her  sitting  at  a  high  window,  thinking  deeply,  her  chin 
on  her  hand,  her  eyes  looking  dreamily  into  the  pleasant  garden 
below  her.  Greatly  puzzled  was  the  old  woman  to  know  what 
ailed  her  ward. 

S8 


DEIRDRE  39 

One  day,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  when  snow  lay  heavily  on 
the  ground,  she  found  Deirdre  was  sitting-  and  sighing,  as  had 
become  her  wont,  at  the  open  window.  A  calf  had  been  killed 
in  the  court,  and  its  red  blood  stained  the  snow.  Deirdre  saw 
a  black  raven  swooping  down  to  sip  the  blood,  and  she  sighed. 

"Why  do  you  sit  thus  and  why  do  you  sigh?"  asked 
Lava  ream. 

Said  Deirdre:   "A  deep  longing  has  seized  upon  me." 

"What  has  filled  your  heart  with  longing?" 

"I  have  seen  a  face  in  a  dream,  and  it  was  dearer  to  me 
than  is  the  face  of  Conor.  The  face  had  cheeks  red  as  blood 
amidst  whiteness  like  the  snow,  and  his  hair  was  black  as  yon 
raven's  wing." 

"Alas,  for  your  longing,  my  child!"  moaned  Lavarcam. 
She  had  taught  Deirdre  many  things.  There  was  no  bird  or 
flower,  or  herb  or  tree,  that  the  girl  could  not  name,  and  there 
was  no  needlework  in  which  she  was  not  expert.  Lavarcam 
also  taught  the  girl  many  songs  and  many  tales,  but  never 
a  song  or  tale  of  love. 

"My  longing,"  said  Deidre,  "springs  from  the  very  roots 
of  my  heart." 

"  It  will  never  bear  fruit,"  Lavarcam  said,  "and  I  pity  you. 
Pluck  it  as  you  would  pluck  a  flower;  let  it  wither  and  then  cast 
it  away.  Strong  is  the  tower  and  well  guarded,  and  fierce  are 
the  man-eating  hounds." 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  the  hounds,"  the  girl  answered  quickly. 

"You  told  me  of  a  dream-face,"  said  Lavarcam,  looking 
steadfastly  in  the  girl's.  "Tell  me,  my  child,  where  you  first 
saw  that  face." 

Deirdre  fell  to  weeping,  and,  folding  her  arms  round  the 
old  woman's  neck,  bowed  her  head  to  hide  her  blushes. 

"Where  did  you  see  that  face?"  repeated  Lavarcam  softly. 

"  In  my  dream,"  Deirdre  answered. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  was  on  the  stairs.  "Your  tutor  has 
come,"  said  Lavarcam.  "  We  shall  talk  of  your  dream  another 
time." 

That  evening,  when  they  were  alone  again,  the  old  woman 
observed  that  Deirdre  ate  but  little  food.     Her  heart  was  deeply 


40  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

moved.  "Do  not  sorrow,  my  dear  one,"  she  said.  "The 
king  may  not  live  long.  When  he  dies  your  longing  can  be 
realized." 

Now  the  window  that  looked  down  on  the  plain  where  the 
young  warriors  held  their  sports  had  been  built  up  on  the  day 
that  Conor  sent  Deirdre  to  live  in  the  tower.  One  morning 
Lavarcam  found  that  a  hole  had  been  made  in  it,  and  that  this 
hole  had  been  concealed  by  a  piece  of  silk  that  hung  suspended 
like  a  curtain.  She  pointed  to  the  hole,  and  said  to  Deirdre: 
"Here  it  was  that  you  dreamed  your  dream." 

The  girl  was  silent,  but  the  old  woman  read  her  heart. 

Soon  after  this  Lavarcam  discovered  that  Deirdre  concealed 
the  food  she  did  not  eat,  and  stole  out  to  give  it  to  the  hounds. 
She  thus  discovered  why  it  was  that  the  hounds  were  ever  silent 
when  the  girl  approached  them. 

Finding  Deirdre  one  day  gazing  through  the  hole  in  the 
blinded  window,  Lavarcam  stole  behind  her,  and  saw  that  the 
girl's  eyes  w-ere  fixed  on  the  sons  of  Ushnach. 

"  What  know  you  of  these  young  warriors?"  asked  the  nurse. 

"  He  that  is  noblest  of  the  three  is  named  Neesha,"  Deirdre 
answered. 

"  Who  told  you  his  name?" 

"  He  himself  told  me." 

"He  himself!"  repeated  Lavarcam  with  astonishment. 
"When  and  where  did  you  speak  to  him?" 

"Through  the  palisade  behind  the  kennels,"  Deirdre  con- 
fessed. 

Lavarcam  was  struck  dumb  with  astonishment.  Ere  she 
found  words  to  say  aught  in  praise  or  blame,  the  girl  clutched 
her  round  the  neck,  and,  with  tears  falling  from  her  eyes,  said 
passionately:  "Oh,  Lavarcam,  if  you  love  me  you  will  help 
me!  Oh,  do  not  deny  me  my  wish!  Carry  a  message  from 
me  to  my  loved  one  this  night,  or  else  I  shall  die  of  grief." 

"My  child,  my  child,"  exclaimed  the  nurse,  "are  you  not 
afraid?  Think  of  the  king  and  the  perils  that  encompass  you. 
Think  of  the  fierce  man-eating  hounds.  If  your  lover  came 
nigh  the  tower  the  hounds  would  devour  him." 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  the  hounds,"  answered  Deirdre. 


DEIRDRE  4t 

That  night  Lavarcam  carried  the  message  to  Neesha.  When 
she  was  gone,  Deirdre  gave  the  hounds  food  which  she  had 
mixed  with  poison. 

Neesha  came,  and  when  he  entered  the  room  in  which 
Deirdre  sat,  and  beheld  her  full  beauty — he  who  had  but  caught 
glimpses  of  her  clear  brown  eyes  and  her  apple-blossom  cheeks 
— he  was  overcome  with  love. 

They  spoke  together  while  Lavarcam  kept  watch,  and  they 
came  to  know  that  they  could  not  again  be  parted. 

"  Take  me  away,"  Deirdre  said. 

**  What  of  Conor?"  asked  Neesha. 

"Take  me  to  Alba  (Scotland),"  smiled  the  fair  maiden,  "for 
there  we  shall  be  safe  from  Conor." 

They  fled  away  together  into  the  night,  and  Neesha  bade  his 
two  brothers,  Ainle  and  Ardan,  accompany  them.  Mounted 
on  fleet-footed  steeds,  they  hastened  to  a  seaport,  and  there 
found  a  ship  which  was  about  to  sail  for  Scotland.  They  went 
aboard  it,  and  when  morning  began  to  gleam  over  the  waves 
the  broad  grey  sails  were  swallowing  the  white  south  wind, 
and  the  ship's  prow  was  cleaving  the  billow-ridges  of  the  blue 
laughing  ocean.  Happy  was  Deirdre  to  be  with  Neesha,  whom 
she  loved. 

King  Conor  was  amazed  and  angry  on  hearing  that  Deirdre 
had  been  carried  away  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  when 
Lavarcam  and  her  tutor  were  both  fast  asleep,  and  that  the 
man-eating  hounds  lay  dead  within  the  palisade.  On  hearing 
also  that  the  sons  of  Ushnach  had  vanished,  he  concluded 
rightly  that  Neesha  had  stolen  Deirdre  from  him,  and  he  began 
to  plot  in  his  deep  mind  to  have  him  and  his  brothers  put  to 
death,  so  that  he  might  win  back  his  betrothed  one,  the  fairest 
woman  in  the  world. 


III.   The   Mission  of  Fergus 

Two  years  went  past,  and  it  seemed  to  his  chief  warriors  as 
if  King  Conor  had  forgotten  his  vow  that  Deirdre  should  be  his 
bride.  Never  a  word  regarding  her  passed  his  Hps,  but  time 
and  again  he  was  heard  lamenting  the  loss  of  his  brave  young 
warriors,  Neesha,  Ainle,  and  Ardan,  the  sons  of  Ushnach.  Not 
only  did  he  lament  the  loss  of  the  brothers,  but  also  of  their 
champions  to  the  number  of  fifty,  who  had  followed  them  to 
Scotland. 

Yet  in  his  secret  heart  King  Conor  was  ever  meditating  how 
he  should  recover  the  beautiful  Deirdre  with  the  sw'ord  or  else 
by  guile. 

There  came  a  day  when  he  gave  a  royal  feast  at  E mania, 
which  was  attended  by  all  the  great  men  in  the  kingdom  of 
Ulster.  The  guests  made  merry  as  they  drank  wine;  harpers 
played  sweet  music,  and  many  a  bard  and  ollav^  sang  songs  and 
chanted  lays  celebrating  great  deeds  of  mighty  heroes,  while 
the  genealogies  of  great  families  were  also  recited.  Among  the 
bards  who  attended  the  feast  were  Cathbad,  Congal,  son  of 
Ruari,  the  two  sons  of  Cathbad,  Shencha  the  great,  and 
Fercertne.  In  the  midst  of  the  feast  Conor  spake,  saying: 
"  O  heroes  of  Ulster,  have  you  ever  seen  a  greater  assembly  in 
Erin  or  in  Scotland,  or  in  the  great  land  beyond  (the  Continent)?" 

Guest  after  guest  answered  him  and  said:  "No,  ne\er  have 
we  seen  an  assembly  equal  to  this  one,  O  King." 

Then  said  Conor:  "There  is  a  great  want  here,  my  heroes, 
and  I  feel  it." 

They  asked  him  what  he  meant,  and  Conor  answered:  "I 
miss  three  famous  and  noble  youths,    three   Lights  of  Valour 

'Gaelic  "Ollarnh".  The  liighest  of  the  seven  grades  of  Filfs.  Tlie  Files  were  tlie 
hijjhest  class  of  trained  bards. 

42 


DEIRDRE  43 

of  the  Gael,  namely  Neesha,  Ainle,  and  Ardan,  the  sons  of 
Ushnach.  It  is  sorrowful  that  they  should  be  separated  from 
us  for  the  sake  of  any  woman  in  the  world.  Neesha  was  worthy 
to  be  high  king  of  Ireland.  It  has  been  told  to  me  that  he  is 
already  a  mighty  ruler  in  Scotland,  having  won  the  half  of  that 
country  for  himself." 

The  guests  were  well  pleased  with  these  words,  and  they 
praised  the  sons  of  Ushnach  as  brave  heroes  and  lions  in  battle. 

Said  Conor:  "  Let  messengers  be  sent  to  the  beautiful  realm 
of  Scotland  to  entreat  Neesha  and  his  brothers  to  return  hither." 

The  guests  approved  of  this  being  done,  and  one  asked  the 
other:   "  Who  will  carry  the  message  to  the  sons  of  Ushnach?" 

Said  Conor:  "  Neesha  has  vowed  never  to  return  to  Ireland 
except  in  company  of  CuchuUin,  Conall  the  Victorious,  or 
Fergus  mac  Roy.  I  shall  find  out  which  of  these  is  most 
worthy  to  carry  my  message." 

That  very  night  King  Conor  spoke  to  each  of  the  warriors 
in  secret.  To  Conall  he  said:  ''  What  would  you  do  if  you 
were  sent  for  the  sons  of  Ushnach  and  evil  should  befall  them, 
although  I  intend  no  evil?" 

Conall  answered:  "  If  any  evil  should  befall  the  young 
heroes  when  I  am  their  protector,  the  guilty  would  not  escape 
my  sword." 

Said  Conor:  "O  Conall,  I  can  see  that  I  am  not  dear  to 
you." 

The  king  spoke  next  to  Cuchullin  in  like  manner,  and  the 
great  warrior  made  answer,  saying:  "  I  vow  that  if  the  sons 
of  Ushnach  are  taken  hither  under  my  care  merely  to  be 
put  to  death,  that  no  bribe,  however  great,  will  prevent  me 
taking  off  even  your  own  head." 

Said  Conor:  "O  Cuchullin,  I  can  see  that  the  love  you  bear 
me  is  not  very  great." 

"  I  do  not  place  it  above  my  honour,"  Cuchullin  answered. 

Next  Conor  spoke  to  Fergus  mac  Roy,  saying:  "My  royal 
hero,  what  would  you  do  if  you  were  sent  to  Scotland  for  the 
sons  of  Ushnach,  and  if  they  should  be  slain  when  they  return 
hither,  although  you  pledged  your  honour  to  protect  them?" 

Fergus  answered  and  said:   "I  pledge  myself  not  to  attack 


44  TH1-:    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

your  kinsmen,  but  if  any  man  were  to  do  evil  to  the  sons  of 
Ushnach  he  should  not  escape  punishment  at  my  hands." 

Said  Conor:  "You  shall  go  to  Scotland  as  the  bearer  of 
mv  message.  Set  out  on  the  morrow  for  Loch  Etive,  where 
you  will  find  Neesha  and  his  brothers.  As  soon  as  you  return 
to  Ireland,  proceed  to  Borrach's  dun,  but  see  that  the  sons  of 
Ushnach  tarry  not  on  their  way  hither.  No  matter  whether 
they  arrive  by  night  or  day,  let  them  come  to  Emania  without 
delay." 

Fergus  sailed  for  Scotland  next  morning  in  his  own  galley, 
taking  with  him  no  followers  except  his  two  sons,  fair  lUann 
and  Red  Buinne.  When  Loch  Etive  was  reached  the  galley 
was  run  ashore  in  the  little  pebbly  cove  not  far  from  the  dun^  of 
the  sons  of  Ushnach  (Beregonium).  Fergus  sent  up  a  mighty 
shout,  and  Neesha,  who  was  sitting  with  Deirdre  playing  at 
chess,  heard  the  hailing  voice  and  said:  "That  is  the  shout  of 
a  hero  from  LUster." 

Deirdre,  who  heard  the  shout  too,  and  recognized  the  voice 
of  Fergus,  turned  pale,  and  said:  "  No,  no;  it  is  the  shout  of 
a  man  of  this  country.  Heed  it  not.  Let  us  continue  our  game." 
She  had  dreamed  an  evil  dream  on  the  previous  night,  and  had 
fear  of  the  treachery  of  King  Conor. 

^  Pronounced  "doon". 


IV.   Deirdre's   Life  in  Scotland 

It  was  on  beautiful  Loch  Etive  side  that  Neesha  and  Deirdre 
had  their  first  home  after  escaping  from  Ulster.  Dear  to  her 
was  the  vale  of  Etive.  Beautiful  were  the  woods  at  sunrise. 
Dear  to  her  was  Neesha. 

The  sons  of  Ushnach  followed  the  chase  far  up  the  glen. 
Their  fame  as  hunters  and  warriors  was  soon  noised  far  and 
wide,  and  the  King  of  the  Picts  invited  them  to  his  castle  at 
Inverness. 

At  this  time  Neesha  and  his  bride  and  his  followers  were  in 
the  Great  Glen  on  Loch  Ness  side,  where  they  had  built  a  strong 
dun  (Dun  Dearduil).  It  chanced  that  a  servant  of  the  Pictish 
king  had  visited  this  dun.  There  he  saw  the  beautiful  Deirdre, 
and  he  hastened  to  the  king  and  spoke,  saying:  "With  this 
Neesha,  the  son  of  Ushnach,  is  a  woman  worthy  to  be  the  bride 
of  any  king  of  the  western  world.  Her  name  is  Deirdre.  Let 
Neesha  be  slain  so  that  you  may  wed  this  peerless  woman." 

"No,  no,"  the  king  said,  "I  shall  not  consent  to  have 
Neesha  slain.  Go  forth  to  the  dun  of  the  sons  of  Ushnach,  and 
ask  the  woman  secretly  if  she  will  consent  to  be  my  queen." 

This  the  man  did.  He  made  known  to  Deirdre  the  king's 
will,  but  she  answered  him  "  nay",  and  told  her  husband,  when 
he  returned  from  the  chase  that  evening,  what  had  been  said  to 
her.     Dearer  to  her  than  any  king  was  Neesha,  whom  she  loved. 

After  this  the  King  of  the  Picts  prevailed  upon  the  sons  of 
Ushnach  to  help  him  in  battle  against  his  enemies.  It  was  his 
desire  to  get  rid  of  them,  and  he  arranged  that  they  should 
endure  great  perils.  Neesha  and  his  brothers,  however,  over- 
came every  danger  and  difficulty  by  reason  of  their  valour  and 
skill  as  warriors. 

Then  the  king  strove  by  other  means  to  win    Deirdre  for 


46  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

himself.  A  fair  youno-  woman,  the  daughter  of  the  lord  of 
Duntrone,  turned  her  deep  eyes  on  Neesha,  and  sighed  for  his 
love.  In  secret  Neesha  kissed  her.  One  day,  as  he  pursued 
the  chase,  he  caught  a  young  deer,  and  went  out  of  his  way  to 
present  it  to  the  fair  one  of  Duntrone. 

Knowledge  of  this  came  to  Deirdre,  and  her  heart  was  filled 
with  sorrow  and  jealousy.  She  ran  to  the  sea  beach,  and, 
launching  a  little  boat,  went  into  it  and  allowed  it  to  go  adrift 
on  the  ocean.  There  was  neither  oar  nor  rudder  in  the  boat, 
and  the  tide  carried  it  away,  but  Deirdre  cared  not  whether  she 
lived  or  died,  believing,  as  she  did,  that  Neesha  loved  her  no 
longer. 

Ainle  and  Ardan  were  grief-stricken  when  they  saw  the  boat 
drifting  out  to  sea.  Without  hesitation  they  plunged  into  the 
water  and  swam  after  it,  and  when  they  reached  the  boat  they 
turned  it  and  pushed  it  before  them  towards  the  shore.  Then 
they  prevailed  upon  Deirdre  to  go  with  them  to  the  dun. 

Neesha,  on  his  return  that  evening,  found  Deirdre  in  tears. 
His  heart  was  filled  with  remorse  because  of  his  folly,  and, 
having  made  full  confession  to  her,  he  vowed  thrice,  before  his 
weapons,  that  he  would  never  again  bring  a  cloud  to  her  face 
or  sorrow  to  her  heart  until  he  was  called  to  join  the  army  of 
the  dead.     Then  were  the  lovers  reconciled. 

The  sons  of  Ushnach  became  powerful  in  the  west,  and 
Neesha  reigned  as  a  king  over  the  land  that  became  known 
in  after  days  as  Dalriada.  Scotland  was  very  dear  to  Deirdre, 
but  the  thoughts  of  Neesha  oft-times  turned  back  to  his  native 
land.  Thus  it  was  that  when  he  heard  Fergus's  shout  on  the 
shore  of  Loch  Etive  his  heart  leapt  within  him. 

**  Let  us  continue  our  game,"  said  Deirdre. 

Fergus  shouted  a  second  time.  "  Listen,"  Neesha  said.  "I 
am  sure  that  man  comes  from   Ireland." 

"No,  no;  you  are  mistaken,"  urged  Deirdre,  moving  a 
piece  on  the  board.  *•  How  different,"  she  sighed,  "is  the  cry 
of  a  man  of  Erin  from  that  of  a  man  of  Alba." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time.  Then  once  again  Fergus 
raised  his  voice.  He  had  come  nearer,  and  there  was  no 
mistaking  who  he  was. 


DEIRDRE  47 

Neesha  turned  to  Aidan,  and  said:  "Go  and  meet  Fergus 
mac  Roy.      He  is  the  bearer  of  tidings  from  Erin." 

*'Alas!"  cried  Deirdre;  "I  knew  from  the  first  that  it  was 
Fergus." 

"Then  why  have  you  insisted,  my  queen,  that  it  was  a  man 
of  Alba  who  shouted  to  us?" 

"Because  of  the  dream  that  I  dreamed  yester-night,"  said 
she.  "  I  saw  three  birds  flying  towards  our  dun.  They  came 
from  Emania  to  this  place  with  three  sups  of  honey  in  their 
bills.  Methought  they  left  the  honey  here  and  flew  away  with 
three  sups  of  our  blood." 

"  And  how  do  you  read  this  dream,  my  queen?" 

Said  Deirdre:  "Fergus  comes  with  a  message  from  Conor. 
It  is  a  honey -sweet  message  of  peace,  but  it  is  false  and 
treacherous.  Our  life-blood,  which  the  birds  carried  away,  is 
what  Conor  desires  to  get.  Those  who  do  his  bidding  will 
assuredly  be  betrayed." 

The  sons  of  Ushnach  were  ill-pleased  to  hear  what  Deirdre 
said,  because  she  accused  Fergus  of  bad  faith.  "Say  nothing 
regarding  the  dream  to  Fergus,"  Neesha  said.  Then  he  bade 
Ardan  to  welcome  their  friend. 

Ardan  hastened  to  the  shore.  He  kissed  Fergus  and  his 
two  sons,  and  led  them  to  the  dun,  where  they  were  likewise 
kissed  by  Ainle  and  Neesha  and  Deirdre. 

When  they  had  all  eaten  together,  Neesha  asked  Fergus 
what  tidings  he  brought. 

Said  Fergus:  "Pleasant  indeed  are  the  tidings.  Conor 
asks  you  all  to  return  to  Ulster.  He  has  pledged  his  honour 
to  protect  you  from  harm.  I  have,  indeed,  received  his  under- 
taking that  no  evil  shall  befall  you.  I,  your  true  and  trusted 
friend,  now  pledge  myself  to  shield  )'ou,  and  see  that  the  pro- 
mise made  by  Conor  is  fulfilled." 

Before  Neesha  could  answer  Fergus,  Deirdre  spoke  to  him, 
saying:  "You  cannot  return  now,  O  Neesha.  Your  kingdom 
in  Scotland  is  greater  and  stronger  than  is  the  kingdom  of 
Conor  in  Erin." 

Said  Fergus:  "Dearer  to  the  heart  than  aught  else  is  one's 
native   land.      A   man   may   have   riches  and    power  in   abun- 


4S  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

dance,  but  he  is  poor  indeed  if  he  cannot  see  the  land  of  his 
birth." 

"You  speak  truly,"  Neesha  sighed.  "Erin  will  ever  be 
dearer  to  me  than  this  land,  although  I  have  great  possessions 
in  Alba." 

Said  Fergus:  "  Mv  word  is  my  bond,  and  it  is  firm,  my 
friend." 

"  Firm  indeed,  and  to  be  trusted,"  Neesha  answered.  "We 
shall  return  to  Erin  with  you." 

Deirdre  wept,  and  refused  to  consent  to  Neesha's  proposal. 
She  did  everything"  in  her  power  to  prevent  the  departure  from 
Scotland  of  the  sons  of  Ushnach. 

Said  Fergus:  "  Once  again  I  pledge  myself  by  every  binding 
oath  to  honour  my  pledge.  Were  all  the  men  of  Erin  to  rise 
against  you,  I  should  scatter  them  in  flight.  Their  weapons 
would  be  no  protection  to  them." 

"We  all  trust  you,"  Neesha  said.  "  We  shall  go  with  you 
to  Emania,  Fergus  mac  Roy." 


V.   Deirdre's   Farewell   to  Scotland 

A  cloud  of  melancholy  gathered  round  the  heart  of  Deirdre. 
It  was  sorrowful  to  her  to  learn  that  the  galleys  would  sail  that 
night.  Silently  she  made  preparations  to  leave  Alba.  Silently 
she  went  aboard  the  vessel,  and  when  it  was  launched  on  the 
murmuring  waters  she  gazed  with  loving  eyes  across  shadowy 
Ledaig  with  the  shingly  shore,  on  lone  Ben  Lora,  over  which 
rose  the  sad  moon  silvering  the  reedy  marshes  of  Benderloch. 
As  the  galley  headed  seaward,  she  saw  the  green  waving  woods 
of  Connel  and  the  snow-white  Falls  of  Lora  at  the  mouth  of  fair 
Loch  Etive,  into  which  pours  many  a  fresh  mountain  stream. 
High  above  all  hills  arose  Cruachan  Ben;  beautiful  were  the 
shore  and  wooded  slopes  of  Dunstaffnage.  In  a  low  voice 
she  sang: 

My  bosom  is  heaving  with  sorrow  and  grieving 

This  night  to  be  leaving  fair  Alba  for  aye — 
My  love  to  the  glens  all,  the  lochs  and  the  bens  all, 

To  every  brown  haven  and  every  blue  bay. 

My  love  to  thee,  Alba — fair  art  thou,  rare  art  thou — 
Dear  are  thy  woods  and  thy  shores  of  white  sand. 

Thy  scented  green  bowers  and  glens  full  of  flowers 
Forget  will  I  ne'er,  O  thou  fair  eastern  land. 

Yon  white  waters  falling  will  e'er  be  nie  calling ; 

Yon  streams  through  my  dreams  will  whisper  and  stray — 
Sad  is  my  heart  in  this  hour  of  departing: 

Ah !  no  need  will  be  showing  for  going  away. 

All  night   long  the  galleys  of   Fergus  and    Neesha  sailed 

under  the  starry  sky,  a  fair  wind  filling  their  sails.      Deirdre 

could  not  sleep.     She  sat  on  deck,  and  like  the  darkness  hiding 

her  beauty,  the  blackness  of  sadness  and  sorrow  took  all  joy 

from   her  heart.     When    morning  broke    in   brightness  across 
Vol.  II.  49  33 


50  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

the  silver-grey  waters,  she  gazed  through  tears  at  the  fading 
coasts  of  Scotland.  Neesha  tried  to  comfort  her  with  kisses 
and  whispers  of  love.  After  a  time  she  ceased  shedding  tears 
and  took  her  harp,  and,  fingering  its  sweet-toned  strings  gently 
and  deftly,  she  sang  her  song  of  farewell: — 

A  dear,  dear  land  is  yon  eastern  land — 

Oh !  wondrous  is  Alba  to  me. 
1  should  never  have  come  from  it,  Neesha,  mine  own, 

Had  I  not  to  come  from  it  w-ith  thee. 

Dear  is  Doon-Fidgha  and  dear  Doon  Finn, 

And  dear  is  the  brown  doon  above  them ; 
Oh!  Innis-draighen  and  Sweeny-doon, 

I  shall  ever  remember  and  love  them. 

The  Glen  of  Laidh.^  oh  !  the  Glen  of  Laidh, 

There  softly  I  slumbered  by  night ; 
Fish  and  the  flesh  of  the  badger  and  deer 

Were  my  food  in  that  glen  of  delight. 

The  Glen  of  Masan,  oh  !  the  Glen  of  Masan, 

With  its  hart's  ferns  high  and  so  deep; 
On  its  verge  all  green  I  had  joy  serene. 

And  its  slow  stream  hushed  me  to  sleep. 

The  wood  of  Cuan,  oh!  the  wood  of  Cuan — 

'T  was  Ainle  who  guided  me  there — 
Oh  !  brief  seemed  ever  the  days  that  I  lived 

With  my  Neesha  in  Alba  so  fair. 

The  glen  of  Etive,  oh  !  the  glen  of  Etive, 

There  was  my  first  home  made. 
Lovely  at  morn  in  that  sun-bright  glen 

Is  the  woodland,  and  dreamful  its  shade. 

The  glen  of  Orchy,  O  the  glen  of  Orchy — 

Far-seen  and  so  green  will  it  be ; 
No  man  was  ever  so  joyful  j-et 

As  my  Neesha  was  there  when  with  me. 

Glendarua,  O  Glendarua, 

My  love  to  its  women  and  men! 
Sweet  is  the  call  of  the  lone  cuckoo 

From  the  tree  on  the  cliff  o'er  that  glen. 

1  "dh  "  silent. 


DEIRDRE  51 

Oh !  dear  Is  Draighen,  whose  sandy  bay 

Is  as  blue  as  the  heaven  above. — 
I  should  never  have  come  from  yon  eastern  land 

Had  I  not  from  it  come  with  my  love.^ 

Deirdre  did  not  cease  lamenting  until  she  reached  Erin.  It 
is  still  told  that  she  and  the  sons  of  Ushnach  landed  at  Bally- 
castle,  beyond  which  is  Rathlin  Island,  where  a  rock  is  called 
"  Carraig  Uisneach".  The  dun  of  Borrach  was  nigh  at  hand, 
and  that  evil-hearted  man,  who  was  in  league  with  Conor,  came 
down  to  greet  the  sons  of  Ushnach  with  kisses.  He  also 
welcomed  Fergus,  and  said:  "I  have  made  ready  a  feast  for 
you.     It  is  geis  (taboo)  to  you  to  leave  a  feast  until  it  is  ended." 

When  Fergus  heard  these  words  he  flushed  angrily.  "  It 
is  an  evil  thing  to  lay  geis  on  me  at  this  time,  because  I  have 
promised  King  Conor  to  lead  the  sons  of  Ushnach  to  Emania 
on  the  very  day  on  which  they  reach  Erin." 

Said  Borrach:  "No  matter.  You  must  come  to  my  feast. 
Have  you  forgotten  that  King  Conor  bade  you  so  to  visit  my 
house?" 

Fergus  turned  to  Neesha.    "  What  can  I  do  now?"  he  asked. 

Said  Deirdre:  "  Do  as  you  wish  to  do.  Make  haste  to  the 
feast  and  sell  your  honour  for  ale." 

'*  I  cannot  neglect  my  duty  to  you,"  Fergus  said.  "  I  shall 
send  my  two  sons  with  you  to  Emania." 

"We  thank  you,"  answered  Neesha;  "but  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  depend  on  our  own  strong  right  arms  when  in  battle." 

He  was  angry  with  Fergus  and  turned  away,  followed  by 
Deirdre  and  his  brothers  and  the  two  sons  of  Fergus. 

Now  Fergus  was  plunged  in  gloom  because  of  the  spell  that 
Borrach  laid  on  him.  Still,  he  believed  that  no  harm  would 
come  to  the  sons  of  Ushnach. 

^  Gaelic  scholars  are  not  agreed  as  to  the  locaHties  of  all  the  place-names  in  this  ancient 
song.     Glen  Laidh  may  be  Glen  Lochy,  where  there  is  a  Ben  Laidh. 


VI.   The  Doom  of  Deirdre 

Neesha  struck  out  with  Deirdre  on  the  shortest  path  leading 
to  Emania,  followed  by  his  brothers  and  the  sons  of  Fergus. 

Said  Dierdre:  "I  shall  give  you  good  advice,  although  I 
fear  you  will  not  accept  it." 

"  What  say  you,  my  girl?"  asked  Neesha. 

Said  Deirdre:  "  Let  us  go  to  Rathlin  Island  and  stay  there 
until  Fergus  is  done  with  the  feast.  Then  will  the  pledge  given 
by  Fergus  be  observed  and  your  life  prolonged." 

The  sons  of  Fergus  scoffed  at  Deirdre's  advice.  "Our 
father,"  they  said,  "  has  vowed  that  no  harm  will  come  to  you." 

Said  Deirdre:  "Alas,  that  I  should  have  left  Alba,  be- 
lieving the  rash  promise  of  Fergus!  My  heart  is  a  clot  of  grief. 
Oh,  my  sorrow,  my  sorrow!  O  ye  sons  of  Ushnach,  your  last 
day  is  nigh  at  hand!" 

"Hush,  Deirdre!"  Neesha  said.  "Evil  are  your  words. 
O  beautiful,  incomparable  woman,  there  is  venom  on  your 
ruby  lips.  Fergus  would  never  have  gone  to  Alba  to  bring 
about  our  destruction." 

Said  Deirdre:  "Alas!  I  tremble  for  you,  dear  sons  of 
Ushnach.  It  seems  I  have  come  from  Scotland  of  the  red 
deer  to  endure  lasting  woe." 

They  went  on  together  until  they  reached  the  White  Cairn 
of  Watching  on  the  slope  of  Sliab  Fua'.  There  Deirdre  tarried, 
for  she  was  weary,  and  soon  she  fell  asleep.  When  Neesha 
missed  her  he  turned  back,  and  just  as  he  reached  her  side 
she  awoke. 

"  Why  did  you  tarry  here,  my  queen?"  he  asked  softly. 

"  Sleep  came  upon  me,"  answered  Deirdre,  "and  with  sleep 
a  dream." 

62 


DEIRDRE  53 

*'  What  was  your  dream?" 

"I  saw  you  all  headless.  Fair  Ilann,  son  of  Fergus,  was 
headless  too,  but  his  brother.  Red  Buinne,  still  lived,  because 
he  had  sided  with  our  enemies." 

Then  she  sang-: 

Sad  was  my  vision,  O  Neesha,  mine  own, 
I  saw  you  all  headless,  and  I  was  alone — 
Oh  !  I  was  alone  and  in  sorrow  and  tears. 
And  the  laug-hter  of  Conor  rang  loud  in  mine  ears. 

Oh  !  why  have  you  hired  me  from  Alba  so  fair. 
From  safety  and  peace  to  peril  and  care? 
The  wind  from  the  south  blows  fair  and  blows  free, 
Come  haste  to  our  galley — wide,  wide  is  the  sea! 

Neesha  sang  to  her : 

Oh,  sad  is  thy  vision ;  it  cometh  too  late — 
'Tis  vain,  O  my  love,  to  struggle  with  Fate. 
A  storm  o'er  the  deep  comes  dark  as  despair — 
Oh  !  't  is  far  to  Loch  Etive  and  Connel  so  fair. 

The  wind  from  the  south  will  die  with  the  day, 

And  the  north  wind  with  darkness  will  haste  and  hold  sway; 

Oh  !  Neesha  shall    never  again  with  his  men 

Go  hunting  the  deer  in  Etive's  bright  glen. 

Hand  in  hand  they  went  on  their  way,  following  the  others 
on  the  road  to  Emania.  The  sun  was  setting  in  the  west 
as  they  came  nigh  to  Willow  Height,  which  is  now  named 
Armagh.^     Then  Deirdre  saw  a  blood-red  cloud,  and  sang: 

0  Neesha,  see  the  cloud — 
Yon  chilling  cloud  blood-red— 

High  o'er  Emania  green. 
Oh  !  high  above  your  head. 

Sad  is  my  heart,  mine  own, 
And  filled  with  fear,  my  love. 

1  see  your  heart's  blood  in 
That  crimson  cloud  above. 

Said  Neesha:  "  What  is  your  advice,  my  queen?" 

"Let  us  hasten  this  night  to  the  dun  of  CuchuUin  in  Dun- 

1  Gaelic,  Ard  Macha,  ' '  the  hill  of  Macha  ". 


54  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

dalk,"  she  urged.  "There  we  can  tarry  in  safety  until  Fergus 
comes,  or  else  secure  the  protection  of  Cuchullin  ere  we  go  to 
Emania." 

Said  Neesha:  "We  cannot  follow  your  advice,  because  we 
fear  naught." 

Onward  they  went  until  they  saw  Emania.  Then  Deirdre 
spoke  and  said:  "  I  will  tell  you  how  you  can  ascertain  if  Conor 
is  to  be  trusted." 

"  We  are  listening,"  Xeesha  answered. 

Said  Deirdre:  "If  the  king  invites  you  to  his  palace 
where  he  is  feasting  with  his  warriors,  he  means  no  ill,  but 
if  he  bids  you  go  elsewhere,  then  there  is  treachery  in  his 
heart." 

Neesha  went  forward  and  sounded  the  wooden  stave  on  the 
palace  door. 

Forth  came  the  door-keeper  and  asked  in  a  loud  voice: 
"Who  is  there?" 

Neesha  answered  :  "  The  sons  of  Ushnach,  Deirdre,  and  the 
two  sons  of  Fergus  w^ait  upon  the  king." 

The  door-keeper  sent  a  messenger  to  inform  Conor,  and 
the  order  that  came  back  was  that  the  sons  of  Ushnach, 
Deirdre,  and  the  two  sons  of  Fergus  were  to  go  to  the  House 
of  the  Red  Branch,  there  being  no  room  for  them  in  the  hall 
of  the  king. 

Then  said  Deirdre:  "Alas,  Neesha,  you  would  not  follow 
my  advice!     It  is  not  \et  too  late  to  turn  back." 

Fair  Illann,  son  of  Fergus,  made  light  of  Deirdre's  fears, 
saying:  "  O  girl,  we  are  not  cowards.  Let  us  go  without  delay 
to  the  House  of  the  Red  Branch." 

"  We  shall  go  nowhere  else,"  Neesha  said. 

And  so  they  went.  They  entered  the  hall  and  found  ser- 
vants waiting  to  attend  them  and  food  and  wine  in  abundance. 
There  they  sat  them  down  to  eat  and  drink,  for  they  were 
wearied  after  their  journey,  having  scarcely  paused  since  they 
had  landed  nigh  to  the  dun  of  Borrach. 

When  they  were  satisfied  with  food  and  wine,  Neesha  said: 
"Let  the  chess-boards  be  brought  hither,  so  that  we  may 
play." 


DEIRDRE  55 

Tlie  boards  were  iDrought,  and  Neesha  and  Deirdre  played 
on  one  of  them. 

Conor  sat  moodily  in  his  palace,  and  at  length  he  spoke  to 
his  warriors,  saying:  "  Which  of  you  shall  go  to  the  House  of 
the  Red  Branch  and  bring  me  tidings  whether  or  not  Deirdre 
has  kept  her  fair  looks?" 

Ere  a  warrior  could  reply,  Lavarcam,  who  had  been  Deirdre's 
nurse,  answered  and  said:   "  Permit  me  to  go,  O  King." 

"  So  be  it,"  Conor  assented. 

Then  Lavarcam  hastened  to  the  House  of  the  Red  Branch. 
She  loved  Deirdre,  and  Neesha  was  also  very  dear  to  her — 
dearer,  indeed,  than  any  other  warrior  of  Ulster.  She  kissed 
Deirdre  and  Neesha  and  Ainle  and  Arden,  and  as  she  kissed 
them  she  wept. 

' '  Alas ! "  said  she ;  ' '  'tis  not  well  with  you,  my  dear  children, 
to  come  hither  with  Deirdre,  because  the  king  longs  for  her. 
I  have  been  sent  to  you  to  find  out  if  she  is  as  fair  as  she  was 
wont  to  be.  Sorrowful  to  me  is  the  shameful  treachery  of  the 
king.     O  my  darlings,  you  have  been  deceived." 

She  sang  this  stave: 

O  sad  with  shame  am  I 

And  grief  for  your  dread  plight. 
Emania  will  be  severed 

By  what  is  done  this  night. 

Then  she  bade  the  sons  of  Fergus  to  barricade  the  doors  and 
windows.  "  If  you  are  attacked,  my  darlings,"  she  said,  ''  may 
you  be  victorious.     Be  strong  and  fight  like  men." 

Sorrowfully  and  dolefully  she  parted  with  them  and  went 
away-    tears  streamed  from  her  eyes  as  she  went. 

When  she  stood  before  Conor,  he  bent  his  brows  and  said: 
"  What  are  your  tidings?" 

Lavarcam  answered  him  saying:  "  I  have  good  tidings  and 
bad  tidings." 

"Then  tell  them,"  said  Conor. 

"My  good  tidings,"  Lavarcam  said,  "are  that  the  sons  of 
Ushnach  are  unequalled  for  prowess  and   noble  feats  in  Erin 


56  THE    WORLD'S    HE-RITAGE 

or  Alba.  It  is  well  for  you  to  have  such  mighty  warriors  in 
your  host,  O  King.  My  bad  tidings  are  of  Deirdre.  Fair  was 
she  when  she  went  away  from  here,  but  her  beauty  has  faded, 
O  King;  sad  indeed  is  the  change  that  has  come  over  her." 

Conor's  jealous  wrath  was  suppressed  when  he  heard  that 
Deirdre  was  no  longer  beautiful.  He  drank  deeply  with  his 
warriors,  but  after  an  hour  had  gone  past  he  spoke  to  Trendorn 
and  said:   "  Who  slew  your  father  and  your  three  brothers?" 

"  It  was  Neesha,"  answered  Trendorn. 

"Then,"  Conor  said,  "  go  to  the  House  of  the  Red  Branch, 
and  see  whether  Deirdre  is  still  fair  to  look  upon." 

Trendorn  went  forth  as  the  king  desired,  but  when  he 
reached  the  House  of  the  Red  Branch  he  found  that  the  door 
and  the  windows  had  been  shut  and  barricaded. 

"The  sons  of  Ushnach  suspect  evil,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  went  round  the  house,  and  saw  that  there  was  one  small 
window  that  had  not  been  shuttered.  He  climbed  up  to  it,  and, 
looking  through,  beheld  Deirdre  and  Neesha  playing  chess. 

Quick-eyed  was  Deirdre.  She  made  a  sign  to  Neesha,  and 
he  looked  up  and  saw  Trendorn's  face  at  the  window.  Seizing 
the  game-board,  he  flung  it,  and  blinded  one  of  Trendorn's  eyes. 

Trendorn  hastened  back  to  Conor,  with  blood  streaming 
down  his  face.  "  It  was  worth  while  being  blinded,"  he  said, 
"for  the  sake  of  one  look  at  the  fairest  woman  in  all  the  world." 

When  Conor  heard  that  Deirdre  was  still  of  matchless 
beauty  his  jealousy  and  anger  were  revived.  He  called  upon 
three  hundred  warriors  to  follow  him  to  the  House  of  the  Red 
Branch,  so  that  he  might  seize  Deirdre  and  have  her  for  himself. 

The  sons  of  Ushnach  heard  the  shouting  of  Conor's  warriors. 
Fair  Illann,  son  of  Fergus,  opened  a  window,  and  spoke  in  a 
loud  voice,  saying:   "  Who  comes  hither?" 

"Conor  and  his  warriors,"  they  answered  him. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  break  my  father's  pledge?"  he  asked. 

Said  Conor:  "You  and  the  sons  of  Ushnach  have  good 
reason  to  fear  me,  because  she  who  is  my  plighted  bride  is  there 
with  you." 

"  AlasI  O  Neesha,"  Deirdre  moaned,  "Fergus  has  betrayed 
you." 


DEIRDRE  57 

Red  Buinne,  son  of  Fergus,  was  angry.  "If  my  father  has 
been  false,  I  shall  not  be,"  he  said.  Then  he  went  outside  and 
made  fierce  attack  on  Conor's  warriors,  whereat  the  king  cried 
out:   *'  Who  is  this  that  throws  my  force  into  confusion?" 

"  Buinne  mac  Fergus,"  answered  that  hero. 

**I  shall  reward  you  if  you  desert  the  sons  of  Ushnach," 
Conor  said. 

"  What  is  the  reward?" 

"  An  estate  and  membership  of  my  council." 

"  I  accept  your  offer,"  said  false  Buinne. 

"Alas!"  moaned  Deirdre;  "Buinne  is  indeed  his  father's 
son.     He  has  deserted  you,  O  sons  of  Ushnach!" 

Said  Fair  Illann:  "  But  I  shall  not  desert  you  as  long  as  my 
hand  clings  to  my  sword." 

And  he  kept  his  promise. 

In  the  fighting  that  ensued,  Illann  attacked  Fiacha,  son  of 
Conor,  and  pressed  him  hard.  Fierce  was  the  combat,  and 
while  it  was  yet  at  a  height,  Conall  the  Victorious,  hearing  the 
noise  of  battle,  hastened  to  the  king's  aid.  He  came  up  behind 
Illann  and  thrust  his  spear  into  the  back  of  that  young  hero. 

"Who  has  attacked  me  from  behind?"  cried  Illann  in  the 
darkness. 

"  I,  Conall  the  Victorious,"  answered  the  hero.  "  Who  are 
you?" 

"I  am  Fair  Illann,  son  of  Fergus,  I  have  pledged  myself 
to  protect  the  sons  of  Ushnach." 

"Alas!"  said  Conall;  "I  have  done  an  evil  deed,  but  I  shall 
punish  Conor  for  this." 

As  he  spoke,  he  attacked  Fiacha,  and  took  off  his  head. 

Illann  was  weak  from  loss  of  blood.  He  staggered  into  the 
House  of  the  Red  Branch,  and  soon  life  went  from  him. 

Conor  called  upon  his  warriors  to  press  forward,  but  the 
sons  of  Ushnach  linked  their  shields,  and  made  a  ring  round 
Deirdre.  Then,  fighting  valiantly,  they  cut  their  way  through 
Conor's  force,  and  escaped  to  the  open  plain. 

The  king  called  upon  Cathbad  to  use  his  magic  against  the 
sons  of  Ushnach.  The  Druid  enchanted  the  plain  so  that  a 
sea  seemed  to  flow  across  it. 


58  THK    WORLD'S    IIKRITAGE 

In  the  confusion  that  followed,  Neesha  and  Ainle  and  Ardan 
were  slain. 

Deirdre  took  flight  in  the  grey  dawn  until  she  chanced  to 
meet  Cuchullin,  who  took  her  under  his  protection.  To  him 
she  related  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  she  led  him  to  the  place 
where  Neesha  and  his  brothers  were  lying.  She  tore  her  hair, 
and  rent  her  garments,  and  lamented  the  death  of  the  sons  of 
Ushnach. 

A  man  came  to  dig  graves  for  the  dead  heroes,  and  she  sat 
moaning  beside  the  body  of  Neesha,  refusing  to  be  comforted. 
The  sun  rose  high  in  the  blue  heaven,  and  still  she  remained 
there.  "  Alas!"  she  cried,  *'  long,  long  indeed  is  the  day  with- 
out the  sons  of  Ushnach.  Warriors  were  wont  to  pay  homage 
to  them,  and  their  fall  has  caused  great  sorrow.  I  refused 
Conor  for  the  sake  of  Neesha.  Brief  was  my  life  with  my  loved 
one,  brief  but  full  of  joy.  I  honour  him  in  death,  and  I  shall 
not  live  long  after  him." 

She  sang  this  song  at  the  grave  of  Neesha: — 

If  only  the  dead  could  hear, 

He  would  make  room  for  me ; 
If  1  were  laid  beside  my  love, 

Happy  his  sleep  would  be. 

Ah !  never  until  this  day 

Was  I  one  day  alone. 
Let  no  man  dream  that  I  can  live 

Apart  from  thee,  mine  own. 

Soon  like  the  breaking  wave 

My  heart  will  broken  be — 
Its  grief  is  darker  than  the  night 

And  deeper  than  the  sea. 

Strange  man  who  diggest  the  tomb 

To  hide  from  me  mine  own, 
Let  it  not  be  too  narrow  made, 

'Tis  not  for  one  alone. 

For  if  only  the  dead  could  speak, 

Low  would  he  call  to  me: 
"  If  thou  wert  laid  beside  me,  love 

Happy  my  sleep  would  be." 


DEIRI)R1<:  59 

She  then  leapt  into  the  grave,  and,  having  taken  her  dead 
husband  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  him  thrice,  her  heart  broke  in 
twain,  and  she  died. 

Deirdre  was  buried  with  Neesha,  and  when  the  grave  had 
been  filled  up,  and  a  stone  erected  over  it,  inscribed  with  Ogham 
names,  Cuchullin  turned  away,  and  went  back  to  Dundalk  with 
a  sad  heart. 

Angry  indeed  was  Fergus  mac  Roy  when  he  came  to 
Emania  from  Borrach's  dun  and  found  what  had  taken  place. 
He  attacked  the  royal  force  of  mercenaries  at  the  head  of  his 
own  gallant  troop  and  slew  many.  Then  he  set  fire  to  the  royal 
palace. 

After  that  he  fled  to  Cruachan.  Queen  Meave  welcomed 
him,  and  he  became  a  leader  in  her  army. 

Conor  would  not  allow  the  lovers  to  rest  in  their  last  sleep. 
He  gave  orders  that  Deirdre's  body  should  be  taken  out  of 
Neesha's  grave  and  buried  in  a  place  apart.  This  was  done. 
Months  went  past.  Then  a  pine  tree  grew  out  of  Deirdre's 
grave,  and  another  grew  out  of  Neesha's.  In  time  the  branches 
of*the  two  trees  met  and  mingled. 

Conor  commanded  that  the  trees  should  be  cut  down,  but 
other  trees  grew  up,  and  the  branches  met  and  mingled  again. 

The  king  would  have  had  the  pines  cut  down  as  before,  but 
he  had  found  a  new  love,  and  she  made  him  promise  to  cease 
his  evil  work  of  tormenting  the  dead. 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES 

Introductory 

Amazement  runs  before  the  towering  casque 
Of  Arthur,  beanng  through  the  stormy  field 
The  Virgin  sculptured  on  his  Christian  shield. 

Wordstvorth, 
To  me,  methought,  who  waited  in  a  crowd. 
There  came  a  bark,  that  blowing  forward,  bore 
King  Arthur,  like  a  modern  gentleman 
Of  stateliest  port;  and  all  the  people  cried, 
"Arthur  is  come  again:  he  cannot  die". 


Tennyson. 


The  mightiest  chiefs  of  British  song 
Scorn'd  not  such  legends  to  prolong. 


Scott. 

I.   Purpose  in  Arthurian  Literature 

When  Matthew  Arnold  wrote  with  characteristic  charm, 
although  not  perhaps  with  profound  insight,  and  certainly  not 
with  intimate  knowledge,  regarding  that  elusive  thing  called 
the  "Celtic  temperament",  which  may  or  may  not  be  a  reality, 
he  quoted  from  an  Englished  version  of  an  old  Welsh  poem  the 
curious  lines: 

The  grave  of  March  is  this,  and  this  the  grave  of  Gwythyr, 
Here  is  the  grave  of  Gwgawn  Gleddyfreidd; 
But  unknown  is  the  grave  of  Arthur — 

and  read  more  into  them  than  the  old  bard  probably  intended. 
They  appear  to  contain  simply  statements  of  fact.  Nobody  in 
Wales  knew  where  Arthur  lay  buried;  it  is  possible  the  "king" 
had  never  been  in  Wales,  alive  or  dead.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  shade  of  Arthur  can  congratulate  himself  that  if  his  grave 


52  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

is  unknown,  he  lias  been  provided  with  a  monument  of  imposing 
dimensions — a  monument  of  books.  Few  kings,  real  or  fabled, 
have  received  more  literary  homage  than  has  Arthur,  not  only 
in  his  native  land — assuming  that  land  to  be  Great  Britain — but 
also  on  the  Continent,  and  in  the  United  States  of  North 
America. 

Modern  Arthurian  literature,  which  has  grown  vigorously 
and  vastly,  and  is  still  growing,  has  been  stimulated  mainly  by 
the  poet  Tennyson,  who  rediscovered  Arthur  and  his  knights, 
and  perpetuated  their  fame  in  his  Idylls  of  the  King.  From  his 
boyhood  he  had  been  fascinated  by  Malory's  Morte  cT Arthur, 
and  as  early  as  1832  composed  that  haunting  and  delicately- 
wrought  ballad-poem  "The  Lady  of  Shalott".  Ten  years  later 
*'  Morte  d'Arthur"  was  published  as  a  fragment  of  an  epic  along 
with  "Sir  Galahad",  "Sir  Lancelot",  and  "Queen  Guinevere". 
The  Idylls  of  the  King  appeared  in  the  summer  of  1859,  after 
they  had  been  read  and  commended  by  the  poet's  intimate 
friends,  including  Macaulay  and  Clough.  Other  idylls  were 
added  in   1870  and   1872. 

Tennyson's  Arthur  has  been  much  criticized.  Those  who 
prefer  to  think  of  the  ancient  king  of  Romance  as  an  inhabitant 
of  Faerieland  have  deplored  his  transformation  into 

a  modern  gentleman 
Of  stateliest  port. 

But  tiie  poet  undertook  to  tell  a 

tale 
New-old,  and  shadowing  Sense  at  war  with  Soul ; 

and  as  he  was  inspired,  so  did  he  write,  reflecting,  as  he  could 
not  help  doing,  his  own  character  and  that  of  his  age.  He 
dedicated  the  collected  Idylls  to  the  memory  of  Prince  Albert, 

since  he  held  them  dear, 
Perchance  as  finding  there  unconsciously 
Some  image  of  himself. 

Swinburne^  protested,  with  characteristic  fervour,  against  this 
suggestion,  and  referred  to  the  group  of  Arthurian  poems  as 
"The  Morte  d'Albert,  or  Idylls  of  the  Prince  Consort".     He 

'  Miscellanies,  pp.  219  et  seq. 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  63 

admired  "the  exquisite  magnificence  of  style",  and  "the 
splendid  flashes  of  episodical  illumination  with  which  those 
poems  are  vivified  and  adorned ",  but  refused  to  recognize 
Tennyson's  Arthur  as  an  ideal  hero  or  man,  and  characterized 
as  "  the  last  deliberate  snuffle  of  *  the  blameless  king  '  "  the  lines 

I  have  lived  my  life,  and  that  which  I  have  done 
May  He  within  himself  make  pure ! 

Lord  Morley,  in  similar  vein,  has  dealt  severely  with  the 
Tennysonian  "ethics  of  the  rectory  parlour 'V  while  Professor 
Sir  John  Rhys,^  quoting  the  Tennysonian  Guinevere's  tribute 
to  her  faultless  husband — 

Ah  great  and  gentle  lord, 
Who  wast,  as  is  the  conscience  of  a  saint 
Among  his  warring  senses,  to  thy  knights — 
To  whom  my  false  voluptuous  pride,  that  took 
Full  easily  all  impressions  from  below, 
Would  not  look  up,  or  half-despised  the  height 
To  which  I  would  not  or  I  could  not  climb — 
I  thought  I  could  not  breathe  in  that  fine  air 
That  pure  severity  of  perfect  light — 

has  asked  us  to  turn  from  "the  falsetto  preachments  of  the 
modern  muse  "  to  view  the  romantic  Arthur  with  all  his  failings 
as  a  man,  or,  if  we  prefer  to,  as  a  god  with  all  a  Pagan  god's 
idiosyncrasies.  In  Malory's  "gossiping  pages"  the  "blame- 
less king  "  is  not  a  consistent  paragon  of  virtue.  He  "  passes  " 
nobly  indeed,  but  it  was  he  who,  like  a  Herod,  decreed  that  all 
children  born  on  a  certain  May-Day  should  be  put  to  death,  and 
he  had  several  love  affairs,  one  being  particularly  reprehensible. 
Yet  we  have  modern  writers  who  are  ever  prone  to  refer  to  the 
"refinement  and  purity"  of  the  Arthurian  heroes  as  compared 
with  those  of  the  Cuchullin  and  Ossianic  cycles,  forgetting  that 
it  was  Tennyson  who  painted  the  picture  that  haunts  their 
imaginations.  But  we  need  not  find  fault  with  Tennyson  on 
that  account.  His  Victorian  Arthur  is  just  as  real  and  unreal 
as  the  Arthur  of  Malory,  or  the  Arthur  of  the  Norman-French 
metrical  and  prose  romances  from  which  Malory  drew  the 
greater  part  of  his  material.     The  King  Arthur  of  romance  is 

1  Studies  in  Literature  (on  "  The  Ring  and  the  Book  ").         2  Arthurian  Romance,  p.  20. 


64  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

no  more  a  real  man  than  is  Shakespeare's  Hamlet  or  Macbeth. 
He  has  ever  been  a  symbol  of  an  Age,  and  has  ever  reflected 
an  Age's  ideals  and  failings. 

We   are   indebted   for   the    romantic   Arthur  to  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth,   in  whose  so-called  history,   written  in  the  twelfth 
century,  mythical,  traditional,  and  historical  data  were  blended 
to  make  an  entertaining  story,  and,  perhaps,  to  achieve  a  poli- 
tical purpose  now  somewhat  obscure.     Soon  after  Geoffrey  had 
exalted  the  hero  as  a  rival  of  Charlemagne  and  the  Alexander 
the  Great  of  romance,  an  Arthurian  cycle  came  into  existence, 
and  began  to  grow.     Metrical  and  prose  romances  were  to  the 
lords  and  ladies  of  mediaeval  times  what  novels  are  to  the  masses 
of  the  people  to-day.    Wace,  the  twelfth-century  Anglo-Norman 
poet,  a  native  of  Jersey,  made  Geoffrey's  Arthur  a  hero  of  his 
famous  poem  Brut  d' Angleterre^  and  the  Norman-French  poet 
Chretien  de  Troyes,  a  native  of  a  village  in  Champagne,  soon 
afterwards  began  to  produce  his  Arthurian  metrical  romances. 
Walter  Map,  a  contemporary  of  Geoffrey  and   Chretien,  who 
was  born  on  the  borders  of  Wales,  and  educated  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Paris,  also  contributed,  as  a  collector  and  compiler  of 
legends  and  traditional  poems,  to  the  Arthurian  cycle,  and  he  is 
usually  credited  with  the  prose  Lancelot^  which  Chretien  appears 
to  have  drawn   upon   for  his    Lancelot   poem    Chevalier  de  la 
Charette.     From  the  very  beginning,  the  figure  of  Arthur  in 
the  cycle  that  bears  his  name  was  overshadowed  by  the  more 
popular  Lancelot,  Tristram,  and  Perceval,  who  were  all  much 
beloved  by  the  romancers  and  their  courtly  audiences.     Arthur's 
greatness  was,   however,  emphasized  in  the  thirteenth  century 
by  Layamon  in  his  The  Brut}     This  poet  was  an  English  priest 
at  Ernely  or  Arley  Regis,  on  the  western  bank  of  the  Severn  in 
Worcestershire,  which  may  be  included  in  the  "Celtic  area". 
He  made  use  of  Wace's  book,  which  he  translated  freely,  adding 
happily    much    of  his   own.     He  was   evidently  familiar  with 
Welsh  and  Old  British  Arthurian   traditions,  and   he  tells   us 
that  the  Britons  of  his  day  believed  that  Arthur  still  dwelt  on 
the  faerie  island,  Avalon,  with  the  elves  and  faeries,  and  that 
they  looked  for  his  second  coming. 

'  See  section  Lavanion's  Brut. 


THE   ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  65 

The  history  of  modern  EngHsh  poetic  literature  may  be  said 
to  begin  with  the  Brut  of  Layamon,  a  noble  and  imaginative 
poem  in  which  Saxon  and  Celtic  influences  meet  and  blend. 
Layamon  was  a  harbinger  of  the  spring  of  English  poetry,  as 
Chaucer  was  a  Maytide  warbler  among  the  white  hawthorn 
blossoms  and  fresh  primroses. 

Chaucer  found  the  old  king  in  the  land  of  faerie.  In  his 
"The  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale"  Arthur  and  the  elves  are  already 
relegated  to  the  past — fabled  beings  the  poet  did  not  pretend  to 

believe  in. 

In  th'  olde  dayes  of  the  King  Arthour, 
Of  which  that  Britons  speken  greet  honour, 
Al  was  this  land  fulfild  of  fayerye. 
The  elf-queen,  with  hir  joly  companye, 
Daunced  ful  ofte  in  many  a  grene  mede; 
This  was  the  olde  opinion,  as  I  rede. 
I  speke  of  manye  hundred  yeres  ago; 
But  now  can  no  man  see  none  elves  mo. 

Chaucer's  sense  of  humour  was  touched  by  superstitious  beliefs 
regarding  Arthur  and  the  elves.  His  Sir  Thopas  is  a  cheerful 
parody  of  Arthurian  romance;  the  genial  and  gentle  poet  was 
more  concerned  about  the  life  of  his  own  times. 

Sir  Thomas  Malory's  digest  of  the  Arthurian  romances  and 
traditions,  completed  in  1469,  and  published  by  Caxton  in  1485, 
gave  new  life  in  these  islands  to  the  renown  of  Arthur  and  his 
knights.  When  the  Wars  of  the  Roses  ended,  and  Henry  VII, 
as  representative  of  the  House  of  Lancaster,  came  to  the  throne, 
it  seemed  as  if  Merlin's  prophecy,  as  given  by  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth,' had  been  fulfilled,  for  the  Red  Dragon  of  Britain  had 
triumphed  over  the  White  Dragon — "the  German  worm  ",  and 
Saxon  supremacy  had  terminated.  "The  seed  of  the  White 
Dragon",  Geoffrey's  Merlin  had  foretold,  "shall  be  rooted  out 
of  our  little  gardens,  and  the  remnant  of  his  generation  shall 
be  decimated." 

The  royal  descendants  of  Owen  Tudor  of  Wales  evidently 
encouraged  the  poets  and  historians  to  revive  the  ancient  glory 
of  the  old  British  kingdom  and  its  heroes.  Thus  we  find  Spenser 
in  his  The  Faerie  Queene  reminding  Queen  Elizabeth  of  her  Celtic 

1  Book  VTT,  Chapter  III. 
VoL.^  II.  34 


66  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

ancestors,  and  addressing  her  as  a  descendant  of  the  great  King 
Arthur  of  olden  days,  after  whom  her  father's  elder  brother  had 
been  named : 

Thy  name,  O  soveraine  Queen,  thy  reahn  and  race 

From  this  renowned  Prince  derived  are. 

Who  mightily  upheld  that  royall  mace 

Which  now  tliou  bear'st,  to  thee  descended  farre 

From  mighty  kings  and  conquerours  in  warre 

Thy  fathers  and  great  Grandfathers  of  old 

Whose  noble  deeds  above  the  northern  starre 

Immortal  fame  forever  hath  enrold  ; 

As  in  that  old  man's  booke^  they  were  in  order  told. 

Indeed  it  is  possible  that  Sir  Thomas  Malory's  Morte  U Arthur 
was  originally  undertaken  with  a  political  end  in  view,  that  end 
being  the  glorification  of  the  House  of  Tudor,  which  was  of 
ancient  British  origin.  Malory  was  a  Lancastrian  who  was  out- 
lawed in  1468  because  of  his  political  activities.  He  appears  to 
have  been  associated  with  Warwick,  "the  King  Maker",  and  to 
have  fought  in  the  "Wars  of  the  Roses".  He  died  in  1471. 
When  Caxton  printed  his  famous  book  in  1485  **  under  the 
favour  and  correctyon  ",  as  he  tells  in  the  preface,  **ofal  noble 
iOrdes  and  gentylmen  ",  he  may  have  been  moved  by  a  desire 
to  commercialize  courtly  sentiments  regarding  the  ancient  British 
heroes  who  shed  lustre  on  the  reigning  House. 

What  Swinburne,  with  but  the  slight  justification  afforded 
by  a  dedication,  blamed  Tennyson  for  doing,  the  poet  Spenser 
did  very  thoroughly.  His  knights  and  ladies  in  the  Faerie 
Queene  are  not  always  faerie  personifications  of  good  and  evil, 
but,  at  times,  idealized  portraits  of  notable  courtly  figures. 
Arthur  is  now  Leicester  and  anon  Philip  Sydney;  and  Sir 
Arthegal,  Knight  of  Justice,  is  Lord  Grey.  Gloriana,  Queen  of 
Faerieland,  is,  of  course.  Queen  Elizabeth,  while  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots  figures  as  the  false  sorceress  Duessa,  who  has  a  fox's 

tail, 

A  loathly,  wrinckled  hag,  ill  favoured,  old.- 

There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  location  of  Spenser's  Faerie- 
land.    Addressing  Queen  Elizabeth  in  the  introductory  verses 

•  Geoffrey  of  ^fonmouth's  History.  '-'  V'/k  Faerie  Qiieeix,  Book  I.  Canto  viii. 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  67 

to  the  second  book,  he  asks  her  to  see  "thine  own  realms  in 
the  land  of  Faery  ".  England  had  been  ruled  over  by  Saxons 
and  rent  by  "  Daniske  Tyrants",  but  Spenser  made  his  Merlin 
declare,  reflecting,  it  would  appear,  a  popular  sentiment: 

Ne  shall  the  Saxons  selves  all  peacably 

Enioy  the  croune,  which  they  from  Britons  wonne 

First  ill,  and  after  rulfed  wickedly.' 

His  England  had  become  a  faerieland  under  the  Tudors,  and 
especially  under 

That  soveraine  Queene,  that  mightie  Emperesse, 
Whose  glory  is  to  aide  all  suppliants  pore,^ 

including  the  poet,  of  course. 
Spenser's  Arthur, 

The  famous  Briton  Prince  and  Faery  Knight,^ 

is  really  the  prototype  of  Tennyson's,  for  he  is  an  embodiment 
of  chastity.  When  he  relates  his  story*  to  the  "faire  virgin" 
he  tells  that  in  the  *'  freshest  flowre  of  youthful  yeares  ", 

That  ydle  name  of  love,  and  lover's  life, 
As  losse  of  time,  ana  vertues  enimy, 
I  ever  scorn'd. 

The  god  of  Love 

Shott  many  a  dart  at  me  with  fiers  intent ; 
But  I  them  warded  all  with  wary  government. 

He,  however,  ultimately  fell  in  love  with  *'a  royall  Mayd " 
who  informed  him  that  she  was  "Queene  of  Faeries",  i.e. 
Queen  Elizabeth.  Spenser  undoubtedly  wrote  with  a  purpose. 
Fortunately  he  also  wrote  poetically. 

Michael  Drayton,  in  his  Polyolbion^  similarly  displays  the 
revived  interest  of  his  age  in  Arthurian  legend.  He  asserted 
that,   for  "a  thousand-ling'ring  years"  before  Geoffrey  wrote 

his  history, 

Our  prophets  clearly  sung 
The  Britain-founding  Brute. 

1  Book  III,  Canto  iii.  -  Book  V,  Canto  i. 

3  Book  III    Canto  j.  <  Book  I,  Canto  ix. 


68  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

He  also  lamented  that  no  British  Homer  had  arisen  to  sing 
of  Arthur,  so  that  we  might  possess — 

a  story 
Beyond  tlie  blind  man's  might,  to  have  enhanced  our  glory. 

With  the  exception  of  that  minor  poet,  Thomas  Hughes,  who 
was  responsible  for  the  greater  part  of  the  play  The  Misforttmes 
of  Arthur,  which  was  reproduced  before  Queen  Elizabeth  in 
the  spring  of  1588,  the  Elizabethan  dramatists  failed  to  find 
inspiration  in  Arthurian  romance.  Shakespeare  turned  from 
Tristram  and  Iseult  to  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  from  Modred 
to  Macbeth,  and  from  the  knights  and  damsels  of  the  Arthurian 
forests  to  the  elves  and  faeries  of  his  childhood,  including 

that  very  Mab 
That  plaits  the  manes  of  horses  in  the  night, 

the  goblin  Robin  Goodfellow,  Puck  and  his  associates  who 
steal  babies  and  "pinch  the  maids  as  blue  as  bilberry"  for 
leaving  the  kitchens  untidy,  and  the  other  mythical  night- 
prowlers  that  figure  in  A  M idstonmer- Nighf s  Dreaniy  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  and  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

It  may  be  that  Shakespeare  and  other  dramatists  were  pre- 
judiced against  Arthur  and  his  knights  by  the  ridicule  thrown 
on  the  legends  in  Geoffrey's  history  and  Malory's  book  of  tales 
by  the  scholars  of  his  day.  William  Camden,  the  historian, 
had  published  the  first  edition  of  his  Britannia  a  few  years 
before  Shakespeare  began  to  write  plays.  He  was  severe  on 
Geoffrey  and  distinctly  pro-Saxon  in  his  sympathies,  holding, 
as  he  did,  that  the  Lowland  Scots  were  "descended  from  the 
very  same  Germane  originall  that  we  English  men  are",  and 
mainly  because  they  spoke  "  English-Saxon  different  onely  in 
Dialect"  from  southern  "  English-Saxon  ".  Camden  gave  even 
the  Irish  Scots  Gothic  ancestors.  No  doubt,  this  new  historical 
gospel  was  pleasing  to  those  who  had  a  sentimental  leaning  to 
the  House  of  York  and  were  accustomed  to  ridicule  the  Tudor 
sentiments  regarding  the  Trojan-Britons  of  ancient  fame. 

Yet,  although  neglected  by  the  dramatists,  Arthur's  fame 
continued  to  shine  from  the  pages  of  Malory  and  Geoffrey. 
Milton  was  sceptical  about  a  historical  Arthur.      "Who  Arthur 


THE   ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  69 

was,"  he  wrote  in  his  History  of  Britain^  "and  whether  any 
such  person  reigned  in  Britain,  hath  been  doubted  heretofore 
and  may  again  with  good  reason."  But  his  youthful  imagina- 
tion had  been  stirred  by  the  tales 

Of  fairy  damsels  met  In  forest  wide 
By  Knights  of  Logres,  or  of  Lyones, 
Lancelot,  or  Pelleas,  or  Pellenore, 

as  he  recalls  in  Paradise  Regained.  Indeed,  he  contemplated 
at  one  time  writing  an  Arthurian  epic;  but,  as  he  indicates  in 
Paradise  Lost^^  preferred  in  his  maturer  years  not 

to  dissect 
With  long  and  tedious  havoc  fabled  knights 
In  battles  feigned. 

Wordsworth,  remembering  this,  and  referring  to  Geoffrey's 
book,  sang  in  his  Ar legal  and  Elidure: 

There  too  we  read  of  Spenser's  fairy  themes, 
And  those  that  Milton  loved  in  youthful  years; 
The  sage  enchanter  Merlin's  subtle  schemes; 
The  feats  of  Arthur  and  his  knightly  peers; 
Of  Arthur — who,  to  upper  light  restored, 

With  that  terrific  sword 
Which  yet  he  brandishes  for  future  war, 
Shall  lift  his  country's  fame  above  the  polar  star ! 

Dryden,  too,  dreamed  of  celebrating  Arthur  "for  the  honour 
of  his  native  country",  and  ultimately  produced  a  "dramatic 
opera"  entitled  King  Arthur,  or  the  British  Worthy.  It  was 
intended  to  glorify  Charles  II  in  the  character  of  Arthur. 
According  to  Sir  Walter  Scott, 

a  ribald  King  and  Court 
Bade  him  toil  on  to  make  them  sport. 

Charles  died,  however,  before  the  poet  could  reap  the  reward 
he  wrote  for. 

Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  a  prosperous  physician  but  a  poor 
poet,  published  in  1695  an  epic  poem  in  twelve  dreary  books 
entitled  Prince  Arthur.     He  believed  he  had  successfully  imi 

*  Book  IX,  lines  29-31. 


70  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

tated  the  style  of  \'irgil.  This  poet's  Arthur  was  intended  to 
flatter  William  of  Orange,  but  William  proved  less  inspiring 
than  Charles,  or  Leicester,  or  Sydney.  Not  until  Tennyson 
began  to  write  his  Idylls  was  much  heard  of  Arthur  in  English 
literature  after  Blackmore's  execution  of  that  legendary  monarch. 
Undoubtedly  Tennyson's  finest  Arthurian  poem  is  The  Lady 
of  SJiallot^  in  which  he  not  only  revived  an  ancient  theme  but 
caught  the  glamour  and  mystery  of  Faerieland.  The  Lady 
is  a  real  representative  of  the  "folk  of  faerie".  As  much  can 
hardly  be  said,  how'ever,  of  his  Nimue  (Vivien),  who  tempts 
and  lures  Merlin  to  his  doom.  There  is  no  faerie  atmosphere 
in  passages  like: 

And  Vivien  answer'd,  smiling  saucily, 

"  What,  O  my  Master,  have  you  found  your  voice?" 

Tennyson,  in  his  Idylls^  like  Spenser,  in  his  Faerie  Qiieene, 
undertook  to  point  a  moral  as  well  as  to  tell  a  tale,  as  has 
been  indicated.  The  spiritual  significance  of  the  Idylls,  how- 
ever, is  not  always  obvious,  and  one  cannot  help  feeling  that 
the  idea  of  a  "new-old"  tale, 

shadowing  Sense  at  war  with  Soul 

did  not  occur  to  the  poet  at  the  outset.  It  is  difficult  to  fit 
Merlin  and  Nimue  and  Lancelot  and  Guinevere  into  an  ethical 
scheme.  Matthew  Arnold,  Swinburne,  and  William  Morris 
freed  their  Arthurian  heroes  from  the  fetters  of  allegory  and 
"spiritual  significance"  and  wrote  as  objective  artists.  Of  all 
Arthurian  poems,  ancient  and  modern,  Swinburne's  Tristram 
of  Lyonesse  is,  in  the  writer's  opinion,  easily  the  greatest.  The 
story  is  told  freely  and  with  great  vigour  and  dramatic  power, 
and  the  poet's  matchless  music  thunders  and  sways  and  flashes 
like  his  own  beloved  sea.  It  is  improbable  that  Arthur  will 
ever  again  be  taken  from  Avalon  to  serve  a  moral  or  political 
purpose.  Swinburne  has  effectively  abolished  a  literary  fashion 
that  goes  back  to  Malory,  and  perhaps  to  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth. 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES 


II.   The   Historical   Arthur 

Modern  writers  have  engaged  themselves  greatly  with  the 
problem:  "Was  there  ever  an  Arthur,  Prince  or  King,  and 
if  there  was,  in  what  part  of  the  British  Isles  did  he  flourish?" 

In  the  old  Welsh  poems  Arthur  is  a  notable  warrior,  and 
is  associated  with  some  of  the  knights  of  romance  like  Drystan 
(Tristram),  Kei  (Kay),  and  others  known  or  unknown  in 
Malory's  pages,  and  his  wife  is  Gwenhwyvar  (Guinevere). 
But  he  is  a  shadowy  figure,  and  not  the  chivalric  King  Arthur 
of  the  Norman-French  metrical  romances.  In  some  poems  he 
is  definitely  connected  with  Cornwall.  It  was,  however,  Geof- 
frey of  Monmouth  who  first  consigned  him  to  Tintagol  (Tin- 
tagel).  Evidently  Cornwall,  like  Wales,  had  traditions  in 
Geoffrey's  day  regarding  the  ancient  hero.  Brittany,  too,  had 
its  ancient  Arthurian  traditions,  and,  until  comparatively  re- 
cently, there  were  folk-tales  about  Arthur  in  the  Scottish  Low- 
lands. Scotland  has  a  goodly  number  of  Arthurian  place- 
names,  the  farthest  north  being  an  "Arthur's  Seat"  in  Banff- 
shire.^ 

One  of  the  most  notable  figures  in  Arthurian  romance, 
namely  Sir  Lancelot,  is  usually  referred  to  as  "a  late-comer". 
He  is  not  mentioned  in  the  old  Welsh  poems  and  stories,  and 
philologists  cannot  agree  as  to  what  his  name  signifies.  It 
would  be  a  mistake,  however,  to  conclude  that  the  hero  is  a 
creation  of  some  mediaeval  bard  or  story-teller.  The  Lancelot 
story  is  of  great  antiquity,  no  matter  when  or  by  whom  it  was 
incorporated  in  the  Arthurian  cycle.  It  links  with  both  the 
Cuchullin  and  Ossianic  cycles,  and,  like  certain  of  the  stories 
in  these,  can  be  carried  back  to  remote  antiquity.  Lancelot 
is  an  Adonis.  Like  Adonis,  Attis,  and  Diarmid  he  hunts  a 
boar  and  is  grievously  wounded.  He  also  lives  for  a  period 
with  one  lady  and  for  a  period  with  another,  as  did  those 
mythical  heroes,  and  as  also  did  the  much  more  ancient  Tam- 

'  This  ancient  place-name  has  been  recently  unearthed  from  ancient  records  by  Professor 
W.  J.  Watson.  Edinburgh. 


72  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

muz,  the  love-  and  harvest-god  of  Babylonia.  As  Tammuz, 
the  lover  of  Ishtar,  departs  to  the  Underworld  to  dwell  for  a 
season  with  Erish-ki-gal  (Persephone),  so  does  Lancelot,  the 
lover  of  Guinevere,  dwell  for  a  season  on  Joyous  Isle  (the 
Celtic  Hades)  with  the  faerie-like  lady  Elaine.  The  mother 
of  Tammuz  was  a  water-goddess,  and  the  foster-mother  of 
Lancelot  was  the  "Lady  of  the  Lake",  and  he  is  on  that 
account  called  "Lancelot  of  the  Lake".  Like  other  Celtic 
deities,  this  lady  is  of  "the  folk  of  faerie".  The  Scoto-Irish 
Diarmid  has  similarly  a  faerie  mother,  and  he  similarly  dwells 
for  a  time  with  a  supernatural  being  of  the  "  Land-under- 
Waves ".  His  faerie  lover  is  a  princess,  the  daughter  of 
"  King-under- Waves  ".  He  deserts  this  lady  and  returns  to 
the  world  of  men. 

It  is  possible  that  the  Celtic  Diarmid  was  the  prototype  of 
the  Lancelot  of  romance.  Diarmid  had  a  love  spot  on  his 
forehead,  and  the  woman  who  beheld  it  fell  in  love  with  him. 
He  is  loved  by  Grainne  (Grania),  the  wife  of  Fionn  ^  (Finn-mac- 
Coul),  as  Lancelot  is  loved  by  the  wife  of  Arthur.  Diarmid  is 
killed  by  the  boar,  but  Lancelot,  although  injured  by  the 
boar,  is  healed  of  his  wounds.  Both  are  great  heroes  and 
are  much  beloved  by  their  fellows.  Many  women  fall  in  love 
with  them. 

Lancelot  also  compares  with  Cuchullin,  who  lived  for  a  time 
in  an  island  Otherworld  with  Fand,  the  wife  of  Manannan  mac 
Ler,  the  sea-god.  His  wife,  Emer,  was,  like  Guinevere,  jealous 
of  her  faerie  rival.  Like  Cuchullin,  too,  Lancelot  was  subject 
to  fits  of  madness.  A  hermit  offered  to  heal  him  when  he  was 
wounded  by  the  boar,  and  he  attempted  to  take  the  hermit's 
life.  Similarly,  Hercules  in  his  fits  of  madness  was  prone  to 
slay  friends. 

There  are  traces  of  even  the  Paris-Enone  legends  in  the 
Lancelot  story,  as  in  the  Paris-Enone  legend  there  are  traces 
of  the  story  of  Adonis.  Paris  is  visited  by  three  goddesses 
who  wish  him  to  decide  which  is  the  most  beautiful.  Similarly, 
Lancelot  is  visited  by  three  faerie  queens.  Each  wishes  to  have 
him  for  her  paramour,  and  they  agree  to  allow  him  to  decide 

'  Pronounced  "  F"ewn  ". 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMAXCKS  73 

whom  he  will  live  with.  When  these  goddesses  see  him,  he  is 
lying  asleep  below  an  apple  tree — the  love  tree  of  ancient  South- 
European  mythology.  Diarmid  is  similarly  visited  by  a  hag, 
who  transforms  herself  into  a  comely  maiden.  This  hag  is  the 
•*  Loathly  Damsel  "  of  Arthurian  romance. 

The  youth  of  Lancelot  was  spent  among  women;  his  faerie 
foster-mother,  who  carried  him  away  in  his  childhood,  was  queen 
of  ten  thousand  maidens.  Achilles  was  living  among  women 
when  he  was  searched  for  and  found  by  Odysseus.  Hercules 
lived  for  a  period  attired  as  a  woman.  The  Indian  hero,  Arjuna, 
who  links  with  Achilles  and  Hercules,  lived  for  a  year  as  a 
musical  instructor  of  women  in  Virata's  palace,  and  he  informed 
the  king  that  he  had  previously  "lived  as  a  waiting-maid  of 
(Queen)  Draupadi  in  Yudhishthira's  palace".^ 

These  few  comparative  notes  are  sufficient  to  indicate  that 
the  Lancelot  story  was  not  invented  by  the  mediaeval  authors 
of  Arthurian  romance.  It  is  evident  that  much  floating  lore, 
including  lore  about  a  dragon -and -giant -slayer,  which  had 
gathered  round  the  memory  of  a  human  son  of  a  water-goddess, 
came  to  be  attached  to  a  hero  named  Lancelot.  It  may  be,  too, 
that,  as  Miss  J.  L.  Weston  has  suggested,^  the  Lancelot  story 
was  developed  from  an  older  Gawain  story,  and  that  Gawain 
was  the  original  lover  of  Guinevere.  Modred  may  be  another 
representative  of  the  early  lover  of  the  queen.  If,  as  some 
believe,  the  Arthurian  cycle  had  its  remote  beginnings  in  Scot- 
land, it  is  possible  that  the  legend  of  Diarmid  and  Grainn^, 
as  related  in  that  country,  became  attached  to  the  memory  of 
the  leading  characters  in  Arthur's  Court.  The  blending  of 
Gaelic  and  British  legends  in  Scotland  would  account  for  the 
persistence  of  the  folk-traditions  in  that  country  regarding 
Guinevere  and  her  lover.  These  traditions  may  have  been 
carried  to  Wales  by  the  ancient  migrating  folk  of  Strathclyde. 
Astolat,  one  of  the  Arthurian  strongholds,  appears  to  have  been 
in  Scotland.  "The  original  name,"  Professor  Sir  John  Rhys 
has  said,^  "which  variously  appears  as  Shalott,  Escaloty  Astolat , 

^  Mahdbhdrata  ("Virata  Paiva  ",  Section  II). 
■^  The  Legend  of  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac,  p.  lOO  et  seq. 
The  Arthurian  Legend,  p.  393. 


74  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

and  uiher  forms,  was  probably  Alclut^  the  old  Welsh  name  of 
the  Rock  of  Dumbarton  on  the  Clyde." 

The  heroes  of  the  Ossianic  cycle  were  originally  historical 
characters  in  Ireland.  To  the  memory  of  Finn-mac-Coul  and 
his  heroes,  a  band  of  Irish  militia,  were  attached  in  Scotland, 
as  in  Ireland,  many  floating  folk-legends,  just  as  at  a  later 
period  ancient  legends  became  attached  to  the  memories  of  the 
Scottish  heroes  Wallace  and  Bruce.  Some  of  the  Ossianic 
stories  were  carried  to  Scotland  by  the  migrating  Gaels,  and 
there  the  rolling  snowball  of  romance  grew  bigger  and  bigger, 
until  Finn  and  his  heroes  became  Scottish  giants,  as  did  like- 
wise Arthur,  Wallace,  the  Wolf  of  Badenoch,  and  others. 
That  Arthur,  like  Finn-mac-Coul,  was  originally  a  historical 
character  appears  to  be  highly  probable.  Indeed,  considering 
the  evidence  of  Scottish  folk-lore  regarding  the  famous  heroes 
that  figure  in  it,  the  writer  considers  it  necessary  to  assume 
that  there  once  was  a  real  Arthur.  Either  Arthur  was  an 
imported  hero,  like  Finn-mac-Coul,  or  a  Scottish  hero,  like  Sir 
William  Wallace,  to  whose  memory  was  attached  floating 
legends  of  great  antiquity  about  gods  who  became  humanized 
and  about  heroes  who  were  identified  either  with  humanized 
gods  or  with  the  gods  themselves.  No  evolutionar)'-  process 
is  involved.  We  are  dealing  with  the  mental  habits  of  a  par- 
ticular people  who  now  made  giants  of  heroes  or  heroes  of 
giants,  and  attached  the  mass  of  confused  accumulated  lore 
about  ancient  giants  and  heroes  to  new  heroes  like  a  Wallace 
or  a  Bruce,  or  imported  heroes  like  a  Finn-mac-Coul  or  an 
Ossian.  From  Scotland,  as  from  England,  Wales,  and  Ireland, 
the  tales  of  local  and  imported  heroes  filtered  into  other  coun- 
tries, where  they  gathered  up  local  legends;  then  they  drifted 
back  with  additions,  and  were  given  still  later  local  additions 
according  to  the  tendencies  and  fashions  of  the  time.  It  is 
possible  that  the  Arthurian  stories  influenced  in  Scotland  the 
Ossianic  stories  as  the  Ossianic  appear  to  have  influenced  the 
Artiiurian,  and  that  the  late  Arthurian  stories,  imported  from 
the  Continent,  coloured  the  earlier  Arthurian  stories  surviving 
in  Wales  and  Scotland.  This  ebb-and-flow  process  must  ever 
be  borne  in  mind  by  those  who  undertake  the  solution  of  the 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  75 

Arthurian  problem.  It  constitutes  one  of  the  greatest  difficulties 
in  dealing  with  the  problem  of  origins.  The  change  of  a  name, 
as  in  the  case  of  Lancelot,  may  lead  to  far-reaching  conclusions 
that  may  be,  for  all  we  know,  entirely  mistaken.  It  would  be 
wrong,  for  instance,  as  we  know,  to  hold  that  there  never  was 
a  King  Robert  the  Bruce  because  it  happens  that  the  Arabian 
story  about  the  spider  which  wove  its  web  across  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  was  attached  to  his  memory,  or  that  there  never  was 
a  real  Wallace  because  a  giant  of  that  name  is  reputed  to  fling 
glacial  boulders  from  the  Eildon  Hills.  The  Wallace  giant  was 
an  old  hero,  and  he  was  given  the  name  of  a  human  hero,  and 
the  spider  story  was  an  old  story  and  was  attached  to  Bruce's 
memory,  having  been  snatched  from  the  mass  of  legends 
attached  to  the  memory  of  a  still  more  ancient  hero. 

Now,  if  there  once  was  a  real  Arthur,  who  was  he,  and  in 
what  country  did  he  flourish  and  achieve  great  fame?  Was  he 
really  a  great  national  hero,  or  the  hero  of  a  tribe  made  famous, 
in  the  first  instance,  by  one  of  those  ancient  bards 

who  died  content  on  pleasant  sward 
Leaving  great  verse  unto  a  little  clan  ? 

Homer  immortalized  the  siege  of  Troy,  although  that  siege  was 
a  happening  of  less  importance  than  the  contemporary  sea-raid 
on  Egypt,  or  the  fierce  struggles  between  great  ancient  civiliza- 
tions. No  Homer  has  sung  of  Cyrus  or  Alexander,  of  the  fall 
of  Assyria,  of  the  Assyrian  conquests  of  Egypt  and  Babylonia, 
or  of  the  sack  of  Knossos.  It  may  be  that  the  historical  Arthur 
was  neither  a  Wallace  nor  a  Bruce,  an  Alfred  nor  a  Harold, 
a  Napoleon  nor  a  Garibaldi.  His  wars  may  have  been  mere 
tribal  or  clan  wars;  the  territory  he  ruled  may  have  been  very 
small.  Indeed,  he  may  never  have  been  a  king  in  the  real 
sense,  but  simply  a  leader  of  militia  like  the  original  Finn-mac- 
Coul;  and  if  he  was  a  king  he  may  have  ruled  only  a  province, 
like  the  no-less-famous  Conor,  King  of  Ulster,  who  similarly 
had  a  brilliant  Court  and  a  following  of  famous  heroes.  It  mav 
be,  too,  that  there  was  more  than  one  Arthur,  and  that  to  the 
memories  of  different  Arthurs  Avere  attached,  not  only  local 
legends  of  antiquity,  but  also  the  romantic  legends  and  songs 


76  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAOK 

that  became  popular,  as  all  good  compositions  are  prone  to 
become,  and  that  these  songs  and  legends  welded  the  different 
Arthurs  into  one. 

Now  there  are  two  historical  Arthurs:  a  British  Arthur,  who 
fought  in  England  against  the  invader,  and  one  in  Scotland,  who 
was  a  conqueror.  The  term  "historical"  is  used  in  the  tenta- 
tive sense,  especially  in   regard  to  the  British  Arthur. 

In  dealing  with  the  problem  as  to  whether  there  was,  in 
Caxton's  words,  "such  a  king  called  Arthur"  in  England, 
we  may  safely  put  aside  the  theories  regarding  the  meaning 
and  origin  of  his  name.  It  may  or  may  not  have  been  derived 
from  the  Latin  Artorius,  and  there  may  or  may  not  have  been 
a  god  called  Arthur.  Many  ingenious  theories  could  be  spun 
from  the  name  of  Wallace,  but  fortunately  we  know  enough 
about  the  real  Wallace  to  render  unnecessary  any  attempt  to 
throw  light  on  his  origin  by  su  doing.  Many  old  names  still 
in  use  have  mythological  associations. 

The  first  important  thing  to  note  regarding  Arthur  is  that 
he  is  not  mentioned  by  Bede,  who  wrote  his  Ecclesiastical 
History  in  the  early  part  of  the  eighth  century.  Nor  is  he 
mentioned  in  the  Saxon  Chronicle.  These  are  notable  omissions 
that  cannot  easily  be  explained  away,  especially  as  the  historical 
Arthur  is  credited  with  having  fought  no  fewer  than  twelve 
great  battles  against  the  Saxons  in  England  or  in  Scotland,  or 
in  both  countries.  Gildas,  writing  in  the  sixth  century,  refers 
to  one  of  these  battles,  that  of  Badon  Hill,  but  makes  no  mention 
of  Arthur,  and  says  the  British  general  was  Ambrosius  Aure- 
lianus,  "a  modest  man,  who  of  all  the  Roman  nation  was  then 
alone  in  the  confusion  of  this  terrible  period  by  chance  left 
alive".  He  himself,  he  notes,  was  born  in  the  year  of  that 
battle.^ 

Gildas  was  a  churchman,  and  in  his  De  Excidio  reviews 
events  in  England  from  the  time  of  the  Roman  occupation  till 
the  early  Saxon  period.  The  disasters  that  fell  upon  his  native 
land  after  the  departure  of  the  Romans  are  attributed  to  the 
sins  of  the  Britons  who  were  falling  away  from  the  faith.  The 
Picts  and  Scots  harried  their  country  in  the  north,  and  civil  war 

'  Gildas,  sections  25,  56. 


THE    ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  77 

brought  further  calamities.  Then  came  a  great  plague.  At 
length  King  Vortigern  sealed  his  country's  doom  by  inviting 
to  England,  "like  wolves  into  the  sheep-fold,  the  fierce  and 
impious  Saxons,  a  race  hateful  both  to  God  and  men,  to  repel 
the  invasions  of  the  northern  nations.  ...  A  multitude  of  whelps 
came  forth  from  the  lair  of  this  barbaric  lioness  in  three  cyuls, 
as  they  call  them,  that  is,  in  three  ships  of  war,  with  their  sails 
wafted  by  the  wind,  and  with  omens  and  prophecies  favourable, 
for  it  was  foretold  by  a  certain  soothsayer  among  them  that 
they  should  occupy  the  country  to  which  they  were  sailing  three 
hundred  years,  and  half  of  that  time,  a  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
should  plunder  and  despoil  the  same."  In  time  the  Saxons 
broke  faith  with  the  Britons,  having  **  industriously  aggravated 
each  occasion  of  quarrel  ",  and  committed  gross  atrocities,  de- 
stroying towns,  wrecking  churches,  and  killing  "bishops, 
priests,  and  people".  A  remnant  of  the  Britons  became  slaves, 
others  crossed  the  seas  in  flight,  and  many  took  refuge  among 
the  mountains  and  in  deep  forests.  Then  Ambrosius  Aurelianus 
collected  an  army,  and  concluded  a  successful  campaign  with 
the  Badon  Hill  battle,  which  was  fought  "forty-four  years  and 
one  month  after  the  landing  of  the  Saxons  ".  British  power 
and  prosperity  revived,  but  the  new  generation  that  grew  up 
neglected  the  Church,  which,  says  Gildas,  "bewailed  the  wicked- 
ness of  those  who  are  become  the  servants,  not  only  to  their 
bellies,  but  also  to  the  devil  rather  than  to  Christ".^  The 
Saxons  were,  of  course.   Pagans. 

Arthur  was  subsequently  connected  with  the  campaign  waged 
by  the  Britons,  under  Ambrosius  Aurelianus,  against  the  Saxons. 
He  is  first  mentioned  by  Nennius,  whose  History  of  the  Britons 
dates  from  the  end  of  the  eighth  century,  that  is,  about  three 
hundred  years  after  the  Badon  Hill  battle,  which  is  usually 
dated  about  a.d.  504.  This  historian  attributes  to  Ambrosius, 
the  son  of  a  Roman  consul  and  a  British  mother,  the  legends 
and  prophecies  associated  in  Geoffrey's  history  with  Merlin. 
It  is  he  who  informs  the  British  king:  "The  red  serpent  is 
your  dragon,  but  the  white  serpent  is  the  dragon  of  the  people 
(Saxons)  who  occupy  several  provinces  and  districts  of  Britain". 

*  Gildas,  sections  23-26, 


78  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

He  foretells  that  "our  people  shall  rise  and  drive  away  the  Saxon 
race  from  beyond  the  sea".^  The  Britons  achieved  a  victory, 
but  the  Saxons  received  large  reinforcements  from  Germania. 
"  Then  it  was  ",  says  Nennius,-  '*  that  the  magnanimous  Arthur, 
with  all  the  kings  and  military  force  of  Britain,  fought  against 
the  Saxons."  He  won  twelve  victories,  the  first  "at  the  mouth 
of  the  River  Gleni",  the  second,  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  on  the 
banks  of  a  river  "the  Britons  called  Duglas  (or  Dubglas),  in 
the  region  Linnius",  the  sixth  "on  the  River  Bassus ",  the 
seventh  "in  the  wood  Celidon  (Caledonian  forest)",  the  eighth 
near  Gwinion  Castle  "where  Arthur  bore  the  image  of  the 
Holy  Virgin,  mother  of  God,  upon  his  shoulders"^  and  "put 
the  Saxons  to  flight  and  pursued  them  the  whole  day  with 
great  slaughter";  the  ninth  battle  was  at  the  "City  of  Legion 
which  is  called  Caer  Lion  ",  the  tenth  was  on  the  banks  of  the 
River  "  Trat  Treuroit",  the  eleventh  "on  the  mountain  Bregion, 
which  we  call  Cat  Bregion",  and  the  twelfth,  "a  most  severe 
contest",  at  Badon  Hill. 

"In  all  these  engagements",  says  Nennius,  "the  Britons 
were  successful.  For  no  strength  can  avail  against  the  will 
of  the  Almighty."  The  Saxons,  however,  received  more  re- 
inforcements from  Germany,  and  "this  practice  they  continued 
until  King  Ida  reigned  at  Cair  Ebrauc  (York)  over  the  kingdom 
of  Bernecia"  (which  included  the  Lothians).* 

Somewhat  lively  controversies  have  been  waged  over  the 
sites  of  these  twelve  Arthurian  battles.  Those  who  locate  them 
in  England  usually  identify  them  in  the  following  order  and 
places:  (i)  Gleni,  the  Glen  in  Lincolnshire;  (2  to  5)  the  Duglas, 
the  River  Duglas  in  Lancashire,  near  Wigan ;  (6)  the  River 
Bassus,  the  River  Lusas  in  Hampshire;  (7)  the  wood  Celidon, 
the  forest  of  Englewood  extending  from    Penrith  to  Carlisle; 

(8)  Gwinion  Castle,  in  Cornwall,  Durham,  or  near  Yarmouth; 

(9)  the  city  of  Legion,  Caer  Lion,  Exeter;  (10)  the  River  Trat 
Treuroit,  the  Brue  in  Somersetshire  or  the  Ribble  in  Lanca- 
shire; (11)  Cat  Bregion,  Cadbury,  Somersetshire;  and  (12) 
Badon  Hill,  Bath. 

On  the  other  hand,  Skene  and  Glennie  locate  all  the  battles 

'  Nennius.  section  43.  -  Section  50.  ■'  Or  his  shield.  ■•  Section  50. 


THE   ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  79 

in  southern  Scotland,  and  show  that  some  are  associated  with 
Arthurian  place-names  like  "Arthur's  Seat"  and  "Ben  Arthur". 
Skene's^  view  is  that  Arthur  advanced  into  Scotland  on  the 
west  to  attack  the  Saxons  who  had  settled  in  the  Lothians  and 
extended  their  conquests  westward.  He  places  the  first  battle 
"in  ostium  fluminis  quod  dicitur  Glein",  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  of  that  name  in  Ayrshire;  the  second,  third,  fourth,  and 
fifth  battles  of  the  Dubglas,  "in  the  region  of  Linnius",  on 
the  Douglas  River  in  the  district  now  called  Lennox,  and 
refers  in  this  connection  to  Ben  Arthur  at  the  head  of  Loch 
Long,  "which  towers  over  this  district";  the  sixth,  the  Bassus 
River  battle,  on  the  banks  of  the  Carron  at  Dunipace,  anciently 
Dunipais,  "the  latter  syllable  being  no  doubt  the  same  word 
Bass";  2  the  seventh  battle,  in  the  Caledonian  Forest  in  Tweed- 
dale,  near  "Merlin's  Grave";  the  eighth,  "in  Castello  Guin- 
nion",  which  means  "the  white  (Roman)  fort",  in  the  parish 
of  Stow,  anciently  "Stow  in  Wedale",  a  district  watered  by 
the  Rivers  Gala  and  Heriot.  Wedale  means  "the  dale  of  woe". 
The  church  of  Stow  was  dedicated  to  St.  Mary.  It  was  in  this 
battle  Arthur  carried  the  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Near  the 
church  are  traces  of  a  Roman  fort.  The  ninth  battle,  at  Caer 
Lion,  is  placed  by  Skene  at  Dumbarton,  which  is  called  "  Cas- 
trum  Arthuri  "  in  a  fourteenth-century  record;  the  tenth  battle 
was  on  the  links  of  Forth,  near  Stirling  Castle,  which  has 
Arthurian  associations;  the  eleventh,  at  Edinburgh  (Mynyd 
Agned),  where  there  is  an  "Arthur's  Seat";  and  the  twelfth, 
Badon  Hill,  at  Bouden  Hill  near  Linlithgow.  Skene  argues 
that  a  definite  plan  of  campaign  is  revealed  by  his  battle  sites 
in  Scotland.  This  cannot  be  said  of  the  English  sites,  which 
are  scattered  at  random  over  a  wide  area. 

In  the  history  of  Nennius  Arthur  is  as  shadowy  a  figure 
as  he  appears  in  the  Welsh  poems.  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth, 
who  included  him  among  the  British  kings,  wrote  in  the  twelfth 
century,  about  600  years  after  Arthur's  time.  He  claimed  to 
have  made  use  of  an  old  British  book,  but  no  trace  of  this  work 

1  The  Four  Ancient  Books  of  Waits,  Vol.  I,  pp.  52  et  seq. 

2  A  name  applied  to  glacial  mounds  near  a  river,  like  the  "  Bass  of  Inveniry",  on  the 
River  Ury,  in  Aberdeenshire, 


So  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

has  been  discovered.^     The  case  for  a  historical  Arthur  rests, 
as  will  be  seen,  on  a  very  unsubstantial  basis. 

It  is  possible  that  some  of  the  Arthurian  place-names  in 
Scotland,  the  farthest  north  of  which  is  in  Banffshire,  were 
associated  with  another  Arthur  than  Geoffrey's.  There  are 
two  historical  Scottish  Arthurs  associated  with  the  Lowlands. 
One  was  a  brother  and  the  other  a  son  of  King  Aidan  of  the 
Dalriadic  Scots,  a  contemporary  of  St.  Columba.  In  his  Celtic 
history  2  Skene  states  that  Aidan  became  the  Christian  king  of 
Dalriada  in  574.  For  a  few  years  before  this  date  he  was  a 
petty  king  in  the  district  of  Manau  or  Manann.^  He  drove 
the  Saxons  out  of  Manann,  and  held  it  until  he  died  in  his 
seventy-fourth  year  and  in  the  thirty-eighth  year  of  his  reign. 
His  mother  was  of  British  stock  and  the  daughter  of  Brachan 
of  Brecheniauc,  a  name  surviving  in  Brecknock,  South  Wales, 
and  Welsh  tradition  associates  him  with  the  battle  of  Ardderyd 
(Arthuret  on  the  Esk,  eight  miles  north  of  Carlisle).  This 
battle  "is",  Skene  reminds  us,  "the  centre  of  a  group  of  Welsh 
traditions".  King  Aidan's  son.  Prince  Arthur,  was  killed 
fighting  in  596  against  the  Saxons  and  Picts  who  were  allies 
at  that  time.  It  may  be  that  the  memory  of  the  prince  became 
associated  in  tradition  with  that  of  his  uncle  and  even  that  of 
his  father,  and  that  in  Wales  he  was  connected  ultimately  with 
the  Ambrosius  of  Gildas.  Whether  or  not  such  was  the  case, 
it  is  evident  that  in  the  Arthurian  traditions  preserved  by 
Nennius  and  Geoffrey  there  was  such  a  confused  blending  of 
men  and  events  that  it  is  difficult  now  to  sift  the  historical 
from  the  mythical.  It  is  impossible  to  say  if  Aidan's  son  or 
brother  founded  the  Scottish  clan   MacArthur. 

The  battle  in  which  Prince  Arthur  fell  is  known  as  the  battle 
of  Chirchind,  and  is  believed  to  be  the  same  as  the  "  Battle  of 
Miathi  "  referred  to  in  Adam  nan's  Life  of  St.  Columba.^  Circinn 
was  an  ancient  name  of  the  Mearns  (Kincardineshire).  Rhys 
was  puzzled  about  Arthurian  place-names  in  this  area/'     They 

'  I^yamon  also  refers  to  old  British  books. 

■-  Celtic  Scotland,  a  History  of  Ancient  Alban,  Vol.  I,  p.  i6i. 

^  This  tribal  name  survives  in  Clackmannan  and  Slamannan. 

■•  Reeves  edition  (1874),  p.  13,  s  Celtic  Britain,  p.  238. 


THE   ARTHURIAN    ROMANCES  8i 

may  have  been  associated  with  Aidan's  son,  whose  fame  may- 
have  afterwards  reached  Banffshire,  if  he  himself  was  never 
there. 

Summing  up  the  Arthur  evidence  afforded  by  place-names, 
Dickinson,  in  his  King  Arthur  in  Cornwally^  says:  "The  con- 
clusion is  not  to  be  avoided  that  at  some  remote  time,  imper- 
fectly presented  to  us  by  history,  one  Arthur  was  a  prominent 
person  in  the  south  of  Scotland  and  the  north  of  England,  left 
his  name  widely  scattered  in  the  Lowlands,  and  fought  many 
battles  hereabouts".  On  the  other  hand.  Professor  Rhys  admits 
the  claims  on  Arthur  made  by  the  Celts  of  Brittany,  Cornwall, 
Wales,  and  Scotland.  "Arthur",  he  wrote,  "belongs  to  them 
all,  wherever  Celts  have  spoken  a  Brythonic  language,  from  the 
Morbihan  to  the  Caledonian  Forest.  It  is  characteristic  of  such 
popular  creations  that  they  localize  themselves  readily  here  and 
there  and  everywhere  in  the  domain  of  the  race  in  whose  imagi- 
nation they  live  and  have  their  growth.  ...  If  Arthur  is  to  be 
treated  as  historical,  the  historian  must  look  at  him  much  in 
the  same  light  as  he  does  at  Charlemagne,  with  all  the  legends 
that  have  gathered  round  his  name."  Rhys  suggests  that  the 
original  Arthur's  name  was  a  Welsh  form  of  the  Latin  ArtoriuSy 
and  is  reminded  of  Aurelius  Ambrosius.^ 

It  may  seem  strange  to  some  that  grave  historians  should 
have  exercised  themselves  greatly  regarding  so  shadowy  a  figure 
as  King  Arthur;  but  wonderful  is  the  influence  of  poetry  and 
romance.  Some  thirteen  centuries  have  elapsed  since  the  per- 
sonality and  achievements  of  some  heroic  prince,  or  king,  who 
struck  a  blow  for  liberty  and  chivalry  of  thought  and  action, 
made  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  a  people  whose  aspirations 
he  symbolized.  They  made  songs  about  him,  told  tales  about 
him,  and  when  their  descendants  were  scattered  far  and  wide 
they  treasured  the  Arthurian  memories  of  the  past,  repeating 
the  old  songs  and  stories,  and  composing  new  ones  in  which 
many  of  their  traditions  and  beliefs  mingled  and  blended.  Five 
centuries  went  past  and  then  the  Arthurian  lore  kindled  the 
imaginations  of  the  courtly  romancers  of  mediaeval  times,  and 
the  fame  of  Arthur  and  his  Knights  spread  from  Brittany  (Little 

^  p.  g.  2  Celtic  Britain,  pp.  237  et  seq. 

Vol,.  11  35 


82  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Britain)  through  Western  and  Central  Europe  and  into  Italy, 
and  was  revived  once  again  in  these  islands.  And  now,  over 
seven  and  a  half  centuries  later,  the  genius  of  a  Tennyson  has 
revived  the  memory  of  a  hero  who  has  always  symbolized  in- 
spiring ideals.  Of  more  importance  even  than  the  historical 
records  of  an  age  are  the  national  aspirations  that  have  ever 
shaped  events  and  made  heroes  of  those  who  have  fought  and 
died  for  them.  The  charm  of  Arthurian  literature  is  undoubtedly 
its  idealism.  We  may  know  little  of  the  remote  past  of  our 
country's  history,  but  we  can  breathe  its  inspiring  atmosphere 
in  the  songs  and  tales  of  heroes  who,  whatever  their  failings 
may  have  been,  were  ever  ready  to  sacrifice  their  lives  for  the 
cause  to  which  they  had  dedicated  themselves,  no  matter  what 
odds  were  against  them.  The  poetry  of  an  age  is  the  very 
breath  of  its  life,  its  immortal  soul.  Arthurian  memories  en- 
shrine in  their  poetry  that  love  of  liberty  and  justice  and  that 
heroic  devotion  to  high  ideals  which  have  made  Britain  great 
and  will  keep  it  great. 

The  old  people  believed  that  Arthur  never  died  but  departed 
to  a  faerie  island,  there  to  rest  and  sleep  until  his  country  had 
need  of  him  again.  In  times  of  oppression  and  national  danger 
they  looked  for  the  coming  of  Arthur.  To-day  Arthur  seems 
to  have  come  once  again  to  triumph  as  he  triumphed  of  yore. 
To-day  the  Allied  nations  are  fighting,  like  Arthur  and  his 
Knights,  for  freedom  and  just  laws  and  for  chivalry  in  the 
dealings  of  nation  with  nation,  against  the  giants  of  tyranny 
and  oppression,  against  false  knights,  and  against  the  dragons 
of  false  doctrines.  Arthurianism  must  prevail  for  Arthurianism 
cannot  die. 


King  Arthur  and   His   Knights 

I.   The  Coming  of  Arthur 

Wise  Merlin  then  spake  forth 
Words  of  weight  and  worth  .  .  . 
"  Ne'er  through  long  eternit)- 
Shall  his  glory  dim, 
While  the  world  endureth 
Men  shall  tell  of  him. 
For  in  Rome  this  prince  shall 
Rule  the  knights  full  well; 
All  shall  bow  before  him 
That  in  Britain  dwell. 
Of  him  shall  the  glecmen 
Sing  the  goodly  song. 
Of  his  breast  shall  eat 
Stalwart  men  and  strong, 
Also  of  his  blood 
Drunk  the  knights  shall  be. 
From  his  burning  eyes 
Fiery  sparks  will  flee. 
Each  finger  of  his  hand 
Shall  be  a  sharp  steel  brand. 
Him  before  shall  tumble 
Every  stone-built  wall. 
Yield  to  him  shall  barons 
While  their  standards  fall. 
Thus  o'er  all  the  kingdoms 
Long  and  well  he'll  fare — 
He  all  folks  shall  conquer 
And  his  laws  declare." 

Layamon's  BniL^ 

Now  Arthur  was  the  son  of  Uther  Pendragon,  King  of  all 
England,  and  of  beautiful   Igerne,  the  queen,  who  had    been 

1  Lines  18848-73.     A  rendering  in  modern  verse,  imitating  the  style  of  the  original,  but 
.vith  more  frequent  rhymes.     Merlin's  prophecy  was  spoken  before  .\rthur  was  born. 


84  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

aforetime  the  wife  of  Gorlois,  a  mighty  duke  in  Cornwall.  He 
was  born  in  the  chosen  hour.  As  soon  as  he  came  into  the 
world  he  was  received  by  elves.  And  the  elves  enchanted  the 
child  with  strong  magic;  they  gave  him  power  to  be  the  best 
of  knights  and  to  be  a  rich  king;  they  gave  him  power  to  live 
long,  and  they  endowed  him  with  goodly  virtues,  so  that  he 
became  the  most  generous  of  all  men  alive.  These  gifts  the 
elves  gave  him,  and  the  child  thrived.^ 

Not  long  after  birth  Arthur  was  wrapped  in  a  cloth  of  gold 
and  carried  secretly  to  the  postern  gate  of  his  father's  palace. 
There  stood  waiting  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  poor.  To  this 
man  the  child  was  given,  and  by  him  was  he  taken  away. 

Now  he  that  received  the  child  was  no  other  than  Merlin  the 
Enchanter,  who  had  aforetime  arranged  with  King  Uther  to 
provide  for  the  prince's  nourishment  and  upbringing.  He  first 
took  the  child  to  a  holy  man  and  had  him  christened  Arthur; 
thereafter  he  gave  him  over  to  Sir  Ector,-  a  mighty  lord  who 
was  faithful  to  the  king. 

Two  years  went  past,  and  then  King  Uther  fell  sick.  His 
northern  enemies  usurped  him,  and  many  loyal  soldiers  were 
slain  in  battle.  Thereupon  Merlin  informed  the  king  that 
victory  would  not  come  to  his  arms  unless  he  himself  accom- 
panied his  host.  The  sick  king  therefore  went  forth  to  battle, 
and  he  was  carried  on  a  horse  litter.  His  army  won  a  great 
victory  at  St.  Albans,  slaying  many  of  the  enemy  and  scatter- 
ing the  remnant  in  flight.  Then  the  king  returned  in  triumph 
to  London,  but  for  three  days  and  three  nights  he  lay  speechless 
in  bed. 

*'  1  shall  make  him  speak,"  said  Merlin. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  the  enchanter  addressed 
Uther  Pendragon,  saying,  in  a  loud  voice:  "Sir,  shall  your 
son  Arthur  be  king  after  your  days  are  ended?" 

The  king  turned  towards  Merlm  and  answered:  '*  I  give  my 
son  God's  blessing  and  mine,  and  bid  him  pray  for  my  soul. 
I  also  bid  him  to  make  righteous  claim  of  the  crown,  lest  my 
blessing  be  forfeited." 

'  I.ayamon's  Brut,  lines  19253  et  se,/.     Wliat  follows  is  based  on  Malory's  version. 
-  Tennvson's  Sir  Anton 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  85 

Having  spoken  thus,  Uther  Pendragon  died. 

For  many  years  after  the  king's  death  the  kingdom  was  in 
great  jeopardy.  None  knew,  except  those  who  held  the  secret, 
where  the  rightful  king  was.  Every  lord  that  was  mighty  made 
himself  stronger,  and  many  a  baron  desired  greatly  to  sit  on  the 
throne. 

In  time  Merlin  went  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
counselled  him  to  summon  to  London  on  Christmas  Day  all 
the  lords  of  the  realm  and  the  gentlemen-at-arms,  so  that  Jesus 
might  in  his  mercy  show  by  some  miracle  who  should  become 
king. 

The  lords  and  gentlemen  assembled  in  the  greatest  church 
in  London  and  w'orshipped  there.  And  when  the  first  mass 
was  celebrated,  a  great  stone  was  seen  in  the  churchyard.  In 
the  midst  of  this  stone  was  an  anvil  of  steel,  and  in  it  was 
stuck  a  naked  sword  which  bore  the  inscription  in  letters  of 
gold: 

IV/ioso  piiUeth  out  this  sivord  from  this  stone  and  anvil  is  rightxvise  king 
horn  of  all  England.^ 

After  high  mass  had  been  celebrated,  the  lords  and  gentlemen 
made  each  of  them  vain  attempt  to  pull  out  the  sword. 

Said  the  archbishop:  "He  who  shall  win  this  sword  is  not 
here.  No  doubt  God  will  make  known  who  is  rightful  king 
in  good  time." 

Ten  knights  of  good  fame  were  then  set  to  guard  the  stone 
by  day  and  by  night.  A  tent  was  erected  over  the  stone,  and 
all  men  were  invited  to  attempt  to  draw  out  the  sword. 

To  keep  the  lords  and  gentlemen  together  a  great  tourna- 
ment was  arranged  for  New  Year's  Day.  It  was  attended  by 
Sir  Ector,  with  whom  came  his  son,  Sir  Kay,  and  young 
Arthur,  who  was  believed  to  be  another  of  Sir  Ector's  sons. 

Now  it  chanced  that  when  Sir  Kay  had  reached  the  tourna- 
ment ground  he  found  that  he  had  left  his  sword  at  the  house 

'  In  the  V'olsun^a  Saga  of  Iceland,  Odin  thrusts  a  sword  into  the  great  house-tree  Bran- 
stock  and  says:  "  Whoso  draweth  this  sword  from  this  stock  shall  have  the  same  as  a  gift 
from  me,"  &c.  (Translation  by  Eirikr  Magnusson  and  William  Morris.)  The  sword  is 
drawn  by  Sigmund,  son  of  King  Volsung,  and  father  of  Sigurd. 


S6  THlv    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

in  which  his  father  lodged.  He  besought  Arthur  to  hasten 
thither  and  obtain  it  for  him. 

Arthur  rode  speedily,  but  on  reaching  the  house  found  that 
it  was  shut,  because  the  lady  and  all  her  servants  had  gone 
to  the  tournament.  He  was  made  angry,  and  said  to  himself: 
"  I  shall  hasten  to  the  churchyard  and  take  the  sword  which 
is  sticking  in  the  stone,  because  my  brother,  Sir  Kay,  must 
not  be  without  a  sword  this  day." 

Arthur  rode  to  the  churchyard  and  found  that  the  tent  was 
empty,  the  knights  having  gone  to  the  tournament.  He  seized 
the  sword  by  the  hilt  and  pulled  it  out  of  the  stone.  Then  he 
leapt  on  his  horse  and  rode  swiftly  to  the  tournament,  and  gave 
the  sword  to  Sir  Kay. 

That  young  knight  perceived  at  once  that  Arthur  had  given 
him  the  sword  from  the  stone,  and  he  rode  to  his  father, 
Sir  Ector,  and  said:  ''Sir,  here  is  the  sword  from  the  stone. 
I  shall  be  king  of  this  realm." 

Sir  Ector  at  once  left  the  ground  and  rode  with  his  son  and 
Arthur  to  the  church.  There  he  bade  Sir  Kay  swear  upon  a 
book  and  confess  how  he  had  obtained  the  sword. 

"Sir,"  answered  Sir  Kay,  **it  was  given  to  me  by  my  brother 
Arthur,  who  brought  it  to  the  tournament." 

Sir  Ector  then  asked  Arthur:  "How  did  you  obtain  this 
sword?" 

Said  Arthur:  "Sir,  I  will  tell  you.  I  hastened  to  the  lodg- 
ing for  my  brother's  sword,  and  found  nobody  at  home.  So, 
fearing  Sir  Kay  would  be  swordless,  I  came  hither  and  pulled 
the  sword  out  of  the  stone." 

"  Were  there  any  knights  present  when  you  did  this?"  asked 
Sir  Ector. 

*'  No,"  Arthur  answered,  "  there  was  none." 

"Now,  I  perceive,"  said  Sir  Ector,  "that  you  must  be  king 
of  this  land." 

"  I!"  Arthur  exclaimed;   "and  for  what  cause,  sir?" 

"Because,"  said  Sir  Ector,  "God  will  have  it  so.  No  one 
is  able  to  draw  out  this  sword  unless  he  is  rightful  king.  Now 
show  me  if  you  can  put  the  sword  back  into  the  place  where 
it  was  and  then  take  it  out  aiiain." 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  87 

'*That  is  easily  done,"  Arthur  said. 

He  put  the  sword  into  the  stone,  and  Sir  Ector  tried  in  vain 
to  pull  it  out.     Sir  Kay  also  tried  and  failed. 

Then  Sir  Ector  said  to  Arthur:  "Now  you  shall  make 
attempt." 

"  I  will,"  Arthur  assented,  and,  grasping  the  handle,  drew 
out  the  sword  with  ease. 

Sir  Ector  and  Sir  Kay  at  once  knelt  down  at  the  young 
inan's  feet. 

"Alas!"  Arthur  said;  "mine  own  dear  father  and  brother, 
why  do  you  kneel  before  me?" 

"My  lord  Arthur,"  said  Sir  Ector,  "I  am  not  your  father, 
or  even  a  relative.  Now  I  know  you  are  of  higher  blood  than 
I  thought  you  were." 

Then  Sir  Ector  told  Arthur  that  he  had  been  brought  to  him 
as  a  babe  by  Merlin  so  that  he  might  be  cared  for. 

Arthur  was  stricken  with  grief  when  he  found  that  Sir  Ector 
was  not  his  sire. 

"Sir,"  Ector  said,  "will  you  be  my  good  and  gracious 
king. 

"  If  I  were  not,  I  should  be  greatly  to  blame,"  answered 
Arthur,  "for  much  do  I  owe  to  you  and  to  my  good  lady 
and  mother,  your  wife,  who  has  fostered  and  kept  me.  Should 
it  be  God's  will  that  I  shall  reign  as  king,  you  must  ask  of  me 
what  you  wish  me  to  do,  and  I  shall  not  fail  you.  God  forbid 
that  I  should  ever  fail  you!" 

Then  Ector  said:  "No  more  will  I  ask  of  you  except  that 
you  make  my  son,  Sir  Kay,  seneschal  [steward]  of  all  your 
lands." 

Arthur  granted  this  wish.  "No  man,"  said  he,  "will  have 
that  office  except  Sir  Kay,  so  long  as  I  live." 

Thereafter  the  three  went  together  to  the  archbishop  and 
told  him  how  the  sword  had  been  won  and  by  whom. 

On  Twelfth  Day,  the  sword  having  been  replaced  in  the 
stone  by  Arthur,  all  the  barons  gathered  together  and  en- 
deavoured, one  after  another,  to  draw  it  out.  But  none  could 
do  so  except  Arthur  alone.  Many  of  the  great  lords  were 
made  angry,  for  they  considered  it  a  great  shame  to  be  ruled 


88  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

over  by  a  boy  who  was  not,  as  they  thought,  of  royal  blood. 
They  disputed  the  matter  hotly  one  with  another,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  trial  should  again  be  made  at  Candlemas.  The 
sword  was  replaced  in  the  stone,  and  ten  knights  kept  watch 
over  it. 

When  Candlemas  came,  many  more  great  lords  came  to 
London  and  endeavoured  to  win  the  sword,  but  without  avail. 
And  as  Arthur  had  done  at  New  Year,  so  did  he  do  at  Candle- 
mas. He  pulled  out  the  sword  with  little  effort.  Still  the 
barons  were  discontented,  and  had  the  matter  of  choosing  a 
king  put  off  till  Easter.  And  when  Easter  came,  and  Arthur 
proved  his  right  as  formerly,  the  matter  was  put  off  till  Pente- 
cost. 

Merlin  consulted  with  the  archbishop  regarding  Arthur's 
safety,  and  it  was  arranged  that  such  faithful  and  loyal  knights 
as  Sir  Baudwin  of  Britain,  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Ulfius,  and  Sir  Brastias 
should  always  be  near  him. 

At  the  feast  of  Pentecost  many  men  of  all  ranks  endeavoured 
to  win  the  sword,  but  none  could  do  so  except  Arthur  alone. 
He  drew  it  out  in  the  presence  of  all  the  lords  and  commons 
who  were  gathered  there.  Then  did  the  commons  cry  out, 
without  hesitation: 

IfV  shall  have  Arthur  to  be  our  king.  We  shall  put  him  to  no  further 
delay,  for  we  all  see  it  is  God's  ivill  that  he  should  be  king:  If  any  man  op- 
poses our  7uish  7ve  shall  slay  him. 

Rich  and  poor,  they  all  knelt  down  before  Arthur  and 
asked  for  his  forgiveness  because  they  had  delayed  him  so  long. 

Arthur  forgave  them  readily.  Then  he  took  the  sword 
between  both  his  hands  and  offered  it  up  on  the  altar,  at  which 
stood  the  archbishop,  and  so  was  he  made  knight,  and  he  was 
the  best  man  that  was  there. 

Soon  afterwards  Arthur  was  crowned,  and  he  took  vows 
before  the  lords  and  the  commons  to  be  a  just  and  true  king 
until  the  end  of  his  days. 

Then  many  came  to  him  and  complained  of  wrongs  that  had 
been  done  since  King  Uther  Pendragon  had  died,  and  Arthur 
commanded   that   the   lands   which    had    been    taken    by   force 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  89 

should  be  restored  to  the  rightful  owners.  He  established 
peace  in  the  countries  about  London,  and  he  made  Sir  Kay 
seneschal  of  England,  Sir  Baudwin  of  Britain  constable,  Sir 
Ulfius  chamberlain,  and  Sir  Brastias  warden  of  the  country 
north  of  the  Trent,  the  inhabitants  of  which  were  at  that  time 
for  the  most  part  enemies  of  the  king.  But  before  many  years 
had  gone  past  King  Arthur  won  all  the  north  and  Scotland. 
He  also  won  Wales,  part  of  which  was  opposed  to  him.  His 
successes  were  due  to  his  own  prowess  and  that  of  the  Knights 
of  the  Table  Round. 

Now,  before  King  Arthur  had  fully  established  his  power, 
he  removed  to  Wales  and  arranged  for  a  great  festival  to  be 
held  at  Pentecost  in  the  city  of  Carlion.  To  this  festival  came 
King  Lot^  of  Lothian  and  of  Orkney  accompanied  by  five 
hundred  knights.  Others  who  came  were  King  Uriens  of 
Gore  with  four  hundred  knights.  King  Nentres  of  Garloth  with 
seven  hundred  knights,  the  King  of  Scotland,  who  was  but 
a  young  man,  with  six  hundred  knights,  a  king  who  was  called 
"the  king  with  a  hundred  knights" — passing  well  did  they 
all  seem — and  the  King  of  Carados  with  five  hundred  knights. 

King  Arthur  was  glad  of  their  coming,  believing  they  all 
came  because  they  loved  him,  and  because  they  wished  to 
honour  him,  and  he  sent  them  great  presents.  But  the  kings 
refused  to  accept  his  presents.  They  rebuked  those  who 
brought  them,  saying:  **  It  is  no  joy  to  us  to  receive  gifts  from 
a  beardless  boy  of  low  blood." 

These  kings  then  sent  Arthur  word  that  they  would  have 
none  of  his  gifts,  and  that  they  had  themselves  come  to  Carlion 
to  give  gifts  with  hard  swords. 

The  messengers  informed  Arthur  accordingly,  and  Arthur, 
on  the  advice  of  his  barons,  entered  a  strong  tower  with  five 
hundred  good  men.  The  kings  who  refused  to  acknowledge 
him  laid  siege  to  this  tower,  but  Arthur  was  well  victualled. 

Fifteen  days  went  past.  Then  Merlin  came  to  Carlion.  He 
was  welcomed  by  all  the  kings,  and  they  spoke  to  him,  saying: 
"  Why  is  this  boy  Arthur  made  your  king?" 

"Sirs,"  Merlin  answered  them,  "  I  will  tell  you.     He  is  the 

'  Loth,  whose  name  is  perpetuated  in  Lothian. 


go  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

son  of  King  Uther  Pendragon.  He  shall  be  king  over  all  his 
enemies;  he  shall  be  King  of  England,  and  have  under  his  sway 
Wales,  Ireland,  Scotland,  and  also  other  realms  that  I  will  not 
name  at  present." 

Some  of  the  kings  marvelled  greatly,  but  others,  like  King 
Lot,  laughed  the  enchanter  to  scorn. 

Merlin  arranged,  however,  that  Arthur  should  come  forth 
and  hold  converse  with  them.  Clad  in  mail,  Arthur  accordingly 
came  from  the  tower.  Stout  words  were  spoken  on  both  sides. 
Arthur  declared  firmly  that,  as  sure  as  he  lived,  he  would  make 
them  all  bow  to  him,  and  they  withdrew  in  anger.  Then  King 
Arthur  made  ready  for  battle. 

Merlin  addressed  the  kings,  and  asked  them  what  they 
desired  to  do,  warning  them  that  they  would  be  overcome  even 
if  their  numbers  were  ten  times  greater. 

Said  King  Lot:  "Is  it  seemly  to  be  afraid  of  a  dream- 
reader?" 

When  Lot  spoke  thus  Merlin  vanished,  and  immediately 
appeared  before  King  Arthur,  whom  he  urged  to  attack  the 
kings  fiercely.  Meanwhile  three  hundred  of  the  knights  who 
were  with  the  kings  went  over  to  Arthur's  side. 

Said  Merlin  to  Arthur:  "Do  not  fight  with  the  sword  you 
have  obtained  by  a  miracle  until  things  are  at  their  worst. 
Then  draw  it  and  do  your  best." 

A  fierce  battle  was  waged,  and  King  Arthur  did  mighty 
deeds  with  his  sword,  so  that  many  of  the  kings  rejoiced  in  his 
valour. 

King  Lot  and  King  Carados  and  "the  king  with  a  hundred 
knights"  set  on  King  Arthur  from  behind,  but  Arthur  and  his 
knights  smote  on  all  sides.  Arthur  was  ever  in  the  front  of 
battle,  until  his  horse  was  killed  beneath  him,  and  he  was 
struck  down  by  King  Lot;  but  four  knights  lifted  him  up  and 
put  him  on  another  horse. 

Then  King  Arthur  drew  his  sword  Excalibur.  Bright  was 
it  indeed  in  the  eyes  of  his  enemies,  for  it  shone  with  the  light 
of  thirty  torches. 

With  his  sword  he  compelled  his  enemies  to  fall  back,  slay- 
ing many  people. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNKiHTS  91 

Meanwhile  the  commons  of  Carlion  came  forth,  armed  with 
staves  and  clubs,  and  struck  down  many  knights.  The  kings 
were  routed,  and  fled  from  the  field  with  the  remnants  of  their 
warriors,  whereupon  Merlin  approached  Arthur  and  advised 
him  to  follow  them  no  farther,  because  they  would  gather  more 
knights  to  continue  the  war. 

King  Arthur  returned  to  London  and  there  held  an  assembly. 
He  asked  for  counsel,  but  his  lords  could  give  him  none,  declar- 
ing, however,  that  they  were  sufficiently  strong.  *'  You  speak 
well,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  good  courage,"  said  Arthur, 
"but  I  would  fain  consult  Merlin,  who  has  already  done  much 
for  me." 

Merlin  was  sent  for.  The  enchanter  came  and  warned 
them  all  that  their  enemies  were  powerful,  and  had  been  rein- 
forced by  four  other  kings  and  a  powerful  duke.  Unless,  there- 
fore. King  Arthur  obtained  the  help  of  more  knights  than  were 
in  his  realm  he  would  be  overcome  and  slain.  The  barons 
asked  Merlin  what  should  be  done,  and  he  counselled  that  the 
two  French  kings.  Ban  of  Benwick  and  Bors  of  Gaul,  who  were 
brothers,  should  be  sent  for.  These  kings  warred  constantly 
against  the  mighty  King  Claudas,  who  received  the  support 
of  many  knights.  Merlin  said  that  the  assistance  of  Ban  and 
Bors  could  be  secured  if  King  Arthur  promised  to  help  them  in 
their  wars  with  Claudas. 

Sir  Ulfius  and  Sir  Brastias  were  sent  with  letters  to  the 
French  kings.  They  crossed  the  sea,  and  on  their  way  to  the 
city  of  Benwick  encountered  four  pairs  of  knights  of  King 
Claudas,  and  all  of  them  they  hurt  or  bruised  in  encounters. 
Both  were  welcomed  by  the  kings,  who  promised  to  fulfil  King 
Arthur's  desire. 

By  Allhallowmas  the  two  French  kings  came  over  the 
sea  with  three  hundred  knights.  King  Arthur  met  them 
ten  miles  outside  London,  and  there  was  great  joy  when 
they  reached  the  capital.  A  tournament  was  held  in  their 
honour. 

Merlin  afterwards  crossed  the  sea  and  returned  with  ten 
thousand  horsemen,  landing  at  Dover.  He  led  this  host  north- 
ward by  the  most  secret  way,  and  lodged  it  in  the  forest  of  Bede- 


92  THE    WORLDS    HKRITAGE 

graine.     No  enemy  of  the  king  was  permitted  to  cross  Trent 
water  to  spy  in  Arthur's  realm. 

Now  the  six  kings  who  had  fought  in  battle  against  Arthur 
at  Carlion  were  by  this  time  joined  by  other  five  kings.  Then 
did  a  combined  force  of  fifty  thousand  horsemen  and  ten  thou- 
sand footmen  move  against  Arthur. 

It  came  about  that  fore-riders  who  were  sent  out  at  Merlin's 
advice  met  the  fore-riders  from  the  north  and  made  them  tell 
which  way  the  host  was  coming.  When  Arthur  was  informed 
of  the  enemy's  plans,  Ban  and  Bors  advised  him  to  burn  and 
destroy  the  country  before  them,  and  this  was  done. 

The  king  with  the  hundred  knights  dreamed  a  dream.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  all  the  castles  of  the  kings  allied  against 
Arthur  were  blown  down  by  a  mighty  gale,  and  that  the  water 
came  and  swept  them  away.  All  who  heard  this  dream  said  it 
was  a  token  of  a  great  battle. 

Following  Merlin's  advice,  King  Arthur  made  a  night  attack 
on  the  enemy's  camp,  and  ere  morning  dawned  ten  thousand 
men  were  slain.  The  battle  w^aged  in  fury  next  day;  and  as 
Arthur  kept  his  French  allies  in  ambush,  the  allied  kings  took 
heart,  trusting  in  their  numbers,  and  fought  fiercely.  Great 
deeds  were  done  by  the  knights  on  both  sides,  and  King  Arthur 
himself  did  so  marvellously  in  arms  that  all  men  wondered 
beholding  him. 

In  time  King  Ban  and  King  Bor  issued  from  the  \vood  with 
their  forces,  and  King  Lot  witnessed  with  distress  the  losses 
they  inflicted. 

When  evening  came  on.  Merlin  counselled  Arthur  to  cease 
fighting,  saying:  "Have  you  not  done  enough?  Of  three 
score  thousand  you  have  left  alive  but  fifteen  thousand,  and  it  is 
time  to  say  Ho!  Yonder  eleven  kings  refuse  to  yield.  They 
will  not  be  overthrown  yet.  But  they  have  more  on  hand  than 
they  dream  of,  for  the  Saracens  have  landed  in  their  country, 
and  are  burning  and  slaying.  Therefore  you  have  no  cause  to 
fear  the  enemy  for  three  years." 

King  Arthur  brought  the  battle  to  an  end,  and  rewarded 
with  gifts  from  the  captured  booty  the  knights  who  had  fought 
for  him,  and  especially  Kings  Ban  and  Bors. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  93 

The  eleven  kings  returned  to  the  city  of  Sorhaute,  and  there 
a  messenger  came  to  inform  them  of  the  invasion  of  forty  thou- 
sand Saracens.  "Alas!"  they  said;  **if  we  had  not  warred 
against  Arthur  he  would  soon  avenge  us." 

They  then  arranged  to  keep  all  the  marches  of  Cornwall,  of 
Wales,  and  of  the  north. 

Meanwhile  Arthur  went  to  the  castle  of  Bedegraine  in  Sher- 
wood Forest.  It  was  there  he  met  and  loved  an  earl's  daughter. 
She  became  the  mother  of  Borre,  who  in  after  days  was  a  good 
knight  of  the  Table  Round. 

Word  came  to  Sherwood  that  King  Ryons  of  North  Wales 
made  war  on  King  Leodegrance  of  Cameliard.  King  Arthur 
was  angry,  and  hastened  with  King  Ban  and  King  Bors,  and 
twenty  thousand  men,  to  the  aid  of  King  Leodegrance,  whom 
they  rescued,  slaying  ten  thousand  of  the  people  of  King  Ryons 
and  putting  him  to  flight. 

King  Arthur  had  at  Cameliard  the  first  sight  of  Guinevere, 
the  daughter  of  Leodegrance,  and  ever  after  that  he  loved  her. 
In  time  they  were  wedded,  as  will  be  told. 

When  Arthur  had  taken  leave  of  King  Ban  and  King  Bors, 
who  returned  to  their  own  land,  he  rode  to  Carlion.  Thither 
came  to  him  the  wife  of  King  Lot  as  a  messenger,  but  also  as 
a  spy.  Although  neither  knew  it,  the  lady  was  Arthur's  half- 
sister,  being  the  daughter  of  Igerne  and  her  first  husband 
Gorlois,  Duke  of  Cornwall.  She  was  passing  fair,  and  the 
king  cast  great  love  on  her,  and  she  loved  Arthur.  They  were 
agreed  in  secret. 

Thereafter  Arthur  went  a-hunting,  and  as  he  rested  in  the 
forest  Merlin  appeared  before  him  as  a  child  of  fourteen  and 
hailed  him  as  the  son  of  King  Uther  Pendragon  and  Igerne. 

"That  is  false,"  Arthur  made  answer.  "How  shouldst 
thou  know,  being  so  young?" 

Merlin  next  appeared  as  an  old  man  and  hailed  him  in  like 
manner,  and  said  that  Lot's  wife  would  have  a  child  who  would 
destroy  Arthur  and  all  the  knights  of  his  realm. 

"Who  are  you  that  foretells  these  things?"  asked  the 
king. 

Merlin  made  himself  known,  and  Arthur  afterwards  sent  for 


94  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Queen  Igerne,  who  revealed  to  him  that  he  was  her  son.  The 
king  embraced  and  kissed  her,  and  both  wept.  A  great  feast 
was  held  that  lasted  for  eight  days. 

Now  be  it  known  how  the  king  received  his  magic  sword, 
named  Excalibur,  which  signifies  "cut  steel".  It  was  at 
Carlion  that  Arthur  had  at  one  time  jousted  with  a  knight 
whose  name  was  Pellinore.  The  king  was  worsted,  for  his 
sword  was  cut  in  twain.  Merlin  rescued  him  by  causing  the 
knight  to  swoon.  Then  he  led  Arthur  to  a  hermit,  who  gave 
him  healing  with  good  salves.  "Alas!"  said  Arthur  to  Merlin 
as  they  rode  away;   "  I  have  no  sword." 

*'  There  is  a  sword  that  shall  be  yours  if  I  have  my  will,"  the 
magician  answered. 

They  rode  on  until  they  came  to  a  lake,  in  the  middle  of 
which  was  seen  a  white  arm  raised  up,  the  hand  grasping  a  fair 
sword,  which  had  been  wrought  with  magic  craft  in  Avalon.^ 

"Lo!"  said  Merlin;  "yonder  is  the  sword  of  which  I  told 
you." 

As  he  spoke  they  saw  a  damsel  walking  upon  the  waters. 

"  What  damsel  is  that?"  asked  Arthur. 

"  That  is  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  Merlin  told  him.  "Within 
the  lake  is  a  rock,  and  inside  the  rock  is  a  beautiful  chamber 
richly  adorned.  The  damsel  of  the  lake  will  come  to  you. 
Speak  fair  to  her  and  she  will  give  you  that  sword." 

It  came  about  as  Merlin  foretold.  The  damsel  approached 
Arthur  and  saluted  him,  and  Arthur  saluted  her  in  turn. 

"Damsel,"  said  Arthur,  "what  sword  is  that  which  is  held 
above  the  water  by  yonder  arm?  I  would  it  were  mine,  because 
I  have  no  sword." 

The  damsel  answered  him,  saying:  "Sir  Arthur,  King,  that 
sword  is  mine.  If  you  will  give  me  a  gift  when  I  ask  it,  you 
shall  have  the  sword." 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  shall  give  you  any  gift  you 
will  ask  for!" 

The  damsel  of  the  lake  then  said  to  the  king:  "  Enter  a  boat 
and  row  yourself  to  the  sword.  Take  both  sword  and  scabbard 
and  I  shall  ask  my  gift  when  the  time  comes." 

'  Layainorv. 


KING  ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  95 

And  Artliur  row'd  across  and  took  it — rich 
With  jewels,  elfin  Urim,  on  the  hilt, 
Bewildering'  heart  and  eye — the  blade  so  bright 
That  men  are  blinded  by  it — on  one  side, 
Graven  in  the  oldest  tongue  otall  this  world, 
"  Take  me  ",  but  turn  the  blade  and  ye  shall  see, 
And  written  in  the  speech  ye  speak  yourself, 
"  Cast  me  away!"     And  sad  was  Arthur's  face 
Taking  it,  but  old  Merlin  counsell'd  him 
"  Take  thou  and  strike  !  the  time  to  cast  away 
Is  yet  far  off."     So  this  great  brand  the  king 
Took  .  .  .1 

The  arm  and  hand  went  under  tlie  water  when  Arthur  had  taken 
the  sword. 

Thereafter  Merlin  and  he  rode  away,  and  as  they  rode 
Merlin  told  that  the  scabbard  was  worth  ten  of  the  sword. 
"For  so  long"  as  you  have  the  scabbard  on  you,"  said  Merlin, 
"you  shall  never  bleed,  be  you  ever  so  badly  wounded.  There- 
fore always  keep  the  scabbard  on  your  belt."  King  Arthur 
afterwards  gave  the  scabbard  to  his  sister,  Morgan  le  Fay,  to 
keep  for  him,  but  she  presented  it  to  a  knight  whom  she  loved 
and  made  a  scabbard  like  it  for  her  brother. 

Arthur  and  Merlin  rode  to  Carlion  together,  passing  Sir 
Pellinore  on  the  way,  but  that  knight  saw  them  not  because  that 
Merlin  enchanted  him. 

Tidings  came  to  Arthur  that  King  Ryons  of  North  Wales, 
who  was  also  king  of  all  Ireland  and  of  many  isles,  had  over- 
come eleven  kings.  These  kings  did  him  homage  and  gave 
him  their  beards.  Ryons  had  trimmed  a  mantle  with  royal 
beards,  and  he  sent  a  messenger  to  Carlion  demanding  King 
Arthur's  beard,  there  being  a  gap  on  the  mantle  border.  He 
demanded  also  King  Arthur's  head. 

King  Arthur  bade  the  messenger  inform  King  Ryons, 
saying:  "You  shall  do  Arthur  homage  on  bended  knees,  or 
else  Arthur  shall  lose  his  head." 

Then  the  messenger  went  away. 

It  had  been  foretold  by  Merlin  that  the  man  who  should  slay 
Arthur  was  born  on  May  Day. 

'  Tennyson's  The  Coming  of  Arthur. 


96  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

On  the  advice  of  Merlin,  Arthur  resolved  to  destroy  all  the 
May  Day  children.  He  demanded  that  the  lords'  sons  born  on 
that  day  should  be  sent  to  him.  This  was  done,  and  King 
Lot's  wife  sent  to  him  Modred.^  All  the  children  were  put  in 
a  ship,  and  they  were  but  four  weeks  old.  The  ship  was  sent 
adrift  and  was  driven  ashore  below  a  castle.  All  the  children 
perished  except  Modred.  He  was  found  by  a  good  man  who 
nourished  him  until  he  was  fourteen  years  old. 

Many  lords  and  barons  were  displeased  because  of  the  loss 
of  their  children.  They  put  the  blame  on  Merlin  more  than  on 
Arthur.  All,  however,  held  their  peace,  some  because  of  fear 
and  others  because  of  love. 

^  Medrod,  Medraut,  and  Mordred. 


II.  The  Tale  of  Balen  and   Balan 

Sir  Balen  of  Northumberland 
Gat  g-race  before  the  king  to  stand 
High  as  his  heart  was,  and  his  hand 
Wrought  honour  towards  the  strange  north  strand 
That  sent  him  south  so  goodly  a  knight. 

Swinburne. 

After  King-  Ryons  of  North  Wales  had  roused  many  people 
to  rebel,  King  Arthur  held  a  royal  tournament  at  Camelot.  The 
barons  assembled  there  in  great  numbers.  To  King  Arthur 
came  a  fair  damsel  who  wore  a  richly-furred  mantle  and  was 
girt  with  a  noble  sword.  She  said  she  came  from  the  great 
lady  of  Avalon  and  had  been  charged  to  deliver  the  sword  to 
a  goodly  knight  who  could  draw  it  out  of  its  sheath.  "King 
Ryons  and  his  knights,"  she  said,  "have  endeavoured  in  vain 
to  win  it." 

"This  is  a  great  marvel,"  Arthur  said,  "I  shall  make 
attempt  to  draw  the  sword."  Then  he  grasped  the  sheath  in 
his  left  hand  and  pulled  the  hilt  with  the  other,  but  the  sword 
would  not  come  out. 

Most  of  Arthur's  barons  likewise  tried,  but  failed  to  win  the 
sword.  The  damsel  sorrowed  greatly,  saying:  "Alas,  I  thought 
I  should  find  in  this  Court  the  best  knights  without  treachery  or 
treason!" 

Said  Arthur:  "  By  my  faith!  here  there  are  as  good  knights 
as  can  be  found  in  the  world,  and  I  grieve  because  you  cannot 
find  the  one  who  shall  help  you." 

Now  there  chanced  to  be  at  Camelot  a  goodly  knight  named 
Balen,  who  had  lain  in  prison  for  a  year  and  a  half  because  he 
had  slain  in  combat  King  Arthur's  cousin.  Him  the  barons 
released  and  brought  privily  to  the  Court.  The  damsel  was 
taking  her  leave  as  he  entered,  and  he  called  to  her,  saying: 
"Tarry,    I    pray  you,   so  that    I    may  endeavour  to  draw  the 

Vol.  II.  97  "  36 


gS  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

sword.  Although  I  am  but  poorly  arrayed,  I  am  assured  in 
my  heart  of  success." 

The  damsel  saw  that  the  knight  was  worthy,  and  she  handed 
him  the  sword.  He  grasped  it  and  drew  it  easily  from  the 
sheath.     Arthur  and  his  barons  marvelled  greatly  thereat. 

"  Now  give  me  the  sword  again,"  said  the  damsel. 

"Nay,"  Balen  answered,  "I  shall  keep  it  until  it  is  taken 
from  me  by  force." 

Said  the  damsel:  "It  is  not  wise  of  you  to  keep  the  sword. 
He  who  does  so  shall  slay  with  it  his  best  friend,  and  by  it  he 
himself  shall  be  slain." 

"  I  accept  the  adventure,"  Balen  answered  her. 

Said  the  damsel:  ''You  will  repent  before  long.  My  heart 
is  heavy  for  you.  It  is  a  great  pity  that  you  do  not  believe 
what  I  say."     She  then  departed,  sorrowing  greatly. 

Balen  sent  for  his  armour  and  horse,  and  King  Arthur,  who 
forgave  him,  endeavoured  in  vain  to  make  him  tarry  at  the 
Court. 

As  the  knight  prepared  to  depart,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake 
arrived  on  horseback,  richly  clad.  She  saluted  King  Arthur 
and  asked  for  the  gift  he  had  promised  her  when  he  received 
the  sword  Excalibur. 

"Ask  what  ye  will,"  Arthur  answered,  "and  if  it  lies  in 
my  power  you  shall  have  it." 

Said  the  Lady  of  the  Lake:  "I  ask  for  the  head  of  the 
knight  who  has  just  won  the  sword,  or  the  head  of  the  damsel 
who  brought  it.  I  should  be  well  pleased  with  both  their 
heads,  for  the  knight  slew  my  brother  and  the  damsel  caused 
my  father's  death." 

"Truly,"  Arthur  made  answer,  "I  cannot  grant  either 
request.     Ask  some  other  boon  and  it  shall  be  granted." 

Said  the  Lady  of  the  Lake:   "  No  other  thing  will  I  ask  for." 

Balen  perceived  that  this  was  the  lady  who  slew  his  own 
mother.  For  three  years  he  had  sought  in  vain  for  her.  When 
he  was  told  what  she  asked  for  from  King  Arthur,  he  exclaimed: 
"Lady,  you  ask  for  my  head.  Therefore  you  shall  lose  your 
own."  He  drew  his  sword  and  smote  off  her  head  before  the 
king. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  99 

*' Alas,  for  shame  I"  said  Arthur;  *' why  have  you  done  this? 
You  have  brought  disgrace  upon  me  and  upon  all  my  Court, 
because  this  lady  came  hither  under  my  safe  conduct.  I  shall 
never  forgive  you  this  crime." 

Said  Balen:  "Sir,  your  displeasure  makes  me  sad,  but  this 
was  the  falsest  lady  on  earth.  She  has  brought  death  to  many 
knights,  and  she  caused  my  own  mother  to  be  burned  through 
her  treachery." 

*'  It  matters  not  what  cause  has  prompted  you  to  do  as  you 
have  done  before  me,"  Arthur  said;  "I  cannot  forgive  you. 
Therefore  withdraw  from  my  Court  with  all  haste." 

Balen  turned  away,  carrying  the  lady's  head.  He  met  his 
squire  and  bade  him  inform  his  friends  in  Northumberland  that 
he  was  out  of  prison  and  had  slain  his  greatest  foe.  "Now," 
said  Balen,  "I  shall  make  haste  and  meet  with  King  Ryons. 
Him  shall  I  slay  or  else  I  shall  be  slain  by  him.  If  I  meet 
with  success,  then  will  Arthur  be  my  good  and  gracious  king." 

"Where  shall  I  meet  with  you  next?"  asked  the  squire. 

"  In  King  Arthur's  Court,"  Balen  said,  as  he  rode  away. 

There  was  at  Arthur's  Court  a  knight  named  Lanceor,  son  of 
an  Irish  king,  and  he  was  angry  because  that  Balen  had  won 
the  sword.  He  asked  the  king  for  permission  to  avenge  the 
death  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  "  Do  your  best,"  Arthur  made 
answer  in  his  wrath. 

Lanceor  pursued  Balen,  and  when  he  came  up  with  him, 
they  fought  fiercely,  and  Balen  slew  the  Irish  knight. 

Then  came  towards  him  a  damsel,  riding  full  fast  on  a  fair 
palfrey.  She  sorrowed  greatly  when  she  saw  Lanceor  lying 
dead.  "Oh,  Balen,"  said  she,  "you  have  slain  two  bodies, 
and  one  heart  and  two  hearts  in  one  body!  Two  souls  have 
been  lost." 

She  drew  the  sword  of  her  dead  lover  and  made  loud  lament, 
causing  Balen  to  grieve  passingly  sore.  He  endeavoured  to 
take  the  sword  from  her,  but  was  unable  so  to  do.  Then  she 
set  the  pommel  on  the  ground  and  fell  upon  it. 

Balen  was  ashamed  that  so  fair  a  lady  had  destroyed  herself 
for  love  of  him  who  lay  dead.  "Alas!"  he  said;  "sorrowful 
am  I,  and  greatly  do  I  repent  having  slain  this  knight,  because 


loo  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

of  the  love  the  damsel  bore  him.  There  was  much  true  love 
betwixt  them  both." 

He  could  not  tarry  there  because  of  his  grief.  Mounting 
his  horse,  he  turned  towards  the  forest,  and  he  suddenly  met 
with  his  younger  brother,  Balan.  The  brothers  put  off  their 
helms  and  kissed  each  other,  and  wept  for  joy  and  pity. 

vSaid  Balan:  "Right  glad  was  I  to  hear  of  your  release 
from  prison  in  the  castle  of  Four  Stones,  and  I  came  hither 
to  find  you." 

Then  Balen  told  his  brother  all  that  had  taken  place,  how- 
he  had  slain  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  and  incurred  the  wrath  of 
King  Arthur,  and  how  the  Irish  knight  had  pursued  him,  how 
he  had  slain  this  knight,  and  how  the  damsel  had  taken  her 
life  for  love  of  the  knight. 

Then  continued  Balen:  "  Right  sorry  am  I  because  Arthur 
is  displeased  with  me,  for  he  is  the  most  worshipful  king  that 
now  reigns  on  the  earth.  His  love  shall  I  win,  or  else  lose 
my  life.  .  .  .  King  Ryons  is  besieging  the  castle  Terrabil. 
Let  us  haste  thither  and  put  our  prowess  to  the  test." 

"That  will  I  do,"  Balan  answered,  "and  we  will  help  each 
other  as  brothers  should." 

As  they  rode  on  their  way  they  met  with  Merlin,  who  was 
disguised  so  that  they  knew  not  who  he  was.  They  asked  his 
name,  but  he  would  not  tell  it,  but  he  said:  "I  can  tell  you 
what  your  purpose  is.  'Tis  to  meet  King  Ryons,  but  you  will 
have  no  success  unless  you  follow  my  advice." 

"Ah!"  said  Balan;  "you  are  Merlin.  We  shall  be  ruled 
by  your  counsel. 

"Come  on,"  Merlin  said,  "  I  shall  serve  you  well.  See  that 
you  act  in  right  knightly  fashion,  for  you  will  have  great  need 
so  to  do." 

"As  for  that,"  said  Balen,  "fear  not.  We  shall  do  as  you 
wish  us  to  do." 

Merlin  made  Balen  and  Balan  hide  in  a  wood  beside  the  high- 
way. The  horses  were  put  to  grass,  and  the  brothers  rested  until 
it  was  nigh  to  midnight.  Then  Merlin  bade  them  make  ready, 
because  that  King  Ryons  was  at  hand,  having  left  his  host  w-ith 
threescore  of  his  best  knights  to  visit  the  Lady  De  Vance. 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  loi 

Merlin  pointed  out  the  king  when  he  came  nigh,  and  Balen 
and  Balan  wounded  him  and  smote  him  down.  Then  they 
slew  more  than  forty  of  his  men,  and  the  remnant  scattered 
in  flight. 

In  their  triumph  the  brothers  went  to  King  Ryons,  who 
lay  on  the  ground,  and  would  have  slain  him  had  he  not  yielded 
to  them. 

Thereafter  they  laid  him  on  a  horse  litter  and  departed  with 
him  to  Camelot. 

Merlin  appeared  before  King  Arthur  that  night,  and  told 
him  that  his  enemy.   King  Ryons,  had  been  taken. 

"By  whom?"  asked  the  king. 

"By  two  knights,"  Merlin  said,  "and  on  the  morrow  ye 
shall  know  who  they  are." 

Next  morning  Balen  and  Balan  brought  King  Ryons  of 
North  Wales  to  Camelot,  and  delivered  him  to  the  castle 
porters.     Then  they  went  away. 

King  Arthur  was  speedily  summoned.  He  went  to  King 
Ryons  and  said:  "Sir  King,  you  are  welcome.  By  what 
adventure  have  you  come  hither?" 

"Sir  King,"  answered  Ryons,  "the  knight  with  two 
swords^  and  his  brother — good  and  worthy  knights,  as  it  is 
my  sorrow  to  know — have  overcome  me  and  made  me  yield. 
The  knight  with  two  swords  will  not  live  for  long." 

"  Alas!"  Arthur  said;  "that  is  a  great  pity,  for  greatly  I  am 
his  debtor.     Nor  have  I  deserved  kindly  service  at  his  hands." 

Said  Merlin:  "Much  more  will  he  do  for  you,  and  that 
you  shall  know  ere  long.  Are  you  prepared  for  battle?  Know 
now  that  the  host  of  Nero,  King  Ryon's  brother,  will  attack 
you  at  noon.  Therefore  make  you  ready,  for  I  must  depart 
without  delay." 

Nero  came  with  a  great  host  that  outnumbered  the  army 
of  Arthur.  King  Lot  of  the  Isle  of  Orkney  was  hastening  to 
aid  Nero,  but  Merlin  intercepted  him,  and  made  him  tarry  to 
hear  a  tale  of  prophecy. 

In  the  battle  with  Nero  Sir  Kay  fought  passing  well,  while 
Sir   Hervis   de    Revel   did    marvellous  deeds,    fighting  beside 

'  Balen,  with  his  own  sword  and  the  sword  he  received  from  the  damsel. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVEBSTTY  OF  '"''T.TT^ORNTA 
SANTA  BARBARA 


I02  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

King  Arthur.  Twenty  knights  were  slain  and  forty  were 
maimed  by  King  Arthur  alone.  Then  came  Balen  with  two 
swords  and  his  brother  Balan,  and  they  fought  so  well  that 
King  Arthur  and  all  his  knights  marvelled  greatly  and  said 
that  they  had  been  sent  like  angels  from  heaven,  or  else  like 
devils  from  hell.  King  Arthur  vowed  that  the  brothers  were 
the  best  knights  he  had  ever  seen. 

In  the  meantime  word  was  borne  to  King  Lot  that  the  host 
of  Nero  was  being  destroyed.  "Alas,"  Lot  exclaimed,  "I  am 
ashamed  I  Had  Xero  and  I  been  together,  no  host  under 
heaven  would  have  been  a  match  for  us.  This  deceiver  has 
mocked  me  with  his  tale  of  prophecy." 

Well  did  Merlin  know  that  if  Lot  had  been  in  the  battle  with 
Nero,  King  Arthur  would  have  been  slain.  It  was  fated  that 
one  of  the  kings  should  be  killed  that  day,  and  Merlin,  although 
he  desired  no  man's  death,  would  rather  have  had  Lot  slain 
than  Arthur. 

"What  is  best  to  be  done  now?"  said  Lot.  "Is  it  better 
to  treat  with  King  Arthur  or  to  light?  for  the  greater  part  of 
our  army  has  been  slain." 

"Sir,"  a  knight  answered  him,  "set  on  Arthur.  He  and 
his  men  are  weary,  and  we  are  fresh." 

Said  Lot:  "May  every  knight  do  his  part  as  I  shall  do 
mine!" 

They  advanced  with  banners  and  attacked  the  army  of  King 
Arthur,  but  Arthur  and  his  knights,  wqth  Balen  and  Balan, 
who  did  marvellous  deeds  of  arms,  put  Lot  and  his  host  to 
sore  straits. 

Sir  Pellinore,  who  was  called  "the  knight  with  the  strange 
beast",  attacked  King  Lot.  He  smote  at  him,  and  struck, 
instead,  the  horse's  neck,  so  that  the  animal  fell  to  the  ground 
with  its  rider.  Anon  Sir  Pellinore  smote  Lot  with  his  sword 
through  the  helm  and  head  to  the  forehead.  Then,  seeing 
that  Lot  had  been  slain,  the  host  of  Orkney  fled,  and  many 
were  cut  dowm. 

Because  Pellinore  thus  slew  King  Lot,  Sir  Gawain  avenged 
his  father's  death  in  the  tenth  year  of  his  own  knighthood  by 
slaying  Pellinore  with  his  own  hands. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  103 

In  that  battle  twelve  kings  in  all  were  slain,  and  they  were 
buried  in  the  church  of  St.  Stephens  in  Camelot. 

A  few  days  went  past  and  King  Arthur,  who  was  somewhat 
sick,  lay  in  a  pavilion  in  a  meadow.  A  knight  came  nigh 
him,  making  loud  lament.  "Why  do  you  sorrow?"  the  king- 
asked. 

Said  the  knight:  "You  can  give  me  no  relief."  And, 
so  saying,  he  passed  on  to  the  castle  of  Meliot. 

Then  Balen  drew  n1gh.  He  dismounted  and  saluted  King 
Arthur,  who  spake,  saying:   "  By  my  head,  you  are  welcome!" 

The  king  told  Balen  regarding  the  sorrowful  knight. 
"Bring  him  hither,"  said  Arthur,  "either  by  force  or  by 
good  will." 

"  Sir,  I  shall  do  more  than  that  for  you,"  Balen  made  answer. 
Then  he  rode  away.  He  found  the  knight  in  a  forest  where  he 
was  holding  converse  with  a  damsel,  and  forced  him  to  return 
with  him  to  King  Arthur.  No  sooner  did  they  reach  the  king's 
pavilion,  however,  than  an  invisible  knight  came  nigh  and 
thrust  his  spear  through  the  body  of  the  sorrowful  knight,  who 
cried  out  to  Balen,  saying:  "Alas!  I  am  slain  under  your 
conduct  by  a  knight  called  Garlon.  Hasten  to  the  damsel  and 
follow  the  quest  I  was  in.  She  will  lead  you.  Avenge  my 
death  when  you  can.  Sir  Knight." 

"  I  shall  do  as  you  ask  me  to,"  Balen  made  answer.  He  at 
once  hastened  to  the  forest  and  found  the  damsel.  With  her 
he  rode  away  until  they  met  another  knight  named  Perin  de 
Mountbeliard,  who  vowed  to  aid  them.  And  as  they  went  on 
together,  Garlon,  the  invisible  knight,  came  nigh  and  thrust 
his  spear  through  the  body  of  Perin  de  Mountbeliard. 

It  came  about  that  Balen  met  Garlon  at  a  feast  some  days 
later.  This  knight  had  a  dark  face,  and  observing  that  Balen 
stared  at  him,  he  smote  that  gallant  knight  on  the  face,  saying: 
"  Why  do  you  stare  at  me?  Eat  your  meat  and  do  what  you 
came  here  to  do." 

"  You  speak  well,"  said  Balen.  "This  is  not  the  first  wrong 
you  have  done  me,  and  I  shall  indeed  do  what  I  came  here  to  do." 

He  leapt  up  fiercely,  and  with  his  sword  clave  Garlon's  head 
to  the  shoulders. 


I04  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

All  the  other  knights  rose  against  Balen,  and  King  Pellam, 
the  host,  said:  "Knight,  you  have  slain  my  brother.  You 
yourself  shall  therefore  be  slain." 

"Well,"  said  Balen,  "do  it  yourself." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Pellam  answered.  "Much  did  I  love  my 
brother." 

King  Pellam  seized  a  grim  weapon  and  attacked  Balen,  and 
with  it  he  broke  Balen's  sword  in  pieces. 

Balen  fled  to  find  another  weapon,  and  passed  from  chamber 
to  chamber  of  the  castle,  King  Pellam  following  after  him.  At 
length  Balen  entered  a  room  in  which  there  was  a  bed  arrayed 
with  cloth  of  gold;  and  someone  lay  in  that  bed.  Near  it  was 
a  golden  table  with  four  legs  of  silver,  and  on  the  table  lay  a 
marvellous  spear,  strangely  adorned.  Balen  seized  this  spear 
and  smote  King  Pellam,  who  at  once  fell  down  in  a  swoon. 

Then  a  marvel  happened,  for  the  castle  roof  fell  and  the 
walls  collapsed.  Under  that  part  of  the  castle  which  fell,  because 
of  the  sorrowful  stroke  with  the  spear,  lay  Balen  and  Pellam. 
And  Balen  could  not  stir  hand  or  foot.  Three  days  went  past. 
Then  Merlin  came  and  released  Balen. 

And  Balen  rose  and  set  his  eyes 
Against  the  seer's  as  one  that  tries 
His  heart  against  the  sea's  and  sky's 
And  fears  not  if  he  lives  or  dies, 

Saying:  "I  would  have  my  damosel, 
Ere  I  fare  forth,  to  fare  with  me." 
And  sadly  Merlin  answered:  "See 
Where  now  she  lies;  deatli  knows  if  she 

Shall  now  fare  ill  or  well."^ 

The  damsel  was  dead  indeed.  King  Pellam,  who  had  also 
been  released  by  Merlin,  lay  wounded  for  many  years  until 
Galahad  healed  him  when  on  the  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail.  For 
in  that  chamber  in  the  castle  was  part  of  the  blood  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

That  mystery  towards  our  northern  shore 
Arimathean  Joseph  bore 
For  healing  of  our  sins  of  yore, 
That  grace  even  there  might  be.* 

1  Swinburne. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  105 

The  spear  that  Balen  had  seized  to  strike  King  Pellam  was 
the  same  spear  with  which  Longius  smote  our  Lord  to  the  heart. 
Pellam  was  nigh  of  Joseph's  kin.  He  was  the  most  worshipful 
man  that  lived  in  those  days,  and  great  pity  it  was  he  was  so 
sorely  wounded,  for  Balen's  stroke  caused  much  dole,  trouble, 
and  grief. 

Merlin  obtained  a  horse  for  Balen,  and  bade  him  ride  out  of 
that  country,  and  Balen  departed,  saying  to  Merlin:  "In  this 
world  we  shall  meet  never  more." 

He  rode  away.  As  he  passed  through  the  fair  lands  and 
cities  of  that  region  he  found  that  many  had  been  slain.  Those 
that  were  alive  cried  out:  "O  Balen,  you  have  caused  great 
hurt  in  these  lands.  The  dolorous  stroke  you  gave  to  King 
Pellam  has  destroyed  three  countries,  and  no  doubt  vengeance 
will  fall  upon  you  in  the  end." 

Balen  w^as  glad  when  he  passed  out  of  these  countries.  He 
rode  on  for  eight  days,  nor  met  with  any  adventure.  Then  he 
fell  in  with  a  knight  who  had  resolved  to  slay  himself  with  his 
sword  because  a  fair  lady  had  proved  false  to  him.  His  name 
was  Garnish  of  the  Mount.  Balen  prevailed  upon  Garnish  to 
ride  with  him  to  the  castle  of  the  lady's  sire.  There  Garnish 
found  that  the  lady  had  taken  another  love.  He  slew  her  and 
her  lover  and  then  slew  himself.  Balen  rode  away,  lest  it  should 
be  said  that  he  himself  had  slain  them  all. 

Three  days  went  past.  Then  Balen  came  to  a  cross  on 
which  were  letters  of  gold  that  set  forth:  "It  is  not  for  any 
knight  to  ride  alone  towards  this  castle."  He  caught  a  glimpse 
of  an  old  man,  who  immediately  vanished.  Then  he  heard  the 
blast  of  a  horn. 

Said  Balen:  "That  blast  is  blown  for  me.  I  am  the  prize; 
but,"  said  he,  "  I  am  not  yet  dead." 

Soon  he  beheld  drawing  near  a  hundred  ladies  and  as  many 
knights.  They  welcomed  him,  and  led  him  to  the  castle,  where 
there  was  dancing  and  music,  and  all  were  merry.  Then  the 
chief  lady  spoke  to  him,  saying:  "  Knight  with  two  swords, 
you  must  meet  a  knight  who  keeps  an  island.  No  knight  can 
pass  this  way  without  first  holding  combat  with  this  island 
knight." 


io6  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Said  Balen :   " 'Tis  an  unhappy  custom." 

*'  You  have  but  one  knight  to  meet,"  the  lady  answered  him. 

Said  Balen:  *'  If  I  must  meet  him,  then  I  am  ready." 

"  Your  shield  is  not  good,"  a  knight  said  to  Balen;  '*  I  will 
lend  you  a  larger  one." 

Balen  took  the  shield  of  the  unknown  one,  and  left  his  own 
behind.  Entering  a  boat,  he  crossed  the  river  to  the  island; 
and  when  he  landed  a  damsel  said  to  him:  "O  Knight  Balen, 
why  have  you  not  taken  your  own  shield?  Alas!  you  have  put 
yourself  in  great  danger,  for  by  your  shield  you  should  have 
been  known." 

Said  Balen:  "I  now  repent  that  I  ever  came  into  this 
country,  but  I  cannot  turn  back  for  shame.  I  am  ready  for 
my  adventure,  whether  it  bring  death  or  life." 

So  saying,  he  mounted  his  horse.  Soon  he  saw  a  knight 
coming  riding  from  a  castle  towards  him.  The  horse  he  rode 
was  trapped  all  red,  his  own  colour.  Now  this  knight  was 
Balan,  his  brother,  who  thought  at  first  he  was  confronted  by 
Balen  until  he  saw  the  strange  shield.  Then  he  deemed  it  was 
not  Balen. 

The  knights  rode  against  each  other,  and  both  were  over- 
thrown. Balan  was  the  first  to  rise,  because  Balen  was  weary 
after  travelling.  Balan  smote  with  his  sword,  and  Balen  put 
up  his  shield,  but  the  sword  cut  through  the  shield  and  cleft 
Balen's  helm. 

Balen  then  smote  with  the  unhappy  sword  he  had  received 
from  the  damsel,  and  wellnigh  felled  his  brother  Balan.  They 
fought  together  until  breath  failed  them. 

During  the  pause  that  ensued  Balen  looked  towards  the 
castle  and  saw  many  fair  ladies  watching  the  combat. 

The  brothers  resumed  fighting,  and  both  suffered  grievous 
wounds.  Red  with  blood  became  the  place  where  they  fought. 
At  last  Balan,  the  younger  brother,  withdrew  himself  and  lay 
down.  Then  Balen  spoke,  saying:  "What  knight  are  you? 
Never  before  did  I  meet  a  knight  who  matched  me." 

"I  am  Balan,"  came  the  stricken  knight's  answer,  "the 
brother  of  the  good  knight  Balen."     Then  he  swooned. 

"Alas,  that  I  should  live  to  see  this  dav!"  moaned  Balen. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  107 

He  took  off  his  brother's  hehii  and  found  a  face  red  with  blood. 
Balan  revived,  and  Balen  said:  "O  Balan,  my  brother,  you 
have  slain  me,  and  I  have  slain  you." 

"Alas,  that  I  knew  you  not!"  lamented  Balan. 

Said  Balen:  "An  unhappy  knight  made  me  leave  behind 
my  own  shield  and  take  his.  He  has  caused  us  both  to  be 
mortally  wounded.  Were  I  to  live,  I  should  destroy  that  castle 
because  of  its  evil  customs." 

"  It  would  be  well  so  to  do,"  Balan  answered.  "  I  came 
hither  and  slew  the  knight  who  kept  this  island,  and  since  then 
have  not  been  permitted  to  depart." 

Then  came  towards  them  the  lady  of  the  tower  with  four 
knights  and  also  six  ladies  and  six  yeomen.  These  heard  the 
knights  lament,  saying:  "  We  are  sons  of  one  mother  and  shall 
lie  in  one  grave." 

Balan  entreated  the  lady  to  bury  him  and  his  brother  in  the 
same  place  when  they  died.  The  lady  wept  and  promised  that 
this  should  be  done. 

A  priest  was  sent  for,  and  he  gave  the  brothers  their  rites. 
Said  Balen:  "Each  good  knight  and  good  man  who  comes  to 
our  tomb,  and  reads  that  two  brothers  slew  each  other,  will 
pray  for  our  souls." 

All  the  ladies  wept  for  pity  on  hearing  these  words. 

Soon  Balan  died,  but  Balen  lived  until  after  midnight.  His 
thoughts  turned  back  to  other  days  as  his  life  ebbed  away. 

And  there  low  lying,  as  hour  on  hour 

Fled,  all  his  life  in  all  its  flower 

Came  back  as  in  a  sunlit  shower 

Of  dreams,  when  sweet-sbuled  sleep  has  power 

On  life  less  sweet  and  glad  to  be. 
He  drank  the  draught  of  life's  first  wine 
Again:  he  saw  the  moorland  shine, 
The  rioting  rapids  of  the  Tyne, 

The  woods,  the  cliffs,  the  sea. 

The  joy  that  lives  at  heart  and  home, 
The  joy  to  rest,  the  joy  to  roam, 
The  joy  of  crags  and  scaurs  he  clomb, 
The  rapture  of  the  encountering  foam 
Embraced  and  breasted  of  the  boy, 


io8  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

The  first  g^ood  steed  his  knees  bestrode, 
The  first  wild  sound  of  songs  that  flowed 
Through  ears  thrtt  thrilled  and  hearts  that  glowed, 
Fulfilled  his  death  with  joy.* 

On  the  next  day,  Merlin  came  and  wrote  Balen's  name  on 
the  tomb,  because  the  lady  of  the  tower  knew  not  who  the  knight 
of  two  swords  was. 

Thereafter  Merlin  took  the  magic  sword  and  set  on  it  another 
pommel.  He  then  asked  a  knight  to  wield  it,  but  that  knight 
was  unable  so  to  do,  and  xMerlin  said:  '*  No  man  shall  ever 
handle  this  sword  except  the  best  knight  in  the  world,  and  that 
shall  be  Sir  Lancelot  or  else  his  son,  Sir  Galahad.  With  this 
sword  Sir  Lancelot  shall  slay  the  man  he  loves  best  in  the 
world,   namely  Sir  Gawain." 

Then  Merlin  caused  a  bridge  of  iron  and  steel  to  span  the 
stream  to  the  island.  It  was  but  half  a  foot  broad.  "There 
shall  never  man  pass  that  bridge,"  said  he,  "except  a  good 
knight  without  treachery  or  villainy." 

Merlin  left  the  scabbard  of  Balen's  sword  on  the  island  side 
of  the  river  so  that  Galahad  might  find  it.  The  sword  was  put 
in  a  marble  stone  standing  upright  above  the  water.  In  time 
the  stone  was  carried  down  the  stream  to  the  city  of  Camelot, 
which  in  English  is  called  Winchester.  'Twas  there  that  in 
time  Sir  Galahad  found  the  sword. 

M-erlin  went  to  Arthur  after  he  had  done  these  things,  and 
told  how  Balen  and  Balan  had  fought  and  slain  each  other. 

"  Alas!"  King  Arthur  said,  "  this  day 

I  have  heard  the  worst  that  woe  might  say: 

For  in  this  world  that  wanes  away 

I  know  not  two  such  knights  as  they." 

This  is  the  tale  that  memory  writes 
Of  men  whose  names  like  stars  shall  stand, 
Balen  and  Balan  sure  of  hand. 
Two  brethren  of  Northumberland, 

In  life  and  death  good  knights. "- 

1  Swinburne's  The  Tale  of  Balen. 

2  Swinburne.  This  poet's  The  Tale  of  Balen  is  not  only  a  fine  and  strong  rendering  of 
Malory's  version  of  the  story,  but  a  masterly  achievement  in  a  difllcult  verse  form.  Tiie 
great  poem  should  be  read  in  its  entirety.     It  is  a  triumph  in  sustained  mood  and  melody. 


III.   The  Knights  of  the  Table  Round 

By  Dubric'  the  high  saint, 
Chief  of  the  church  in  Britain,  and  before 
The  stateliest  of  her  altar-shrines,  the  king 
That  morn  was  married  .  .  .- 

There  came  a  day  when  Arthur  spoke  to  Merlin,  saying: 
**  My  barons  will  give  me  no  peace,  for  they  keep  telling  me  to 
take  a  wife." 

"  They  have  spoken  well,"  said  Merlin  ;  "  for  a  man  of  your 
wealth  and  nobleness  should  not  be  without  a  wife.  Now,  tell 
me  if  there  is  any  woman  you  love  more  than  another." 

**Yes,"  Arthur  said,  "I  love  Guinevere,  the  daughter  of 
King  Leodegrance  of  Cameliard,  who  was  given  the  Table 
Round  by  my  father  Uther.  This  damsel  is  the  most  valiant 
and  the  fairest  lady  that  I  know  of,  or  ever  could  find." 

**As  to  her  beauty,"  said  Merlin,  "there  can  be  no  doubt. 
But  if  you  did  not  love  her  as  well  as  you  do,  I  could  find  for 
vou  another  damsel  of  beauty  and  goodness  with  whom  you 
would  be  happy.  From  her,  however,  on  whom  a  man's  hear*- 
is  set,  he  is  loath  to  turn  away." 

"That  is  indeed  true,"  Arthur  said. 

Then  Merlin  warned  the  King  that  Guinevere  was  not  the 
one  he  should  wed,  because  that  Sir  Lancelot  should  love  her 
and  she  him. 

But  Arthur  had  set  his  heart  on  Guinevere,  and  Merlin  went 
forth  with  a  few  knights  to  visit  her  sire. 

When  King  Leodegrance  of  Cameliard  was  informed  by 
Merlin  of  his  mission,  he  said:  "It  is  to  me  the  best  news  I 
have  ever  heard  that  so  worthy  a  king  desires  to  wed  my 
daughter.     Arthur  has  no  need  of  a  gift  of  lands,  but  I  shall 

^  Dubricius  or  Dyfrig,  an  early  Welsh  saint.  -  Tennyson's  The  Coming  of  Arthur. 

109 


no  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

send  him  the  Table  Round  which  Uther  Pendragon  gave  to 
me.  When  it  is  fully  seated  it  has  room  for  a  hundred  and 
fifty  knights.  I  myself  have  now  but  a  hundred,  for  many 
knights  have  been  slain  in  my  day." 

So  it  came  about  that  King  Leodegrance  gave  over  his 
daughter  Guinevere  to  Merlin,  and  also  the  Table  Round  and 
a  hundred  knights. 

Arthur  heard  of  the  coming  of  the  lady,  with  the  Table 
Round  and  the  knights,  and  he  rejoiced  greatly  and  made  glad 
welcome,  saying:  "This  fair  lady  I  have  loved  for  long,  and 
the  Table  Round  and  the  knights  do  please  me  more  than  great 
riches." 

A  day  was  fixed  for  the  wedding  and  coronation,  and 
Arthur  bade  Merlin  make  search  for  fifty  knights  of  courage 
and  nobleness,  but  no  more  than  twenty  and  eight  could  Merlin 
find. 

Then  came  young  Gawain,  son  of  King  Lot  of  Lothian  and 
Orkney,  who  had  been  slain,  and  of  Arthur's  half-sister.  He 
craved  a  boon  from  the  king. 

Said  Arthur:  *'  Ask  and  I  shall  grant  it  you." 

**  Sir,"  Gawain  said,  "  I  ask  that  you  shall  make  me  a  knight 
on  the  day  you  wed  fair  Guinevere." 

"That  shall  I  do  with  right  goodwill,  my  nephew,"  said 
King  Arthur. 

Next  a  poor  cowherd  came  to  the  Court  and  craved  a  boon 
from  the  king.  "It  has  been  told  me,"  he  said,  "that  at  this 
time  of  your  marriage  you  will  give  any  man  the  gift  he  asks 
for  if  it  is  not  unreasonable." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Arthur. 

"Then  I  ask  you  to  make  my  son  here  a  knight,"  the  cow- 
herd said.  "Thirteen  sons  have  I  and  they  are  all  content  to 
work  and  live  as  I  do,  but  this  youth  will  do  no  labour,  but 
always  will  be  shooting  and  casting  darts,  and  glad  to  see 
battles  and  to  behold  knights.  By  night  and  by  day  his  one 
desire  is  to  become  a  knight." 

The  king  spoke  to  the  youth,  saying:  "What  is  your 
name?" 

"Sir,"  answered  he,  "  mv  name  is  Tor." 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  iii 

The  king  gazed  at  Tor  and  saw  that  he  was  comely  and  well 
made.  He  bade  the  cowherd  fetch  all  his  other  sons,  and  this 
the  old  man  did,  and  Arthur  saw  that  Tor  was  not  like  one  of 
them  either  in  shape  or  countenance. 

Then  Arthur  knighted  Tor,  and  he  asked  Merlin  if  the  youth 
would  become  a  good  knight  or  not. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Merlin  answered,  "he  ought  to  be  a  good 
knight  because  there  is  royal  blood  in  his  veins."  Then  Merlin 
told  Arthur  that  Tor  was  not  the  son  of  the  cowherd  but  of  King 
Pellinore,  who  had  slain  King  Lot. 

Next  morning  Pellinore  came  to  the  Court,  and  when  it  was 
told  to  him  who  Tor  was  he  took  pleasure  in  the  youth.  On  the 
same  day  Gawain  was  made  a  knight. 

Now  there  were  two  seats  at  the  Table  Round  on  which  no 
names  of  knights  were  set,  and  Arthur  asked  Merlin  the  reason 
for  this. 

"The  knights  who  sit  in  these  places  must  be  of  great 
worship,"  Merlin  answered.  "The  Siege  Perilous  is  for  but 
one  man,  and  he  is  King  Pellinore." 

Then  he  led  King  Pellinore  to  it,  saying:  "This  is  your 
place.     No  man  is  more  worthy  than  you  to  sit  there." 

At  this  Sir  Gawain  became  filled  with  great  envy.  He  spoke 
to  his  brother,  Gaheris,  and  said:  "It  grieves  me  much  that 
Pellinore  should  thus  be  honoured,  because  he  slew  our  father. 
King  Lot.     Therefore  I  shall  slay  him." 

"You  shall  not,"  answered  Gaheris.  "I  am  yet  but  a 
squire.  When,  however,  I  am  become  a  knight  I  shall  slay 
Pellinore." 

"As  you  will,"  Sir  Gawain  made  answer. 

When  the  king  and  his  knights  were  seated  at  the  wedding 
feast  there  entered  the  hall  a  white  hart  followed  by  a  white 
hunting-dog.  It  ran  round  the  Table  Round,  and  the  dog  bit 
it  on  the  haunch  so  that  it  leapt  against  a  knight  and  upset  him. 
That  knight  at  once  arose,  and,  taking  up  the  white  dog,  left 
the  hall.  He  called  for  his  horse  and  rode  away.  Then  a  lady 
entered  the  hall,  having  ridden  to  the  castle  on  a  white  palfrey, 
and  demanded  that  the  white  dog  should  be  restored  to  her. 
While   yet    she   was    speaking,    a   strange   knight   came   and, 


112  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

seizing  the   ladv,  carried   her  off  by  force,  whereat  she   made 
loud  lament. 

"Now,"  said  Merlin  to  King  Arthur,  "these  happenings 
must  not  be  regarded  lightly." 

The  king  assented.  Then  was  Sir  Gawain  ordered  to  bring 
back  the  white  hart,  Sir  Tor  to  bring  back,  or  else  slay,  the 
knight  who  took  the  white  dog,  and  Sir  Pellinore  to  bring  back, 
or  slay,  the  knight  who  carried  off  the  lady.  These  three 
knights  at  once  hastened  forth  to  undertake  their  adventures. 

Sir  Gawain  was  accompanied  by  his  brother  Gaheris  serving 
as  squire.  First  he  came  upon  two  knights  who  were  brothers. 
They  fought  for  the  right  of  following  the  white  hart,  but 
Gawain  made  them  yield  and  proceed  to  King  Arthur's  Court. 
He  then  followed  the  hart,  which  was  pursued  by  hounds.  In 
time  he  came  to  a  river,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  which  was  an 
armed  knight  who  challenged  him.  Gawain  swam  his  horse 
across,  and,  having  overthrown  the  knight,  whose  name  was 
Allardin  of  the  Isles,  he  slew  him  with  one  stroke  of  his  sword. 
"That,"  said  Gaheris,  "was  a  mightly  stroke  for  a  young 
knight." 

Sir  Gawain  resumed  the  chase.  The  white  hart  fled  into 
a  castle,  but  six  greyhounds  followed  it  and  killed  it  there. 
The  knight  of  the  castle  drew  his  sword  and  killed  two  of  the 
greyhounds,  chasing  the  others  out-of-doors.  Then  he  lamented 
for  the  white  hart,  saying:  "It  is  sorrowful  that  you  are  dead, 
for  my  sovereign  lady  gave  you  to  me.  As  I  live,  your  death 
will  be  dearly  bought!" 

He  armed  himself,  and,  mounting  his  horse,  rode  fiercely  to 
meet  Sir  Gawain,  by  whom,  however,  he  was  overthrown.  He 
told  that  his  name  was  Ablamor  of  the  Marsh,  and  begged  for 
mercy;  but  Gawain  resolved  to  take  his  head. 

As  he  prepared  to  do  so,  a  fair  lady  rushed  from  the  castle 
and  took  the  fallen  knight  in  her  arms.  By  mishap,  Sir 
Gawain  smote  off  her  head  instead  of  the  knight's. 

"  Alas,"  cried  Gaheris,  "  that  is  a  shameful  deed !" 

Sir  Gawain  was  sore  astonished  at  his  deed  and  sorrowed 
greatly.  "Arise,"  said  he  to  Ablamor,  "I  shall  spare  your 
life." 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  113 

'*  Nay,  nay,"  answered  the  knight,  "I  ask  not  for  mercy 
now.  You  have  slain  my  lady,  whom  I  loved  above  all  earthly 
things." 

"I  repent  the  deed,"  Gawain  said,  "for  I  meant  to  strike 
you  instead.  But  now  you  will  go  to  King  Arthur  and  tell 
him  you  were  overcome  by  the  knight  who  went  in  quest  of 
the  white  hart." 

The  knight  vowed  so  to  do  and  rode  away,  carrying  on  his 
horse  the  two  greyhounds  he  had  slain. 

Then  Gawain  went  to  the  castle,  and  there  he  obtained  the 
head  of  the  white  hart.  Thereafter  he  returned  to  King  Arthur's 
Court,  but  when  his  adventures  were  related  Queen  Guinevere 
was  greatly  displeased  because  he  had  slain  the  lady.  Then 
was  Gawain  made  to  vow  that  so  long  as  he  lived  he  would 
fight  for  ladies  and  never  again  refuse  mercy  to  the  one  who 
asked  for  it. 

Sir  Tor,  who  went  in  quest  of  the  knight  with  the  white 
dog,  rode  on  until  he  was  challenged  by  a  dwarf.  This  dwarf 
said  that  Tor  must  not  pass  before  he  fought  with  two  knights. 
Sir  Felot  of  Langduk  and  Sir  Petipase  of  Winchelsea.  Tor 
overcame  them  both  and  commanded  them  to  ride  to  King 
Arthur's  Court  and  yield  to  him.  This  they  promised  and  rode 
away.  The  dwarf  then  mounted  a  horse  and  followed  Sir  Tor 
through  the  forest.  They  came  to  a  priory  beside  which  were 
two  pavilions,  and  in  one  of  these  Sir  Tor  found  the  white  dog 
beside  a  sleeping  lady.  A  knight  challenged  him,  but  Tor 
overcame  him  and  bade  him  yield.  This  the  knight,  whose 
name  was  Abellus,  refused  to  do. 

Then  came  a  damsel  riding  on  a  palfrey  and  crying  in  a 
loud  voice  to  Sir  Tor.  She  entreated  him  to  slay  the  knight, 
saying:  **  He  slew  my  own  brother  before  mine  eyes  although  I 
kneeled  before  him  in  the  mire." 

When  Abellus  heard  these  words  he  rose  and  ran  away,  but 
Tor  followed  him  and  smote  off  his  head. 

Sir  Tor  then  returned  to  King  Arthur's  Court  with  the  white 
dog. 

King  Pellinore  rode  on  his  quest  of  the  lady  who  had  been 
taken  away  by  the  strange  knight.     As  he  passed  through  the 

Vol.  II.  37 


114  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

forest  he  saw  a  damsel  sitting  by  a  well  with  a  wounded  knight 
in  her  arms,  and  she  cried:  "Help  me,  knight;  for  Christ's 
sake  help  me,  Pellinore!" 

But  Pellinore  would  not  tarry,  being  eager  in  his  quest,  and 
the  lady  prayed  God  to  send  him  as  much  need  of  help  as  she 
had,  and  to  make  him  feel  the  need  until  he  died. 

The  knight  died,  and  the  lady  immediately  slew  herself  with 
his  sword  because  of  her  sorrow. 

Pellinore  soon  reached  the  pavilion  of  the  knight  who  had 
snatched  away  the  lady  from  King  Arthur's  Court.  This  knight 
had  been  challenged  by  another  knight  who  claimed  the  lady, 
and  both  fought  fiercely  for  her  on  foot.  Pellinore  rode  to  the 
pavilion  in  which  the  lady  was,  and  said:  "You  must  go  with 
me  to  King  Arthur's  Court." 

Then  he  rode  between  the  two  knights  and  separated  them. 
He  made  known  to  them  his  quest,  and  both  prepared  to  fight 
against  him.  One  slew  Pellinore's  horse,  but  Pellinore  leapt 
safely  to  the  ground  and  drew  his  sword.  With  one  blow 
he  killed  the  knight  who  had  carried  off  the  lady.  The  other 
knight,  who  was  the  lady's  kinsman,  yielded  to  Pellinore,  and 
invited  him  to  stay  in  his  pavilion  all  night.  The  knight's 
name  was  Sir  Meliot  of  Logurs  and  the  lady's  name  was 
Nimue. 

When  Sir  Pellinore  returned  to  King  Arthur's  Court  he  was 
reproved  by  Queen  Guinevere  because  he  had  paid  no  heed  to 
the  lady  with  the  wounded  knight  who  had  called  to  him  for 
help  in  the  forest. 

Said  Merlin:  "The  lady  was  your  own  daughter  Eleine, 
and  the  knight  was  her  love.  His  name  was  Sir  Miles,  and 
the  knight  who  slew  him  did  so  from  behind,  and  his  name  was 
Sir  Loraine  le  Savage,  a  false  knight  and  a  coward.  Because 
you  would  not  tarry  and  help  Eleine,  you  shall  see  your  best 
friend  fail  when  you  are  in  the  greatest  distress  that  you  shall 
ever  be  in.  He  whom  you  trust  most  shall  leave  you  in  your 
time  of  need,  and  you  shall   then  be  slain." 

"Alas!"  said  Sir  Pellinore;  "it  is  sad  to  think  this  shall 
happen,  but  such  is  my  destiny." 

Then    Arthur  established    his    knights,   and    gave    lands    to 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  115 

those  that  were  not  rich.  He  charged  them  never  to  do  outrage 
or  murder,  and  always  to  avoid  treason  ;  also,  not  to  be  cruel, 
but  to  grant  mercy  unto  him  that  asked  mercy,  upon  pain  of 
forfeiture  of  their  knighthoods.  The  king  charged  them  also, 
upon  pain  of  death,  to  succour  ladies,  damsels,  and  gentle- 
women in  distress.  He  decreed  that  no  knight  should  take 
arms  in  a  wrong  cause  for  no  law  nor  for  the  world's  goods. 
The  knights,  both  old  and  young,  were  sworn  accordingly  at 
the  Table  Round.  And  they  were  sworn,  too,  each  year  at  the 
high  festival  of  Pentecost. 


IV.   The  Mystery   of  Merlin 

For  Merlin,  overtalked  and  overworn, 

Had  yielded,  told  her  all  the  charm,  and  slept. ^ 

Now  Merlin  fell  in  a  dotage  on  the  fair  damsel  Ximue,  who 
had  been  brought  by  Pellinore  to  Arthur's  Court.  He  desired 
always  to  be  with  her,  and  she  made  him  welcome,  for  she  was 
one  of  the  faerie  ladies  of  the  lake,  and  plotted  to  obtain  from 
him  the  secrets  of  his  art. 

There  came  a  day  when  Merlin  spoke  to  Arthur,  and  said 
he  should  not  endure  long,  and  must,  despite  all  his  crafts, 
be  put  in  the  earth.  '*  I  have  helped  to  bring  peace  to  the 
land,"  said  Merlin,  "and  to  set  it  in  order,  and  therefore  will 
I  go  as  it  pleases  me." 

The  king  was  made  pensive  and  sorry,  because  he  loved 
Merlin  greatly,  and  fain  would  have  him  remain  at  the  Court 
yet  a  time;  but  when  he  found  he  could  not  prevail  upon  Merlin 
to  change  his  purpose,  Arthur  praised  him  warmly.  Then 
Merlin  promised  he  would  come  again  in  time  of  need.^ 

Said  Arthur:  "Every  day  and  every  hour  I  have  need  of 
you,  for  without  you  I  can  do  naught,  and  therefore  I  would 
that  you  might  never  part  company  with  me." 

Merlin  answered  and  said:  "  I  shall  come  another  time  when 
you  are  in  greater  need.  I  shall  not  fail  you  on  the  day  and 
in  the  hour." 

Arthur  pondered  a  time.  Then  said  he:  "  Ha!  Merlin,  fair 
sweet  friend,  in  what  need  will  you  help  me?  I  pray  you  tell 
me,  and  set  my  heart  at  ease." 

"Sir,"  said  Merlin,  "I  shall  tell  you,  and  then  I  shall  go 
away.      The  lion  that  is  the  son  of  the  bear,  begotten  of  the 

•  Tennyson's  Nimue. 

'  This  version  draws  upon  Malory's  Morte  Darthur  2i.x\A  Merlin  a  French  fifteenth-century 
prose  romance. 

116 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  117 

leopard,  shall  reign  in  great  Britain,  and  that  is  the  need  you 
shall  have."  He  also  warned  the  king  to  keep  watch  on  his 
sword  Excalibur  and  on  the  scabbard,  because  they  would  be 
stolen  by  the  woman  he  most  trusted.  "You  will  miss  me," 
he  said.  "You  would  give  all  your  lands  to  have  me  back 
again." 

"Ah!"  the  king  said,  "since  you  know  of  what  will  happen 
to  you,  use  your  crafts  and  prevent  misfortune." 

"It  cannot  be,"  said  Merlin,  and  then  departed  from  the 
king. 

Soon  afterwards  the  damsel  of  the  lake,  Nimue,  left  the 
Court,  and  Merlin  went  with  her  evermore  wheresoever  she 
went. 

Now  Merlin  would  have  had  her  put  away  by  his  subtle 
crafts,  but  she  had  made  him  swear  never  to  enchant  her. 

Then  fell  upon  him  a  great  melancholy 

And  leaving  Arthur's  Court  he  gained  the  beach; 

There  found  a  little  boat,  and  stept  into  it, 

And  Nimue  followed,  but  he  marked  her  not. 

She  took  the  helm  and  he  the  sail;  the  boat 

Drave  with  a  sudden  wind  across  the  deeps, 

And  touching  Breton  sands,  they  disembarked, 

And  so  she  followed  Merlin  all  the  way, 

Ev'n  to  the  wild  woods  of  Broceliande. 

For  Merlin  once  had  told  her  of  a  charm 

The  which  if  any  wrought  on  any  one 

With  woven  paces  and  with  waving  arms, 

The  man  so  wrought  on  ever  seem'd  to  lie 

Closed  in  the  four  walls  of  a  hollow  tower, 

From  which  was  no  escape  for  evermore; 

And  none  could  find  that  man  for  evermore, 

Nor  could  he  see  but  him  who  wrought  the  charm 

Coming  and  going,  and  he  lay  as  dead 

And  lost  to  life  and  use  and  name  and  fame. 

And  Nimue  ever  sought  to  work  the  charm 

Upon  the  great  Enchanter  of  the  Time, 

As  fancying  that  her  glory  would  be  great 

According  to  the  greatness  whom  she  quenched.* 

In  this  land  of  Benwick  (Brittany),  whither  they  Avent, 
King    Ban   was    king,    and    waged    great   war    against    King 

1  Tennyson's  Nimue. 


ii8  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Claudas.  There  Merlin  spake  with  Queen  Elaine,  King  Ban's 
wife,  a  fair  and  good  lady,  and  there  he  saw  young  Lancelot. 
Elaine  sorrowed  because  of  the  war  with  Claudas,  but  Merlin 
said:  "Be  not  despondent,  for  this  same  child,  Lancelot,  shall 
in  his  twentieth  year  take  vengeance  on  King  Claudas;  he  shall 
be  a  man  of  great  fame  in  this  world." 

"O  Merlin,"  said  the  queen,  "shall   I  live  to  see  my  son 
a  man  of  prowess?" 

"Yes,  lady,  ye  shall,  and  live  many  winters  afterwards." 

Then  Merlin  returned  to  Nimue.     She 

Kiss'd  his  feet 
As  if  in  deepest  reverence  and  in  love  .  .  . 
And  while  she  kissed  them,  crj'ing:  "  Trample  me, 
Dear  feet,  that  I  have  followed  thro'  the  world. 
And  I  will  pay  you  worship;  tread  me  down 
And  I  will  kiss  you  for  it,"  he  was  mute, 
So  dark  a  forethought  roll'd  about  his  brain, 
As  on  a  dull  day  in  an  Ocean  cave 
The  blind  wave  feeling  round  the  long  sea-hall 
In  silence:  wherefore  when  she  lifted  up 
A  face  of  sad  appeal,  and  spake  and  said, 
"  O  Merlin,  do  you  love  me?"  and  again 
"  O  Merlin,  do  you  love  me?"  and  once  more 
"  Great  Master,  do  you  love  me?"  he  was  mute.^ 

Nimue  did  her  utmost  to  prevail  upon   Merlin  to  reveal  to 
her  the  secrets  of  his  craft.     She  embraced  him  tenderly. 

And  Merlin  lock'd  his  hand  in  hers  and  said: 
"  O  did  you  never  lie  upon  the  shore. 
And  watch  the  curl'd  white  of  the  coming  wave 
Glass'd  in  the  slippery  sand  before  it  breaks? 
Ev'n  such  a  wave,  but  not  so  pleasurable. 
Dark  in  the  glass  of  some  presageful  mood, 
Had  I  for  three  days  seen,  ready  to  fall. 
And  then  I  rose  and  fled  from  Arthur's  Court 
To  break  the  mood.     You  foUow'd  me  unask'd; 
I  look'd,  and  when  I  saw  you  following  still, 
My  mind  involved  yourself  the  nearest  thing 
In  that  mind-mist:  for  shall  1  tell  you  truth? 
You  seem'd  that  wave  about  to  break  upon  me 
And  sweep  me  from  my  hold  upon  the  world, 
My  use  and  name  and  fame  .  .  .^ 

^  Tennyson's  Nimue. 


MERLIN    AND    MMLE 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  119 

Merlin  would  fain  have  resisted  the  temptation  to  grant  the 
boon  asked  for.  He  feared  to  reveal  his  secrets  to  the  fairy 
damsel.     Long  she  pleaded  to  be  trusted,  and  she  sang  to  him: 

In  Love,  if  Love  be  Love,  if  Love  be  ours. 
Faith  and  unfaith  can  ne'er  be  equal  powers. 
Unfaith  in  aught  is  want  of  faith  in  all. 

It  is  the  little  rift  within  the  lute 

That  by  and  by  will  make  the  music  mute, 

And  ever  widening  slowly  silence  all. 

The  little  rift  within  the  lover's  lute, 
Or  little  pitted  speck  in  garner'd  fruit. 
That  rotting  inward  slowly  moulders  all. 

It  is  not  worth  the  keeping;  let  it  go: 
But  shall  it?  answer,  darling,  answer,  no. 
And  trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all.^ 

In  the  end  Merlin  taught  Nimue  his  crafts,  and  then  she  said: 
**Sir,  there  is  yet  one  thing  I  would  fain  learn,  and  I  pray  you 
to  inform  me  regarding  it." 

Merlin  knew  well  her  intent,  but  said  he:  "What  thing 
is  that?" 

She  answered  him,  saying:  "I  would  fain  learn  how  I 
might  shut  one  in  a  place  which  he  could  never  leave  without 
my  permission." 

Merlin  bowed  his  head  and  sighed,  and  she  asked  him  why 
he  was  disconsolate.  *'Lady,"  said  he,  "I  know  well  what 
you  purpose.  You  would  fain  imprison  me  for  ever,  but  I  am 
so  fettered  by  your  love  that  I  must  do  your  pleasure." 

She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him,  saying: 
"You  ought  to  be  mine  because  I  am  yours.  The  great  love 
I  bear  you  has  made  me  forsake  all  to  have  you  by  day  and 
by  night,  for  without  you  I  have  neither  joy  nor  possessions. 
In  you  I  have  set  all  my  hope.  You  are  my  only  joy.  As 
1  love  you  and  you  love  me,  is  it  not  right  that  you  should 
do  my  will  and  I  yours?" 

"Yes,  certes,"  said  Merlin,  who  loved  her  more  and  more. 

1  Tennyson. 


120  THE    WORLD'S    lIliRlTAGE 

''I  would  fain  imprison  you  by  my  art,"  Nimue  said,  *'so 
that  we  may  be  ever  together  in  joy." 

'•  Lady,  I  shall  do  your  will,"  said  he. 

Thereafter  Merlin  showed  Nimue  an  enchanted  chamber  in 
a  rock,  which  was  entered  beneath  a  great  stone.  By  her  subtle 
working  she  made  Merlin  go  under  that  stone  to  reveal  to  her 
the  marvels  there,  but  she  wrought  an  enchantment  so  that  he 
never  came  out  again,  although  she  herself  could  enter  the 
place  and  leave  it  at  will. 

Merlin  slept  a  time,  and  when  he  awoke  he  found  that  he 
had  been  deceived,  for  the  damsel  of  the  lake  had  gone  away. 

Arthur  mourned  for  Merlin.  Greatly  did  the  king  long  to 
see  the  enchanter,  and  he  sent  Sir  Gawain  to  make  search  for 
him. 

Sir  Gawain  met  with  many  adventures.  One  day  he  came 
nigh  to  the  stone  under  which  Merlin  was  imprisoned.  The 
knight  heard  a  voice,  and  looked  up  and  down  and  round  about 
but  saw  naught,  so  he  thought  that  he  had  been  deceived.  But 
the  voice  spoke  again  and  said:  "Sir  Gawain,  trouble  yourself 
not,  for  all  shall  happen  as  it  behoveth  to  happen." 

Said  Gawain:  "  Who,  in  God's  name,  is  he  who  now  speaks 
to  me?" 

The  voice  answered:  "  Know  you  me  not?  You  were  wont 
to  know  me  right  well;  but  so  is  it  with  the  world,  and  true  is 
the  proverb  that  the  wise  man  repeats:  *  He  who  is  far  from  the 
eye  is  soon  forgotten '.  So  fares  it  now  with  me.  For  while  I 
haunted  the  Court,  and  served  King  Arthur  and  his  barons,  I 
was  well  known  to  you  and  to  many  another.  But  having  left 
the  Court,  I  am  now  unknown,  and  that  ought  not  to  be  while 
faith  and  truth  reign  in  the  world." 

Then  Gawain  knew  that  the  voice  was  Merlin's.  "I  pray 
you,"  the  knight  said,  "that  you  will  appear  to  me  so  that  I 
may  look  upon  your  face." 

Said  Merlin:  "Me  you  shall  never  see  again,  and  because 
of  that  I  sorrow  greatly.  And  after  this  I  shall  never  converse 
with  you — oh!  never  more — nor  shall  I  speak  to  another.  No 
man  will  have  power  after  this  to  come  nigh  me.  I  shall  never 
leave  this  place,  for  it  has  been  made  strong  with  enchantment." 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  121 

Then  Gavvain  asked  how  it  was  that  Merlin  could  not  be 
rescued.  "Can  you  not  show  me  how  I  can  deliver  you?"  said 
the  knight;   "  for  you  are  the  wisest  man  in  the  world." 

'*Say,  rather,  the  greatest  fool,"  Merlin  answered.  "Well 
I  knew  what  was  to  happen  me,  but  I  am  such  a  fool  that  I  love 
another  better  than  myself,  and  have  taught  her  so  much  that 
no  one  can  now  take  me  out  of  this  prison." 

Then  Merlin  bade  Gawain  inform  the  king  and  the  queen 
and  all  the  barons  of  his  fate. 

Sir  Gawain  returned  to  the  Court,  and  told  all  that  had 
happened  to  him  on  his  quest.  And  King  Arthur  was  much 
grieved  about  Merlin,  but  could  do  naught  for  him,  and  must 
needs  sorrow. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  shutting  up  of  Merlin.  May  God 
bring  us  all  to  a  good  end! 


V.   The  Treachery  of  Morgan  le   Fay 

One  day  King  Arthur  and  many  of  his  knights  went  a-hunt- 
ing  in  a  great  forest,  and,  as  it  chanced,  he  and  King  Uriens, 
the  husband  of  Arthur's  sister,  Morgan  le  Fay,  and  Sir  Accolon 
of  Gaul  followed  a  hart  and  left  all  the  others  behind.  They 
went  on  until  their  horses  fell  and  died.  They,  however,  con- 
tinued the  chase  on  foot,  and  in  time  the  hart,  being  wearied, 
was  caught  up  and  slain  by  Arthur. 

The  king  then  looked  about  him  curiously,  for  he  found  he 
was  in  a  strange  country.  He  stood  on  the  shore  of  a  lake  on 
which  moved  a  small  ship,  all  apparelled  in  silk  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  The  ship  came  towards  the  king  and  grounded 
on  the  sand.  Arthur  went  down  to  look  at  it  and  perceived  that 
those  on  board  were  not  earthly  beings.  "Sirs,"  said  Arthur 
to  Uriens  and  Accolon,  "come  hither  and  see  what  is  in  the 
ship." 

They  went  and  then  they  examined  the  vessel  and  found  it 
to  be  richly  adorned  with  silk.  Night  came  on,  and  suddenly 
a  hundred  torches  were  lit  on  the  ship  and  gave  forth  a  great 
light.  Then  there  stepped  on  shore  twelve  fair  damsels.  They 
saluted  King  Arthur,  bowing  down  before  him  and  calling  him 
by  name.  They  said  he  was  right  welcome,  and  would  have 
such  cheer  as  they  could  offer.  King  Arthur  thanked  them. 
Thereupon  they  led  him  and  his  companions  to  a  fair  chamber, 
where  they  were  served  at  table  with  wines  and  meat.  Greatly 
did  they  marvel,  because  they  had  never  before  fared  better. 

When  the  guests  had  supped  at  their  leisure  the  king  was 
led  to  a  chamber  richly  adorned;  Uriens  was  given  a  like 
chamber,  and  Accolon  also.  The  three  went  to  bed  and  slept, 
but  uneasily. 

On  the  morrow  King  Uriens  awoke  to  find  himself  in  Came- 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  123 

:  beside  his  wife,  Morgan  le  Fay.     He  wondered  greatly  how 

came  to  be  there,  for  on  the  night  before  he  was  distant  by 
o  days'  journey  from  the  castle. 

King  Arthur  awoke  to  find  himself  in  a  dark  prison,  and  he 
ard  the  voices  of  many  woeful  knights  about  him. 

"  Why  do  you  lament?"  asked  the  king. 

The  knights  made  answer,  saying:  *'  Here  we  twenty  knights 
ve  lain  for  seven  years." 

"  For  what  cause?"  asked  Arthur. 

They  answered  dolefully:  "The  lord  of  this  castle  is  named 
r  Damas.  He  is  the  falsest  knight  that  lives;  his  heart  is  full 
treason.  Withal  he  is  a  coward.  He  has  a  younger  brother, 
Sfoodly  knight,  named  Sir  Ontzlake,  but  to  him  will  he  give 

part  of  his  livelihood  except  what  Sir  Ontzlake  can  take  and 
:ain  through  prowess.  A  war  has  long  been  waged  between 
sse  brothers.  Sir  Damas  seizes  upon  knights  to  fight  his 
other,  and  if  one  of  us  should  fight  he  would  grant  that  knight 
lerty.  But  we  would  rather  die  than  take  arms  in  his  cause. 
>w  we  be  so  lean  with  hunger  and  long  imprisonment  that  we 
n  hardly  stand  up." 

"God  deliver  you  from  this  man's  mercy!"  said  King 
■thur. 

Soon  afterwards  there  came  a  damsel  who  addressed  the 
ng  and  asked  him  if  he  would  fight  for  Sir  Damas.  "  If  you 
11,"  said  she,  "you  shall  be  released  from  prison.  If  you  will 
it,  here  shall  you  perish." 

Said  Arthur:  "  I  shall  fight  on  condition  that  I  and  all  these 
isoners  are  set  at  liberty." 

"So  be  it,"  the  damsel  said. 

"  Then  I  am  ready,"  said  Arthur,  "  but  I  have  need  of  horse 
id  armour." 

Now  the  damsel  pretended  to  be  the  daughter  of  the  lord  of 
e  castle,  but  she  was  one  of  the  damsels  of  Morgan  le  Fay. 

Sir  Damas  agreed  to  Arthur's  terms  and  set  him  free.  He 
so  set  free  the  twenty  knights,  and  they  went  gladly  to  the 
ill  and  abode  there  to  watch  the  battle. 

Now,  when  Accolon  of  Gaul  awoke,  he  found  himself  lying 
;ar  the  edge  of  a  deep  well  and  in  great  peril  of  death.     A 


IJ4  THK    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

silver  pipe  came  from  the  fountain,  and  out  of  the  pipe  ran 
water  all  on  high  over  a  stone  of  marble. 

Accolon  blessed  himself,  and  said:  "Jesu  save  my  lord 
Arthur  and  King  Uriens,  for  these  damsels  of  the  ship  have 
betrayed  us.  They  are  demons,  not  women,  and  if  I  escape 
this  misadventure  I  shall  destroy  all  damsels  that  use  enchant- 
mentsl" 

Suddenly  there  appeared  before  Sir  Accolon  a  dwarf  with  a 
large  mouth  and  a  flat  nose.  He  saluted  him,  and  said  he  came 
from  Morgan  le  Fay  to  bid  him  be  of  strong  heart,  because,  as 
he  would  have  to  fight  a  knight  on  the  next  day,  she  had  sent 
him  King  Arthur's  sword  Excalibur  and  the  scabbard.  "She 
biddest  you,  as  you  love  her,"  said  the  dwarf,  "that  ye  do 
battle  to  the  uttermost  without  any  mercy  as  you  promised  her 
when  you  both  held  converse  in  private." 

Accolon  took  the  sword  and  scabbard  and  bade  the  dwarf 
sav  on  his  behalf  to  Queen  Morgan  le  Fay:  "  All  shall  be  done 
as  I  have  promised,  or  else  I  will  die  for  it." 

Then  was  it  arranged,  by  reason  of  Morgan  le  Fay's  enchant- 
ments, that  Sir  Accolon  should  fight  for  Sir  Ontzlake  and  King 
Arthur  for  Sir  Damas.  On  the  morn  that  followed  a  damsel 
from  Morgan  le  Fay  brought  to  King  Arthur  a  sword  like  unto 
Excalibur  and  a  scabbard.  The  damsel  said:  "These  Morgan 
le  Fay  sends  to  you  for  great  love." 

Arthur  thanked  the  damsel,  knowing  not  that  she  was  a 
deceiver,  nor  was  he  aware  that  the  sword  and  scabbard  were 
counterfeit,  and  brittle,  and  false. 

The  two  knights — King  Arthur  and  Sir  Accolon  of  Gaul — 
met  in  combat,  nor  did  the  one  know  the  other.  They  rode 
fiercely  with  levelled  spears,  and  both  were  overthrown.  Then 
they  leapt  up  and  drew  their  swords. 

As  they  began  to  battle  with  swords,  there  came  nigh  the 
damsel  Nimue,  who  had  imprisoned  Merlin  under  the  stone. 
It  was  love  of  King  Arthur  that  brought  her  to  the  field,  for  she 
knew  well  that  Morgan  le  Fay  had  ordained  his  death  that  day. 
Therefore  came  Nimue  to  save  his  life. 

The  knights  fought  fiercely,  but  Arthur's  sword  availed  him 
little,  and  he  received   many  sore  wounds  from  Accolon,  who 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  125 

I'ielded  Excalibur.  In  the  end  Arthur's  sword  was  broken  off 
.t  the  hilt,  and  Accolon  called:  "  You  are  overcome  and  weapon- 
ess,  and  you  have  lost  much  blood.  Full  loath  am  I  to  slay 
^ou;  therefore  yield  to  me." 

"Nay,"  answered  Arthur,  **  I  shall  not  do  so,  for  I  have 
)romised  to  do  battle  to  the  uttermost  while  life  lasts  to  me. 
lather  would  I  die  with  honour  than  live  with  shame.  If  it 
i^ere  possible  for  me  to  die  a  hundred  times,  I  should  die  so  oft 
ather  than  yield  myself  to  you.  I  may  lack  a  weapon,  but  I  do 
lot  lack  honour,  and  if  you  slay  me  weaponless  great  will  be 
our  shame." 

Said  Accolon:  "As  for  the  shame,  I  will  not  spare  you  on 
hat  account.     Now  guard  yourself,  for  you  are  a  doomed  man." 

Accolon  struck  a  mighty  blow,  but  Arthur  pressed  on  him 
i^ith  his  shield  and  struck  with  the  pommel  in  his  hand  such 
.  buffet  that  Accolon  went  three  strides  back. 

When  Nimue,  the  damsel  of  the  lake,  perceived  how  brave 
I'as  Arthur,  she  took  great  pity  on  him,  knowing  how  false 
reason  had  been  wrought  upon  him.  At  the  next  stroke  she, 
»y  enchantment,  caused  the  sword  Excalibur  to  fall  from 
^ccolon's  hand. 

Then  Arthur  leapt  lightly  and  seized  it.  He  knew,  as  soon 
s  he  grasped  it,  that  it  was  his  own  sword,  and  he  said:  "O 
word,  you  have  been  from  me  so  long  that  I  have  suffered 
nany  wounds."  He  perceived  that  Accolon  had  the  scabbard 
Iso,  and  he  pulled  it  away  and  threw  it  from  him.  "  O  knight," 
aid  he,  addressing  Accolon,  "this  day  have  you  done  me  much 
larm.  Now  you  are  come  to  your  death,  for  you  will  be  smitten 
i^ith  this  sword  even  as  you  smote  me,  causing  me  to  endure 
nuch  pain  and  loss  of  blood." 

Arthur  then  smote  Accolon  to  the  ground,  and,  pulling  off 
lis  helm,  gave  him  such  a  blow  that  blood  flowed  from  ears, 
lose,  and  mouth. 

"  Now  will  I  slay  you,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Slay  me  as  you  will,"  Accolon  said,  "  for  you  are  the  best 
:night  that  ever  I  met,  and  I  see  well  that  God  is  with  you.  I 
)romised  to  do  my  uttermost  in  the  combat.  Therefore  T  shall 
jever  yield  by  my  mouth," 


126  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

It  seemed  to  Arthur  that  he  knew  the  knight,  so  he  said  to 
him:  "  Now  tell  me  before  I  slay  you  of  what  country  you  are, 
and  of  what  Court?" 

"  Sir  knight,"  Accolon  made  answer,  "  I  am  of  the  Court  of 
King  Arthur,  and  my  name  is  Accolon  of  Gaul." 

On  hearing  these  words  Arthur  was  greatly  dismayed,  for 
he  remembered  his  sister,  Morgan  le  Fay,  and  the  enchantment 
of  the  ship.  Said  he:  ''O  Sir  Knight,  I  pray  you  tell  me,  who 
gave  you  this  sword?" 

Accolon  answered  him,  saying:  "This  sword  was  sent  to 
me  by  Morgan  le  Fay,  King  Uriens'  wife,  so  that  I  might  slay 
with  it  her  brother  Arthur,  for,  you  must  understand.  King 
Arthur  is  the  man  in  this  world  she  hates  most,  because  he  is 
the  bravest  and  most  honoured  of  any  of  her  blood.  Also,  she 
loves  me  out  of  measure  as  paramour,  and  I  love  her.  If  she 
can  have  Arthur  slain  then  will  she  slay  her  husband.  King 
Uriens,  for  she  has  planned  that  I  shall  be  king  and  she 
queen  in  this  land.  But  that  is  now  done,  for  I  am  sure  of 
death." 

Said  Arthur:  "  It  would  have  been  a  great  disaster  to  you  to 
have  slain  your  lord." 

"That  is  true,"  Accolon  said;  "but  now  that  I  have  told 
you  of  myself,  I  pray  you  inform  me  whence  you  come,  and  who 
you  are." 

•*  I  am  King  Arthur,  to  whom  you  have  done  great  harm." 

When  Accolon  heard  that,  he  cried  aloud:  "Fair  sweet 
lord,  have  mercy  on  me,  for  I  knew  you  not!" 

"O  Sir  Accolon,"  said  Arthur,  "mercy  you  shall  have, 
because  you  knew  not  whom  you  fought  with.  But  I  under- 
stand from  what  you  say  that  you  agreed  to  my  death.  There- 
fore you  are  a  traitor.  But  I  blame  you  the  less,  for  my  sister, 
Morgan  le  Fay,  by  her  false  crafts,  made  you  consent  to  her 
plans.  On  her  I  shall  be  avenged  if  I  live.  God  knows  I 
honoured  her  and  trusted  her  more  than  anyone  else  of  my  kin, 
and  more  than  I  trusted  even  mine  own  wife."^ 

Sir  Arthur  then  called  to  the  keepers  of  the  field  to  carry 
away  Sir  Accolon.     Thereafter  he  made  himself  known  to  all, 

'  The  false  sister  figures  in  Scottish  folk-tales. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  127 

and  caused  the  two  brothers,  Sir  Damas  and  Sir  Ontzlake,  to 
make  peace,  and  divide  their  possessions  justly. 

Sir  Accolon  died  of  his  wounds,  and  King  Arthur  gave 
command  that  his  body  should  be  carried  to  his  sister,  Morgan 
le  Fay.  "Say  to  her,"  he  told  the  knights  who  had  charge 
of  the  horse-bier,  "that  I  send  him  to  her  as  a  present,  and 
tell  her  I  have  my  sword  Excalibur  and  the  scabbard." 

Meanwhile  Morgan  le  Fay  believed  in  her  heart  that  Arthur 
had  been  slain.  So  on  the  next  morning  she  bethought  her  to 
slay  Sir  Uriens,  her  husband,  as  he  lay  asleep  in  bed,  but  her 
son.  Sir  Uwain,  came  up  behind  her  and  seized  the  sword, 
saying:  "Ah,  fiend!  what  would  you  do?  If  you  were  not  my 
mother,  I  should  smite  off  your  head  with  this  sword.  Men  say 
Merlin  was  begotten  of  a  demon,  but  I  may  say  a  demon  gave 
you  birth." 

Morgan  le  Fay  prayed  for  mercy,  saying:  "  A  devil  tempted 
me.  Never  again  will  I  make  such  an  attempt,  and  I  pray  you 
keep  this  a  secret." 

Sir  Uwain  promised  not  to  expose  his  mother's  sin. 

Soon  afterwards  tidings  of  Accolon's  death  reached  Morgan 
le  Fay,  and  she  made  great  lament.  She  felt  that  her  heart 
would  break,  but  she  kept  her  countenance,  and  made  no 
semblance  of  sorrow.  She  feared,  however,  to  remain  at  the 
Court  until  Arthur  returned,  so  she  went  to  Queen  Guinevere, 
and  said:  "I  have  received  such  hasty  tidings  that  I  cannot 
tarry,  and  must  go  away  ere  Arthur  comes." 

Then  she  rode  away  until  she  came  to  the  abbey  of  nuns 
in  which  Arthur  lay  until  his  wounds  would  heal.  The  nuns 
told  her  that  the  king  was  sleeping,  and  she  went  straight  to 
his  chamber  with  intent  to  steal  Excalibur;  but  she  found  him, 
although  in  slumber,  grasping  the  naked  sword  in  his  right 
hand.  She  feared  to  touch  it,  but  she  took  the  scabbard,  and 
went  away  with  it  on  horseback. 

When  Arthur  awoke  he  missed  the  scabbard,  and  he  said 
to  the  nuns:  "Ah,  falsely  have  you  watched  me!" 

"Sir,"  said  they,  "we  dared  not  disobey  your  sister's  com- 
mand." 

"  Ah!"  the  king  said;  "fetch  me  the  best  horse  that  may  be 


128  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

found,  and  bid  Sir  Ontzlake  take  another  horse  and  ride  with 
me. 

Then  Arthur  and  Ontzlake  went  in  pursuit  of  Morgan  le 
Fay.  They  rode  on  until  they  met  a  poor  man,  and  him  did 
Arthur  ask  if  he  had  seen  a  lady  riding  that  way.  "Sir,"  said 
the  man,  "  not  long  since  a  lady  passed  here  with  forty  horse- 
men, and  she  rode  towards  yonder  forest." 

Arthur  and  Ontzlake  spurred  their  horses  and  followed  fast. 
Ere  long  the  king  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  sister,  but  she, 
perceiving  him,  rode  at  a  greater  pace  until  she  reached  a  plain. 
In  this  plain  was  a  lake,  and  she  rode  into  it,  and  said:  "No 
matter  what  becomes  of  me,  my  brother  shall  not  get  this 
scabbard." 

As  she  spoke  she  flung  the  scabbard  into  the  lake,  and  it 
sank,  being  heavy  with  gold  and  precious  stones. 

Then  Morgan  le  Fay  rode  into  a  valley  where  many  great 
stones  were,  and  when  she  realized  that  she  would  be  overtaken 
she  transformed  herself  by  enchantment  into  a  great  marble 
stone,  and  she  transformed  her  knights  and  horses  likewise.^ 

When  Arthur  and  Sir  Ontzlake  came  among  the  stones,  he 
knew  not  his  sister  and  her  men,  or  one  knight  from  another. 

"Ah!"  said  the  king;  "here  may  ye  see  the  vengeance  of 
God,  and  now  I  am  sorry  this  misadventure  is  befallen." 

Thereafter  he  made  search  for  the  scabbard,  but  could  not 
find  it.     So  he  returned  to  the  abbey  he  had  come  from. 

\o  sooner  did  Arthur  go  away  than  Morgan  le  Fay  turned 
herself  into  her  former  form ;  she  also  made  the  knights  appear, 
and  said  to  them:  "  Now,  sirs,  we  may  go  whither  we  will." 

To  them  she  then  said:   "  Saw  ye  Arthur,  my  brother?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  knights,  "  we  saw  him  right  well,  and 
if  we  had  been  able  to  stir,  we  should  have  fled  because  of  his 
warlike  countenance." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Morgan  le  Fay. 

She  rode  away,  and  met  a   knight  leading  a  false   knight, 

'  The  "Old  Wife"  (the  Mother  Goddess)  of  Scottish  mythology  is  similarly  pursued  by 
her  son,  and  she  similarly  transforms  herself  into  a  stone.  As  he  pursues  his  mother,  the 
son's  horse  leaps  over  Loch  Etive  and  leaves  the  marks  of  its  hoofs  on  a  rock.  In  Welsh 
folk-lore  Arthur  leaps  over  the  Bristol  Channel,  and  the  marks  of  his  horse's  hoofs  are  still 
pointed  out. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  129 

whom  he  had  bound,  to  the  lake  in  the  plain  with  purpose  to 
drown  him.  This  false  knight  was  Manassen,  cousin  of  Accolon 
of  Gaul.  Him  did  she  release,  and  she  bound  the  other  knight 
and  had  him  drowned  instead.  Then  she  bade  Manassen  to  ride 
to  Arthur's  Court  and  inform  the  king  that  she  had  released 
him  because  that  she  loved  Accolon,  "and  inform  him,"  said 
she,  **that  I  fear  him  not  while  I  can  transform  myself  and 
those  that  be  with  me  into  stones.  Inform  him  also  that  I  can 
do  much  more  when  I  see  my  time." 

Morgan  le  Fay  then  departed  to  the  country  of  Gore,^  where 
she  made  her  castles  and  strong  towns,  for  she  feared  Arthur 
greatly. 

When  Arthur  returned  to  Camelot  and  told  of  Morgan  le 
Fay's  treachery,  the  knights  wished  to  have  her  burned. 

Manassen  reached  the  Court,  and  delivered  the  message  of 
Morgan  le  Fay,  and  Arthur  said:  "Well,  she  is  a  kind  sister! 
I  shall  be  so  avenged  on  her,  if  I  live,  that  all  Christendom 
shall  speak  of  it." 

On  the  next  morning  a  damsel  came  to  the  Court.  She 
brought  from  Morgan  le  Fay,  as  a  gift  to  Arthur,  a  rich  mantle 
adorned  with  precious  stones.  Its  equal  was  never  seen  by 
anyone.  Said  the  damsel:  "  Your  sister  sends  you  this  mantle, 
and  desires  that  you  should  take  it,  so  that  if  she  has  offended 
you,  she  may  be  forgiven." 

When  the  king  beheld  the  mantle  it  pleased  him  much,  but 
he  said  little. 

Then  Nimue,  the  damsel  of  the  lake,  who  had  imprisoned 
Merlin,  spoke  to  Arthur,  saying:  "Sir,  I  must  speak  to  you 
in  private." 

"Say  on,"  answered  Arthur,  "say  on  what  you  will." 

Said  Nimue:  "Sir,  do  not  touch  this  mantle,  and  do  not 
permit  any  knight  to  touch  it,  until  you  command  the  damsel 
who  brought  it  to  put  it  on." 

"  Well,"  Arthur  said,  "  it  shall  be  done  as  you  counsel." 

Then  said  he  to  the  damsel  who  came  from  Morgan  le  Fay : 
"  I  would  fain  see  this  mantle  on  your  back." 

1  Hades.  In  French  romances  it  is  the  land  whence  nobody  returns.  The  Scottish 
tnother  goddess  goes  to  tlie  faerie  island  of  the  west  and  becomes  young  ngain. 

Vol.  II.  38 


I30  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

"Sir,"  she  said,  "h  is  not  seemly  that  I  should  wear  a 
royal  garment." 

"  By  my  head,"  said  Arthur,  "you  shall  wear  it  ere  I  do  so." 

The  king  compelled  the  damsel  to  put  it  on,  and  when  the 
mantle  touched  her  shoulders  she  fell  down  dead,  for  she  had 
been  burned  to  a  cinder. 

Then  was  Arthur  made  angrier  with  Morgan  le  Fay  than  he 
had  aforetime  been.  He  spoke  to  Sir  Uriens,  and  said:  "My 
sister,  your  wife,  sought  to  betray  me,  and  I  know  well  that 
either  you  or  my  nephew  had  her  confidence.  As  for  you,  I 
deem  you  knew  naught,  because  Accolon  confessed  to  me  she 
intended  to  slay  you.  As  for  your  son,  I  hold  him  suspect,  and 
I  charge  you  to  put  him  out  of  the  Court." 

Sir  Uwain  was  then  discharged  in  disgrace.  When  he  rode 
away,  Sir  Gawain  rode  with  him,  saying:  "He  who  banishes 
my  cousin  banishes  me  also." 

The  two  departed,  and  rode  into  a  deep  forest. 


VI.   Pelleas  and  Ettarre 

Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Uwain  on  the  next  day  reached  a  valley 
in  which  there  was  a  turret  of  twelve  fair  damsels.  There, 
guarding  the  turret,  were  two  knights  armed  and  mounted  on 
great  horses.  Near  where  the  knights  stood  a  white  shield 
hung  on  a  tree,  and  the  damsels  spat  on  it  and  threw  mire 
on  it. 

Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Uwain  saluted  the  damsels,  and  asked 
them  why  they  dishonoured  the  shield,  and  they  said  it  was 
owned  by  a  knight  who  hated  all  ladies  and  gentlewomen. 

"  Mayhap,"  said  Gawain,  "although  he  hates  you,  he  loves 
in  some  other  places  ladies  and  gentlewomen.  What  is  his 
name?" 

"  His  name,"  they  told  him,  "  is  Marhaus,  and  he  is  the  son 
of  the  King  of  Ireland." 

"I  know  him  well,"  said  Gawain;  ''he  is  a  passing  good 
knight,  as  I  have  seen  proved.  Let  not  his  shield  be  dis- 
honoured." 

Soon  Sir  Marhaus  came  riding  on  a  great  horse  towards 
Gawain  and  Uwain.  As  soon  as  the  damsels  caught  sight  of 
him  they  fled  to  the  turret.  The  two  knights  of  the  turret  rode 
against  Marhaus,  but  he  overthrew  each  in  turn,  slaying  them 
both. 

Sir  Marhaus  was  angry  to  find  that  his  white  shield  had 
been  befouled,  but  he  said:  "I  am  partly  avenged  for  this. 
This  white  shield  will  I  wear  for  the  love  of  her  who  gave 
it  me." 

Then  he  challenged  Gawain  and  Uwain,  and  these  knights 
had,  in  turn,  their  spears  broken  on  the  white  shield.  Sir 
Gawain  alighted  and  challenged  Sir  Marhaus  to  fight  on  foot, 
else  would   he  slay  his  horse.      Marhaus  dismounted,   and   a 

131 


132  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

great  sword-battle  ensued.  Sir  Gawain  waxed  ever  stronger 
and  stronger  till  it  came  to  the  hour  of  noon.  His  might 
increased  threefold.  Sir  Marhaus  wondered  greatly  at  this. 
When,  however,  it  was  past  noon,  and  drew  towards  even- 
song, Sir  Gawain's  strength  lessened,  and  waxed  passing  faint, 
but  Sir  Marhaus  became  bigger  and  bigger. 

"  You  are  a  passing  good  knight,"  said  Sir  Marhaus,  "and 
a  man  of  marvellous  strength,  but  our  quarrel  is  not  great.  It 
is  a  pity  to  do  you  hurt  now  that  you  have  grown  feeble." 

"Ah,  you  say  the  word  that  I  should  say  I"  Gawain  ex- 
claimed. 

Then  both  took  off  their  helms.  They  kissed  each  other, 
and  swore  to  love  each  other  as  brothers,  and  Gawain  and 
Uwain  were  taken  to  lodge  with  Sir  Marhaus. 

As  they  rode  away.  Sir  Gawain  said:  "I  marvel  that  so 
valiant  a  man  as  you  be  loves  no  ladies  or  damsels." 

"Sir,"  said  Marhaus,  "they  wrong  me  who  give  me  that 
reputation.  Know  ye  that  the  damsels  of  the  turret  are  sor- 
ceresses and  enchanters.  Be  a  knight  ever  so  good,  they  will 
make  him  a  stark  coward  to  have  the  better  of  him.  Therefore 
I  hate  them,  but  I  honour  all  good  ladies  and  gentlewomen  as 
a  knight  ought  to  do." 

They  reached  Sir  Marhaus's  pavilion,  which  was  beside  a 
little  priory.  There  ladies  and  damsels  welcomed  and  unarmed 
them  and  attended  to  their  wounds.  For  seven  nights  Gawain 
and  Uwain  abode  at  the  priory. 

Thereafter  Marhaus  rode  with  Gawain  and  Uwain  to  the 
great  forest  of  Arroy,  in  the  country  of  strange  adventures. 
They  reached  a  fountain  beside  which  sat  three  damsels.  The 
eldest  had  a  garland  of  gold  on  her  head,  and  she  was  aged 
threescore  winters  or  more,  and  her  hair  was  white;  the  second 
was  thirty  winters  of  age,  and  had  a  circlet  of  gold  on  her  head; 
the  third  was  but  fifteen  }ears  old,  and  wore  on  her  head  a 
garland  of  flowers.  The  knights  asked  them  why  they  sat  by 
the  fountain,  and  they  answered:  "We  be  here  to  lead  errant 
knights  on  strange  adventures.  Each  of  you  must  choose  one 
of  us,  and  we  shall  lead  you  by  different  ways." 

Uwain,  being  youngest,  chose  the  eldest  damsel.  Sir  Marhaus 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  133 

chose  the  one  of  thirty  winters,  and  Sir  Gawain  said:   "  I  thank 
you,  for  you  have  left  me  the  youngest  and  fairest." 

Then  each  damsel  grasped  the  reins  of  the  knight,  and  they 
all  vowed  to  meet  at  the  fountain  after  a  year  had  gone  past. 
Each  knight  took  a  lady  behind  him  and  rode  away.  Sir  Uwain 
followed  the  way  that  lay  west.  Sir  Marhaus  took  the  way  that 
lay  south,  and  Sir  Gawain  took  the  way  that  lay  north. 

First,  be  it  told  how  it  fared  with  Sir  Gawain.  He  rode  on 
till  he  came  to  a  fair  manor  in  which  dwelt  an  old  knight.  This 
knight  sent  him  to  a  lawn  in  the  forest  of  adventures.  There 
Gawain  saw,  nigh  to  a  cross,  the  fairest  knight  he  had  ever 
looked  upon.  Gawain  saluted  him,  but  the  knight  said:  "Sorrow 
and  shame  come  to  me." 

This  dolorous  knight  was  attacked  by  ten  knights  in  turn, 
and  he  unhorsed  each  one.  Thereafter  he  stood  stone-still,  and 
allowed  the  knights  to  pull  him  off  his  horse,  bind  him  hand 
and  foot,  and  tie  him  under  the  horse's  belly.  In  this  manner 
they  led  him  away.  Gawain  sorrowed  for  the  knight  who  had 
thus  allowed  his  opponents  to  take  him,  but  the  young  damsel 
said  to  him :   "  He  desires  no  help." 

As  they  spoke  they  saw  a  dwarf  on  horseback.  He  had  a 
great  mouth  and  short  nose.  He  called  for  a  lady,  who  came 
out  of  the  wood.  Then  he  strove  for  the  lady  with  a  knight 
who  was  all  armed  save  on  the  head.  Appeal  was  made  to 
Gawain  to  settle  the  dispute,  and  he  gave  the  lady  her  choice, 
whereupon  she  went  away  with  the  dwarf,  who  sang  merrily 
while  the  knight  made  sore  lament. 

Then  two  knights  came  against  Sir  Gawain.  He  fought 
with  the  one,  and  the  other  went  to  the  young  damsel  and 
offered  to  be  her  faithful  knight.  The  damsel  said,  while  yet 
Gawain  fought:  "With  you  will  I  be,  for  I  do  not  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  be  with  Sir  Gawain."  She  went  away  with  this 
knight. 

After  Gawain  and  his  opponent  had  fought  a  time  they  made 
peace,  and  the  knight  prayed  Gawain  10  lodge  with  him  that 
night. 

Gawain  asked  regarding  the  knight  who  had  permitted  him- 
self to  be  bound,  and  the  other  said:   "I   trow  he   is  the  best 


134  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

knight  in  the  world.  His  name  is  Sir  Pelleas,  and  he  loves 
a  great  lady  in  this  land,  and  her  name  is  Ettarre.  When 
he  began  to  love  her  a  three-days'  tournament  was  arranged, 
and  it  was  declared  that  he  who  proved  himself  the  best  knight 
should  have  a  good  sword  and  a  circlet  of  gold.  This  golden 
circlet  the  knight  was  to  give  to  the  fairest  lady  at  the  tourna- 
ment. Now,  Sir  Pelleas  proved  himself  the  best  knight  among 
five  hundred  knights,  and  he  received  the  prize.  To  the 
lady  Ettarre  he  gave  the  circlet,  vowing  she  was  the  fairest, 
and  offering  to  prove  it  upon  any  knight  who  would  say  him 
nay. 

"  Ettarre  was  so  proud  that  she  said  she  would  never  love 
Pelleas  although  he  should  die  for  her.  She  scorned  him, 
although  there  were  others,  fairer  than  herself,  who  would  have 
loved  Sir  Pelleas.  But  Sir  Pelleas  vowed  to  follow  her  to  this 
country,  and  never  to  leave  her  until  she  loved  him.  So  it 
comes  about  that  she,  who  now  lodges  her  near  a  priory,  sends 
knights  to  fight  him.  And  when  he  has  worsted  the  knights, 
Pelleas  sufi'ers  them  to  make  him  prisoner,  so  that  he  may  have 
sight  of  his  lady  Ettarre.  She  puts  him  to  shame  continually, 
because  she  wishes  him  to  leave  the  country,  being  weary  of 
his  love-making." 

"Alas!"  said  Gawain,  "I  shall  seek  him  on  the  morrow, 
and  give  him  all  the  help  I  can." 

On  the  morrow  Gawain  spoke  with  Pelleas,  who  said:  "If 
that  I  loved  her  not  so  sorely,  I  should  die  an  hundred  times 
rather  than  suffer  as  I  do,  but  I  trust  she  will  take  pity  on  me 
in  the  end.  Love  causes  many  a  good  knight  to  suffer  so  as 
to  have  his  intent.     Alas,  I  am  unfortunate!" 

I  sliall  see  her  face; 
Else  must  I  die  through  mnie  unhapplness.^ 

Gawain  promised  to  do  all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  obtain 
for  Pelleas  the  love  of  his  lady  Ettarre.     Then  he  said: 

Lend  me  thine  horse  and  arms,  and  I  will  say 
That  I  have  slain  thee.     She  will  let  nie  in 

'  Tennyson's  Pelleas  and  Ettarre,  from  which  the  poetic  quotations  tliat  follow  are  also 
taken. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  135 

To  hear  the  manner  of  thy  fisfht  and  fall ; 
Then,  when  I  come  within  lier  counsels,  then 
From  prime  to  vespers  will  I  chant  thy  praise 
As  prowest  knight  and  truest  lover,  more 
Than  any  have  sung  thee  living,  till  she  long 
To  have  thee  back  in  lusty  life  again, 
Not  to  be  bound,  save  by  white  bonds  and  warm 
Dearer  than  freedom. 

Pelleas  agreed  to  this  plan,  and  the  two  changed  horses 
and  armour.  Then  Gawain  rode  to  the  castle,  where  stood 
the  pavilions  of  the  Lady  Ettarre. 

As  soon  as  Ettarre  beheld  the  knight  coming,  she  thought 
he  was  Pelleas,  and  fled  towards  the  castle. 

Up  ran  a  score  of  damsels  to  the  tower ; 
"  Avaunt,"  they  cried,  "  our  lady  loves  thee  not." 
But  Gawain  lifting  up  his  vizor  said, 
"  Gawain  am  I,  Gawain  of  Arthur's  Court, 
And  I  have  slain  this  Pelleas  whom  ye  hate : 
Behold  his  horse  and  armour.     Open  gates 
And  I  will  make  you  merry." 

Gawain  was  permitted  to  enter,  and  he  spoke  with  Ettarre, 
repeating  that  Pelleas  was  dead. 

"  Dead,  is  it  so?"  she  asked.     "  Ay,  ay,"  said  he, 

"And  oft  in  dying  cried  upon  your  name." 

"  Pity  on  me,"  she  answered,  "a  good  knight, 

But  never  let  me  bide  one  hour  at  peace." 

"  Ay,"  thought  Gawain,  "and  you  be  fair  enow  : 

But  I  to  your  dead  man  have  given  my  troth, 

That  whom  ye  loathe,  him  will  I  make  you  love." 

Sir  Gawain  told  her  he  loved  a  lady,  but  she  would  love 
not  him. 

Said  Ettarre:  "She  is  to  blame,  for  there  is  no  lady  in  the 
world  too  good  for  you." 

"  Will  you  promise  me,"  he  asked,  "  to  do  all  in  your  power 
to  get  me  the  love  of  my  lady?" 

Said  Ettarre:  *'Yes,  sir,  I  promise  you  by  the  faith  of  my 
body." 

"Now,"  Sir  Gawain  said,  "it  is  yourself  I  love  so  well. 
Therefore  I  hold  you  to  your  promise." 


136  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGl- 

Said  Ettarre:  '*  I  cannot  say  you  nay,  else  should  1  be 
forsworn." 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  and  they  went  out  of  the  castle 
together  and  supped  in  one  of  the  pavilions.  In  another  pavilion 
were  her  damsels,  and  in  a  third  some  of  her  knights. 

Three  days,  aimless  about  the  land, 
Lost  in  a  doubt,  Pelleas  wandering- 
Waited,  until  the  third  night  brought  a  moon 
With  promise  of  large  light  on  woods  and  ways. 

He  could  not  sleep,  and,  wondering,  said  to  himself: 
"  Why  lingers  Gawain  with  the  golden  news?" 

When  midnight  came  Pelleas  rode  to  the  castle.  He  found 
the  gates  open  and  no  watch  kept.  He  entered,  crossed  the 
court,  and  walked  into  the  garden. 

Then  was  he  wai"e  of  three  pavilions  rear'd 
Above  the  bushes,  gilden-peakt :  in  one. 
Red  after  revel,  droned  her  lurdane  knights 
Slumbering,  and  three  squires  across  their  feet: 
In  one,  their  malice  on  the  placid  lip 
Froz'n  by  sweet  sleep,  four  of  her  damsels  lay: 
And  in  the  third,  the  circlet  of  the  jousts 
Bound  on  her  brow,  were  Gawain  and  Ettarre. 

Back,  as  a  hand  that  pushes  thro'  the  leaf 
To  find  a  nest  and  feels  a  snake,  he  drew : 
Back,  as  a  coward  slinks  from  what  he  fears 
To  cope  with,  or  a  traitor  proven,  or  hound 
Beaten,  did  Pelleas  in  an  utter  shame 
Creep  with  his  shadow  thro'  the  court  again. 
Fingering  at  his  sword-handle  until  he  stood 
There  on  the  castle-bridge  once  more,  and  thought 
"  I  will  go  back,  and  slay  him  where  they  lie." 

When  he  reached  the  pavilion,  and  saw  them  sleeping  fast, 
he  said  to  himself:  "Although  this  knight  be  ever  so  false, 
I  will  never  slay  him  in  his  sleep.  If  I  were  to  do  so,  I  should 
destroy  the  high  order  of  knighthood." 

He  departed  again.  But  when  he  had  ridden  away  half 
a  mile  he  turned  back,  resolving  to  slay  them  both.     Great  was 


KING   y\RTHUR    AND    ULS    KNIGHTS  137 

his  sorrow.     He  drew  his  sword  and  went  to  the  pavilion,  but, 
as  before,  he  thought  it  were  a  shame  to  slay  them  sleeping. 

Then  Pelleas 

groaning-  laid 
The  naked  sword  athwart  their  naked  throats, 
Tliere  left  it,  and  them  sleeping;  and  she  lay, 
The  circlet  of  the  tourney  round  her  brows. 
And  the  sword  of  the  tourney  across  her  throat. 

And  forth  he  pass'd,  and  mounting  on  his  horse 
Stared  at  her  towers  that,  larger  than  themselves 
In  their  own  darkness,  thronged  into  the  moon. 
Then  crush'd  the  saddle  with  his  thighs,  and  clench'd 
His  hands,  and  madden'd  with  himself  and  moan'd. 

When  Sir  Gawain  and  Ettarre  awoke  out  of  their  sleep  they 
found  the  sword  lying  athwart  their  throats.  Then  did  Ettarre 
perceive  that  it  was  the  sword  of  Pelleas.  "Alas,"  said  she  to 
Gawain,  "you  have  betrayed  both  me  and  Pelleas!  You  told 
me  he  was  dead,  and  now  I  know  well  he  is  alive.  If  he  had 
been  as  uncourteous  to  you  as  you  have  been  to  him,  you  would 
have  been  a  dead  knight.  Me  have  you  deceived  and  falsely 
betrayed." 

Gawain  answered  her  not  a  word.  He  made  him  ready,  and 
rode  into  the  forest. 

It  came  about  that  Nimue,  the  damsel  of  the  lake,  took  pity 
on  Sir  Pelleas.  She  asked  a  knight  to  lead  her  to  him  and 
found  him  lying  in  bed.  *'  He  has  been  betrayed  by  a  knight 
and  lady,"  said  the  knight,  "and  will  never  leave  his  bed  until 
death  takes  him." 

"  He  will  not  die  for  love,"  said  Nimue,  "and  she  who  has 
caused  him  so  to  love  will  be  put  in  as  evil  plight  as  he  is  now, 
and  that  before  long.  It  will  bring  no  joy  to  the  proud  lady 
not  to  show  mercy  for  such  a  valiant  knight." 

Nimue  threw  an  enchantment  on  Pelleas  and  he  fell  asleep. 
She  thought  she  never  saw  a  comelier  knight. 

Then  Nimue  rode  to  the  Lady  Ettarre  and  brought  her  to 
Pelleas.     They  found  him  sleeping. 

Said  the  damsel  of  the  lake:  "  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  for 
bringing  the  knight  nigh  to  death." 

As  she  spoke  she  threw  an  enchantment  on  Ettarre  and  it 


13S  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

caused  her  to  love  Pelleas  so  passionately  that  she  was  well- 
nigh  out  of  her  mind. 

"Alas,"  moaned  Ettarre,  "how  comes  it  that  I  now  love 
him  whom  I  have  hated  more  than  any  other  man  alive?" 

Said  Nimue:   "  It  is  the  righteous  judgment  of  God." 

Anon,  Pelleas  awoke  and  looked  at  Ettarre.  When  he  saw 
her  he  knew  her,  but  he  hated  her  more  than  she  had  hated 
him,  and  said:  "Away,  traitress,  come  never  in  my  sight 
again."  ^ 

When  Ettarre  heard  these  words,  she  wept  and  sorrowed  out 
of  measure. 

Nimue  addressed  Pelleas,  saying:  "Take  your  horse  and 
come  with  me  out  of  this  country,  and  you  shall  love  a  lady  who 
shall  love  you." 

"  I  will,"  he  answered  her,  "for  this  Lady  Ettarre  has  done 
me  great  wrong  and  put  me  to  shame." 

Then  he  told  the  damsel  of  the  lake  that  he  had  resolved 
never  to  leave  his  bed,  but  to  die  for  love  of  Ettarre.  "  Now," 
said  he,  "  I  hate  her  as  much  as  ever  I  loved  her." 

"  Thank  me  for  that,"  Nimue  smiled. 

Pelleas  rode  away  with  the  damsel  of  the  lake  and  lived  with 
her  and  loved  her  until  the  end  of  his  days. 

The  Lady  Ettarre  died  of  love's  sorrow. 

Now  Sir  Marhaus,  who  rode  southw^ard  with  the  damsel  of 
thirty  winters,  met  with  many  adventures.  After  fighting  with 
a  duke  and  his  six  sons,  all  of  whom  he  overcame,  he  won  at 
the  tournament  of  the  Lady  de  Vawse  a  rich  circlet  of  gold. 
He  then  went  to  the  palace  of  a  young  earl,  whose  name  was 
Fergus,  the  same  Fergus  that  later  served  as  Sir  Tristram's 
knight.  A  giant  named  Taulurd,  brother  of  the  Cornish 
giant  Taulas,  devastated  the  lands  of  Fergus.  Sir  Marhaus 
resolved  to  fight  with  him  on  foot.  He  found  the  giant  sit- 
ting under  a  holly  tree  with  many  clubs  of  iron  beside  him. 
Marhaus  put  up  his  shield,  but  Taulurd  took  an  iron  club  and 
clave  it  in  two  pieces  at  the  first  blow.  Marhaus  was  then 
in  peril,  but,  after  stiff  fighting,  he  smote  off  the  giant's  right 
arm  at  the  elbow.      Then  Taulurd  fled  and  waded   into  deep 

^  This  may  have  suggested  Milton's  Adam's  "Out  of  my  sight  thou  serpent !" 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  139 

water,  but  Marhaus  flung  great  stones  at  him  until  he  killed 
him.^ 

Thereafter  Marhaus  went  to  the  giant's  castle  and  set  at 
liberty  twenty-four  ladies  and  twelve  knights,  and  obtained  such 
great  riches  that  for  the  rest  of  his  days  he  never  was  a  poor 
man. 

For  half  a  year  Marhaus  abode  with  Fergus.  Then  he  rode 
away  to  meet  Gawain  and  Uwain  at  the  fountain. 

Now  Uwain,  who  rode  westward  with  the  damsel  of  three- 
score winters,  took  part  in  a  tournament  nigh  to  the  march  of 
Wales;  he  smote  down  thirty  knights  and  received  the  prize  of 
a  falcon  and  a  white  steed  trapped  with  cloth  of  gold.  After- 
wards he  fought  for  the  Lady  of  the  Rock  against  the  two 
knights  of  the  Red  Castle  who  had  disinherited  her.  These 
knights  he  overcame,  so  that  the  lady  got  her  lands  again. 

When  the  year  came  to  an  end  the  three  knights  and  their 
ladies  met  at  the  fountain,  but  the  damsel  who  had  gone  away 
with  Sir  Gawain  could  say  but  little  in  praise  of  him. 

The  knights  parted  with  the  ladies  and  rode  away.  In  a 
forest  they  met  a  messenger  from  Arthur,  who  told  that  the 
king  had  caused  search  to  be  made  for  them  throughout  all 
England,  Wales,  and  Scotland.  They  at  once  went  to  Came- 
lot,  where  Arthur  bade  them  welcome  and  heard  the  tales  of 
their  adventures. 

At  the  feast  of  Pentecost  the  damsel  of  the  lake  came  to  the 
Court  with  Sir  Pelleas.  Then  were  Pelleas  and  Marhaus  made 
knights  of  the  Table  Round. 

Sir  Pelleas  never  loved  Sir  Gawain,  but  spared  him  for 
King  Arthur's  sake. 

In  after  days  Sir  Marhaus  fought  a  great  battle  on  an  island 
with  Sir  Tristram  of  Lyonesse,  as  will  be  set  forth. 

The  damsel  of  the  lake  contrived  to  make  Pelleas,  who  was 
a  worshipful  knight,  never  to  oppose  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac. 

^  The  stone-throwing  giants  are  common  in  Scotland. 


VII.   Sir  Lancelot  du   Lac 

Lancelot,  whom  the  Lady  of  the  Lake 

Caught  from  his  mother's  arms — the  vvoudrous  one 

Who  passes  thro'  the  visions  of  the  night. ^ 

Now  Sir  Lancelot  of  the  Lake  was  the  son  of  King  Ban  of 
Benwick  (Brittany),  and,  as  has  been  told,  Merlin  prophesied 
of  him,  when  he  was  yet  a  babe,  that  he  should  achieve  great 
fame. 

Not  long  after  Merlin's  visit  there  was  a  great  revolt  in  the 
kingdom,  and  King  Ban  had  to  take  flight  with  his  wife  and 
child.-  The  king  was  sorely  wounded  and  fell  fainting  on  the 
bank  of  a  stream.  His  wife  laid  Lancelot  under  a  tree  while  she 
tended  to  him,  but  all  her  efforts  were  in  vain,  for  he  died. 
Then  great  was  her  sorrow.  She  rose  up  to  take  her  child  in 
her  arms,  but  ere  she  could  reach  him  a  faerie  Lady  of  the  Lake 
came  in  a  mist  and  carried  Lancelot  away. 

Now  this  faerie  lady  was  a  queen,  and  ruled  over  ten  thou- 
sand damsels  in  a  fair  domain  in  which  the  season  was  always 
May.^  Those  who  dwelt  in  her  palace  never  knew  aught  of 
sorrow. 

Lancelot  abode  with  the  faerie  queen  until  he  was  fifteen 
years  old.  He  knew  not  how  to  ride  a  horse,  and  was  never 
trained  to  wield  arms.  A  longing  came  to  him,  however,  to  go 
forth  and  seek  his  fortune  in  the  world  of  men.  The  faerie 
queen  gave  her  consent,  but  she  did  not  reveal  to  him  his 
name,  saying  he  must  first  overcome  the  strongest  knight  in 
the  world,   namely,   Iweret,  who  dwelt  in  a  forest.     She  gave 

*  Tennyson's  Lancelot  and  Elaine. 

-  This  version  of  the  Lancelot  story  is  from  the  poem  Lanzelcl,  by  Ulrich  von  Zatzikloven. 
It  was  written  early  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and,  according  to  a  record  on  the  text,  was  a 
translation  of  a  poem  brought  from  England  late  in  the  twelfth  century  to  Austria. 

•'■  In  the  Celtic  Island  ParadisK  eternal  summer  prevails. 

140 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  141 

the  lad  a  suit  of  white  armour,  a  shield  and  sword,  and  a  noble 
steed,  and  he  rode  away. 

Lancelot  did  not  go  far  until  he  met  a  knight,  who  chided 
him  because  that  he  knew  not  how  to  ride  his  steed.  The  lad 
grasped  not  the  bridle,  but  held  on  by  the  saddle.  The  knight 
led  Lancelot  to  his  castle,  and  there  had  him  trained  in  feats  of 
arms.     Thereafter  Lancelot  rode  away  in  quest  of  adventure. 

He  came  to  the  castle  of  a  baron  named  Galagandreiz,  who 
had  a  beautiful  daughter.  This  lady  made  complaint  to  Lance- 
lot and  other  two  knights  that  her  sire  desired  her  to  live  all 
her  days  without  loving  any  man,  and  she  pleaded  with  the 
knights  in  turn  to  espouse  her  cause.  The  two  knights,  fear- 
ing Galagandreiz,  refused  her,  but  Lancelot  gave  her  his  love 
and  challenged  her  sire  to  combat.  He  slew  Galagandreiz,  and 
he  and  the  maiden  became  as  man  and  wife. 

After  this  Lancelot  rode  away,  seeking  further  adventure,  for 
he  must  needs  find  and  conquer  Iweret. 

He  came  in  time  to  the  castle  of  Limors,  but  ere  he  reached 
it  he  was  in  peril  of  his  life  because  a  crowd  of  fierce  folk  came 
against  him  with  desire  to  smite  him  down.  But  Ade,  a  faerie 
lady,  rescued  him  and  gave  him  her  protection.  The  lord  of 
the  castle  was  her  uncle,  but  he  did  not  welcome  Lancelot  as 
a  guest;  he  made  Lancelot  prisoner  and  thrust  him  into  a  dark 
dungeon. 

Lancelot  was  told  he  would  not  secure  freedom  until  he 
fought  for  it.  And  first  he  had  to  engage  in  single  combat 
with  a  mighty  giant;  but  he  overcame  the  giant  and  slew  him. 
Then  he  had  to  fight  with  two  lions.  He  slew  the  lions,  and 
when  he  had  done  so,  he  was  challenged  by  the  lord  of  the 
castle.  Lancelot,  however,  slew  this  mighty  warrior.  He 
thus  won  the  love  of  Ade,  and  with  her  he  tarried  a  time. 

The  fame  of  Lancelot  went  through  the  land  and  reached 
the  ears  of  King  Arthur,  who  desired  greatly  to  have  him 
as  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round.  He  accordingly  sent  Sir 
Gawain  in  quest  of  the  young  hero.  Gawain  found  Lancelot 
in  time,  and  the  two  engaged  in  combat,  but  the  one  proved 
no  better  than  the  other.  Then  they  made  friendship,  and 
Gawain  brought  the  youth  to  Arthur's  Court, 


142  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Now  Lancelot  had  as  yet  no  name,  and  he  was  called  Le 
Beau  Varlet.  He  was  welcomed  by  Arthur,  who  met  him 
outside  the  town.  Many  people  gathered  to  gaze  upon  the 
young  warrior,  and  they  praised  his  noble  bearing  and  his 
comeliness. 

When  Lancelot  was  brought  before  Queen  Guinevere  he 
was  struck  dumb  by  her  beauty.  She  spoke  to  him,  but  he 
answered  not  a  word.  The  queen  thereupon  made  mock  of 
him  with  laughter  and  left  the  Court. 

Lancelot  afterwards,  having  been  claimed  by  a  fair  lady 
to  fight  against  the  King  of  Northumberland,  who  had  wronged 
her,  and  fulfilled  her  desire,  returned  to  Ade.  With  Ade  and 
her  brother  he  rode  towards  the  castle  of  the  magician  named 
Mabuz,  the  son  of  the  Faerie  Lady  of  the  Lake  with  whom 
Lancelot  had  spent  his  boyhood. 

Now  this  castle  was  enchanted,  and  the  knight  who  ventured 
to  cross  the  drawbridge  was  at  once  divested  of  his  courage 
and  might.  Lancelot  feared  naught,  but  when  he  trod  the 
charmed  bridge  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  spell.  Then  did  Ade 
and  her  brother  take  flight  in  dismay. 

Lancelot  was  made  prisoner  and  taken  into  the  castle.  Now 
Mabuz  was  a  coward,  and  feared  greatly  his  enemy,  Iweret,  who 
dwelt  nigh  at  hand.  He  desired  to  find  a  knight  who  would 
slay  Iweret,  and  he  rejoiced  greatly  when  Lancelot  was  in  his 
power,  for  well  he  knew  that  he  had  been  sent  thither  by  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake. 

Mabuz  bade  his  servants  carry  the  young  warrior  out  of  the 
castle  and  across  the  drawbridge,  having  first  made  him  vow 
to  do  a  service.  No  sooner  did  Lancelot  find  himself  outside 
the  castle  walls  than  his  courage  returned,  and  right  eager  was 
he  to  prove  his  worth  in  combat.  Without  delay  he  set  out 
towards  the  stronghold  of  the  enemy  of  Mabuz. 

Now  Iweret  had  a  fair  daughter,  named  Iblis,  and  on  the 
previous  night  she  had  dreamed  a  dream  in  which  she  beheld 
a  nameless  knight  who  met  her  beside  a  fountain,  and  in  her 
dream  she  loved  this  knight.  When  she  awoke  she  stole  out 
of  the  castle  and  went  to  the  fountain.  Then  she  sat  musing 
over  her  dream,  and,  in  time,  she  saw  the  very  knight  whom 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  743 

she   had    beheld    in    the   vision   of   the    night   riding    towards 
her. 

Fair  Iblis  welcomed  Lancelot  and  related  her  dream  to  him. 
Then  she  bade  him  carry  her  off,  for  greatly  did  she  fear  that 
her  strong  sire  would  overcome  this  comely  youth  in  combat. 
Lancelot,  however,  refused  to  take  flight.  He  went  boldly 
towards  the  castle,  challenged  Iweret,  and  slew  him  in  combat. 
Thereafter  he  abode  a  time  in  the  castle  with  fair  Iblis. 

While  Lancelot  had  his  dwelling  at  Iweret's  castle,  a  damsel 
came  from  the  Faerie  Lady  of  the  Lake  and  revealed  to  Lancelot 
his  name.  She  told  him  that  he  had  first  been  named  Galahad, 
but  that  after  being  taken  to  the  land  of  faerie  he  was  named 
Lancelot.  This  damsel  also  revealed  to  Lancelot  that  his  father 
had  been  King  of  Benwick  and  that  his  mother  was  Clarine, 
sister  of  King  Arthur  of  the  Table  Round. 

Now  the  Faerie  Lady  of  the  Lake  desired  greatly  to  free  her 
son,  Mabuz,  from  an  even  more  powerful  enemy  than  Iweret. 
This  was  King  Falerin,  a  mighty  lord  who  was  matchless  in 
battle.  He  claimed  Guinevere  as  his  bride  because  that  he  had 
been  betrothed  to  her  ere  yet  she  was  asked  for  by  Arthur,  and 
he  had  urged  this  claim  even  at  the  Court  of  Arthur.  He  vowed 
to  carry  off  the  queen,  defying  all  the  knights  to  overcome  him 
when  he  had  done  so. 

Lancelot  was  bidden  by  the  damsel  who  came  from  the 
Faerie  Lady  of  the  Lake  to  hasten  towards  Arthur's  Court, 
and  he  put  on  his  armour  and  rode  forth  from  the  castle  of 
Iweret. 

On  his  way  he  met  Arthur  and  certain  of  his  knights,  who 
informed  him  that  Queen  Guinevere  had  been  carried  away  by 
Falerin  as  she  engaged  herself  in  hunting  a  white  stag  in  a  forest. 
Falerin  had  imprisoned  her  in  a  magic  castle  which  was  sur- 
rounded by  thorn  bushes  infested  by  fierce  serpents. 

Among  Arthur's  knights  was  Tristram  of  Lyonesse,  and 
he  counselled  that  they  should,  before  going  against  Falerin, 
seek  the  aid  of  Malduc,  Lord  of  the  Lake  of  Mist.  This  the 
knights  did,  and  Malduc  promised  to  give  his  help  on  condition 
that  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Erec  of  the  Table  Round  should  be 
given   up  to  him   as  prisoners.     Ere  Arthur  could  say  aught 


144  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

these  knights  said  they  would  willingly  endure  captivity  for 
the  sake  of  the  queen. 

Malduc  then  went  with  King  Arthur  and  his  knights  to  the 
magic  castle.  He  wrought  spells  which  caused  the  serpents 
to  steal  away.  Then  was  the  castle  entered  by  King  Arthur 
and  his  knights.  They  found  the  queen  lying  in  a  magic  sleep, 
and  they  awakened  her  and  brought  her  forth.  Lancelot  met 
Falerin  in  combat  and  overcame  him. 

Thereafter  the  brave  Lancelot  went  against  Malduc  with  a 
hundred  of  Arthur's  knights  and  rescued  Gawain  and  Erec. 
whom  the  magician  sought  to  starve  to  death. 

On  his  return  to  King  Arthur's  Court  Lancelot  was  told  that 
one  of  the  knights  had  met  in  a  forest  nigh  at  hand  a  fierce 
dragon  which  spoke  with  human  voice.  This  dragon  called 
upon  the  knight  to  kiss  her,  but  he  refused  so  to  do,  whereupon 
the  dragon  went  away,  sorrowing  greatly. 

Lancelot  declared  he  would  go  and  meet  this  dragon.  He 
rode  into  the  forest,  and  when  he  came  nigh  to  the  monster 
she  cried  to  him  to  kiss  her  lips.  This  Lancelot  did,  and  no 
harm  came  to  him.  The  dragon  then  bathed  in  a  stream  and 
was  suddenly  transformed  into  a  beautiful  lady.  She  came 
towards  Lancelot  and  told  him  that  she  was  Elidia,  a  princess 
and  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  Thile.  Having  offended  the 
Faerie  Queen,  she  had  been  changed  into  a  dragon  and  was 
told  she  must  remain  in  this  monster  shape  until  she  was  kissed 
by  the  bravest  knight  in  the  world. 

Lancelot  led  the  Princess  Elidia  to  King  Arthur's  Court, 
and  there  she  was  oft-times  consulted  as  Merlin  had  been 
aforetime. 

For  a  time  Lancelot  rested  himself  at  the  Court,  and  Queen 
Guinevere  honoured  him  above  all  other  knights.  He  had 
found  great  favour  in  her  eyes. 

Then  there  came  a  day  when,  having  desire  to  set  forth  in 
quest  of  strange  adventures,  Lancelot  bade  his  kinsman,  Sir 
Lionel,  make  ready  to  accompany  him.  They  mounted  their 
steeds  and  rode  away.  First,  they  passed  through  a  deep 
forest;    then  they  came  to  a  plain. 

The  weather  was  hot,  and  at  high  noon  Sir  Lancelot  was 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  145 

oppressed  with  desire  to  sleep.  Sir  Lionel  espied  a  great  apple 
tree  close  to  a  hedge  and  said:  "  Brother,  yonder  is  a  place  ot 
shade  where  we  can  rest  ourselves  and  our  horses." 

Said  Lancelot:  "'Tis  well,  for  I  have  not  felt  sleepier  these 
seven  years  back." 

They  alighted  and  tethered  their  horses,  and  Lancelot, 
making  a  pillow  of  his  helm,  lay  down  below  the  apple  tree  and 
fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 

Sir  Lionel  remained  awake,  and  after  a  time  he  beheld  three 
knights  who  fled  away  on  their  horses  from  a  strong  knight, 
and  this  strong  knight  was  the  mightiest  man  that  Lionel  had 
ever  set  eyes  on.  Each  of  the  three  knights  was  overtaken 
in  turn  and  cast  down  by  the  pursuer,  whose  name  was  Sir 
Turquine. 

Sir  Lionel  thought  he  would  challenge  him.  He  accord- 
ingly stole  away  from  Lancelot's  side,  and,  mounting  his  horse, 
rode  against  Sir  Turquine;  but  that  strong  knight  overthrew 
him  with  ease  and  took  him  prisoner.  Sir  Lionel  was  led  away 
with  the  other  three  knights  and  thrust  into  a  dungeon  in  Sir 
Turquine's  castle.  There  Lionel  found  many  knights,  who 
made  loud  lament. 

Now  when  Sir  Ector  de  Maris  discovered  that  Sir  Lancelot 
had  ridden  away  from  King  Arthur's  Court  in  quest  of  strange 
adventures,  he  was  angry  with  himself,  and  resolved  to  follow 
and  find  his  friend.  He  rode  on  until  he  came  to  Sir  Turquine's 
castle,  and  there  he  saw  the  shields  of  several  of  Arthur's 
knights,  including  Sir  Lionel's,  who  had  been  taken  prisoners. 
The  shields  were  hung  on  a  tree  on  which  was  a  basin  of  copper 
for  sounding  a  challenge.  Sir  Ector  smote  the  basin  with  the 
butt  end  of  his  spear.  Forth  came  Sir  Turquine;  he  rushed  at 
Sir  Ector,  caught  him  with  his  spear  under  the  right  arm,  and 
bare  him  clean  out  of  the  saddle.  Then  Sir  Turquine  rode  to 
his  castle  with  Sir  Ector  on  his  spear,  and  cast  him  down.  Sir 
Ector  was  at  once  thrust  into  the  dungeon,  and  there  he  found 
Sir  Lionel. 

"Alas!"  moaned  Sir  Ector;   "where  is  Sir  Lancelot?" 

"I  left  him  sleeping  under  an  apple  tree,"  Lionel  answered 

him. 

Vol.  II.  39 


146  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Then  all  the  knights  declared  that  they  would  never  be 
delivered  unless  Lancelot  came  to  help  them,  because  he  was 
the  only  knight  who  was  a  match  for  Sir  Turquine. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  Sir  Lancelot.  As  he  lay  in  deep  slumber 
below  the  great  apple  tree  four  queens  came  nigh.  They  rode 
on  white  mules  in  the  shade  of  an  awning  of  green  silk  carried 
by  four  horsed  knights  on  the  points  of  their  spears.  As  they 
rode,  a  great  steed  neighed.  The  queens  then  became  aware 
of  a  sleeping  knight,  and  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Lancelot.  They 
began  to  strive  for  him;  each  one  said  she  would  have  him  for 
her  love. 

Now  one  of  the  queens  was  Morgan  le  Fay,  and  she  said: 
'*  Do  not  let  us  strive.  I  shall  put  an  enchantment  on  him  so 
that  he  shall  sleep  for  six  hours.  Let  him  be  taken  to  the 
castle;  and  when  he  awakes  he  will  choose  which  of  us  he  will 
have  for  his  love." 

Lancelot  was  enchanted  and  taken  to  the  Castle  Chariot  and 
laid  in  a  cool  chamber.  When  night  came  on,  a  fair  damsel 
carried  his  supper  to  him.     "  What  cheer?"  she  asked  him. 

"I  cannot  say,  fair  damsel,"  answered  he.  "I  know  not 
how  I  came  here  except  it  be  by  an  enchantment." 

She  promised  to  tell  him  on  the  next  day.  Lancelot  lay 
there  uneasily  all  night.  In  the  morning  four  queens  came  to 
him.  "We  know  you  well,"  said  one;  "you  are  Sir  Lancelot 
of  the  Lake,  son  of  King  Ban,  and  the  noblest  knight  living. 
We  know,  too,  that  no  lady  can  have  your  love,  save  one,  and 
that  is  Queen  Guinevere,  but  you  are  our  prisoner,  and  you 
shall  lose  her  forever.  Therefore  it  behoves  you  to  choose  one 
of  us.  I  am  Morgan  le  Fay,  Queen  of  the  Land  of  Gore,  and 
here  is  the  Queen  of  Northgalis,  and  the  Queen  of  Eastland, 
and  the  Queen  of  the  Out  Isles.  If  you  do  not  choose  one  of  us 
you  will  lie  here  in  prison  and  die." 

Said  Lancelot:  "  If  I  must  die  unless  I  choose  one  of  you, 
then  let  me  die.  I  shall  have  none  of  you,  for  you  all  be  false 
enchantresses.  As  for  Queen  Guinevere,  she  is  the  truest  lady 
to  her  lord  now  living." 

The  queens  went  away  and  left  Lancelot  in  great  sorrow. 

At  noon  the  fair  damsel  came  to  him  with  food,  and  she  said: 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  147 

"Sir,  if  you  promise  to  help  my  sire,  on  Tuesday  next  coming, 
at  a  tournament  betwixt  him  and  the  King  of  Northgalis,  I 
shall  deliver  you  from  prison." 

**  Fair  maiden,"  he  answered,  **  what  is  your  father's  name?" 

Said  she:  "  My  father  is  King  Bagdemagus,  who  was  re- 
buked at  the  last  tournament." 

"I  know  him  well,"  Lancelot  said.  ''A  noble  king  is  he 
and  a  goodly  knight,  and,  by  the  faith  of  my  body,  I  shall  be  at 
his  service." 

Early  next  morning  the  damsel  contrived  to  set  Sir  Lancelot 
at  liberty.  He  rode  away,  and  after  fighting  with  and  over- 
coming the  knight  Sir  Belleus,  he  reached  the  castle  of  Sir 
Bagdemagus. 

At  the  tournament  Sir  Lancelot  slew  Sir  Turquine,  who  had 
taken  Gaheris  as  prisoner,  and  he  bade  Gaheris  deliver  all  the 
prisoners,  so  that  Sir  Lionel,  Sir  Ector,  and  the  others  were  set 
free. 

Other  great  deeds  were  performed  by  Sir  Lancelot.  He  slew 
evil  knights  and  two  fierce  giants,  setting  free  knights  and 
ladies,  ere  he  returned  to  Arthur's  Court,  where  he  related  his 
adventures. 

Greatly  did  Queen  Guinevere  honour  Sir  Lancelot,  and  in 
secret  she  sent  to  him  tokens  of  love. 


VIII.   The  Jealousy  of  Queen   Guinevere 

Be  it  known  how  Sir  Galahad  came  to  be  born,  so  that  an 
ancient  prophecy  was  fulfilled,  for  it  had  been  said  of  Sir 
Galahad  that  he  should  free  all  the  foreign  country  from  danger, 
and  that  by  him  should  the  Holy  Grail  be  achieved. 

Sir  Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  the  flower  of  all  knighthood,  rode 
one  day  on  adventurous  quest,  and  crossed  the  bridge  over  the 
Corbin.  He  saw  a  fair  tower,  and  a  town  full  of  people,  and 
the  people  came  and  welcomed  him.  They  told  him  that  in  the 
tower  there  dwelt  a  sorrowful  lady  of  great  beauty  who  had 
been  put  under  enchantment  by  Morgan  le  Fay  and  the  Queen 
of  Northgalis.  She  was  kept  in  an  iron  chamber  of  great  heat, 
and  suffered  constant  torment.  Sir  Lancelot  set  her  free,  and 
the  people  rejoiced.  He  went  with  her  to  the  chapel  to  give 
loving  thanks  to  God,  and  at  the  chapel  the  people  said  to  him: 
"Sir  Knight,  since  you  have  delivered  this  lady,  deliver  us  also 
from  a  serpent  which  is  here  in  a  tomb." 

Sir  Lancelot  went  to  the  tomb,  and  saw  inscribed  on  it  in 
letters  of  gold: 

Here  shall  come  one  of  roval  blood.  He  shall  slay  this  serpent  and  he  sire 
of  a  lion,  the  which  lion  shall  surpass  all  other  knig-hts. 

Sir  Lancelot  opened  the  tomb,  and  out  of  it  came  a  horrible 
dragon,  spitting  fire  from  its  mouth.  Fiercely  and  long  did  he 
fight  with  it,  but  in  the  end  he  slew  it.  The  people  rejoiced 
greatly,  and  hailed  the  victor. 

Then  came  King  Pelles,  the  good  and  noble  knight,  and 
saluted  Sir  Lancelot.  He  was  cousin  to  Joseph  of  Arimathea, 
and  bade  the  knight  to  go  to  his  castle. 

At  the  castle  a  dove  came  in  at  a  window,  carrying  in  her 
beak  a  censer  of  gold,  from  which  arose  a  sweet  savour,  as  if  all 

148 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    IIIS    KNIGHTS  149 

the  spicery  of  the  world  were  there.  Forthwith  there  appeared 
on  the  table  all  manner  of  meats  and  drinks. 

Then  came  into  the  hall  a  fair  young  damsel  who  bore  a 
gold  vessel  betwixt  her  hands,  and  the  king  knelt  devoutly  and 
prayed,  as  also  did  all  others  who  were  there. 

Said  Sir  Lancelot:   "  What  may  this  mean?" 

"This,"  the  king  answered,  "is  the  richest  thing  that  is 
possessed  by  any  man  living,  for  it  is  the  Holy  Grail  you  have 
seen." 

The  king  and  Lancelot  ate  and  drank,  and  fain  would  the 
king  have  found  means  to  make  the  knight  love  his  daughter 
fair  Elaine,  because  of  the  prophecy  that  she  should  become  the 
mother  of  his  son  Galahad,  by  whom  the  Holy  Grail  was  to  be 
achieved. 

To  the  king  spoke  in  secret  a  dame  named  Brisen,  who  said: 
"Sir  Lancelot  loves  no  lady  in  the  world  except  Queen 
Guinevere.     I  shall  make  him  see  Elaine  as  Guinevere." 

Now  Brisen  was  an  enchantress.  She  caused  Guinevere's 
ring  to  be  shown  to  Lancelot,  and  he  was  told  that  the  lady  who 
sent  the  ring  was  in  the  castle  of  Case.  Thither  rode  Sir 
Lancelot,  nor  did  he  know  until  the  next  morn  that  he  had 
been  deceived,  and  that  the  lady  was  Elaine.  He  was  wroth, 
but  he  spared  her  life. 

In  time  the  child,  who  was  named  Galahad,  was  born.  And 
it  was  said  of  him  that  he  should  prove  a  greater  knight  than 
his  sire  Sir  Lancelot. 

Queen  Guinevere  was  wroth  when  she  heard  of  the  child. 

Thereafter,  when  King  Arthur  had  returned  from  a  war  in 
France,  a  great  feast  was  held  at  his  Court,  and  to  it  all  the 
lords  and  ladies  of  England  were  invited. 

Elaine  heard  of  the  feast,  and  went  thither  richly  attired,  for 
so  did  Brisen  the  enchantress  advise.  With  her  rode  knights 
and  gentlewomen.  When  she  reached  the  Court  King  Arthur 
and  Queen  Guinevere  said  that  Elaine  was  the  fairest  of  all 
ladies  ever  seen  at  the  Court  of  Camelot. 

Sir  Lancelot  drew  his  sword  to  slay  her,  but  refrained.  He 
would  not  speak  to  her,  yet  he  thought  she  was  the  loveliest 
woman  he  ever  beheld.     Elaine  was  sad   of  heart  because  of 


I50  Till'    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

his  silence,  and  she  made  moan  to  Brisen;  but  the  enchantress 
said:  "Hold  your  peace,  madam,  I  shall  make  him  come  to 
you." 

It  happened  after  this  that  Brisen,  by  her  enchantments, 
caused  Guinevere  to  quarrel  with  Lancelot.  Sir  Lancelot  be- 
came mad,  and  leapt  from  a  window  into  a  garden.  Then  he 
ran  to  the  woods,  where  he  went  about  as  a  wild  man. 

Queen  Guinevere  sent  Elaine  away  from  the  Court,  and 
she  returned  to  her  father's  castle. 

In  the  woods  Sir  Lancelot  slew  a  wild  boar,  but  the  boar, 
ere  it  died,  wounded  him  grievously.  A  hermit  offered  to  give 
him  healing,  but  in  his  madness  he  drove  the  hermit  away. 
But  when  the  knight  became  feeble  with  loss  of  blood,  the 
hermit  healed  him.  Lancelot  became  madder,  and  escaped  to 
a  town  where  the  people  attacked  him  and  wounded  him,  and 
did  him  great  harm.  For  a  time  they  kept  him  in  a  small 
house,  and  threw  food  to  him. 

Now  Lancelot  was  at  this  time  in  the  country  of  King  Pelles, 
and  it  chanced  that  one  day  Elaine  found  him  lying  asleep 
beside  a  well  in  a  garden.  She  recognized  her  knight,  and 
was  in  great  distress. 

It  came  about  that  Dame  Brisen  cast  an  enchantment  on 
Lancelot.  He  was  brought  to  the  castle,  where  a  holy  man 
gave  him  healing  of  mind  and  body  by  means  of  the  Holy 
Grail. 

When  Lancelot  awoke  he  groaned  and  sighed,  and  said: 
'•  How  came  I  here?" 

Said  Elaine:  "  You  came  as  a  madman,  and  have  been  kept 
as  a  fool,  until,  by  good  fortune,  I  found  you  sleeping  by  a 
well  and  knew  you." 

"Let  no  man  learn  of  this,"  Lancelot  said,  "else  must  I  be 
banished  for  ever  from  my  own  country." 

After  a  fortnight  had  gone  past.  Sir  Lancelot  spoke  to  Elaine, 
saying:  "  Go  to  your  father  and  get  me  a  place  in  which  I  may 
dwell,  for  I  cannot  return  to  the  Court  of  King  Arthur." 

Said  Elaine:  "Sir,  I  will  live  and  die  with  you;  for  your 
sake  would  I  die." 

It  was  arranged  that  Sir  Lancelot  should  go  to  the  castle 


KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  151 

of  Bliant,  in  Joyous  Isle.  Thither  he  went,  and  he  dwelt  with 
Elaine,  and  made  himself  known  as  Le  Chevaler  Mai  Fet. 

After  a  time  the  knights  of  King  Arthur  came  to  know  that 
Le  Chevaler  Mai  Fet,  with  whom  they  jousted  at  a  tourna- 
ment on  Joyous  Isle,  was  no  other  than  Sir  Lancelot.  They 
prevailed  upon  him  to  return  to  Camelot,  and  he  agreed  so 
to  do.  And  when  the  time  of  parting  came,  Elaine  sorrowed 
greatly.  "  My  lord,"  she  said,  "at  the  feast  of  Pentecost  your 
son  and  mine,  Galahad,  shall  be  made  knight.  He  is  now 
fifteen  years  old." 

Said  Lancelot:  "God  give  him  grace  to  prove  a  goodly 
knight." 

"  As  for  that,"  Elaine  said,  "  I  doubt  not  he  shall  prove  the 
best  man  of  his  kin,  save  one  alone." 

"Then,"  said  Sir  Lancelot,  "he  shall  be  a  good  enough 
man." 

On  reaching  Camelot  Sir  Lancelot  was  welcomed  by  king 
and  queen.  The  story  of  his  adventures  and  his  madness  was 
told,  and  Queen  Guinevere  wept  as  though  she  should  have 
died. 

Many  great  lords  and  ladies  rejoiced  greatly  when  they 
heard  that  Sir  Lancelot  had  returned  to  the  Court  of  King 
Arthur. 


IX.   The  Lady   of  Shalott 

Out  flew  the  web  and  floated  wide , 
Tlie  mirror  crack'd  from  side  to  side ; 
"  The  curse  is  come  upon  me,"  cried 
The  Lady  of  Shalott.  1 

There  came  a  time  when  King  Arthur  prepared  to  hold 
a  great  tournament,  at  which  he  and  the  King  of  the  Scots 
were  to  joust  against  all  who  would  come  against  them.  Sir 
Lancelot  desired  to  be  with  Queen  Guinevere,  and  said  he 
could  not  accompany  King  Arthur,  because  that  he  had  a 
wound  which  was  unhealed.  The  king  departed,  and  the  queen 
blamed  Lancelot  greatly  because  that  he  had  not  followed  his 
lord. 

Then  did  Sir  Lancelot,  finding  that  Guinevere  was  dis- 
pleased with  him,  ride  away  towards  Astolat^  He  reached  at 
eventide  the  castle  of  Sir  Bernard  of  Astolat,  and  the  old  baron 
welcomed  him,  although  he  knew  not  who  the  knight  was. 

Sir  Lancelot  asked  Sir  Bernard  to  lend  him  a  shield  that 
was  not  openly  known.  "  For  mine,"  said  he,  "is  indeed  well 
known." 

"Sir,"  the  host  made  answer,  "you  shall  have  your  desire, 
for  you  seem  to  be  one  of  the  likeliest  of  knights,  and  friendship 
must  I  show  you." 

1  Tennyson's  The  Lady  of  Shalott.  In  this  beautiful  and  famous  poem  Tennyson  drew 
his  inspiration  from  Arthurian  legend,  but  the  story  of  Elaine  le  Blank  did  no  more  than 
suggest  the  faerie  lady.  "The  original  of  the  name  which  variously  appears  as  Shalott, 
Escalot,  Astolat,  and  other  forms,  was  probably,"  wrote  Professor  Sir  John  Rhys  in  The 
Arthurian  legend  (p.  393),  '•  Alclut,  the  old  Welsh  name  of  the  Rock  of  Dumbarton  on  the 
Clyde."  Tennyson's  faerie  lady  is  never  seen,  but  is  heard  singing  at  morn  in  her  tower  by 
the  river-side.  It  would  seem  that  the  story  of  Elaine  le  Blank  is  a  variation  of  the  other 
Elaine  story,  and  that  the  original  Elaine  was  one  of  "the  folk  of  fairie",  and  had  a  human 
lover  for  whom  she  pined.     This  type  of  story  is  common  in  Scottish  folk-lore. 

-  Which  Malory  identified  with  Gilford. 

152 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  153 

Tlien  Sir  Bernard  told  he  had  two  sons  who  were  knights, 
and  their  names  were  Sir  Tirre  and  Sir  Lavaine.  Sir  Tirre  w^as 
wounded,  and  his  shield  would  Lancelot  have.  "If  it  please 
you,"  said  the  baron,  "  my  youngest  son,  Sir  Lavaine,  will  ride 
with  you  at  the  jousts." 

Sir  Lancelot  consented,  whereupon  the  baron  asked  his 
name.  "As  for  that,"  Sir  Lancelot  said,  "you  must  hold  me 
excused  at  this  time." 

Now  the  old  baron  had  a  daughter  who  was  often  called  the 
Fair  Maid  of  Astolat;  her  name  was  Elaine  le  Blank.  Ever 
did  she  regard  Sir  Lancelot  with  wonder.  Indeed,  she  cast 
upon  him  such  love  that  she  could  never  cease  to  love  him. 

She  lifted  up  her  eyes 
And  loved  him,  with  that  love  which  was  her  doom. 

So  dearly  did  the  fair  maid  love  that  she  entreated  Sii 
Lancelot  to  wear  at  the  tournament  a  token  of  hers. 

"Fair  damsel,"  said  he,  "I  grant  you  that,  and  you  may 
say  I  do  more  for  your  love  than  ever  I  have  done  for  lady 
or  damsel." 

As  he  intended  to  go  to  King  Arthur's  tournament  in  dis- 
guise, Lancelot  thought  it  well  he  should  wear  this  lady's 
token  on  his  helmet,  for  it  was  his  desire  that  none  of  his 
blood  should  know  him.  He  asked  Elaine  to  show  him  the 
token. 

"Sir,"  she  said,  "it  is  a  red  sleeve  of  mine,  of  scarlet  well 
embroidered  with  great  pearls."^ 

She  brought  the  token  to  him.     He  saw 

The  maiden  standing  in  the  dewy  light 
He  had  not  dreamed  she  was  so  beautiful. 

"Never  before,"  said  he,  "have  I  done  so  much  for  any 
damsel." 

And  the  blood 
Sprang  to  her  face  and  fill'd  her  with  delight; 
But  left  her  all  the  paler,  when  Lavaine 
Returning  brought  the  yet-unblazoned  shield, 

1  The  association  of  pearls  with  love  is  of  great  antiquity. 


154  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

His  brother's;  which  he  gave  to  Lancelot, 
Who  parted  with  his  own  to  fair  Elaine : 
"  Do  me  this  grace,  my  child,  to  have  my  shield 
In  keeping  till  I  come." 

On  the  next  day,  King  Arthur  and  all  his  knights  having 
gone  to  the  tournament  at  Winchester,  Sir  Lancelot  and  Sir 
Lavaine  took  leave  of  Elaine  and  followed.  Lavaine  kissed 
the  lily  maid  and  Lancelot  waved  his  hand. 

And  thus  they  moved  away:  she  stay'd  a  minute, 
Then  made  a  sudden  step  to  the  gate,  and  there — 
Her  bright  hair  blown  about  the  serious  face 
Yet  rosy-kindled  with  her  brother's  kiss — 
Paused  by  the  gateway,  standing  near  the  shield 
In  silence,  while  she  watch'd  their  arms  far-off 
Sparkle,  until  they  dipt  below  the  downs. 
Then  to  her  tower  she  climbed,  and  took  the  shield, 
There  kept  it,  and  so  lived  in  fantasy. 

Sir  Lancelot  did  mighty  feats  at  the  tournament;  he  over 
came  thirty  knights,  and  Sir  Lavaine  did  full  well,  for  he  smote 
down  ten  knights  of  the  Table  Round.  Sir  Lancelot  had,  how- 
ever, been  wounded,  having  been  attacked  by  three  knights  at 
once — Sir  Bors,  Sir  Ector,  and  Sir  Lionel,  and  by  misfortune 
Sir  Bors's  spear  entered  his  side. 

No  one  recognized  Sir  Lancelot,  and  when  he  rode  away, 
suffering  grievously  from  his  wound.  Sir  Lavaine  led  him  to 
a  hermit,  who  dressed  the  wound  and  put  him  to  bed. 

That  evening,  w^hen  the  kings  of  both  parties  sat  at  a  great 
feast,  King  Arthur  said:  "Where  is  the  knight  of  the  red 
sleeve?  Bring  him  before  me  that  he  may  be  praised  and 
honoured  because  he  has  won  the  prize." 

It  was  told  to  Arthur  that  the  nameless  knight  had  been 
wounded  and  had  gone  away.  One  said  he  feared  the  knight 
would  die. 

"  Heaven  hinder,"  said  the  King,  "that  such  an  one. 

So  great  a  knight  as  we  have  seen  to-day — 

He  seemed  to  me  another  Lancelot — 

He  must  not  pass  uncared  for.     Wherefore,  rise, 

0  Gawain,  and  ride  forth  and  find  the  knight. 
Wounded  and  wearied  needs  must  he  bo  near. 

1  charge  you  that  you  get  at  once  to  horse." 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  155 

King  Arthur  gave  to  Gawain  the  knight's  prize,  saying: 

"  Rise  and  take 
This  diamond,  and  deliver  it,  and  return, 
And  bring  us  where  he  is,  and  how  he  fares, 
And  cease  not  from  your  quest  until  ye  find." 

It  happened  that  Sir  Gawain,  while  pursuing  his  quest,  lodged 
with  Sir  Bernard  at  Astolat.  The  baron  and  his  daughter 
Elaine  asked  him  regarding  the  tournament  at  Winchester, 
and  he  said:  "There  were  two  knights  with  white  shields  and 
one  wore  on  his  head  a  red  sleeve,  and  he  was  truly  one  of  the 
best  knights  I  saw  jousting.     Many  knights  did  he  overthrow." 

"Now,  blessed  be  God,"  said  the  fair  maiden  of  Astolat, 
"for  that  knight  is  he  whom  I  have  first  loved,  and  he  shall 
be  the  last  I  shall  ever  love." 

"What  is  his  name?"  asked  Gawain. 

"  I  know  it  not,"  Elaine  said,  "  nor  know  I  whence  he  comes, 
but  I  vow  to  God  I  love  him." 

Then  she  told  Gawain  that  the  knight  carried  her  brother's 
shield  and  had  left  his  own  in  her  keeping. 

"  May  it  please  you  to  let  me  have  a  sight  of  that  shield," 
said  Gawain. 

Elaine  led  him  to  her  chamber  and  took  the  shield  from  the 
case  in  which  she  kept  it. 

"Ah,  mercy!"  Gawain  said;  "now  is  my  heart  made  heavier 
than  before. 

"Why?"  asked  the  lady. 

"  Because  I  have  great  cause.  Is  that  knight  who  owns  this 
shield  your  love?" 

"Yea,  truly,  my  love  he  is.  Would  to  God  that  I  were  his 
love." 

"You  love  the  most  honourable  knight  in  the  world,"  said 
Gawain.  "But  I  fear  lest  you  may  never  see  him,  for  he  has 
been  grievously  wounded.  Know  you  he  is  the  noble  knight 
Sir  Lancelot." 

"  Alas!"  moaned  the  maiden;  "  how  was  he  hurt?" 

"  He  was  wounded  by  the  man  who  loves  him  best,  and  tliat 
man  will  have  great  sorrow  when  he  knows." 


156  THI-:    WORLD'S    III'RITAGE 

Then  Elaine  asked  her  father  to  grant  her  leave  to  seek  and 
find  the  wounded  knight,  "  or  else,"  said  she,  "  I  shall  go  out  of 
my  mind." 

"  Do  as  it  pleases  you,"  the  baron  said  to  her. 

Elaine  rode  away  with  Sir  Gawain,  making  great  lament. 
When  they  reached  King  Arthur  on  the  morrow,  Sir  Gawain 
told  that  the  nameless  knight  was  Lancelot.  Then  did  Sir  Bors 
sorrow  greatly  because  that  he  had  wounded  his  best  friend, 
while  Queen  Guinevere  said:  "Fie  on  him!"  when  she  knew 
why  he  had  worn  the  red  sleeve. 

It  chanced  that  Elaine  met  in  Winchester  her  brother,  Sir 
Lavaine.  He  led  her  to  the  hermitage,  and  there  she  saw  Sir 
Lancelot  sick  and  pale  in  his  bed.  She  swooned  with  grief, 
and  when  she  gat  her  senses  again  Sir  Lancelot  asked  Sir 
Lavaine  to  bring  her  to  him.  And  when  she  was  brought 
Lancelot  kissed  her  and  said:  "You  put  me  in  pain,  fair 
maiden.  Why  do  you  not  cheer  me?  for  you  have  come  to 
comfort  me,  and  you  be  right  welcome.  Of  this  little  hurt  I 
have,  I  shall  soon  be  recovered  by  the  grace  of  God.  Now  tell 
me  who  gave  you  my  name?" 

The  maiden  told  him  it  was  Gawain,  and  Lancelot  dreaded 
that  Gawain  would  inform  the  queen  who  had  worn  the  red 
sleeve. 

Elaine  nursed  Sir  Lancelot  by  day  and  by  night.  There 
was  never  woman  who  was  more  kindly  to  a  wounded  man  than 
this  fair  lady. 

When  Lancelot  was  able  to  leave  the  hermitage,  he  rode 
with  Elaine  and  Sir  Lavaine  to  Astolat  and  there  abode  a  time. 

One  day,  when  Sir  Lancelot  said  he  must  depart,  Elaine 
spake  to  him,  saying:  "Fair  knight,  have  mercy  on  me  and 
suffer  me  not  to  die  of  love." 

"  What  wish  you  me  to  do?" 

"  I  would  have  you  for  my  husband,"  said  she. 

And  Lancelot  answered:  "  Had  I  chosen  to  wed, 

I  had  been  wedded  earlier,  sweet  Elauie : 

But  now  there  never  will  be  wife  of  mine." 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried,  "  I  care  not  to  be  wife. 

But  to  be  with  you  still,  to  see  your  face. 

To  serve  you,  and  to  follow  you  thro'  the  world." 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    MIS    KNIGHTS  157 

But  Sir  Lancelot  refused  her  and  she  swooned.  Then  did 
women  carry  her  to  her  chamber. 

Sir  Lancelot  rode  away,  and  when  he  reached  King  Arthur's 
Court  he  was  welcomed  by  the  king  and  all  the  knights  of  the 
Table  Round  except  Sir  Agravaine  and  Sir  Modred.  Queen 
Guinevere  was  angry  with  him  and  would  not  speak  to  him. 
She  estranged  herself  and  refused  to  be  reconciled. 

Now  turn  we  to  Elaine,  the  fair  maiden  of  Astolat.  She 
sorrowed  for  Sir  Lancelot  by  day  and  by  night  and  refused  to 
be  comforted.     Her  father  and  brothers  spoke  to  her  in  vain. 

But  when  they  left  her  to  herself  again, 
Death,  like  a  friend's  voice  from  a  distant  field 
Approaching  thro'  the  darkness,  call'd;  the  owls 
Wailing  had  power  upon  her,  and  she  mixt 
Her  fancies  with  the  sallow-rifted  glooms 
Of  evening,  and  the  moanings  of  the  wind. 

in  these  days  she  made  a  song  which  she  called  "The  Song  of 
Love  and  Death",  and  sang  it  sweetly: 

Sweet  is  true  love  tho'  given  in  vain,  in  vain; 
And  sweet  is  death  who  puts  an  end  to  pain : 
I  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

Love,  art  thou  sweet?  then  bitter  death  must  be: 
Love,  thou  art  bitter ;  sweet  is  death  to  me. 

0  Love,  if  death  be  sweeter,  let  me  die. 

Sweet  love,  that  seems  not  made  to  fade  away. 
Sweet  death,  that  seems  to  make  us  loveless  clay, 

1  know  not  which  is  sweeter,  no,  not  I. 

I  fain  would  follow  love,  if  that  could  be ; 
I  needs  must  follow  death,  who  calls  for  me; 
Call  and  I  follow,  I  follow !  let  me  die. 

Elaine's  father  bade  her  abandon  such  thoughts,  but  she 
answered  him:  "Why  should  I  leave  such  thoughts?  Am  I 
not  an  earthly  woman?  While  my  breath  lasts  me  I  shall  moan, 
for  my  belief  is  I  do  no  offence  though  I  love  an  earthly  man. 
I  take  God  as  my  judge  that  I  never  loved  any  man  but  Sir 
Lancelot  du  Lac,  and  that  I  shall  love  no  other.  A  pure  maiden 
am  I  for  him  and  for  all  others.     Since  it  is  God's  will  I  shall 


158  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

die  for  the  love  of  so  noble  a  knight,  I  beseech  the  High  Father 
of  Heaven  to  have  mercy  on  my  soul." 

Then  she  bade  her  brother,  Sir  Tirre,  write  a  letter  for  her 
to  Sir  Lancelot,  and  this  he  did.  He  wrote  what  she  told  him 
to  write. 

Thereafter  she  desired  to  be  attired  in  her  richest  clothing, 
and,  when  she  was  dead,  to  be  placed  on  a  barge  on  the  river 
covered  with  black  samite. 

Her  father  promised  her  wishes  should  be  observed  faith- 
fully.    Then  the  fair  Elaine  died. 

As  she  desired,  so  was  it  done.  The  body  of  Elaine  was 
placed  in  a  barge,  which  one  man  steered  down  the  river.  She 
who  was  so  fair  lay  under  the  dark  shroud 

In  her  right  hand  the  Hly,  in  her  left 
The  letter. 

When  King  Arthur,  looking  from  a  palace  window,  saw  the 
barge,  he  sent  three  knights  to  bring  him  tidings  regarding  it, 
and  they  went  and  soon  returned  to  tell  it  bore  the  body  of  the 
fair  maiden  of  Astolat.  The  letter  was  brought  to  Arthur  and 
he  read  it. 

"  Most  noble  lord.  Sir  Lancelot  of  the  Lake, 

I,  sometimes  called  the  maid  of  Astolat, 

Come,  for  you  left  me  taking  no  farewell, 

Hither,  to  take  my  last  farewell  of  you. 

I  loved  you,  and  my  love  had  no  return, 

And  therefore  my  true  love  has  been  my  death. 

And  therefore  to  our  Lady  Guinevere, 

And  to  all  other  ladies,  I  make  moan. 

Pray  for  my  soul  thou  too.  Sir  Lancelot, 

As  thou  art  a  knight  peerless." 

Wlien  this  letter  was  read,  the  king,  the  queen,  and  all  the 
knights  wept  for  pity.  Sir  Lancelot  was  sent  for,  and  King 
Arthur  had  the  letter  read  to  him.     Then  Lancelot  said: 

"  My  lord  liege  Arthur,  and  all  ye  that  hear, 
Know  that  for  this  most  gentle  maiden's  death 
Right  heavy  am  I ;  for  good  she  was  and  true, 
But  loved  me  with  a  love  beyond  all  love 
In  women,  whomsoever  I  have  known. 
Yet  to  be  lo\ed  makes  not  to  love  again ; 


KL\G   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  159 

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.  .  .  . 
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  helped  her  from  herself"^ 

Thereafter  King  Arthur  bade  Sir  Lancelot  see  that  Elaine  was 
interred  worshipfully.  This  Lancelot  did,  and  offered  her  mass 
penny,  and  all  the  knights  of  the  Table  Round  were  with 
Lancelot  at  the  time, 

'  Quotations  from  Tennyson's  Lancelot  and  Elaine.  In  the  same  poet's  Tne  Lady  of 
Shalott  the  charm  is  broken  when  Lancelot's  form  is  reflected  on  the  magic  mirror.  The 
faerie  lady  then  leaves  her  tower,  and  goes  to  the  river-side. 

Down  she  came  and  found  a  boat 
Beneath  a  willow  left  afloat, 
And  round  about  the  prow  she  wrote 
The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

She  lies  in  the  boat,  lets  it  drift  down  the  river,  and  sings  until  she  dies.  hX  "tower'd 
Camelot "  many  see  the  boat. 

Out  upon  the  w^harfs  they  came 
Knight  and  burgher,  lord  and  dame, 
And  round  the  prow  they  read  her  name, 
The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

Who  is  this?  and  what  is  here? 
And  in  the  lighted  palace  near 
Died  the  sound  of  royal  cheer ; 
And  they  cross'd  themselves  for  fear, 

All  the  knights  of  Camelot : 
But  Lancelot  mused  a  little  space ; 
He  said :  "She  has  a  lovely  face; 
God  in  his  mercy  lend  her  grace, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott." 


X.   Tristram  of   Lyonesse 

There  were  two  Iseults,  wlio  did  sway 
Each  her  hour  of  Tristram's  day  .  .  . 
Iseult  of  the  Snow-white  Hand  .  .  . 
Iseult  of  Ireland.^ 

Tristram  was  the  son  of  King  Meliodas  of  Lyonesse  and  of 
his  wife  Elizabeth,  the  sister  of  King  Mark  of  Cornwall.  His 
mother  died  soon  after  he  was  born,  and  ere  she  died  she  said: 
"Let  the  child  be  named  Tristram,  because  of  the  sorrowful 
birth." 

Seven  years  went  past,  and  then  King  Meliodas  wedded 
the  daughter  of  King  Howell  of  Brittany.  This  queen  had 
children,  and  was  jealous  of  Tristram.  One  day  she  prepared 
a  cup  of  poison  for  the  youth,  but  her  own  eldest  son  drank  it 
and  died.  Very  wroth  was  the  king,  and  he  would  have  had 
the  queen  burned  alive,  but  Tristram  pleaded  for  her,  and  she 
was  forgiven  on  that  account. 

Thereafter  Tristram  was  sent  to  France  to  learn  the  language 
and  receive  a  warrior's  training,  and  he  abode  in  that  country 
for  seven  years.  When  he  returned  home,  big  and  strong,  it 
was  found  that  he  had  become  skilled  as  a  harper,  and  was 
accomplished  in  hunting  and  hawking.  Therefore  is  the  book 
of  venery,  of  hawking  and  hunting,  called  the  '*  Book  of  Sir 
Tristram  ".  All  gentlemen  that  bear  old  arms  ought  by  right 
to  honour  Sir  Tristram. 

It  came  about  that  King  Anguish^  of  Ireland  made  request 
to  King  Mark  of  Cornwall  for  tribute  which  had  not  been  paid 
for  seven  years.  The  answer  that  Mark  gave  was  that  Anguish 
should  send  a  trusty  knight  to  fight  for  his  claim,  and  he  under- 
took to  provide  a  knight  to  fight  for  Cornwall. 

'  Matthew  Arnold's  Trislram  and  Iseult.  *  Angus. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  i6r 

Then  did  King  Anguish  send  to  Cornwall  Sir  Marhaus,  a 
knight  of  the  Table  Round,  and  brother  of  the  Queen  of  Ireland. 
King  Mark  became  sad  of  heart  because  he  could  not  find  a 
worthy  knight  to  oppose  the  famous  and  powerful  Sir  Marhaus. 

When  Tristram  heard  of  Marhaus,  who  daily  sent  a  challenge 
to  King  Mark,  he  was  angry  and  ashamed.  He  went  to  his 
father,  King  Meliodas,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  fight  with 
Sir  Marhaus.  '*  I  shall  allow  you  to  go,"  Meliodas  answered, 
*'  because  it  is  your  wish  to  be  ruled  by  your  courage." 

Sir  Tristram  made  him  ready  to  ride  into  Cornwall.  And, 
as  he  did  so,  there  came  to  him  a  messenger  with  letters  of  love 
from  the  daughter  of  King  Faramon  of  France.  Tristram  had 
no  joy  in  these  letters,  and  when  the  princess  came  to  know 
that  he  would  not  love  her,  she  died  of  sorrow. 

Tristram  rode  to  his  uncle.  King  Mark,  and  said  to  him: 
"Sir,  if  you  will  give  me  the  order  of  knighthood  I  shall  do 
battle  with  Sir  Marhaus." 

When  King  Mark  came  to  know  who  the  young  man  was, 
he  made  him  a  knight,  and  sent  word  to  Sir  Marhaus  of  his 
coming. 

Sir  Marhaus  sent  back  a  message,  saying:  "Tell  King 
Mark  that  I  shall  fight  with  no  knight  who  is  not  of  blood 
royal."  ^ 

Said  Sir  Tristram:  "Let  him  know  that  my  blood  is  royal 
on  my  father's  side  and  my  mother's  side." 

King  Mark  sent  word  to  Sir  Marhaus  that  a  better-born 
man  than  himself  was  to  fight  him,  and  that  his  name  was  Sir 
Tristram  of  Lyonesse,  son  of  King  Meliodas  and  of  Elizabeth, 
Princess  of  Cornwall. 

Glad  and  blithe  was  Sir  Marhaus  that  he  was  to  joust  with 
such  a  gentleman. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  combat  should  be  fought  on  an 
island  nigh  to  Sir  Marhaus's  ships.  To  this  island  went  Sir 
Tristram. 

First,  the  knights  attacked  fiercely  on  horseback  with  their 
spears.     Sir  Tristram  was  wounded.     Then  they  fought  on  foot 

'  Arjuiia  makes  a  similar  declaration  when  Kama  challenges  him  at  the  Royal  Tourna- 
ment.    See  the  Mahdbhdrata,  Vol.  I. 

Vol.  II.  40 


i62  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

with  their  swords.  For  half  a  day  they  fought  fiercely,  and 
both  received  many  sore  wounds,  so  that  the  blood  ran  freshly 
to  the  ground. 

Sir  Tristram,  however,  waxed  fresher  as  Sir  Marhaus  became 
wearied,  and  at  length  he  smote  so  heavy  a  blow  that  his  sword 
cut  through  the  helm  of  Sir  Marhaus  and  stuck  in  his  skull. 
Marhaus  fell  on  his  knees,  and  with  a  great  effort  Tristram 
released  his  sword,  leaving  a  portion  of  it  in  his  opponent's 
head.  Then  did  Sir  Marhaus  rise  up.  Throwing  away  his 
sword  and  shield,   he  ran  towards  his  ships. 

Said  Sir  Tristram:  "Ah,  Sir  Knight  of  the  Table  Round, 
why  do  you  withdraw?  You  bring  shame  to  yourself  and  your 
kin.  I  am  but  a  young  knight,  but  rather  than  withdraw 
myself  I  should  wait,  although  but  to  be  hewn  in  a  hundred 
pieces." 

Marhaus  made  no  answer.  He  went  on  his  way  groaning, 
and  Sir  Tristram  took  possession  of  his  sword  and  shield. 

Anon  Sir  Marhaus  departed  to  Ireland.  He  died  soon  after 
he  returned  to  the  castle  of  King  Anguish.  The  portion  of 
Tristram's  sword  was  taken  from  his  skull,  and  the  queen,  his 
sister,  kept  it,  for  she  thought  to  be  revenged  some  day  on  the 
knight  who  owned  the  sword. 

Sir  Tristram  suffered  grievously  from  his  wounds,  and 
especially  from  the  wound  that  Sir  Marhaus  had  inflicted  with 
his  spear.  King  Mark  and  his  lords  sorrowed  greatly,  fearing 
that  the  young  knight  would  die,  because  there  was  venom  in 
the  wound.  Leeches  and  surgeons  endeavoured  in  vain  to  give 
him  healing. 

In  time  there  came  to  Tristram's  bedside  a  right  wise  lady, 
who  told  that  the  young  knight  could  never  be  healed  until  he 
went  to  the  country  where  the  venom  came  from. 

Then  did  King  Mark  fit  out  a  fair  vessel  to  take  Tristram 
to  Ireland.  The  wounded  knight  was  carried  on  board,  and  he 
took  his  harp  with  him. 

The  ship  crossed  the  sea,  and  arrived  nigh  to  the  castle  of 
King  Anguish.  Sir  Tristram  then  sat  up  in  bed  and  harped 
a  merry  lay,  the  like  of  which  had  never  before  been  heard  in 
Ireland.     It  was  then  told  to  the  king  that  a  wondrous  harper 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  163 

had  come  to  the  shore.  Anon  Anguish  sent  for  Tristram,  and 
had  his  wounds  looked  to. 

"  What  is  your  name?"  the  king  asked. 

Tristram  said:  "I  am  of  the  country  of  Lyonesse,  and  my 
name  is  Tramtrist.  I  was  wounded  in  a  combat  which  I  fought 
for  a  lady's  right." 

"Truly,"  the  king  said,  "you  shall  have  all  the  help  that 
can  be  given  you  in  this  land.  Be  it  known  to  you  I  have  lost 
the  best  knight  in  the  world — Sir  Marhaus  of  the  Table  Round, 
who  was  stricken  down  in  Cornwall." 

Sir  Tristram  made  semblance  of  sorrow  when  he  heard  these 
words. 

Now  the  king's  daughter  was  a  noble  surgeon.  She  searched 
the  wound  in  Tristram's  side,  found  the  poison,  and  gave  him 
healing.  This  princess  was  the  fairest  lady  in  the  world,  and 
her  name  was  Iseult.  Tristram  cast  great  love  to  her.  He 
taught  her  to  harp,  and  she  began  to  take  pleasure  in  his 
company. 

At  that  time  a  knight  came  to  Ireland  to  claim  the  fair  Iseult 
as  his  bride.  This  was  Sir  Palamides  the  Saracen,  and  he 
became  jealous  of  the  knight  who  was  called  Tramtrist. 

It  came  about  that  King  Anguish  proclaimed  a  great  tour- 
nament for  his  cousin,  a  fair  lady  who  was  called  the  Lady  of  the 
Lawns,  and  he  let  it  be  known  that  the  man  who  won  her  should 
wed  her  and  have  all  her  lands. ^ 

Iseult  told  Tramtrist  of  this  tournament,  but  he  said  he  was 
unfit  to  joust,  having  not  fully  regained  his  strength. 

Said  she:  "Well  I  know  Sir  Palamides  will  be  there. 
Therefore  I  pray  you  to  attend,  lest  that  he  should  win  the 
degree." 

Then  did  he  promise  to  do  her  will,  and  she  said  she  would 
get  him  horse  and  armour. 

Now  Palamides  loved  Iseult,  and  would  fain  have  had  her 
as  his  bride.  He  was  a  mighty  knight  and  strong,  but  Tristram 
smote  him  down,  and  made  him  to  yield.  Then  said  he  to  Sir 
Palamides:  "  On  pain  of  your  life  you  must  forsake  Iseult,  and 
for  a  year  and  a  day  you  must  not  put  on  armour." 

1  This  is  the  Indian  Swayamvara.     See  the  Mahdb/idmta,  Vol.  I. 


i64  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Palamides  promised,  although  sore  ashamed.  He  took  off 
his  armour,  threw  it  aside,  and  left  the  field. 

Iseult  thought  then  that  Tristram,  who  was  called  Tramtrist, 
was  no  other  than  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac. 

"Fair  damsel,"  said  he,  "know  ye  that  I  am  not  Sir 
Lancelot.  I  pray,  however,  that  God  may  make  me  as  good  a 
knight  as  he!" 

After  the  tournament  Iseult  made  a  healing  bath  for  Sir 
Tramtrist. 

Now  while  the  knight  was  in  his  bath,  the  queen  drew  his 
mighty  sword,  for  she  admired  it  greatly.  Suddenly  she  ob- 
served that  a  portion  had  been  broken  off  the  edge.  She  re- 
membered the  piece  of  sword  that  had  been  taken  from  the 
skull  of  her  brother,  Sir  Marhaus.  "Alas!"  said  she  to  her 
daughter;  "this  is  the  same  traitor  knight  who  slew  your 
uncle." 

Iseult  was  sore  abashed,  hearing  these  words,  for  she  loved 
Sir  Tramtrist  passing  well,  and  she  knew  that  her  mother  was 
cruel  and  vengeful. 

The  queen  hastened  to  another  chamber  and  took  from  her 
coffer  there  the  bit  of  sword  that  had  been  drawn  out  of  the 
skull  of  Marhaus  after  he  died.  She  hastened  with  it  to  Tram- 
trist's  chamber,  and  found  that  it  fitted  into  the  gap  on  his 
sword.  Then  she  became  very  wroth.  She  grasped  the  sword 
fiercely,  and  ran  to  the  chamber  in  which  Sir  Tramtrist  sat  in 
his  bath,  and  she  would  have  slain  him  had  not  Sir  Hebes 
seized  and  disarmed  her. 

Then  did  the  angry  queen  hasten  to  King  Anguish.  Kneel- 
ing before  him,  she  said:  "Oh,  my  lord,  here  have  you  in 
your  house  the  knight  who  slew  my  brother,  your  servant,  that 
noble  knight  Sir  Marhaus!" 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak?"  asked  the  king. 

"Sir,"  she  said,  "it  is  Sir  Tramtrist,  who  was  healed  by 
my  daughter." 

"Alas!  I  am  made  heavy  with  sorrow,"  moaned  the  king, 
"for  he  is  a  full  noble  knight." 

"Bui  I  charge  you,"  the  queen  said,  "that  ye  have  naught 
to  do  with  him.      Let  me  deal  with  this  knight." 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  165 

The  king  went  to  Sir  Tiamtrist's  chamber,  and  found  tliat 
the  knight  had  armed  himself,  and  was  ready  to  take  his 
leave. 

'*Sir  Tramtrist,"  said  he,  ''it  will  not  avail  you  to  oppose 
me.  But  this  much  will  I  do  because  I  honour  and  love  you. 
You  will  be  allowed  to  leave  my  Court  in  safety  if  you  will  tell 
me  your  own  and  your  father's  name,  and  say  truly  whether  or 
not  you  slew  Sir  Marhaus." 

"Sir,"  the  knight  made  answer,  "my  father's  name  is 
Meliodas,  King  of  Lyonesse,  my  mother  was  Elizabeth,  sister 
of  King  Mark  of  Cornwall,  and  my  own  name  is  Tristram. 
For  my  uncle's  sake  did  I  fight  with  Sir  Marhaus,  and  he  left 
his  sword  and  shield  with  me." 

"  Truly,  you  but  did  as  a  knight  should  do,"  King  Anguish 
said,  "but  I  cannot  keep  you  here  lest  I  should  displease  my 
wife  and  her  kin." 

Said  Sir  Tristram:  "I  thank  you,  sir,  and  I  thank  you  foi 
the  goodness  shown  me  by  your  daughter,  my  lady.  It  may  so 
happen  that  you  shall  win  more  by  sparing  me  than  by  putting 
me  to  death.  I  promise  to  do  you  service  in  England  whenever 
you  may  call  upon  me,  and  I  promise,  too,  to  be  ever  your 
daughter's  servant  and  knight  in  right  and  in  wrong,  and  that 
I  shall  never  fail  her.  I  pray  you,  take  my  farewells  to  your 
daughter  and  all  your  barons  and  knights." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  desire,"  said  the  king,  who  was  sad  at 
heart. 

But  Sir  Tristram  saw  Iseult  before  he  went  away,  and  he 
told  her  why  he  had  come  to  Ireland.  "  I  was  nigh  to  death," 
said  he,  "and  you  gave  me  healing." 

"  O  gentle  knight,"  Iseult  said,  "  full  sorrowful  am  I  because 
you  are  leaving  us,  for  I  have  never  seen  a  man  to  whom  I  have 
greater  goodwill." 

Tears  fell  from  her  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

Sir  Tristram  vowed  to  be  her  good  knight,  and  she  said:  "  I 
promise  you  that  for  seven  years  I  shall  not  be  married  without 
your  consent.  To  whom  you  will  I  shall  be  married ;  him  shall 
I  have  as  my  husband  and  no  other." 

Sir  Tristram  gave  her  a  ring,  and  she  gave  him  another. 


i66  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Then  he  went  away,  while  Iseult  made  great  dole  and  lamenta- 
tion. 

Sir  Tristram  went  on  board  his  ship  and  sailed  to  Tintagel 
in  Cornwall.  He  was  welcomed  by  King  iMark  and  his  barons. 
Then  he  went  to  his  father,  King  Meliodas,  who  made  great 
cheer  for  him. 

Soon  afterwards  Tristram  returned  to  King  Mark's  Court, 
and  lived  there  happily  until  there  came  jealousy  and  unkindness 
between  the  two  because  that  they  both  loved  the  same  lady. 
In  the  end  they  fought,  and  each  wounded  the  other. 

After  this  King  Mark  plotted  in  his  heart  to  cause  Tristram's 
death.  He  had  oft-times  heard  the  knight  praising  the  fair 
Iseult  of  Ireland,  and,  his  wife  being  dead,  he  said  to  Tristram 
one  day:  "Sir  Tristram,  I  would  fain  wed  Iseult,  daughter  of 
King  Anguish.  I  pray  ye  therefore  to  go  to  Ireland  and  bring 
her  hither." 

He  thought  that  Sir  Tristram  would  never  return,  because 
of  the  hatred  borne  against  him  by  King  Anguish's  wife  and 
her  kin. 

Sir  Tristram  could  not  refuse  to  undertake  this  mission. 
He  was  ready  to  face  any  danger  and  peril  as  became  a  good 
and  loyal  knight.  Accordingly  he  selected  the  goodliest  knights 
at  the  Court,  and  with  them  he  departed  for  Ireland. 

A  storm  broke  out,  and  the  ship  was  driven  back  to  England, 
and  went  ashore  below  Camelot.  Sir  Tristram  set  up  his 
pavilion,  and  hung  his  shield  on  it.  Soon  afterwards  two  of 
King  Arthur's  knights,  Sir  Ector  de  Maris  and  Sir  Morganor, 
came  riding  down  to  the  shore.  They  touched  the  shield  of 
Tristram  with  their  spears,  and  Sir  Tristram  accepted  the  chal- 
lenge to  joust.  So  he  made  himself  ready  and  rode  forth. 
First,  he  smote  down  Sir  Ector,  then  did  he  smite  down  Sir 
Morganor.  As  they  lay  on  the  earth,  they  asked  him  who  he 
was,  and  he  answered,  saying:  "  I  am  Sir  Tristram  from  Corn- 
wall." 

*'Alas!"  moaned  Sir  Ector;  "sore  ashamed  am  I  to  be 
overcome  by  a  Cornish  knight." 

It  chanced  at  this  time  that  King  Arthur  had  summoned 
King  Anguish  to  attend  his  Court  on  pain  of  forfeiture  of  his 


KING   ARTHUR   AXD    HIS    KNIGHTS  167 

lands,  because  that  a  knight  had  been  slain  by  treason  at  the 
Court  of  Anguish. 

When  Anguish  arrived,  he  found  that  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Lancelot  had  gone  to  the  Castle  of  Joyous  Card,  leaving  King 
Carados  and  the  King  of  the  Scots  to  judge  him. 

Sir  Blamor  de  Ganis  accused  King  Anguish  of  treason,  and 
the  king,  as  was  the  custom  in  these  days,  had  either  to  fight 
his  accuser  or  find  a  knight  to  do  so. 

King  Anguish  was  given  three  days  to  consider  his  answer, 
and  he  retired  to  his  lodging  with  a  heavy  heart,  knowing  well 
he  was  not  the  equal  of  Sir  Blamor. 

To  him  went  Sir  Tristram,  who  said:  "Sir,  for  the  hospi- 
tality you  showed  me  in  Ireland,  and  for  the  sake  of  your 
daughter,  the  fair  Iseult,  I  shall  fight  for  you,  upon  condition 
that  you  grant  two  things:  first,  that  you  shall  swear  to  me  you 
are  innocent  of  the  death  of  the  knight  at  your  Court,  and 
second,  that  you  shall  give  me,  as  a  reward,  what  reasonable 
thing  I  may  ask  of  you." 

"Truly,"  said  King  Anguish,  "you  shall  have  whatsoever 
you  may  ask.      I  am  innocent  of  this  knight's  death." 

'"Tis  well,"  Sir  Tristram  answered  him. 

Sir  Tristram  met  and  overcame  Sir  Blamor  in  combat,  and 
he  spared  his  life,  although  the  valiant  knight  refused  to  yield 
Then  Sir  Tristram  kissed  Sir  Blamor,  and  made  vows  with  him 
that  the  one  should  never  again  fight  with  the  other.  He  also 
caused  King  Anguish  to  be  reconciled  with  the  knights.  And 
for  that  combat  so  well  ended,  Sir  Lancelot  loved  Sir  Tristram 
forever. 

King  Anguish  and  Sir  Tristram  departed  for  Ireland,  and 
when  the  king  told  all  that  had  taken  place,  the  knight  was 
loved  and  welcomed  by  the  queen,  who  forgave  him  the  slaying 
of  Sir  Marhaus.  Glad  of  heart  was  fair  Iseult.  No  tongue  can 
tell  of  her  joy,  for  of  all  earthly  men  she  loved  Sir  Tristram 
most. 

Thereafter,  on  a  day,  Sir  Tristram  craved  his  boon  from 
King  Anguish  saying:  "It  is  my  wish  that  you  should  give 
me  your  daughter  for  wife,  not  for  myself,  but  for  my  uncle, 
King  Mark  of  Cornwall." 


i6S  THE    WORLD'S    HKRITAGL: 

"Alas!"  said  the  king;  "I  had  rather  than  all  the  land  I 
have  that  you  yourself  should  wed  her." 

"If  I  did,"  Sir  Tristram  answered,  "I  should  be  put  to 
shame  forever  in  this  world,  because  I  should  be  false  to  my 
promise." 

"  Then  you  shall  have  Iseult  for  King  Mark,"  the  king  said. 

Thereafter  Iseult  made  herself  ready  to  depart  with  Tristram, 
and  she  took  with  her  as  her  chief  maid  the  dame  Bragwaine. 
To  this  dame  the  queen  gave  in  secret  a  golden  cup  in  which 
was  a  magic  drink,  charging  her  to  pour  it  out  for  King  Mark 
and  Iseult  on  their  wedding  day.  "  For  when  they  drink  it," 
said  the  queen,  "each  shall  love  the  other  all  the  days  of  their 
life." 

The  golden  cup  with  the  magic  love  potion  was  taken  away 
by  Bragwaine,  Iseult's  maid,  and  Gouvernail,  Tristram's  squire, 
when  they  went  to  the  ship. 


XI.   Tristram  and   Iseult 

The  cup  was  richly  \vrou|jht, 

Of  gold  it  was  the  pin; 
In  all  the  world  was  not 

Such  drink  as  there  was  in.* 

The  ship  flew  across  the  ocean,  her  sails  swallowing  the 
wind.  Tristram  sat  on  the  deck  with  Iseult,  holding  sweet 
converse  with  that  sweet  maid,  who  was  both  young  and  fair, 
and  had  great  loveliness.  v 

Love's  dreams  and  joys  and  terrors  in  her  eyes 

Of  constant  blue  and  innocently  wise, 

Made  beauteous  riot  and,  ail  unaware. 

Wrought  witchery  of  gladness  and  despair 

In  hearts  that  flower-like  unfold  when  they 

To  love's  white  sunshine  in  the  magic  May 

Of  manhood  wond'ring  wake.  .  .  .  The  sea  gleams, 

Grows  dim  anon,  is  troubled,  or  else  dreams, 

.'\nd,  dreaming,  visions  and  >  L-veals  at  bright 

Ethereal  morn,  or  in  the  moon-charmed  night 

Mysterious,  inarticulate  delight; 

And  so  the  eyes  of  Iseult,  now  made 

Dim  by  the  sullen,  swiftly-falling  shade 

Of  cloudy  thought  in  flight,  now  deeply  stirred 

To  strange  emotion  by  a  look  nr  word, 

Or  lit  by  flickering  fancies  light  as  air, 

Were  ever  changing  and  forever  fair, 

And  ever  from  her  dreams  by  day  or  night 

Radiant  with  youth  and  fervour  and  delight.  ^ 

Ere  darkness  fell,  rain  came  on,  and  Tristram  and  Iseult 
entered  the  cabin,  and  there  made  good  cheer.     It  so  happened 

1  From  the  poem  Sir  Tristram,  attributed  to  Thomas  the  Rhymer.  "The  practice  of 
putting  gold  and  silver  pins  into  drinking-vessels  was  intended",  wrote  Sir  Walter  Scott,  "to 
regulate  the  draught  of  each  guest."  This  custom  gave  origin  to  the  expressions  "drinking 
to  a  merry  pin  "  and  "  taking  one  down  a  peg  ".  '  D.  .\.  Mackenzie. 

169 


I70  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

that  both  were  athirst.  They  saw  the  wine  cup,  which  seemed 
to  contain  a  noble  wine,  so  rich  was  its  colour,  nor  did  either 
of  them  dream  it  was  a  magic  love-potion.  Sir  Tristram  raised 
the  cup  and  said:  *'  To  you  I  drink,  fair  Iseult."  He  drank,  and, 
smiling,  said:  **  Dame  Bragwaine,  your  maiden,  and  Gouvernail, 
my  servant,  have  kept  for  themselves  the  best  wine  I  have  ever 
tasted." 

He  handed  the  cup  to  Iseult,  and  she  drank  of  the  love- 
potion  too. 

And  all  their  life  changed  in  them,  for  they  quaffed 

Death;  if  it  be  death  so  to  drink,  and  fare 

As  men  who  change  and  are  what  these  twain  were. 

And  shuddering  with  eyes  full  of  fear  and  fire 

And  heart-stung  with  a  serpentine  desire 

He  turned  and  saw  the  terror  in  her  eyes 

That  yearned  upon  him  shining  in  such  wise 

As  a  star  midway  in  the  midnight  fixed. 

Their  Galahault  was  the  cup,  and  she  that  mixed; 
Nor  other  hand  there  needed,  nor  sweet  speech 
To  lure  their  lips  together;  each  on  each 
Hung  with  strange  eyes  and  hovered  as  a  bird 
Wounded,  and  each  mouth  trembled  for  a  word; 
Their  heads  neared,  and  their  hands  were  drawn  in  one, 
And  they  saw  dark,  though  still  the  unshaken  sun 
Far  through  fine  rain  shot  fire  into  the  south; 
.And  their  four  lips  became  one  burning  mouth.^ 

Because  they  drank  that  love-potion,  they  loved  each  other  so 
well  that  their  love  never  departed  ever  afterwards  either  for 
weal  or  for  woe. 

The  ship  sailed  on  until  it  reached  Cornwall,  and  there  all 
the  barons  met  and  welcomed  Tristram  and  Iseult. 

In  time  the  fair  Iseult  was  given  in  marriage  to  King 
Mark,  who  was  proud  of  her  beauty.  But  ever  she  loved  Sir 
Tristram  as  fondly  as  he  loved  her.  Nor  could  they  suppress 
their  love. 

It  chanced  that  the  knight  Sir  Andred,  cousin  of  Sir  Tristram, 
came  to  know  of  the  secret  love  between  the  pair,  and  he  lay  in 
watch  so  that  he  might  slander  them,  for  he  was  jealous  of 
Tristram's  fame. 

'  Swinburne's  Tristram  of  Lyonesse. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  171 

One  day  Sir  Tristram  held  converse  with  Iseult  as  she  looked 
forth  from  a  window.  Sir  Andred  saw  and  heard  them,  and  he 
went  and  told  King-  Mark.  Then  the  king  was  wroth.  He 
took  a  sword  in  his  hand  and  stole  round  to  Sir  Tristram  in  the 
garden.  And  when  he  reached  the  knight  he  called  him  false 
traitor,  and  would  have  slain  him.  He  raised  his  sword  to 
smite,  but  Tristram  ran  under  it  and  took  it  from  his  hand. 
Then  the  king  cried:  **  Where  are  my  knights  and  my  men? 
I  call  upon  them  to  slay  this  traitor."  But  at  that  time  there 
was  no  one  who  would  lift  a  hand  against  Sir  Tristram,  partly 
because  he  was  greatly  loved  and  partly  because  he  was  greatly 
feared. 

When  Sir  Tristram  saw  that  no  knight  would  come  against 
him,  he  shook  the  sword  at  the  king,  and  made  countenance  as 
though  he  would  slay  him.  King  Mark  was  stricken  with 
terror,  and  turned  away  in  flight.  Sir  Tristram  followed  him, 
and  smote  him  several  blows  with  the  flat  of  the  sword  so  that 
the  king  fell. 

Then  did  Sir  Tristram  go  and  arm  himself,  and,  calling  upon 
his  squire,  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  into  the  forest. 

Next  day  King  Mark  sent  two  knights  into  the  forest  to  slay 
Sir  Tristram,  but  that  matchless  hero  struck  off  the  head  of  one 
and  wounded  the  other.  Then  he  bade  the  wounded  knight  to 
ride  to  King  Mark's  Court  carrying  his  brother's  head.  No 
sooner  had  the  knight  told  King  Mark  what  had  happened  than 
He  fell  down  dead. 

The  king  consulted  with  his  barons  regarding  Sir  Tristram, 
and  they  said:  "If  he  will  depart  to  King  Arthur's  Court  he 
will  find  such  friends  there  that  he  will  forget  your  malice.  Let 
him  be  asked  to  return  hither  meanwhile,  and  let  all  be  forgiven 
and  forgotten." 

Then  the  barons  sent  for  Sir  Tristram  under  safe  conduct, 
and  the  knight  came  to  the  Court.  Mark  welcomed  him,  and 
the  two  were  reconciled. 

Time  went  past,  and  one  day  the  king  and  queen,  with  many 
knights,  rode  a-hunting  in  the  forest.  The  royal  pavilions  were 
pitched  on  a  river  bank,  and  there  the  knights  jousted  daily. 
One  morning  a  knight  named  Sir  Lamorak  de  Galis,  son  of  Sir 


172  THK   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Pelliiiore,  came  and  jousted  with  Sir  Driant  of  King  Mark's 
Court.  And  when  both  were  weary,  King  Mark  urged  Sir 
Tristram  to  challenge  Sir  Lamorak. 

"You  bid  me  do  a  thing  that  is  against  knighthood," 
said  Tristram.  "Well  I  know  I  shall  give  him  a  fall,  for 
my  horse  and  I  be  fresh.  It  will  be  no  credit  to  me  to  win 
master)-. 

King  Mark,  who  wished  Tristram  to  make  enemies,  urged 
him  to  attack  Lamorak. 

"  I  must  obey  you,"  Tristram  said.  He  therefore  rode  forth 
and  unhorsed  Sir  Lamorak.  That  knight  rose  nimbly,  and, 
drawing  his  sword,  challenged  Tristram  to  fight  on  foot.  Tris- 
tram refused,  saying:  ''  I  am  ashamed  to  have  unhorsed  a 
wearied  knight,  but  the  king  commanded  me  and  I  had  to  obey. 
I  will  have  no  more  ado  with  you." 

Said  Lamorak:   "  I  shall  meet  you  another  time." 

"So  be  it,"  Tristram  answered. 

Sir  Lamorak  rode  away,  but  he  had  not  gone  far  when  he 
met  with  a  knight  who  had  been  sent  by  Morgan  le  Fay  to 
carry  a  gift  to  King  Arthur.  The  gift  was  a  horn  richly 
adorned  with  gold  and  jewels.  It  had  such  a  virtue  that  if  it 
were  drunk  from  by  a  lady  who  did  not  love  her  husband,  the 
wine  would  be  spilled.  Morgan  le  Fay  wished  Queen  Guine- 
vere to  drink  from  it  in  King  Arthur's  presence,  because  that 
she  loved  Sir  Lancelot. 

Sir  Lamorak  commanded  the  knight  to  carry  the  horn  to 
King  Mark.  It  was  not  his  wish  that  King  Arthur  should 
receive  it,  lest  it  might  cause  dispeace  and  bloodshed.  He 
bade  the  knight  to  reveal  in  secret  to  King  Mark  the  virtues  of 
the  horn. 

The  knight  obeyed  Sir  Lamorak,  He  gave  the  horn  to 
King  Mark,  who  was  well  pleased  to  receive  it.  That  evening 
he  gave  a  feast,  and  at  the  feast  he  made  Queen  Iseult  and  a 
hundred  other  ladies  to  drink  from  the  horn.  Only  four  of  the 
ladies  drank  without  spilling  wine,  and  Iseult  was  not  one  of 
these. 

Then  King  Mark  was  angry.  He  swore  an  oath  that  all  the 
ladies  who  spilled  wine  should  be  burned,  but  the  barons,  as 


KING  ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  173 

they  sat  in  council,  told  the  king  plainly  that  the  horn  came 
from  the  falsest  sorceress  living,  and  was  meant  to  cause  strife 
and  debate,  because  that  Morgan  le  Fay  was  the  enemy 
of  all  true  lovers.  Then  did  many  knights  swear  that  they 
would  slay  Morgan  le  Fay  when  they  had  opportunity  so 
to  do. 

After  this  there  was  peace  for  a  time  at  King  Mark's  Court, 
but  Sir  Andred  kept  watch  on  Sir  Tristram,  and  he  again  saw 
him  in  secret  converse  with  Iseult.  He  then  had  Tristram 
seized  and  bound,  intending,  with  King  Mark's  consent,  to 
have  him  put  to  death,  but  Tristram  broke  free,  felled  Andred 
to  the  earth,  and  made  his  escape. 

Thereafter  Iseult  sent  a  lady  to  Sir  Tristram,  bidding  him 
to  hasten  to  Brittany,  and  to  serve  there  King  Howell,^  who 
was  sore  beset  by  his  enemies. 

Sir  Tristram  obeyed  her  command.  He  crossed  the  sea  to 
Brittany,  and  did  mighty  deeds  for  King  Howell,  for  he  slew 
his  chief  enemy,  the  Earl  Grip,  and  a  hundred  of  his  knights  in 
a  single  day. 

King  Howell  embraced  Tristram  and  said:  "All  my  king- 
dom will  I  resign  to  you." 

But  Tristram  refused  the  kingdom.  Then  did  the  king  offer 
to  Tristram  in  marriage  his  fair  daughter,  Iseult  of  the  White 
Hands. 

She  looked  on  him  and  loved  him  .  .  . 

This  maiden  with  her  sinless  sixteen  years 

Full  of  sweet  thoughts  and  hopes  that  played  at  fears  .  .  . 

And  through  her  limbs  she  felt  sweet  passion  run 

As  fire  that  flowed  down  from  her  face,  and  beat 

Soft  through  stirred  veins  on  even  to  her  hands  and  feet 

As  all  her  body  were  one  heart  on  flame, 

Athrob  with  love  and  wonder  and  sweet  shame.- 

It  chanced  that  Tristram  and  Iseult  of  the  White  Hands  were 
wed,  but  they  were  never  as  husband  and  wife,  for  Tristram 
loved  Iseult  of  Cornwall. 

Now  when  Iseult  of  Cornwall  heard  that  Sir  Tristram  had 

'  In  the  Thomas-the-Rhynier  poems  he  is  called  the  Duke  Floreiiiin  of  Briitaiiy. 
"•'  Swinburne's  Tristram  of  Lyo/iesic. 


174  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

married  Iseult  of  Brittany,  her  heart  was  filled  with  woe,  and 

she  cried: 

God,  give  him  to  nie — God,  God,  give  him  back! 
For  now  how  should  we  live  in  twain  or  die? 
I  am  he  indeed,  Thou  knowest,  and  he  is  1.  .  .  . 

Looking  out  from  the  Cornish  castle  window,  she  cried  across 
the  sea  to  Tristram  in  Brittany,  as  if  he  might  hear  her: 

"  Dost  thou  not  hear  one  cr)'  of  all  of  mine? 
O  Tristram's  heart,  have  I  no  part  in  thee?" 
And  all  her  soul  was  as  the  breaking  sea, 
And  all  her  heart  a-hungered  as  the  wind.* 

In  time  Sir  Kehydius',  son  of  King  Howell,  discovered  that 
Sir  Tristram  did  not  love  his  sister,  fair  Iseult  of  the  White 
Hands,  whom  he  had  taken  in  maiden  marriage,  and  that  he 
neglected  her.     Very  wroth  was  Sir  Kehydius. 

He  went  to  Tristram  and  upbraided  him,  but  Tristram  told 
him  of  Iseult  of  Cornwall,  and,  taking  his  harp,  sang  a  song  he 
had  made  of  her.  Then  did  Sir  Kehydius  express  his  desire  to 
behold  this  wondrous  fair  lady,  and  he  and  Sir  Tristram  agreed 
to  cross  the  sea  to  Cornwall,  and  visit  the  Court  of  King  Mark. 

As  it  chanced,  the  ship  that  carried  them  over  the  sea  was 
tossed  about  by  unfavourable  winds  and  driven  to  the  coast  of 
South  Wales.  Sir  Tristram  and  Sir  Kehydius  went  ashore, 
and  rode  away  together.  In  the  forest  they  met  with  a  knight 
beside  a  well  and  Tristram  jousted  with  him.  Both  were  un- 
horsed, and  Sir  Tristram  fought  with  the  knight  on  foot.  After 
a  time  he  called  on  the  knight  to  hold  his  hand  and  give  his 
name. 

*'  First,  you  will  tell  your  own,"  said  the  knight. 

"  It  is  Sir  Tristram  of  Lyonesse,"  came  the  answer. 

"Sir,"  said  the  other,"  I  am  Sir  Lamorak  de  Galis." 

"Ah,  we  are  well  met!"  Tristram  said  angrily.  " 'Twas 
you  who  sent  the  horn  to  King  Mark's  Court  with  intent  to  dis- 
honour Queen  Iseult." 

They  resumed   fighting  with   their  swords,   and    fought   on 

'  Swinburne's  Tristram  0/  Lyonesse. 

-  He  is  named  Ganhardin  in  the  Thumas-the-Rhymer  [joeni. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS  175 

until  both  were  wearied.  Then  Sir  Lamorak  yielded  to  Tristram, 
but  Tristram  refused  to  take  his  sword,  and  offered  to  yield  to 
Lamorak.  Then  they  became  friends,  and  swore  oaths  never  to 
fight  one  with  the  other  again. 

After  meeting  with  further  adventures,  and  jousting  with  Sir 
Palamides  and  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Tristram  saw  coming  towards  him 
a  beautiful  damsel  who  hailed  him  by  name.  This  was  Nimue, 
the  faerie  Lady  of  the  Lake.  She  told  him  of  a  great  knight 
who  was  in  sore  peril,  and  entreated  him  to  follow  her.  "  I  am 
ready  to  help  a  noble  man,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  and  rode  after 
her  with  right  good  will. 

It  happened  that  the  knight  in  peril  was  King  Arthur.  He 
chanced  to  be  at  Cardiff  when  a  lady,  named  Annowre,  came  to 
him  and  prevailed  upon  him  by  false  words  to  ride  with  her  into 
the  Forest  Perilous.  Although  the  king  knew  it  not,  she  was 
a  great  sorceress,  and  desired  to  have  him  in  her  power. 

When  Sir  Tristram  came  nigh  to  the  place  where  Annowre 
was  he  saw  two  knights  attacking  Arthur,  who  had  been  struck 
down.  Quickly  did  he  go  to  the  rescue.  Both  the  knights  he 
slew.  Then  he  took  off  the  head  of  the  sorceress,  which  Nimue 
hung  by  the  hair  on  her  saddle-bow. 

Sir  Tristram  horsed  King  Arthur  and  rode  away  with  him, 
having  charged  Nimue  not  to  reveal  his  name. 

The  king  thanked  his  rescuer,  and  asked  him  who  he  was; 
but  Tristram  would  not  tell,  saying  he  was  but  a  poor  knight 
adventurous.  He  bare  the  king  fellowship  until  they  met  with 
Sir  Ector.  Then  Sir  Ector,  not  knowing  who  they  were, 
shouted  a  challenge  to  joust.  Sir  Tristram  rode  against  him 
and  unhorsed  him.  He  returned  to  King  Arthur  and  said: 
*'My  lord,  yonder  is  one  of  your  knights;  he  will  bear  you 
fellowship.  I  trust  by  the  deeds  I  have  done  that  you  will 
understand  I  am  at  your  service." 

"Alas!"  the  king  said;  "will  you  not  say  who  you  are?" 

"  I  cannot  at  this  time,"  answered  Sir  Tristram,  and  departed 
at  once. 

Sir  Tristram  returned  to  Sir  Kehydius,  and  rode  with  him 
into  Cornwall.  They  went  to  a  forester's  house  nigh  to  King 
Mark's  castle,  and  Sir  Tristram  sent  to  Iseult  a  secret  message 


176  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

that  he  was  in  her  country.  On  receiving  it  the  Lady  Iseult 
swooned  with  pure  joy.  As  soon  as  she  recovered  she  sent 
word  to  Tristram  that  he  must  come  and  speak  with  her  else 
would  her  heart  break  in  twain. 

Sir  Tristram  went  privily  to  the  castle  with  Sir  Kehydius, 
and  of  the  joy  that  was  shared  by  Tristram  and  Iseult  when  they 
met  no  tongue  can  tell,  no  heart  can  understand,  and  no  pen 
write. 

Now,  be  it  known  that  as  soon  as  Sir  Kehydius  set  eyes  on 
Iseult  of  Cornwall  he  loved  her  so  dearly  and  well  that  his  love 
could  never  die. 

In  the  days  that  followed  he  sent  to  her  the  goodliest  letters 
and  ballads,  and  she,  taking  pity  on  him,  wrote  a  letter  to 
comfort  him. 

When  Sir  Tristram  discovered  this  he  was  very  wroth.  To 
Iseult  he  spoke,  saying:  "Alas,  madam,  both  lands  and  riches 
have  I  given  up  for  your  sake,  and  now  you  are  a  traitress  to 
me!" 

To  Sir  Kehydius  he  said:  *'I  won  your  father's  lands  for 
him,  I  wedded  your  sister,  and  brought  you  out  of  Brittany, 
and  you  have  proved  false  to  me." 

He  drew  his  sword,  but  Kehydius  escaped  from  him.  In 
time,  however,   the  Breton  knight  died  of  love  for  Iseult. 

Tristram  departed  from  Tintagel,  and  went  into  a  deep 
forest,  where  he  sorrowed  so  grievously,  because  of  Iseult,  that 
he  went  out  of  his  mind.  For  half  a  year  he  wandered  about 
naked,  and  the  herds  wondered  greatly  who  he  was. 

Sir  Andred  had  come  to  know  that  Tristram  was  in  Cornwall, 
and  had  been  stricken  by  the  madness  of  love,  and  he  bade  a 
damsel  to  tell  Iseult  that  he  was  dead.  Queen  Iseult  then 
wished  to  slay  herself  for  sorrow,  for  she  could  not  live  after 
Tristram's  death.  She  gat  herself  a  sword,  and  drove  it 
through  a  plum  tree  in  the  garden,  with  intent  to  run  against  it 
and  die. 

King  Mark  came  to  know  that  she  had  left  the  castle,  carry- 
ing a  sword,  and  followed  her.  He  found  her  kneeling  down 
before  the  plum  tree,  and  beneath  the  sword-point,  and  heard 
her  praying:    "Sweet  Lord  Jesu,  have  mercy  upon  me,  for  I 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  177 

cannot  live  now  that  Tristram  is  dead!  He  was  my  first  love, 
and  shall  be  the  last." 

King  Mark  darted  forward  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  Then 
he  carried  her  away  to  a  strong  tower,  and  there  he  made  her 
to  be  kept  safely  and  watched  closely.  In  the  tower  Iseult  lay 
a  long  time  sick  and  at  the  point  of  death. 

One  day  a  knight  came  to  King  Mark's  Court  carrying  the 
head  of  a  giant  who  had  terrorized  the  kingdom  ever  since 
Tristram  had  vanished.  This  knight  told  the  king  that  he 
himself  had  been  seized  by  the  giant,  but  that  a  naked  madman, 
armed  with  a  sword,  had  rescued  him,  and  taken  off  the  giant's 
head. 

King  Mark  rejoiced  that  the  giant  was  dead,  and  sent 
knights  into  the  forest  to  search  for  this  madman,  not  knowing 
he  was  no  other  than  Sir  Tristram.  The  knights  found  the 
madman  asleep,  and  took  him  to  the  castle  wrapped  in  mantles, 
but  no  man  recognized  him.  There  was  he  tenderly  cared  for. 
He  became  quiet  of  mind,  but  his  memory  departed  from  him, 
so  that  he  knew  not  even  his  own  name. 

One  day  Iseult  found  him  sitting  in  the  garden.  She  knew 
not  he  was  Tristram,  but  as  soon  as  he  saw  her  he  began  to 
weep,  and  turned  his  face  away,  for  his  grief  had  not  departed 
from  him. 

Then  came  the  hound  Hodaine  that  Tristram  once  had.  She 
licked  his  cheeks  and  whined,  and  Iseult  spoke  to  her  maid, 
saying:  "Alas,  alas!  this  man  is  mine  own  lord,  Sir  Tristram." 
Then  she  fell  down  in  a  swoon. 

As  soon  as  she  recovered  she  spoke  to  Tristram,  and  his 
memory  came  back  to  him.  '*  Blessed  be  God,"  said  she,  "that 
you  still  live,  O  Tristram!  Alas!  when  King  Mark  comes  to 
know  who  you  are,  he  will  banish  you  from  the  kingdom.  But 
go  to  King  Arthur's  Court,  for  there  you  will  be  made  welcome." 

Tristram's  memory  returned  to  him  at  once  and  he  said:  "O 
madam,  go  from  me  now.  Much  wrath  and  peril  have  I  en- 
dured for  your  love." 

The  queen  departed,  but  the  hound  remained  with  Sir 
Tristram,  and  Sir  Andred,  perceiving  this,  told  King  Mark 
who  the  strange  knight  was. 

Vol.  II.  41 


178  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Having  recovered  his  senses,  Sir  Tristram  resumed  his 
wonted  form  and  expression,  and  he  was  then  known  to  all. 

Then  King  Mark  took  counsel  with  his  barons,  and  bade 
them  judge  Tristram  to  death.  The  barons  refused  to  consent 
to  his  being  slain,  and  they  banished  him  instead  for  ten 
years. 

Sir  Tristram  got  armour  and  a  horse  and  rode  away.  He 
went  to  King  Arthur's  Court  and  achieved  great  fame,  for  he 
jousted  with  the  best  knights,  and  distinguished  himself  in 
many  adventures.  Save  for  Sir  Lancelot,  Sir  Tristram  was 
without  a  peer. 

Sir  Tristram  became  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round,  and  at 
King  Arthur's  Court  he  met  King  Mark.  Arthur  made  peace 
between  the  two,  and  Sir  Lancelot  said  to  Mark:  ''Beware  of 
treason,  for  if  you  do  aught  against  Sir  Tristram  I  swear  before 
God  I  shall  slay  you  with  my  own  hands." 

In  the  hearing  of  all  King  Mark  promised  never  to  betray 
Sir  Tristram. 

After  this  Sir  Tristram  met  Iseult  at  Joyous  Card,  the  castle 
of  Sir  Lancelot.     Iseult  loved  him  more  dearly  than  life. 

In  time  Sir  Tristram  returned  to  Brittany,  where  he  fought 
to  aid  a  young  knight  whose  lady  had  been  taken  away.  He 
slew  fifteen  knights,  but  received  in  the  battle  an  arrow  which 
entered  the  old  wound  he  got  when  he  fought  with  Sir  Marhaus. 

He  was  taken  to  his  castle,  and  there  was  nursed  by  his 
maiden  wife,  Iseult  of  the  White  Hands.  But  daily  he  grew 
weaker,  for  the  fair  maid  of  Brittany  could  not  cure  him.  Indeed, 
there  was  no  one  who  could  give  him  healing  save  Iseult  of 
Cornwall — she  who  had  given  him  healing  aforetime  in  Ireland. 

Then  did  Tristram  hand  his  ring  to  a  knight,  and  bade  him 
carry  it  to  King  Mark's  Court  and  give  it  to  Iseult,  so  that  she 
might  come  to  him  and  save  his  life. 

This  knight  was  bidden  to  hoist  a  white  sail  as  he  returned 
if  Iseult  of  Cornwall  was  in  the  ship,  and  to  hoist  a  black  sail  if 
she  came  not  with  him. 

For  three  days  and  three  nights  Tristram  lay,  suffering 
great  pain  and  sorrow,  awaiting  the  return  of  the  ship.  On  the 
third  night  he  spoke  to  his  page  saying: 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  179 

Is  she  not  come?     The  messenger  was  sure. 
Prop  me  upon  the  pillows  once  again — 
Raise  me,  my  Page:  this  cannot  long  endure. 
Christ !  what  a  night !  how  the  sleet  whips  the  pane ! 
What  lights  will  those  out  to  the  northward  be? 

The  Page 
The  lanterns  of  the  fishing-boats  at  sea. 

Tristram 
Soft — who  is  that  stands  by  the  dying  fire? 

The  Page 
Iseult. 

Tristram 

Ah  !  not  the  Iseult  I  desire. 

Loud  howls  the  wind,  sharp  patters  the  rain, 
And  the  knight  sinks  back  on  his  pillows  again. 
He  is  weak  with  fever  and  pain. 

Tristram  dreamed  of  other  days. 

Ah,  sweet  angels,  let  him  dream! 
Keep  his  eyelids  !  let  him  seem 
Not  this  fever-wasted  wight 
Thinn'd  and  paled  before  his  time, 
But  the  brilliant  youthful  knight 
In  the  glory  of  his  prime. 
Sitting  in  the  gilded  barge. 
At  thy  side,  thou  lovely  charge ! 
Bending  gaily  o'er  thy  hand. 

Iseult  of  Ireland  !  .  .  . 
And  that  golden  cup  her  mother 
Gave  her,  that  King  Mark  and  she 
Might  drink  it  on  their  marriage-day, 
And  forever  love  each  other, 

Let  her  as  she  sits  on  board, 
Ah,  sweet  saints,  unwittingly. 
See  it  shine,  and  take  it  up, 
And  to  Tristram  laughing  sa}'^ 
"  Sir  Tristram,  of  thy  courtesy 
Pledge  me  in  my  golden  cup!" 
Let  them  drink  it — let  their  hands 
Tremble,  and  their  cheeks  be  flame, 
As  they  feel  the  fatal  bands 
Of  a  love  they  dare  not  name. 
With  a  wild  delicious  pain.^ 

*  Matthew  Arnold's  Trisiram  and  Iseult. 


i8o  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

When  morning  came  it  was  told  to  Tristram  that  the  ship 
was  returning  from  Cornwall.  He  could  not  raise  himself  to 
look  through  the  castle  window.  Iseult  of  the  White  Hands 
sat  watching  for  him.  She  saw  a  white  sail  hoisted,  and  he 
called  to  her  asking  whether  the  sail  was  white  or  black. 

And  she  that  saw  looked  hardly  towards  him  back, 

Saying,  "Ay,  the  ship  comes  surely;  but  her  sail  is  black". 

And  fain  he  would  have  sprung  upright,  and  seen 

And  spoken;  but  strong  death  struck  sheer  between, 

And  darkness  closed  as  iron  round  his  head: 

And  smitten  through  the  heart  lay  Tristram  dead.' 

Ere  long  the  ship  came  to  the  shore,  and  Iseult  of  Cornwall 
hastened  towards  the  castle  in  which  there  was  wailing  for  the 
dead.     She  entered  the  chamber  of  death. 

And  ere  her  ear  might  hear  her  heart  had  heard, 

Nor  sought  she  sign  lor  witness  of  the  word; 

But  came  and  stood  above  him  newly  dead, 

And  felt  his  death  upon  her;  and  her  head 

Bowed,  as  to  reach  the  spring  that  slakes  all  drouth; 

And  their  four  lips  became  one  silent  mouth. 

So  came  their  hour  on  them  that  were  in  life 
Tristram  and  Iseult:  so  from  love  and  strife 
The  stroke  of  love's  own  hand  felt  last  and  best 
Gave  them  deliverance  to  perpetual  rest.-' 

1  Swinburne's  Tristram  of  l.yofie.'se. 

"  Swinburne's  Tristram  of  Lyon  esse.  This  great  poem  is  usually  re<,';it(led  as  Swinburne's 
masterpiece.  In  it  he  has  given  new  life  to  the  heroic  couplet  which  Poprc  had  left  so  inflexible 
and  monotonous,  and  Keats  had  over-loosened. 

It  is  of  interest  to  note,  in  connection  with  the  Tristram  story,  that  there  is  a  Gaelic  version 
of  the  white-and-black  sails  incident  in  a  Ross-shire  folk-tale.  Instead  of  sails,  however,  flags 
were  used.  The  graves  of  the  lovers — a  Norse  prince,  named  Olaf,  and  a  Highland  lady — are 
still  pointed  out  on  Isle  Marce,  and  they  are  marked  by  sculptured  stones.  .Another  ending  to 
the  Tristram  tale  is  that  the  knight  was  slain  by  King  Mark  as  he  sat  harping  before  Iseult; 
this  is  the  version  given  by  Malory. 

Tristram's  name  is  given  also  as  Tristrem,  Tristan,  Trislani,  and  Drysian,  and  Iseiilt's 
aa  Essylit,  Isolde,  Vsolt,  Isolt,  Ysolde,  and  Vsonde. 


XII.   The  Quest  of  the  Holy  Grail 

The  cup,  the  cup  itself,  from  which  our  Lord 
Drank  at  the  last  sad  supper  with  his  own. 
This,  from  the  blessed  land  of  Aromat — 
After  the  day  of  darkness,  when  the  dead 
Went  wandering  o'er  Moriah — the  good  saint, 
Arimathaean  Joseph,  journeying  brought 
To  Glastonbury,  where  the  winter  thorn 
Blossoms  at  Christmas,  mindful  of  our  Lord. 
And  there  awhile  it  bode;  and  if  a  man 
Could  touch  or  see  it,  he  was  healed  at  once, 
By  faith,  of  all  his  ills.  .  .  .^ 


O  servant  of  the  high  God,  Galahad! 

Rise  and  be  arm'd;  the  sangreal  is  gone  forth 
Through  the  great  forest,  and  you  must  be  had 

Unto  the  sea  that  lieth  on  the  north: 

There  shall  you  find  the  wondrous  ship  wherein 
The  spindles  of  King  Solomon  are  laid. 

And  the  sword  that  no  man  draweth  without  sin, 
But  if  he  be  most  pure:  and  there  is  stay'd 

Hard  by.  Sir  Lancelot,  whom  you  will  meet 

In  some  short  space  upon  that  ship:  first,  though, 

Will  come  here  presently  that  lady  sweet. 
Sister  of  Perceval,  whom  you  well  know. 

And  with  her  Bors  and  Perceval:  stand  now 
These  ladies  will  to  arm  you.^ 


I.  The  Coming  of  Perceval 

In  that  sweet  season  of  the  year  when  meadows  grow  green 
again  and  birds  warble  with  delight,  a  fair  young  lad,  the  son 
of  a  widowed  lady,  went  a-wandering  in  a  forest.  He  had  been 
brought  up  in  solitude,  and  knew  naught  of  the  world  of  men, 

^  Tennyson's  The  Hely  Grail.         '  William  Morris's  Sir  Galahad,  a  Christmas  Mystery. 

181 


iS2  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Deer  scampered  from  before  him,  and  he  followed  them  until  he 
heard  the  clinking  of  armour,  and  saw  five  knights  riding  his 
way.  He  had  never  before  set  eyes  on  armed  men,  and  thought 
at  first  they  were  devils,  for  his  mother  had  told  him  that  devils 
were  fearsome  to  behold.  He  crossed  himself,  but  resolved  not 
to  run  away.  When  the  knights  came  near,  and  he  perceived 
that  they  were  comely  and  of  noble  bearing,  he  thought  they 
were  angels,  so  he  fell  upon  his  knees  and  repeated  the  prayers 
his  mother  had  taught  him. 

The  knights  wondered  at  the  lad,  and  spoke  to  him  gently. 
He  asked  them  who  they  were,  and  their  leader  said  they  were 
men  who  had  received  armour  and  knighthood  from  King 
Arthur  of  the  Table  Round.  Then  they  bade  the  simple  youth 
tell  them  if  he  had  seen  other  knights  passing  that  way.  He 
scarcely  heeded  their  question,  but  began  to  ask  the  name  and 
use  of  each  piece  of  armour  and  each  weapon,  and  he  received 
courteous  answers. 

After  conversing  with  him  for  a  time,  the  knights  rode  away, 
and  the  lad  returned  to  his  mother  and  said  he  had  seen  a 
company  of  noble  knights,  and  that,  thinking  they  were  angels, 
he  had  prayed  to  them.  Then  he  declared  it  was  the  desire  of 
his  heart  to  become  a  knight  of  King  Arthur's  Court. 

Now  the  lad  was  he  who  in  after  days  achieved  great  fame 
as  Sir  Perceval,  but  at  this  time  he  did  not  even  know  his  name. 
His  mother  wished  to  keep  him  at  her  lonely  home.  He,  how- 
ever, pleaded  with  her  to  be  allowed  to  ride  to  Court,  and  she 
was  forced  to  give  her  consent. 

Clad  in  goat-skin,  and  armed  with  a  javelin,  which  he  had 
learned  to  use  when  hunting  deer  and  birds  in  the  forest, 
Perceval  rode  away.  His  mother  swooned  after  he  left  her,  and 
lay  nigh  to  death.  He  passed  through  the  forest,  nor  did  he 
pause  until  he  came  to  the  pavilion  of  a  knight.  Wondering 
greatly,  he  dismounted  and  entered  it.  He  found  a  lady  lying 
fast  asleep.  Her  beauty  touched  him,  and  he  kissed  her.  Then 
he  took  the  ring  from  her  finger  and  replaced  it  with  his  own, 
and,  wearing  the  lady's  ring,  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away. 

In  time  Perceval  reached  the  Court  of  King  Arthur.  At  the 
castle  gate  he  saw  a  knight  clad  in  red  armour,  holding  a  golden 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  183 

cup  in  his  right  hand.  This  knight  shouted  a  challenge  as  the 
lad  passed  him.  He  had  previously  entered  the  Court,  seized 
the  gold  cup  just  as  Queen  Guenevere  was  raising  it  to  her  lips, 
and  spilled  wine  over  her.  In  this  manner  he  insulted  King 
Arthur  and  his  knights,  whom  he  challenged  to  combat. 

Perceval  rode  into  the  Court  and  clumsily  jostled  Arthur, 
so  that  the  king's  helmet  fell  from  his  head.  Arthur  was  at  the 
time  lost  in  thought,  because  the  Red  Knight's  challenge  pained 
him  greatly,  and  there  was  no  knight  of  the  Table  Round  in  the 
Court  at  the  time  who  dared  to  attack  so  great  a  hero. 

Perceval  was  asked  why  he  had  come  to  the  Court,  and  he 
answered  saying:  "I  desire  to  be  made  a  knight  of  the  Table 
Round,  and  to  receive  the  armour  of  yonder  Red  Knight  who 
stands  at  the  gate." 

King  Arthur  bade  him  tell  him  who  he  was,  and  the  lad 
answered,  saying:  *' I  am  my  own  mother's  child,  and  have 
come  from  the  wild  wood."^ 

There  was  a  maiden  at  the  Court  who  had  not  laughed  for 
ten  years,  and  she  laughed  loudly  when  she  heard  the  lad's 
words.  Sir  Kay  smote  her,  and  told  the  lad  he  would  receive 
knighthood  if  he  overcame  the  Red  Knight.  The  lad  seemed 
well  pleased,  and  turned  away  to  ride  against  King  Arthur's 
enemy. 

It  had  been  prophesied  by  a  dwarf  that  the  maiden  would 
not  laugh  until  she  had  set  eyes  on  the  best  knight  in  the  world, 
and,  as  Perceval  rode  from  the  hall,  Sir  Kay  smote  the  dwarf, 
so  absurd  did  seem  his  foretelling. 

The  lad  went  boldly  towards  the  Red  Knight,  who  had 
entered  the  forest.  First  he  demanded  his  armour,  but  the  knight 
took  no  heed  of  him.  Perceval  repeated  his  demand,  and  then 
the  knight  smote  him  with  the  handle  of  his  spear.  A  sudden 
fury  entered  the  heart  of  the  simple  youth,  and  raising  his 
javelin  he  flung  it  at  the  other.  The  weapon  entered  the 
Red  Knight's  right  eye,  and  he  immediately  fell  off  his  horse 
a  dead  man. 

>  I  ame  myne  awnne  modirs  childe 
Comene  fro  the  woddez  wilde. 

Paizival,  an  old  English  poem. 


i84  THH    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Perceval  dismounted  forthwith  and  endeavoured  to  strip  off 
the  armour,  but  found  he  was  unable  to  accomplish  his  desire. 
He  gathered  wood  to  make  a  pyre,  resolving  to  burn  the  knight's 
body  and  thus  obtain  possession  of  the  armour.  The  dwarf, 
however,  who  had  followed  Perceval,  hastened  to  his  aid,  and, 
taking  the  armour  off  the  Red  Knight,  put  it  on  the  lad. 
Then  Perceval's  heart  was  filled  with  pride.  He  mounted  the 
knight's  horse,  fully  armed,  and,  handing  the  golden  cup  to  the 
dwarf,  bade  him  take  it  back  to  King  Arthur.  He  bade  him 
also  carry  a  challenge  to  Sir  Kay  because  that  he  had  struck 
the  maiden  and  the  dwarf. 

Perceval  rode  on  through  the  forest,  and  ere  long  he  saw 
ten  knights.  These,  mistaking  him  for  the  all-dreaded  Red 
Knight,  prepared  to  flee  away,  but  he  called  to  them,  and,  raising 
his  vizor,  made  them  to  understand  that  he  w^as  the  slayer  of 
their  enemy.  The  knights  welcomed  him,  and  told  of  their 
sufferings  under  the  oppression  of  the  Red  Knight. 

When  evening  came  on,  Perceval  reached  the  castle  of  an  old 
knight  named  Gornemans  de  Gorhaut,  who  instructed  him  how 
to  wield  arms,  and  gave  him  good  advice,  counselling  him 
especially  not  to  speak  so  readily,  and  not  to  ask  questions. 
Then  he  made  the  lad  a  knight. 

On  the  next  day  Perceval  departed,  and  rode  to  the  castle 
of  the  Lady  Blancheflor,  niece  of  Gornemans.  This  fair  lady 
was  in  great  peril,  for  her  stronghold  was  besieged  by  King 
Clamadeus,  who  desired  to  wed  her  against  her  Avill,  and  possess 
nimself  of  her  lands.  Perceval  fought  against  the  king's 
seneschal,  and,  having  overcome  him,  bade  him  ride  to  King 
Arthur's  Court  and  yield  to  the  maiden  whom  Sir  Kay  had 
struck  because  that  she  laughed.  Afterwards  Perceval  van- 
quished Clamadeus  in  combat,  and  him  did  he  also  send  to 
King  Arthur's  Court. 

It  was  the  desire  of  the  knights  who  served  the  Lady  Blanche- 
flor that  Perceval  should  w^ed  her,  but  he  refused  so  to  do  until 
he  had  found  his  mother. 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KMGHTS  iS^ 


2.  The   Fisher  King 

Perceval  rode  away  a  great  distance,  after  he  left  the  castle, 
until  he  came  to  the  bank  of  a  river.  On  the  river  was  a  boat 
in  which  sat  two  men  engaged  in  fishing.  To  them  he  spoke, 
and  one  said:  "  My  castle  is  near  at  hand,  and  there  you  shall 
be  welcomed.  Darkness  is  falling,  and  you  can  stay  with  us 
this  night." 

Perceval  rode  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  fisher,  but 
was  unable  to  find  the  castle,  and  he  returned  to  the  river  bank 
to  reproach  the  fisher  for  deceiving  him,  only  to  find  that  he 
had  vanished.  Then,  as  he  turned  his  horse  right  and  round 
about,  he  perceived  the  castle  standing  among  the  trees.  His 
heart  was  cheered,  and  he  rode  towards  it.  Dismounting,  he 
entered,  and  he  was  made  welcome.  Servants  took  off  his 
armour,  and,  having  robed  him  in  scarlet,  led  him  into  a  great 
hall.  In  this  hall  he  wondered  to  see  a  frail  old  man  richly 
attired  lying  in  a  bed  nigh  to  a  fire.  Round  the  bed  sat  four 
hundred  men. 

The  old  man  was  the  lord  of  the  castle,  and  he  requested 
Perceval  to  sit  nigh  to  him.  And  as  he  sat  there  answering  the 
host's  questions,  a  squire  entered  the  hall  carrying  a  sword 
which  had  been  sent  thither  by  a  fairy  lady,  niece  of  the  lord 
himself.  The  old  man  gave  it  to  Perceval,  saying  that  it  was 
destined  for  him.  The  man  who  had  forged  this  magic  weapon 
had  made  but  three  swords,  and  this  sword,  the  host  told,  would 
never  break  except  in  one  peril,  which  was  known  to  the  maker 
alone. 

Next  there  entered  a  squire  carrying  a  lance,  followed  by 
two  youths  holding  in  their  hands  ten-branched  silver  candle- 
sticks with  burning  wax  candles  and  a  maiden  with  a  sacred 
vessel  from  which  shone  a  light  so  brilliant  that  the  lights  of 
the  candles  seemed  not  to  shine;  it  Avas  as  if  the  sun  had  paled 
the  radiance  of  stars.  Another  maiden  followed  behind,  carry- 
ing a  silver  plate. 

Now  the  lance,  which  was  called  Bleeding  Lance,  dripped 
blood  constantly  from  its  point.     Perceval   marvelled  greatly. 


i86  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

and  would  fain  have  asked  regarding  it,  but  remembering 
Gornemans'  counsel  not  to  speak  much  and  not  to  ask  ques- 
tions, he  remained  silent.  Fain,  too,  would  he  have  asked 
regarding  those  who  carried  the  candlesticks,  the  sacred  vessel, 
which  was  the  Grail,  and  the  silver  dish,  but  he  held  his  peace 
and  looked  on  with  eyes  of  wonder. 

The  procession  went  past  Perceval,  between  the  fire  and  the 
couch  on  which  lay  his  host,  who  was  a  maimed  king,  and  then 
passed  from  the  hall. 

After  this  all  that  were  in  the  hall,  except  the  king,  sat 
down  at  tables  to  eat.  Once  again  the  Grail  was  carried  in,  and 
once  again  Perceval  desired  greatly  to  know  what  it  was  and 
how  it  was  used;  but,  again  remembering  Gornemans'  advice, 
he  remained  silent,  intending  to  ask  regarding  it  on  the  morrow. 

After  supper  the  various  guests  were  led  to  their  rooms. 
Perceval  slept  soundly,  and  when  he  awoke  on  the  morrow  he 
marvelled  greatly  to  find  that  the  casde  was  deserted.  He 
called  aloud,  but  no  one  answered  him.  Passing  through  the 
silent  and  empty  hall,  he  looked  forth  and  found  that  the  draw- 
bridge was  lowered.  His  horse  awaited  him  fully  harnessed 
and  tethered  at  the  door.  Mounting  it,  he  rode  across  the  draw- 
bridge, which  rose  so  suddenly  behind  him  that,  had  not  the 
horse  leapt  forward,  he  would  have  been  caught  by  it.  Again 
Perceval  called  aloud.  The  echoes  answered  his  shout.  There 
was  no  one  nigh  to  hear  him. 

He  rode  away  from  the  deserted  castle,  and  soon  came  to  an 
oak  tree  beneath  which  sat  a  fair  damsel  clasping  a  dead  knight 
in  her  arms  and  making  loud  lament.  She  asked  Perceval 
where  he  had  passed  the  night,  and  he  told  her  how  he  had 
been  directed  to  the  castle  by  the  fisher,  what  he  had  seen 
therein,  and  how  he  awoke  to  find  it  deserted. 

The  damsel  then  told  him  that  the  fisher  and  the  host  of  the 
castle  were  one  and  the  same  man,  and  that  he  was  called  the 
Fisher  King. 

"Saw  you  the  bleeding  lance  and  the  Grail?"  she  asked. 
He  answered  her,  "Yea." 

"  Did  you  enquire  regarding  them?" 

"No,"  said  he. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  187 

*'  What  is  your  name,  O  Knight?"  asked  the  damsel. 

"Alas!  I  know  not,"  he  said. 

"You  are  Perceval  le  Gallois,"  said  she,  "but  henceforth 
your  name  will  be  Perceval  le  Caitif.  Had  you  asked  regarding 
what  you  saw,  the  Fisher  King,  whose  thighs  are  maimed, 
would  have  been  made  whole  again,  and  much  good  would 
have  come  therefrom.  "  I  know  you  well,"  said  she,  "  because 
I  am  your  cousin-german,"  Until  she  told  him  his  name,  the 
knight  had  been  nameless. 

Then  the  damsel  told  Perceval  that  a  heavy  sin  lay  on  his 
heart,  because  his  mother  had  died  of  grief  after  he  left  her,  and 
that  his  sin  had  become  heavier  because  his  silence  in  Grail 
Castle  would  cause  great  misfortunes. 

Perceval  then  asked  the  damsel  regarding  the  dead  knight, 
and  she  told  him  he  had  been  her  lover.  "  I  shall  avenge  hi? 
death,"  he  said. 

Thereupon  the  maiden  warned  Perceval  that  the  sword  would 
fail  him  when  he  was  in  great  need  and  break  in  pieces,  but 
that  it  could  be  made  whole  again  by  dipping  it  in  a  lake  near 
which  dwelt  Trebucet,  the  smith  who  made  it.  As  it  happened, 
the  sword  was  splintered  when  Perceval  was  in  peril  while  on 
adventure  bound,  and  he  restored  it  by  dipping  it  in  the  lake. 

Perceval  rode  away  from  his  cousin,  and  soon  met  a  lady 
who  was  in  sore  distress.  Her  clothing  was  in  rags,  and  she 
sorrowed  aloud.  He  spoke  to  her,  asking  what  ailed  her,  but 
she  warned  him  not  to  speak  to  her  lest  he  should  be  stricken 
down  by  her  lord,  whose  name  was  L'Orgillos  de  la  Lande. 
She  was  the  lady  from  whose  finger  Perceval  had  taken  the 
ring,  and  her  knight  believed  she  had  been  unfaithful  to  him. 

Suddenly  L'Orgillos  de  la  Lande  came  nigh.  Perceval  ad- 
dressed him,  saying  he  had  taken  the  ring  from  her  finger  while 
yet  she  slept,  but  the  knight  would  not  believe  him.  Then  he 
rode  to  attack  Perceval,  but  soon  he  was  overthrown  and  van- 
quished. Perceval  bade  him  ride  to  Arthur's  Court  wath  his 
lady  and  yield  himself  there  to  the  damsel  whom  Sir  Kay  had 
struck,  saying:  "  Perceval  will  yet  avenge  you  by  vanquishing 
Sir  Kay." 

When  King  Arthur  heard  of  the  deeds  of  Sir  Perceval,  who 


i88  THE    WORLD'S    HI-RITAGE 

rode  hither  and  thither  in  the  armour  of  the  Red  Knight,  he 
set  out  with  his  knights  to  search  for  him. 

It  was  the  winter  season,  and  snow  lay  on  the  ground.  A 
flock  of  wild  geese  had  been  blinded  by  the  snow,  and  one  of 
them  had  been  attacked  and  slain  by  a  falcon.  Red  blood  drops 
were  seen  on  the  white  snow,  and  when  Perceval  came  nigh 
he  perceived  the  redness  amidst  the  whiteness,  and  thought  of 
the  face  of  his  loved  one,  Blancheflor.^  He  gazed  until  he  was 
lost  in  a  love  trance.  As  he  pondered  thus,  Arthur  and  his 
knights  came  nigh,   but  he  took  no  heed  of  them. 

The  first  knight  who  saw  him  called  to  him,  but,  receiving 
no  answer,  tilted  against  him.  Perceval,  scarcely  without  effort, 
overthrew  him,  and  then  gazed  again  at  the  blood  drops  on  the 
snow.  Sir  Kay  next  rode  against  him.  Perceval,  angry  because 
he  was  disturbed,  unhorsed  Sir  Kay  so  violently  that  he  was 
grievously  injured,  for  he  had  an  arm  and  leg  broken. 

Gawain  then  rode  towards  the  Red  Knight.  He,  however, 
made  no  attack,  but  addressed  him  courteously,  for  he  perceived 
that  love  was  uppermost  in  the  thoughts  of  that  strange  knight. 
He  told  his  name,  and  the  Red  Knight  said  he  was  Perceval, 
and  he  informed  Gawain  of  whom  he  was  thinking.  Then 
Gawain  led  Perceval  to  King  Arthur,  by  whom  he  was  greatly 
honoured.  All  rode  away  together  to  the  castle  of  the  king  at 
Carlion,  in  which  was  the  Table  Round.  When  Perceval 
learned  that  he  had  overthrown  Sir  Kay  he  vowed  to  the  damsel 
who  had  been  struck  by  Kay,  because  she  had  laughed,  that  he 
would  be  her  faithful  knight  as  long  as  he  lived. 

On  the  morrow  there  came  to  the  Court  at  Carlion  a  hideous 
woman  riding  on  a  yellow  mule.  This  was  the  Loathly  Damsel. 
No  more  repulsive  woman  could  be  met  with  outside  hell.  She 
cursed  Perceval  because  that  he  had  not  asked  regarding  the 
Bleeding  Lance  and  the  Holy  Grail  when  he  was  in  Grail  Castle, 
declaring  that  if  he  had  done  so  the  Fisher  King,  who  was 
maimed,  would  have  been  healed  of  his  wound,  and  enabled  to 
rule  the  land  in  peace.  **  Now,"  said  she,  '*  virgins  will  be  put 
to  shame,  there  will  be  many  orphans  and  widows,  and  nume- 
rous knights  shall  be  slain." 

1  This  incident  is  evidently  taken  from  the  older  Deirdre  romance. 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  189 

Thereupon  Perceval  vowed  that  he  would  never  rest  two 
nig-hts  in  the  same  place  until  he  had  learned  regarding  the 
Bleeding  Lance  and  the  Holy  Grail. 


3.  The  Quest  of  Gawain 

Meanwhile  Gawain  rode  away  with  the  Loathly  Damsel,  and 
had  many  adventures.  After  he  returned  to  Arthur's  Court 
an  unknown  knight  who  came  thither  was  slain  by  a  javelin 
which  had  been  thrown  by  an  invisible  assailant.  Gawain  put 
on  the  armour  of  the  unknown  knight  and  rode  forth  to  discover 
his  name.  In  time  he  reached  a  distant  land,  where  the  people 
hailed  him  as  lord  because  of  the  armour  he  wore.  He  entered 
a  castle  there,  and  saw  a  knight  stretched  on  a  bier.  A  cross 
and  broken  sword  lay  on  the  knight's  body,  and  his  left  hand 
dripped  blood.  Then  entered  canons  and  clerks,  who  performed 
the  Vigil  of  the  Dead.  In  the  room  was  a  table  at  which  knights 
ate  bread  and  drank  wine  that  came  from  a  Grail.  Gawain 
tarried  until  the  knights  went  away.  Then  he  saw  a  lance  that 
dripped  blood  into  a  silver  cup. 

A  crowned  knight  entered,  carrying  a  broken  sword.  He 
asked  Gawain  to  put  the  pieces  together,  but  this  Gawain  failed 
to  do,  whereupon  the  crowned  knight  declared  him  to  be  unfit 
for  the  quest  on  which  he  had  come. 

Gawain  asked  the  knight  regarding  the  lance,  the  sword,  and 
the  bier.  He  was  told  that  the  lance  was  the  one  which  had 
pierced  the  side  of  Jesu  Christ  when  He  was  on  the  cross,  and 
that  it  would  drip  blood  until  Doomsday.  Then  he  began  to 
relate  the  tale  of  the  broken  sword,  but  the  knight  fell  asleep 
while  yet  he  spoke.  On  the  morrow,  when  Gawain  awoke,  he 
found  himself  alone  on  the  seashore.  The  castle  had  vanished, 
and  no  man  was  nigh. 

Mounting  his  horse,  he  rode  away.  As  he  rode  he  saw  the 
forest,  that  had  been  desolate  when  he  came,  bursting  into  leaf. 
This  wonder  was  accomplished  because  he  had  asked  concerning 
the  Bleeding  Lance.  The  people  of  the  land  blessed  him  and 
cursed  him.     Their  blessing  was  because  he  had  asked  regard- 


igo  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

ing  the  lance,  and  their  cursing  because  he  had  not  delivered 
them  from  sorrow  by  asking  concerning  the  Grail. 

Not  until  the  coming  of  Sir  Galahad  was  the  land  made 
blessed. 

4.   How  Galahad  won   Balen's  Sword 

Now,  of  all  the  knights  of  the  Table  Round  none  was  of 
greater  might  than  Sir  Galahad,  the  son  of  Lancelot  and  Elaine. 
The  "Seat  Perilous"  became  known  as  "the  seat  of  Galahad". 
It  had  been  foretold  of  him  before  he  was  born  that  he  would 
achieve  the  Holy  Grail.     Of  him  has  it  been  sung: 

My  good  blade  carves  the  casques  of  men, 

My  tough  lance  thrusteth  sure, 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  often. 

Because  my  heart  is  pure. 

How  sweet  are  looks  that  ladies  bend 

On  whom  their  favours  fall ! 
For  them  I  battle  till  the  end. 

To  save  from  shame  and  thrall; 
But  all  my  heart  is  drawn  above, 

My  knees  are  bowed  in  crypt  and  shrine: 
I  never  felt  the  kiss  of  love, 

Nor  maiden's  hand  in  mine. 

Sometimes  on  lonely  mountain-meres 

I  find  a  magic  bark; 
I  leap  on  board:  no  helmsman  steers 

I  float  till  all  is  dark. 
A  gentle  sound,  an  awful  light ! 

Three  angels  bear  the  holy  Grail: 
With  folded  feet,  in  stoles  of  white. 

On  sleeping  wings  they  sail. 
Ah,  blessed  vision!  blood  of  God! 

My  spirit  beats  her  mortal  bars. 
As  down  dark  tides  the  glory  slides, 

And  star-like  mingles  with  the  stars. 

So  pass  I  hostel,  hall,  and  grange; 

By  bridge  and  ford,  by  park  and  pale, 
All-arm 'd  I  ride,  whate'er  betide, 

Until  I  find  the  holy  Grail.' 

'  Tennyson's  Sir  Galahad. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  191 

Be  it  known  how  Galahad  came  to  be  made  a  knight.  At  the 
vigil  of  Pentecost  all  the  knights  of  the  Table  Round  were 
gathered  at  Camelot  and  there  heard  service.  The  table  was 
spread  for  the  feast  when  a  fair  gentlewoman  entered  the  hall 
and  called  upon  Lancelot  to  follow  her.  This  he  did,  and  she 
led  him  through  the  forest  to  a  valley  in  which  was  an  abbey  of 
nuns.  He  entered  the  abbey,  and  twelve  nuns  brought  before 
him  the  youth  Galahad,  who  was  passing  fair,  and  well  made 
and  comely  of  countenance,  and  they  prayed  that  he  should  be 
made  a  knight. 

Sir  Lancelot  perceived  that  the  youth  was  seemly  and  demure 
as  a  dove,  and  said:  "Does  he  himself  desire  to  become  a 
knight?" 

Galahad  and  the  nuns  answered  "  Yea". 

"Then,"  said  Sir  Lancelot,  "he  shall  receive  the  high  order 
of  knighthood  on  the  morrow." 

On  the  next  day  Galahad  was  accordingly  made  a  knight  of 
Arthur's  Court.  There  was  a  great  wonder  beheld,  for  his 
name  suddenly  appeared  in  letters  of  gold  in  Siege  Perilous  at 
the  Table  Round. 

It  was  on  that  day  that  a  squire  came  before  King  Arthur 
with  marvellous  tidings.  "Sir,"  said  he,  "a  great  stone  has 
floated  down  the  river  and  in  it  is  sticking  a  sword." 

The  king  and  his  knights  went  down  to  the  river  bank  and 
saw  the  stone,  which  was  of  red  marble.  The  fair  and  rich 
sword  that  was  stuck  in  it  had  a  pommel  decked  with  precious 
stones  and  wrought  with  letters  of  gold,  which  read  : 

Never  shall  man  take  me  hence,  hut  only  he  by  whose  side  I  ought 
to  hang,  and  he  shall  be  the  best  knight  in  the  world. 

King  Arthur  spake  to  Sir  Lancelot,  saying:  "Fair  sir,  this 
sword  ought  to  be  yours,  for  you  are  the  best  knight  in  the 
world;"  but  Sir  Lancelot  answered  and  said:  "  Certes,  sir, 
it  is  not  my  sword,  and  I  shall  not  set  my  hand  on  it.  He  that 
attempts  to  draw  the  sword  and  fails  shall  yet  be  wounded  by 
it  and  shall  not  live  long  after  that.  On  the  same  day  that  the 
sword  is  drawn  will  begin  the  adventures  of  the  Holy  Grail." 
King  Arthur  then  asked   Sir  Gawain    to  draw  the  sword. 


192  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Unwilling  was  the  knight  to  make  endeavour,  but  he  obeyed 
the  king.  Strive  as  he  might,  however,  he  could  not  take  it 
from  the  stone. 

The  king  and  his  knights  retired  to  the  castle,  and  an  old 
man  came  and  revealed  that  Sir  Galahad  would  draw  the  sword. 
Accordingly  Arthur  led  the  young  knight  to  the  river-side. 
Gahalad  laid  his  hand  on  the  sword  and  drew  it  forth  and  put  it 
into  the  scabbard  which  had  been  hanging  empty  from  his  belt. 

"Sir,"  King  Arthur  said,  "  God  shall  send  you  a  shield." 

"Now,"  said  Sir  Galahad,  "I  have  that  sword  that  was 
aforetime  possessed  by  Balen  le  Savage,  who  slew  his  brother 
Balan,  not  knowing  who  he  was." 

As  he  spoke,  a  lady  came  towards  him,  riding  on  a  white 
palfrey.  She  saluted  the  king  and  queen,  and  asked  if  Sir 
Lancelot  was  there.  That  knight  answered:  "I  am  here,  fair 
lady." 

The  lady  wept,  and  said:  "How  your  greatness  has  diminished 
since  the  morn  of  this  day  I" 

"  Why  say  you  so,  fair  lady?"  asked  Sir  Lancelot. 

"The  truth  I  tell  you,"  she  answered;  "this  morn  you  were 
the  best  knight  in  the  world,  but  there  is  now  one  better  than 
you.  This  is  proved  by  the  adventure  of  the  sword  on  which 
you  did  not  dare  to  lay  your  hand.  In  future  you  shall  not 
regard  yourself  the  best  knight." 

"As  for  that,"  Lancelot  said,  "  I  know  well  I  never  was  the 
best." 

"Yes,"  said  the  damsel,  "you  were  indeed  the  best  of  any 
sinful  man  in  the  world." 

Then  she  addressed  King  Arthur,  saying:  "Nathan  the 
hermit  sends  word  to  you  that  you  will  win  the  greatest  honour 
of  any  king  that  ever  reigned  in  Britain.  This  day  the  Holy 
Grail  will  appear  in  your  house  and  feed  you  and  all  your  knights 
of  the  Table  Round. 

Having  spoken  thus,  the  damsel  departed  by  the  Avay  she 
had  come. 

Thereafter  a  tournament  was  held  on  the  meadow  of  Camelot, 
and  the  queen  and  all  the  ladies  looked  down  from  a  tower. 
Sir  Galahad  began  to  break  spears  marvellously,  and  all  men 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  193 

wondered  at  him,  for  he  overthrew  many  good  knights  of  the 
Table  Round,  save  two  alone,  and  these  were  Sir  Lancelot  and 
Sir  Perceval. 

5.  The  Vision  of  the  Grail 

When  the  tournament  was  over,  the  king  and  his  knights 
went  to  evensong  in  the  great  minster.  After  that  they  sat  at 
supper  and  each  knight  was  in  his  own  place.  Perceval  told 
in  after  time  of  the  wonder  that  was  wrought  in  that  hour. 

And  all  at  once,  as  there  we  sat,  we  heard 

A  cracking^  and  a  rivinj^  of  the  roofs, 

And  rending',  and  a  blast,  and  overhead 

Thunder,  and  in  the  thunder  was  a  cry. 

And  in  the  blast  there  smote  along  the  hall 

A  beam  of  light  seven  times  more  clear  than  day: 

And  down  the  long  beam  stole  the  Holy  Grail 

All  over  cover'd  with  a  luminous  cloud. 

And  none  might  see  who  bare  it,  and  it  pasi. 

But  every  knight  beheld  his  fellow's  face 

As  in  a  glory,  and  all  the  knights  arose, 

And  staring  each  at  other  like  dumb  men 

Stood,  till  I  found  a  voice  and  sware  a  vow. 

I  sware  a  vow  before  them  all,  that  I, 

Because  I  had  not  seen  the  Grail,  would  ride 

A  twelvemonth  and  a  day  in  quest  of  it. 

Until  I  found  and  saw  it,  as  the  nun 

My  sister  saw  it;  and  Galahad  sware  the  vow. 

And  good  Sir  Bors,  our  Lancelot's  cousin,  sware, 

And  Lancelot  sware,  and  many  among  the  knights, 

And  Gawain  sware,  and  louder  than  the  rest.' 

That  evening  the  knights  were  served  of  what  meats  and 
drinks  they  thought  on,  and  these  issued  from  the  sacred  vessel. 

When  the  time  came  for  the  knights  to  depart  in  quest  of 
the  Holy  Grail,  the  king  and  queen  and  all  the  ladies  lamented 
greatly.  Every  knight  who  left  the  castle  took  the  way  that 
he  liked  best. 

Sir  Galahad  had  first  of  all  to  get  him  a  shield.  For  four 
days  he  rode  without  an  adventure,  but  on  the  fourth  he  reached 
a  white  abbey  at  evensong.     There  he  was  received  by  two 

'  Tennyson's  The  Holy  Grnil. 
\oi..  a.  '  '  43 


194  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

knights  of  the  Table  Round,  namely  King  Bademagus  and 
Sir  Uwain.  On  the  next  morn  after  mass  a  monk  showed 
to  Bademagus  a  shield  white  as  snow  that  hung  behind  the 
altar,  and  said:  "This  shield  is  for  the  worthiest  knight  in 
the  world." 

"  I  am  not  the  best  knight,"  said  the  king,  "but  I  shall  en- 
deavour to  be  worthy  of  it." 

He  rode  forth  with  the  shield  and  came  to  a  hermitage, 
and  there  saw  a  knight  in  white  armour  sitting  on  a  white 
horse.  This  knight  overthrew  him  and  took  the  white  shield, 
and  said  that  no  man  should  carry  it  except  Sir  Galahad. 
And  that  knight,   be  it  known,  was  no  earthly  man. 

King  Bademagus  was  carried  to  the  while  abbey  and  laid 
in  a  bed,  for  he  was  grievously  wounded.  The  king's  squire 
gave  the  white  shield  to  Sir  Galahad,  saying:  "The  White 
Knight  bids  you  to  carry  it." 

"  Now  blessed  be  God  and  fortune,"  said  Sir  Galahad, 
who  rode  away  alone,  having  refused  the  proffered  fellowship 
of  Sir  Uwain.  He  was  met  by  the  White  Knight,  who  led 
him  to  the  hermitage,  where  he  told  him  how  the  white  shield 
had  been  brought  to  Britain  by  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  that 
it  would  protect  the  knight  who  carried  it  from  all  peril.  The 
red  cross  on  the  white  shield  had  been  made  by  Joseph  with 
his  own  blood. 

6.   The  Saintly   Sister  of  Perceval 

Many  were  the  adventures  of  Sir  Galahad  as  he  rode  in 
quest  of  the  Holy  Grail.  For  five  years  Sir  Perceval  rode 
with  him,  and  one  day  they  met  Sir  Bors. 

Together  these  three  knights  sailed  from  the  land  of  Logris 
in  a  fair  ship,  and  with  them  was  a  fair  gentlewoman  who 
guided  Sir  Galahad.  The  ship  went  ashore  betwixt  two  rocks, 
and  there  they  could  not  land.  Then  they  saw  another  ship, 
on  the  stern  of  \vhich«  were  letters  that  read: 

J'hoH  man  7vho  shall  enter  this  ship,  /wi^-uire  thou  be  in  steadfast 
belief,  for  1  am  Faith.  Be^varc  ho7u  thou  dost  enter,  for  if  thou  dust 
fail,  I  shall  not  help  thee. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  195 

The  lady  who  had  kept  the  knights  company  revealed  that 
she  was  the  sister  of  Sir  Perceval  and  said:  "If  you  be  not 
in  perfect  belief  of  Jesu  Christ,  enter  not  the  ship  lest  you 
perish.     This  ship  is  so  pure  that  it  will  suffer  no  sin  on  it." 

Said  Sir  Perceval:  "Fair  sister,  I  shall  enter  therein,  and 
if  I  am  an  untrue  knight  verily  I  shall  perish." 

Galahad  was,  however,  the  first  to  enter.  He  was  followed 
by  the  gentlewoman  and  then  Sir  Bors  and  then  Sir  Per- 
ceval. 

In  the  midst  of  the  ship  was  a  fair  bed.  Galahad  went  to 
it  and  found  there  a  crown  of  silk  and  a  rich  and  fair  sword 
with  a  pommel  of  stone  of  all  manner  of  colours.  The  scales 
of  the  haft  were  of  two  ribs  of  divers  beasts;  the  one  beast, 
which  was  known  in  Caledone,  was  a  serpent,  called  "the 
serpent  of  the  fiend",  and  the  bone  of  it  was  of  such  virtue 
that  no  hand  that  handled  the  sword  should  ever  be  weary  or 
hurt;  the  other  beast  was  a  fish  that  haunted  the  flood  of 
Euphrates,  and  the  bone  possessed  such  virtue  that  he  who 
handled  the  sword  should  never  weary  and  should  take  no 
thought  of  either  joy  or  sorrow  he  had,  but  only  of  the  thing 
that  he  beholds  before  him.  Now,  there  was  only  one  man 
who  should  grasp  that  sword. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,"  said  Sir  Perceval,  "  I  shall  attempt  to 
handle  it." 

He  took  the  sword  but  could  not  draw  it.  Then  he  said : 
"By  my  faith,   I  have  failed." 

Sir  Bors  also  made  attempt,  but  failed  likewise.  Thereupon 
Sir  Galahad  said:  "  I  could  draw  this  sword  out  of  the  sheath, 
but  the  offending  would  be  so  great  that  I  shall  not  set  my  hand 
thereto." 

Said  the  gentlewoman:  "The  drawing  of  this  sword  is  for- 
bidden to  all  men  except  you  alone. 

Therefore  the  sword,  which  was  named  "the  sword  with 
the  strange  girdles",  was  lifted  by  Sir  Galahad,  and  the  lady 
girt  it  on  him. 

Anon  a  wind  drove  the  ship  to  sea,  and  it  went  speedily 
towards  a  castle  called  Carteloise  that  was  in  the  marches  of 
Scotland, 


196  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

The  knights  landed  and  were  challenged  by  a  squire  who, 
when  he  heard  they  were  of  Arthur's  Court,  blew  on  a  horn 
a  lusty  blast.  Thereupon  well-armed  knights  attacked  them, 
but  Galahad,  Perceval,  and  Bors  struck  them  down,  and, 
mounting  the  horses,  slew  many;  the  others  were  put  to 
flight. 

Thereafter  the  knights  and  the  lady  rode  on  until  they  came 
to  a  waste  forest,  where  they  saw  a  white  hart  led  by  four  lions. 
These  they  followed,  and  when  they  reached  a  chapel  they  saw 
the  hart  transformed  into  a  man  in  religious  weed,  clad  in  the 
armour  of  our  Lord,  for  he  would  sing  mass  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
The  first  lion  likewise  became  a  man,  and  the  second  became 
an  eagle,  the  third  an  ox,  while  the  fourth  remained  a  lion. 
After  they  had  entered  the  chapel,  the  animal  beings  went 
through  a  glass  window,  nor  did  they  break  aught.  Then  a 
voice  was  heard,  saying:  "In  such  manner  entered  the  son 
of  God  into  the  womb  of  a  maid,   Mary," 

When  the  knights  and  the  lady  heard  these  words,  they  fell 
down  to  earth  and  were  astonished. 

Anon  the  good  man  of  the  chapel  said  to  Galahad,  Perceval, 
and  Bors:  "  I  perceive  ye  be  good  knights  who  shall  bring  the 
quest  of  the  Holy  Grail  to  an  end,  for  unto  you  our  Lord  will 
show  great  secrets.  Now  know  that  it  is  most  meet  that  our 
Lord  should  appear  as  a  hart,  for  the  hart,  when  he  is  old, 
waxeth  young  again  in  his  white  skin.  Right  so  cometh  again 
our  Lord  from  death  to  life.  The  four  lions  with  our  Lord  are 
the  four  evangelists  who  set  in  writing  a  part  of  Jesu  Christ's 
deeds  that  he  did  when,  for  a  period,  he  was  an  earthly  man. 
Oft-times  does  our  Lord  appear  before  good  men  and  good 
knights  in  the  likeness  of  a  hart." 

The  knights  rejoiced  greatly  and  stayed  there  until  the 
morrow.  Then  they  rode  away  until  they  came  nigh  to  a 
castle.  It  was  the  custom  of  this  castle  that  the  pure  maiden 
who  came  to  it  should  give  a  dish  full  of  her  blood  from  her 
right  arm  for  the  healing  of  a  gentlewoman  who  had  a  malady. 

Ten  knights  rode  from  the  castle  to  fight  for  possession 
of  Perceval's  virgin  sister,  but  Galahad  drew  his  sword  with 
the   strange   girdles   and    smote   eagerly;    Perceval    and    Bors 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGH'IS  197 

also  drew  swords  and  fought.  They  overcame  the  knights 
who  had  come  against  them. 

Anon  a  knight  made  peace  with  them  and  welcomed  them 
to  the  castle.  Then  did  Perceval's  sister  offer  freely  to  give 
her  blood  for  the  healing  of  the  gentlewoman, 

"Certes,"  said  Galahad,  *'if  you  bleed  so  much  you  may 
die." 

**  Truly,"  Perceval's  sister  made  answer;  "but  if  I  die  to 
heal  her,   I  shall  get  me  great  worship  and  soul's  health." 

She  yielded  herself  to  be  bled.  Thereafter  she  fell  down  in 
a  swoon.  Sorrowful  indeed  it  is  to  tell  that,  when  she  recovered 
sufficiently  to  speak,  all  knew  she  could  not  live,  having  bled  so 
much." 

"  Fair  brother,"  said  she  to  Perceval,  "  I  die  for  the  healing 
of  this  gentlewoman.  I  charge  you  not  to  bury  me  in  this 
country.  As  soon  as  I  am  dead,  put  me  in  a  boat  and  let 
me  go  as  adventure  will  lead  me.  When  ye  three  reach  the 
city  of  Sarras,  ye  shall  find  me  arrived  in  the  boat  under  a 
tower.  Bury  me  there  in  the  spiritual  place.  There,  too, 
shall  Galahad  be  buried." 

Perceval  wept.  And  when  his  sister  was  dead  he  wrote 
a  letter  and  placed  it  in  her  right  hand.  Then  he  had  her  body 
laid  in  a  barge  and  covered  with  black  silk.  The  barge  was  set 
adrift,  and  a  wind  drove  it  from  the  land  and  out  of  sight. 

Now  turn  we  to  Lancelot.  It  chanced  that  in  the  course  of 
his  wanderings  on  the  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail  he  came  to  the 
water  of  Mortoise.  He  lay  down  and  slept,  and  dreamed  a 
dream  in  which  he  heard  a  voice  bidding  him  to  take  the  first 
ship  he  should  find.  And  when  he  awoke  in  the  midst  of  the 
night  he  went  down  to  the  strand  and  found  there  a  ship  without 
either  sail  or  oar.  He  went  on  board,  and  a  great  sweetness 
came  over  him,  and  he  said:  "  Fair,  sweet  Father,  Jesu  Christ, 
I  know  not  in  what  joy  I  am,  for  this  joy  I  feel  now  surpasses 
all  earthly  joys."  He  lay  down  in  the  ship  and  fell  asleep. 
When  day  came  he  awoke  and  found  in  the  ship  the  body  of 
a  lady.  In  her  hand  was  a  letter,  and  he  read  it  and  found  she 
was  the  sister  of  Perceval. 

Lancelot  remained  in  the  ship  for  a  month  or  more.     Then 


198  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

came  to  him  his  son  Galahad,  whom  he  welcomed.  Galahad 
related  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  Lancelot  wondered  greatly. 
They  sailed  away  in  the  ship,  and  had  many  adventures  with 
wnld  beasts  in  the  isles  far  from  folk.  At  length  they  arrived 
in  a  distant  country  on  a  forest's  edge.  Towards  them  came 
a  knight,  armed  in  white,  and  leading  a  white  horse.  He 
spoke  to  Galahad,  saying:  "You  have  remained  long  enough 
with  your  sire.  Come  out  of  the  ship,  mount  this  horse,  and  go 
where  adventure  will  lead  you  in  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail." 

Galahad  kissed  his  father,  Lancelot,  and  said:  "Fair,  sweet 
Father,  I  shall  not  again  see  you  until  I  have  beheld  the  body  of 
Jesu  Christ." 

"  Pray  for  me  to  the  High  Father,"  Lancelot  said  to  his 
son. 

Then  Galahad  mounted  the  white  horse  and  rode  away. 

A  wind  arose  and  drove  the  ship  over  the  sea  for  more  than 
a  month.  Then  one  night  the  ship  reached  a  haven  below 
a  castle.  The  moon  was  shining  clear,  and  Lancelot  saw  that 
two  lions  guarded  the  entry.  He  armed  himself,  and  with 
drawn  sword  went  towards  the  castle,  but  a  dwarf  came  and 
smote  his  right  arm,  so  that  the  sword  fell  out  of  his  hand. 
A  voice  called:  "Oh,  man  of  evil  faith  and  poor  belief,  would 
you  trust  more  in  arms  than  in  your  Maker?" 

Lancelot  had  reached  the  Castle  Carbonek.  He  picked  up 
his  sword  and  sheathed  it,  and  passed  without  hurt  between  the 
two  lions.  Thus  did  he  enter  the  castle.  Onward  he  walked, 
for  all  doors  opened  before  him  until  he  reached  a  chamber  the 
door  of  which  was  shut.  He  tried  to  open  this  door  but  could 
not.  Then  he  listened  and  heard  a  voice  singing  so  sweetly 
that  it  did  not  seem  to  be  earthly.  It  seemed  that  the  voice 
said:  **Joy  and  honour  be  to  the  Father  of  Heaven!" 

Lancelot  kneeled  him  down  at  the  shut  door,  for  well  he  knew 
that  the  Holy  Grail  was  within  that  chamber.  He  prayed  to 
the  Lord  to  show  him  something  of  what  he  sought.  Then  the 
door  opened.  A  bright  light  shone  forth,  dazzling  his  eyes. 
Lancelot  would  have  entered,  but  a  voice  said :  "  Flee,  Lancelot, 
and  enter  not,  for  you  ought  not  so  to  do.  If  you  enter  you 
shall  have  cause  to  sorrow  with  regret." 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  199 

In  after  time  Lancelot  related  his  adventure  to  King  Arthur, 

saying: 

O,  yet  methought  I  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 

All  pall'd  in  crimson  samite,  and  around 

Great  angels,  awful  shapes,  and  wings  and  eyes. 

And  but  for  all  my  madness  and  my  sin, 

And  then  my  swooning,  I  had  sworn  I  saw 

That  which  I  saw;  but  what  I  saw  was  veiled 

And  cover'd;  and  this  Quest  was  not  for  me.^ 

Lancelot  swooned  at  the  door,  and  there  was  he  found  lying  by 
those  who  carried  him  to  a  bed.  On  this  bed  he  lay  for  fourteen 
days  as  if  he  were  dead  ere  he  recovered.  Then  came  to  him 
King  Pelles,  who  told  him  that  Elaine  was  no  more,  and 
Lancelot  said:  "She  was  mother  of  the  best  knight  now  on 
earth." 

Lancelot  abode  with  Pelles  for  four  days,  and  then  departed 
for  the  realm  of  Lojjris. 


7.  The  Quest   Fulfilled 

After  riding  alone  for  a  time,  Galahad,  having  had  many 
adventures,  met  with  Sir  Bors  and  Sir  Perceval.  Together 
they  rode  towards  the  castle  of  Carbonek,  which  was  Grail 
Castle,  and  then  did  King  Pelles  greet  them.  Great  was  their 
joy,  for  well  they  knew  the  quest  of  Grail  was  being  fulfilled. 

Then  did  Eliazar,  son  of  Pelles,  bring  before  them  the 
broken  sword  with  which  Joseph  had  been  stricken  through  the 
thigh.  Bors  tried  to  solder  it,  but  failed.  Perceval  tried  too, 
but  had  no  more  power  than  Bors.  Then  Galahad  took  the 
pieces  and  set  them  together,  so  that  the  sword  seemed  as  if  it 
had  never  been  broken. 

When  the  adventure  of  the  sword  was  thus  achieved,  Galahad 
gave  the  weapon  to  Bors,  for  a  good  knight  was  he,  and  a 
worthy  man. 

Thereafter  they  sat  at  table  and  were  fed  with  food  from  the 
Holy  Grail.  And  when  they  had  finished,  four  gentlewomen 
entered  carrying  a  bed.     In  the  bed  lay  a  good  man  sick,  and 

1  Tennyson's  The  Holy  Grail. 


200  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

on  his  head  was  a  crown  of  gold.  The  man  spoke,  and  said : 
"Welcome,  Galahad!  Much  have  I  desired  your  coming,  for 
long  have  I  lain  in  pain  and  anguish.  Now  I  trust  the  time 
has  come  when  I  shall  get  healing,  so  that  I  may  pass  out 
of  the  world  as  was  promised  me  long  ago." 

Then  when  the  three  knights  were  alone  with  the  maimed 
king  there  appeared  before  them  a  man  and  four  angels,  who 
came  from  heaven.  The  man  had  the  likeness  of  a  bishop  and 
held  a  cross  in  his  hand,  and  the  four  angels  carried  him  in 
a  chair.  These  angels  set  him  down  beside  a  table  on  which 
was  the  Holy  Grail.     On  his  forehead  were  letters  that  read: 

See  ye  here  Joseph,  the  first  bishop  of  Christendom:  tie  ivho  suc- 
coured our  Lord  in  the  city  of  Sarras,  in  the  spiritual  place. 

Greatly  did  the  knights  marvel,  for  that  bishop  had  died 
more  than  three  hundred  years  before. 

Said  Joseph:  "  Marvel  not,  for  I  was  at  one  time  an  earthly 
man." 

Then  did  a  chamber  door  open  and  the  knights  saw  angels. 
Two  angels  bare  candles  of  wax,  the  third  a  towel,  the  fourth 
a  spear  from  which  blood  dropped  into  a  silver  cup.  The  first 
two  angels  set  the  candles  on  the  table,  the  third  angel  laid  the 
towel  on  the  vessel,  and  the  fourth  set  the  spear  upright  upon 
the  vessel.  The  bishop  thereupon  made  semblance  of  celebrat- 
ing mass.  And  at  the  lifting  of  what  seemed  bread,  there  came 
a  figure  in  the  likeness  of  a  child,  with  visage  red  and  bright  as 
any  fire,  and  smote  himself  into  the  bread.  This  they  all  saw, 
for  the  bread  was  formed  of  fleshly  man.  Then  the  bread  was 
put  in  the  holy  vessel  again. 

Joseph  kissed  Galahad,  and  bade  him  kiss  his  fellows,  which 
hedidanon.  '*  Now,"  said  the  bishop,  "  servants  of  Jesu  Christ, 
ye  shall  be  fed  before  this  table  with  sweet  meats  that  never 
knights  have  tasted." 

When  he  had  spoken  thus  he  vanished,  and  the  knights, 
being  in  great  dread,  made  them  prayers  at  the  table. 

Soon  the  knights  beheld  coming  out  of  the  holy  vessel  a  man 
who  had  the  signs  of  the  passion  of  Jesu  Christ,  bleeding  all 
openly.     The  Man  said:    "My  knights  and  servants  and  true 


TO    THE    SHIP    THEY    BEAR    THE    HOLY    GRAIL 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  201 

children,  who  have  come  out  of  deathly  life  into  spiritual  life,  no 
longer  will  I  hide  myself  from  you.  You  shall  now  see  a  part 
of  my  secrets  and  of  my  hidden  things.  Now  hold  and  receive 
the  high  meat  which  ye  have  so  much  desired." 

Having  spoken  thus,  He  took  the  holy  vessel  and  came  to 
Galahad,  who  kneeled  down  and  received  the  Saviour.  After 
Galahad,  so  did  his  fellows  receive  Him.  Sweet  it  was,  and  it 
is  marvellous  to  tell. 

Then  said  He  to  Galahad:  **This  is  the  holy  dish  wherein 
I  ate  the  lamb  on  Sher-Thursday.  Now  you  have  seen  what  you 
most  desired  to  see,  but  not  so  openly  as  you  shall  behold  it  in 
the  city  of  Sarras.  Therefore  you  must  go  hence,  and  bear 
with  you  this  holy  vessel,  for  this  night  it  shall  depart  from  the 
realm  of  Logris,  and  it  shall  never  again  be  seen  here,  for  it  is 
not  served  and  worshipped  aright,  the  people  having  turned  to 
evil  living.  On  the  morrow  ye  three  shall  go  to  the  sea.  You 
shall  find  a  ship  ready.  I  will  that  you  take  with  you  the  blood 
of  this  spear  with  which  to  anoint  the  maimed  king.  .  .  .  Two 
of  you  shall  die  in  my  service,  and  one  of  you  shall  return  to 
tell  the  tidings." 

Then  He  blessed  them  and  vanished  from  sight. 

Galahad  thereupon  went  to  the  spear  on  the  table.  He 
touched  the  blood  with  his  fingers,  and  anointed  the  legs  of  the 
maimed  king,  who  at  once  rose  up  as  a  healed  man,  giving 
thanks  to  our  Lord.  The  king  became  a  white  monk,  and 
spent  the  rest  of  his  days  doing  pious  works. 

After  the  king  had  been  healed  the  knights  went  to  the 
shore,  and  there  found  the  ship  in  which  lay  the  body  of 
Perceval's  sister.  To  the  ship  they  bore  the  table  of  silver,  and 
departed  to  the  city  of  Sarras  in  the  land  of  Babylon.  On 
reaching  Sarras,  Galahad  healed  a  deformed  cripple,  but  when 
the  king,  named  Estorause,  heard  of  the  coming  of  the  knights, 
he  had  them  cast  into  prison,  where  they  would  have  died  had 
they  not  been  fed  by  the  Holy  Grail. 

Soon  after  this  the  king  died,  and  the  people  made  Galahad 
their  king.  He  reigned  for  a  year.  Then  on  the  day  of  the 
year  on  which  he  had  been  made  king,  he  and  his  fellow-knights 
saw,  in  the  chamber  in  which  was  the  Holy  Grail,  a  man  like 


202  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

to  a  bishop,  kneeling  before  the  vessel,  and  about  him  many 
angels.  It  seemed  to  be  Jesu  Christ  who  knelt  there.  The 
sacrament  of  mass  was  celebrated.  Then  the  bishop  called 
upon  Galahad  to  come  and  see  what  he  most  desired  to  see. 
He  gave  of  our  Lord's  body  to  Galahad,  and  said:  "Know,  I 
am  Joseph  of  Aramathea,  sent  here  to  bear  j^ou  fellowship.  Me 
do  you  resemble  in  two  things,  for  you  have  seen  the  marvels 
of  the  Holy  Grail,  and  you  have  been  a  clean  virgin." 

Galahad  arose  and  kissed  Perceval  and  Bors,  commending 
them  to  God,  and  then  said  to  Bors:  "Commend  me  to  my 
lord,  Sir  Lancelot,  my  father,  and  bid  him  remember  his  un- 
stable word." 

Having  spoken  thus,  he  knelt  down  before  the  silver  table 
and  said  his  prayers.  Then  suddenly  his  soul  departed  to  Jesu 
Christ.  A  great  multitude  of  angels  bare  his  soul  up  to  Heaven. 
The  watching  knights  saw  this,  and  they  perceived  too  a  Hand 
that  came  from  Heaven,  but  no  body  did  they  see.  The  Hand 
took  the  Holy  Grail  and  the  spear,  and  snatched  them  out  of 
sight. 

Since  that  hour  no  man  has  set  eyes  on  the  Holy  Grail. 

Thereafter  Perceval  went  to  a  hermitage  and  donned  religious 
clothing.  He  lived  for  a  year  and  two  months,  and  then  passed 
out  of  the  world. 

Meanwhile  Bors  had  buried  Galahad  and  Perceval's  sister 
in  the  spiritualities.  After  Perceval  died  he  buried  him  too. 
Then  he  departed  from  Babylon  and  the  city  of  Sarras,  and 
entered  a  ship.  He  sailed  in  good  adventure,  and  came  in  time 
to  Lofifris.'  As  soon  as  he  landed  he  went  with  all  haste  to 
Camelot,  where  King  Arthur  was,  and  told  what  had  taken 
place.  All  that  was  told  by  him  and  others,  regarding  the 
quest  of  the  Holy  Grail,  was  written  in  great  books,  and  put  in 
almeries  at  Salisbury.- 

'  England. 

^  The  story  of  the  quest  of  the  Grail  is  based  on  the  old  legends  about  the  quest  of  the 
pot  (a  symbol  of  the  Mother  Goddess)  which  contains  an  inexhaustible  store  of  food.  From 
the  pot  also  comes  life.  The  Inaian  warrior  Drona's  name  signifies  "  pot  born  ".  The  magic 
pot  figures  in  the  mythologies  of  several  countries  in  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  and  America. 


XIII.   The  Passing  of  Arthur 

There  were  years  of  peace  after  King  Arthur  had  subdued 
liis  enemies.  He  ruled  justly  and  well,  and  was  served  by  the 
noble  knights  of  the  Table  Round.  But  an  end  came  to  the 
peaceful  years.  One  day,  when  the  king  held  a  royal  feast 
which  was  attended  by  his  allies,  the  kings  and  princes  and 
knights,  there  came  to  his  Court  from  Rome  twelve  aged  am- 
bassadors. Each  carried  a  branch  of  olive  in  token  that  they 
were  messengers  from  the  Emperor  Lucius  Tiberius.  To 
Arthur  did  they  deliver  a  letter  from  Lucius,  demanding  tribute 
of  Britain  "which",  it  was  declared,  "used  to  be  paid  to  the 
Roman  emperors  successively  from  the  time  of  Julius  Cassar". 
Arthur  was  commanded  to  appear  at  Rome,  there  to  make 
satisfaction  to  his  masters.  "Which,  if  you  refuse  to  do,"  it 
was  written  in  the  letter,  "  I,  Lucius  Tiberius,  shall  come  to 
you  and  endeavour  to  recover  with  the  sword  what  you  have 
robbed  us  of." 

King  Arthur  retired  to  the  Giant's  Tower  to  ponder  over  the 
reply  that  should  be  sent  to  this  insolent  message.  As  he  went 
up  the  stairs  he  met  Cador,  Duke  of  Cornwall,  a  man  of  merry 
disposition,  who  said,  in  jocular  manner:  "Until  now  I  have 
dreaded  that  the  life  of  ease  and  peace  enjoyed  by  the  Britons 
would  make  them  cowards,  and  extinguish  the  flame  of  their 
gallantry  by  which  they  have  achieved  fame  above  all  other 
nations.  To  deliver  us  from  sloth,  God  has  stirred  up  the 
Romans  to  restore  to  our  ancient  State  the  military  virtues  of 
our  ancestors." 

Arthur,  having  pondered  his  answer  to  the  emperor,  sat  in 
counsel  with  his  allies  the  kings,  princes,  and  knights,  and,  after 
the  chief  men  had  spoken,  they  agreed  to  send  a  message  to 
Rome  saying  that  no  tribute  would  be  paid,  and  demanding, 
instead,  tribute  from  Lucius. 

203 


204  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

The  ambassadors  departed  with  this  message.  King  Arthur's 
aUies  departed  too,  but  to  make  preparations  for  a  mihtary 
expedition,  for  they  had  promised  Arthur  to  help  him  against 
the  Romans. 

On  receiving  Arthur's  bold  answer  the  Emperor  Lucius 
Tiberius  prepared  to  march  against  Britain.  When  Arthur 
had  intelligence  of  this,  he  committed  the  government  of  his 
kingdom  to  his  natural  son  Modred  and  Queen  Guinevere,  and 
marched  with  his  own  army  to  Hamo's  Port,  where  a  great 
multitude  of  ships  had  been  assembled. 

It  chanced  that  when  King  Arthur  went  aboard  his  ship  he 
lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  cabin,  being  very  weary.  He  dreamed 
a  fearsome  dream.  In  this  dream  he  saw  a  dreadful  dragon 
flying  out  of  the  west.  Its  head  was  of  azure  colour,  its 
shoulders  shone  like  gold,  its  belly  had  many  colours,  its  tail 
was  full  of  tatters,  its  feet  were  black,  and  its  claws  were 
yellow;  from  its  mouth  issued  a  hideous  flame  of  fire.  After 
the  dragon  came  a  black  boar,  rugged  and  rough,  and  the 
foulest  beast  ever  seen  by  man ;  it  roared  and  roamed  about 
in  its  anger.  The  dragon  attacked  the  boar,  and  wounded 
it  so  grievously  that  its  blood  reddened  the  whole  sea;  then 
the  dragon  soared  high,  and,  coming  down,  smote  the  boar 
to  powder. 

The  king  awoke  and  related  his  dream,  and  a  soothsayer 
said  to  him:  **Sir,  the  dragon  is  yourself,  and  the  boar  is  a 
tyrant  who  torments  your  people." 

The  fleet  crossed  the  sea,  and  put  ashore  at  Barflete  in 
Flanders,  where  many  noble  lords  awaited  Arthur.  It  was  told 
to  the  king  that  a  great  giant  oppressed  the  country  of  Con- 
stantine  beside  Brittany,  and  there  murdered  ladies  and  children 
in  great  number.  Arthur  called  upon  Sir  Kay  and  Sir  Bedivere 
to  make  ready  his  horse  and  armour,  and  go  with  him  against 
the  giant.  The  life  of  that  monster  was  soon  brought  to  an  end. 
When  Arthur  went  against  him  the  giant  wielded  his  great  club, 
but  the  king  wounded  him  grievously  with  his  sword.  Then 
the  giant  caught  Arthur  in  his  arms,  and  they  wrestled  together. 
Anon  the  king  drew  his  dagger  and  smote  him.  Then  Sir  Kay 
smote  off  the  monster's  head  as  he  lav  on  the  srround.     Great 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  205 

indeed  were  the  rejoicings  in  the  land  when  it  was  known  that 
the  oppressor  was  slain. 

After  this  King  Arthur  marched  his  army  to  Champagne, 
and  there  the  tents  were  pitched.  There  did  the  Romans  make 
attack  with  a  great  force,  but  they  were  defeated  and  put  to 
flight. 

Arthur  moved  southward  and  possessed  himself  of  the  valley 
of  Suesia,  where  he  fought  a  great  battle  in  which  Lucius  was 
slain.  The  victorious  King  of  Britain  then  entered  into  Loraine, 
and  thence  into  Almaine,  and  thence  into  Lombardy,  crossing 
high  mountains.  In  time  he  reached  Tuscany,  where  he  laid 
siege  to  a  strong  city,  which  he  took  after  much  fighting. 
Thereafter  Arthur  marched  towards  Rome.  Forth  from  that 
great  city  came  the  noblest  cardinals,  and  they  prayed  for 
peace.  They  asked  for  an  armistice  of  six  weeks,  so  that  the 
Romans  might  be  assembled  together  and  Arthur  crowned 
Emperor  of  Rome. 

On  the  day  appointed,  Arthur  entered  Rome,  and  there  was 
crowned  by  the  Pope's  hand  with  all  the  royalty  that  could  be 
made.  There  did  Arthur  sojourn  a  time,  establishing  the  lands 
under  his  sway  and  appointing  kings  and  governors. 

Now,  it  chanced  that  in  Britain  Sir  Modred  proved  false  to 
Arthur.  He  caused  it  to  be  known  that  the  noble  king  had 
been  slain  in  battle,  and  he  had  himself  crowned  King  of  Britain. 
Then  he  fixed  a  day  on  which  he  should  be  married  to  Queen 
Guinevere,  whose  heart  had  become  very  heavy.  She  could 
not,  however,  reveal  the  truth,  for  she  feared  Modred,  and  was 
compelled  to  speak  him  fair. 

When  Arthur  received  tidings  of  Modred's  treachery  he  set 
out  without  delay  to  return  home.  Modred  had  knowledge  of 
his  coming,  and  awaited  with  a  strong  army  at  Dover  to  resist 
his  landing.  A  fierce  battle  was  fought  on  the  seashore,  and 
Arthur  prevailed,  causing  Modred  to  retreat.  Many  noble 
knights  were  slain,  and  among  them  fell  Sir  Gawain.  And  ere 
Gawain  died  he  sent  a  message  to  Sir  Lancelot,  who  was  in 
Brittany,  beseeching  him  to  return  and  aid  King  Arthur  against 
Sir  Modred,  the  false  traitor  who  had  seized  the  crown  and 
wished  to  marry  Queen  Guinevere. 


2o6  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Modred  retreated  to  Barham  Down,  and  there  was  he  at- 
tacked by  Arthur  and  compelled  to  retreat  to  Lyonesse. 
Thither  Arthur  followed  him. 

On  the  night  after  a  battle  King  Arthur  dreamed  a  dream  in 
which  he  saw  a  black  water  full  of  snakes.  He  dreamed  that 
he  fell  into  this  water,  and  that  the  snakes  seized  and  bit  him. 
Crying  "  Help,  help!"  he  awoke  trembling. 

The  king  fell  asleep  again,  and  dreamed  that  the  ghost  of 
Gawain  appeared  before  him  accompanied  by  many  fair  ladies — 
the  ladies  for  whom  he  had  fought  when  he  w^as  a  living  man. 
Gawain  warned  Arthur,  saying:  "  If  you  fight  with  Sir  Modred 
on  the  morrow,  you  will  both  be  slain,  and  most  of  the  warriors 
of  both  sides  will  fall.  Do  not  therefore  go  to  battle  on  the 
morrow.  Make  ye  a  treaty  with  Modred  and  await  the  coming 
of  Sir  Lancelot,  who  shall  rescue  you  and  slay  Sir  Modred." 

Having  spoken  thus,  Gawain  and  the  ladies  vanished. 

And  Arthur  woke  and  call'd 
"Who  spake?     A  dream.     O  light  upon  the  wind, 
Thine,  Gawain,  was  the  voice — are  these  dim  cries 
Thine?  or  doth  all  that  haunts  the  waste  and  wild 
Mourn,  knowing  it  will  go  along  with  me?"^ 

Arthur  took  warning  from  his  dream,  and  sent  to  Modred, 
as  an  embassy,  Sir  Lucan  de  Butlere  and  his  brother  Sir  Bedi- 
vere,  and  two  bishops,  so  that  they  might  arrange  a  peace  for 
a  full  month.  Sir  Modred  consented  to  treat  with  Arthur's 
messengers,  but,  fearing  treachery,  he  provided  that  the  meet- 
ing should  take  place  between  the  armies  in  the  field.  He 
warned  his  own  host,  saying:  "If  you  see  any  sword  drawn, 
advance  fiercely  and  slay  all  who  stand  before  you." 

It  came  about  that  while  the  messengers  of  Arthur  were 
conversing  with  Modred  and  his  counsellors  an  adder  stung  a 
knight  on  the  foot.  The  knight  at  once  drew  his  sword  and 
slew  the  reptile,  thinking  of  no  other  danger.  When  Modred's 
warriors  saw  that  sword  flashing  in  the  sun,  horns  and  trumpets 
were  blown,  and  war-shouts  raised,  and  a  battle  suddenly  began 
to  be  waged. 

'  Vennyson's  The  Passing  of  Arthur. 


KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  307 

Arthur  leapt  on  his  horse,  moaning:  "Alas,  this  unhappy 
day!"     He  rode  into  the  fray,  as  did  also  Sir  Modred. 

So  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle  roH'd 
Among  the  mountains  by  the  winter  sea; 
Until  King  Arthur's  Table,  man  by  man, 
Had  fall'n  in  Lyonessc  about  their  lord.^ 

In  the  eventide  King  Arthur  sought  out  Sir  Modred,  and 

when    he  reached   him    he  grasped  his  spear  in   both  liands, 

crying: 

"Traitor,  now  has  your  death-day  come!" 

Modred  heard  the  king's  voice  and  ran  towards  him,  bran- 
dishing his  naked  sword. 

Then  Arthur  smote  the  traitor  under  the  shield,  thrusting 
the  spear  through  his  body.  But  ere  Modred  fell  dead  he  gave 
Arthur  a  mortal  wound  and  Arthur  swooned.  Sir  Bedivere  and 
Sir  Lucan  rescued  the  king  after  night  came  on. 

The  bold  Sir  Bedivere  uplifted  him, 
And  bore  him  to  a  chapel  nigh  the  field, 
A  broken  chancel  with  a  broken  cross, 
That  stood  on  a  dark  strait  of  barren  land: 
On  one  side  lay  the  Ocean,  and  on  one 
Lay  a  great  water,  and  the  moon  was  full 

Arthur  bade  Sir  Bedivere  to  take  his  sword  Excalibur  and 
throw  it  into  the  middle  of  the  mere.  The  knight,  however,  did 
not  at  first  obey  the  king.  He  gazed  at  the  treasure  in  the 
bright  moonlight. 

For  all  the  haft  twinkled  with  diamond  sparks, 
Myriads  of  topaz-lights  and  jacinth  work 
Of  subtlest  jewellery.     He  gazed  so  long 
That  both  his  eyes  were  dazzled  as  he  stood, 
This  way  and  that  dividing  the  swift  mind, 
In  act  to  throw:  but  at  last  it  seem'd 
Better  to  leave  Excalibur  conceal'd 
There  in  the  many-knotted  waterflags, 
That  whistled  stiff  and  dry  about  the  marge. 
So  strode  he  back  slow  to  the  wounded  King. 

But  although  Sir  Bedivere  pretended  to  have  flung  the  sword 

'  Tennyson's  Tlie  Passing  of  Aythur. 


2o8  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

into  the  mere,  Arthur  knew  well  he  had  n(jt  done  so.  The  knight 
went  a  second  time  to  the  marge,  but  he  could  not  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  throw  away  the  precious  thing.  He  returned  to  Arthur 
again,  pretending  to  have  flung  Excalibur  into  the  mere.  There- 
upon the  king  spoke  in  wrath,  saying: 

"Ah,  miserable  and  unkind,  untrue, 

Unknightly,  traitor-hearted!     Woe  is  oio! 

Authority  forgets  a  dying  king, 

Laid  widow'd  of  the  power  in  his  eye 

That  bow'd  the  will.  .  .  . 

But,  if  thou  spare  to  fling  Excalibur, 

I  will  arise  and  slay  thee  with  my  hands." 

Then  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedivere,  and  ran, 

And,  leaping  down  the  ridges  lightly,  plunged 

Among  the  bulrush  beds,  and  clutched  the  sword, 

And  strongly  wheel'd  and  threw  it.     The  great  brand 

Made  lightnings  in  the  splendour  of  the  moon, 

And  flashing  round  and  round,  and  whirl'd  in  an  arch 

Shot  like  a  streamer  of  the  northern  morn, 

Seen  where  the  moving  isles  of  winter  shock 

By  night,  with  noises  of  the  Northern  Sea. 

So  flashed  and  fell  the  brand  Excalibur: 

But  ere  he  dipped  the  surface,  rose  an  arm 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 

And  caught  him  by  the  hilt,  and  brandished  him 

Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in  the  mere.' 

Sir  Bedivere  returned  to  the  king,  who  knew  well  that  his 
command  had  been  obeyed,  because  of  the  signs  that  he  saw. 

Then  the  knight  helped  Arthur  to  walk,  as  he  desired,  to 
the  seashore.  Soon  they  saw  a  dusky  boat  coming  over  the 
sea  with  purpose  to  bear  the  king  to  Avalon,  the  faerie  isle 
in  the  western  sea. 

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 
m  And  bowery  hollows  crown'd  with  summer  sea.^ 

"Argante,  the  queen  of  Avalon,"  Arthur  said,  "shall  heal 
my   wounds  and    make   me  whole  with   healing  draughts.      In 

'  Tennyson's  The  Passing  of  Arthur. 


KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS  209 

after  time  I  shall  come  again  to  my  kingdom  and  dwell  with 
mickle  joy  among  the  Britons." 

As  he  spoke  these  words  the  faerie  boat  came  nigh  him  over 
the  waves.     An  ancient  poet'  has  sung: 

And  twa  wimme^  ther  inne  And  two  women  therein  were 

Wunderliche  idihte;^  Wondrously  formed  and  lair; 

And  heo*  nomen"  Arthur  ana''  Anon  they  Arthur  lifted  up 
And  aneouste''  hine*  uereden;"  And  to  the  boat  went  they; 

And  softe  hine  adun  leiden;i<>  And  softly  did  they  lay  him  down; 
And  forth  gunnen  hine  lithen."  And  forth  they  went  away. 

The  boat  went  over  the  waves  towards  the  west. 

Long  stood  Sir  Bedivere 
Revolving  many  niemories,  till  the  hull 
Look'd  one  black  dot  against  the  verge  of  dawn 
And  on  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away. 

But  when  that  moan  had  passed  for  evermore, 
The  stillness  of  the  dead  world's  winter  dawn 
Amazed  him,  and  he  groaned,  "The  King  is  gone". 
And  therewithal  came  on  him  the  weird  rhyme, 
"From  the  great  to  the  great  deep  he  goes".'-^ 

Then  was  it  accomplished  as  Merlin  had  foretold,  that  mickle 
sorrow  should  be  in  Briton  after  the  passing  of  Arthur.  And 
as  Layamon  has  told:  "The  Britons  still  believe  that  he  lives, 
dwelling  in  Avalon  with  the  fairest  of  elf-queens,  and  they 
expect  he  will  yet  return. "^^ 

That  sinful  lady  Queen  Guinevere  became  a  nun  in  Almes- 
bury  after  Arthur  passed  away. 

Now  when  Sir  Lancelot  had  received  Gawain's  last  message, 
he  hastened  home  to  Britain.  At  Dover,  where  he  came  ashore, 
he  heard  of  Arthur's  fate  and  said:  **Alas,  this  is  the  most 
sorrowful  thing  that  has  ever  been  told  to  me!" 

Thereafter  he  rode  away  to  seek  and  find  Queen  Guinevere, 
and  at  length  he  found  her  in  the  nunnery  at  Almesbury. 
When  the  sorrowful  queen  beheld  him  standing  in  the  cloister, 
she  swooned  thrice.     And  after  she  recovered,  she  addressed 

>  Layamon's  Brut,  lines  28626-31.        '•^  women.        »  formed.        *■  they.        «  took. 
8  anon.        ''  quickly.        ^  him.        "  carried.        '"  laid.        "  gan  depart. 
'2  Tennyson's  The  Passing  of  Arthur.         l"  Layamon's  Brut,  lines  28632  et  seq. 
Vol.  11.  43 


2IO  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Lancelot,  saying:  "Well  as  I  have  loved  you,  my  heart  will 
not  permit  me  to  see  you,  for  through  you  and  me  the  flower 
of  kings  and  knights  has  been  destroyed." 

Lancelot  bade  her  farewell  and  went  to  a  hermitage  and 
forsook  worldly  things.  In  time  it  was  told  to  him  that  Queen 
Guinevere  had  died.  Then  went  he  to  Almesbury  on  foot  with 
his  eight  fellows  and  bore  the  body  of  the  queen  to  Glastonbury, 
and  there  laid  it  in  the  royal  tomb. 

Not  long  afterwards  Sir  Lancelot  sickened  and  died.  Sir 
Ector  lamented  for  him,  saying,  as  he  gazed  on  the  dead  knight: 
"You  were  the  courtliest  knight  that  ever  bare  shield;  you 
were  the  truest  friend  to  your  lover  that  ever  rode  a  horse; 
you  were  the  truest  lover  of  a  sinful  man  that  ever  loved  woman; 
you  were  the  kindest  man  that  ever  wielded  a  sword,  the  good- 
liest person  in  the  press  of  knights,  the  meekest  and  gentlest 
man  that  ever  ate  in  hall  amongst  ladies,  and  you  were  the 
sternest  knight  to  your  mortal  foe  that  ever  put  spear  in  the 
rest." 

The  body  of  Sir  Lancelot  was  buried  with  great  devotion. 


LAYAMON'S    ^'BRUT" 

Introductory 

A  Scottish  poem,  composed  in  the  latter  years  of  the  fifteenth 
century  and  entitled  The  Ring  of  the  Roy  Robert^  celebrates  what 
seems  to  us  nowadays  a  somewhat  diverting  dispute  between 
Henry  IV  of  England  and  Robert  III  of  Scotland.  Soon  after 
Henry,  who,  as  Duke  of  Lancaster,  had  banished  Henry  Bol- 
ingbroke,  and  appropriated  his  cousin's  patrimony,  became 
King  of  England,  he  summoned  Robert  III  and  his  prelates 
and  nobles  to  assemble  at  Edinburgh  on  a  given  date,  and  do 
homage  to  him  there  as  Superior  Lord  of  Scotland.  It  was 
Henry's  contention  that  all  the  Scottish  kings  had  sworn  fealty 
to  his  predecessors  since  the  days  of  Brute,  the  first  Trojan  King 
of  Britain. 

Scotland  was  deeply  stirred  by  this  extraordinary  claim. 
According  to  The  Ring  of  the  Roy  Robert  the  Scottish  king  in- 
dignantly repudiated  the  claim  that  allegiance  was  owing  to  the 
royal  descendants  of  "auld  Brutus",  and  King  Henry  received, 
in  reply  to  his  summons,  a  rather  sharp  historical  lecture,  in 
which  he  was  informed  that 

Scotland  evir  yet  has  bene  free 

Sen  (since)  Scota  of  Egipt  tuik  tlie  sea. 

This  statement  was  followed  by  references  to  Wallace,  Bruce, 
and  '*  James  the  gud  Douglas  ",  and,  of  course,  to  Bannockburn. 
According  to  the  poet,  King  Henry  was  informed  that  since  the 
days  of  "auld  Brutus"  England  had  suffered  four  conquests. 
The  first  was  effected  by  Julius  Cassar,  the  second  by  Saxons 
from  Germany,  who  **slew  the  gentillis  (gentry)  of  Ingland". 
the  third  by  the  Danes,  and  the  fourth  by  the  Normans.     Ap- 


212  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

patently  the  Scots  achieved  a  diplomatic  victory,  because  when 
the  English  barons  had  read  and  considered  King  Robert's 
protest,  the  incident  was  closed. 

What  interests  us  chiefly  in  this  connection  is  the  fact  that 
the  Scots  were  wont  to  boast  of  their  Egyptian,  and  the  English 
of  their  Trojan  descent.  According  to  the  fabulous  accounts 
of  medieval  historians,  Scotland's  ^neas  was  one  Galethus, 
son  of  Cecrops,  founder  of  Athens.  He  assisted  a  Pharaoh  to 
rid  Egypt  of  Ethiopian  invaders,  and  married  his  daughter  Scota. 
This  was  the  Pharaoh  who  oppressed  the  Israelites.  At  his 
Court  Galethus  met  Moses,  who  warned  him  of  approaching 
calamities.  Galethus  decided  to  desert  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt. 
Accordingly  he  set  sail  with  his  people  across  the  Mediterranean. 
After  experiencing  many  adventures,  he  settled  in  Ireland,  and 
founded  the  dynasty  of  Scottish  kings  that  afterwards  flourished 
in  Scotland. 

The  English  claim  to  Trojan  descent  was  similarly  traced  on 
the  Celtic  side.  By  insisting  on  their  scholarly  fables  regard- 
ing the  ancient  British  kings,  whose  family  trees  were  rooted 
not  only  in  Troy  but  also  in  Greece  and  Rome,  the  courtly 
historians  had  robbed  the  Norman  conquest  of  its  glamour, 
and  cast  a  shadow  over  the  invasions  of  Angles,  Saxons,  Jutes, 
Danes,  and  Normans.  To  be  royal  was  to  be  Celtic.  In  the 
veins  of  King  Henry's  ancestor  Brute  ran  the  semi-divine  blood 
of  Virgil's  .-Eneas.  Like  Galethus  of  Scotland,  Brute  was  a 
liberator  who  fought  for  freedom  on  behalf  of  a  war-stricken 
people.  The  patriotic  historians  had  infused  their  fabulous 
traditions  with  the  ideals  of  the  liberty-loving  peoples  of  Eng- 
land and  Scotland. 

Brute,  as  will  be  found  in  Layamon's  narrative,  became  the 
champion  of  the  oppressed  Trojans  in  Greece.  According  to 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  he  first  gave  the  Greek  king  an  oppor- 
tunity of  releasing  them  by  sending  him  a  letter  in  which  he 
said: 

"As  it  is  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  nation  descendtd  from  the  illustrious 
race  of  Dardanus  (founder  of  Tro) )  to  be  treated  in  your  kingdom  otherwise 
than  the  nobility  of  their  birth  required,  they  have  betaken  themselves  to  the 
protection  of  the  woods.      For  they  have  preferred  living  after  the  manner  of 


LAVAMON'S    "BRUT"  213 

wild  beasts,  upon  llt-sh  and  hcrhs,  witli  the  cnjoymcnl  of  liberty,  to  conlinninf; 
longer  in  the  greatest  luxury  under  the  yoke  of  slavery.  If  this  gives  your 
majesty  any  offence,  impute  it  not  to  them,  but  pardon  it;  since  it  is  the 
common  sentiment  of  every  captive  to  be  desirous  of  regaining  his  former 
dignity.  Let  pity  therefore  move  you  to  bestow  on  them  freely  their  lost 
liberty,  and  permit  them  to  inhabit  the  thickest  of  the  woods,  to  which  they 
have  retired  to  avoid  slavery.  But  if  you  deny  them  this  favour,  then  by  your 
permission  and  assistance  let  them  depart  into  some  foreign  country."^ 

The  Greek  king  refused  this  petition,  but  the  Trojans,  under 
Brute,  won  their  Hberty  on  the  battle-field.  They  were  after- 
wards provided  with  ships  to  sail  for  a  new  country.  Brute 
was  guided  by  the  goddess  Diana.  He  consulted  her  oracle  in 
Greek  verses  of  which  Geoffrey  gives  a  Latin  version.  The 
following  are  Milton's  translations,  in  his  History^  of  Brute's 
appeal  and  Diana's  reply : 

Goddess  of  Shades,  and  Huntress,  who  at  will 
VValk'st  on  the  rolling  sphere,  and  through  the  deep, 
On  thy  third  reign,  the  Earth,  look  now,  and  tell 
What  land,  what  seat  of  rest  thou  bidd'st  me  seek. 
What  certain  seat,  where  I  may  worship  thee 
For  aye,  with  temples  vowed,  and  virgin  quires. 

Brute  slept  before  the  altar,  and  dreamed  that  the  goddess 
answered  him,  saying: 

Brutus,  far  to  the  west,  in  the  ocean  wide. 
Beyond  the  realm  of  Gaul,  a  land  there  lies, 
Sea-girt  it  lies,  where  giants  dwelt  of  old; 
Now  void,  it  fits  thy  people.     Thither  bend 
Thy  course;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  lasting  seat; 
There  to  thy  sons  another  Troy  shall  rise. 
And  kings  be  born  of  thee,  whose  dreaded  might 
Shall  awe  the  world,  and  conquer  nations  bold. 

Brute  and  the  Trojan  followers  ultimately  reached  Britain. 
"The  Island  of  Britain",  says  Nennius,-  "derives  its  name 
from  Brutus."  The  liberator  of  the  Trojans  built  a  great  city 
on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  and  called  it  "  New  Troy".  Ac- 
cording to  Geoffrey^  this  name  was  ultimately  corrupted,  and 
the  city  was  called   "  Trinovantum  ".     Then   King   Lud,  who 

*  Geoffrey's  History,  Chapter  IV.  -  Section  7.  ^  ciiapter  XVII. 


2  14  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

fought  against  Julius  Cc-esar,  built  the  city  walls,  and  renamed 
his  capital  "  Kaer-Lud ",  i.e.  ''the  walled  city  of  Lud ".  It 
was  afterwards  called  «'Lud-dun",  i.e.  fort  of  Lud".  Says 
Layamon:^  "Subsequently  Englishmen  came  and  called  it 
Lundene.  Thereafter  came  the  French  (Normans)  who  .  . 
Londres  it  named."  "King  Lud",  whose  name  survives  in 
"  London  "  and  "  Ludgate  "  (Lud-geat,  i.e.  "  the  way  of  Lud  "), 
was  a  Celtic  god  w^hose  name  is  also  enshrined  in  Leyden, 
Lydney,  &c.  As  Lot  or  Loth,  he  gave  his  name  to  the  Lothians. 
He  is  a  king  in  Arthurian  romance. 

The  Brut  has  been  characterized  by  Stopford  Brooke  as 
"the  first  English  poem  of  imaginative  importance  after  the 
Conquest".  Norman  influence  had  arrested  the  development 
of  Anglo-Saxon  literature,  and  Anglo-Norman  minstrels  found 
favour  at  the  royal  Court.  The  conquest  of  a  large  part  of  South 
Wales  had  introduced  Norman-French  influence  into  even 
Welsh  literature.  When,  in  time,  the  bards  of  England  revived 
the  native  Muse,  early  English  poetry  was  divested  of  its  out- 
standing Anglo-Saxon  characteristics.  It  became  simpler,  more 
spontaneous,  and  more  imaginative.  Welsh  as  well  as  French 
poetry  had  evidently  contributed  to  the  change. 

Layamon  lived  on  the  Celtic  borderland  at  Ernley  (Areley 
Regis)  on  the  Severn  in  north  Worcestershire. 

Meiie  ther  him  thohte  .  .  .  Pleasant  there  it  seemed  to  him 

Ther  he  bookes  radde:  There  he  boolis  did  read: 

We  are  informed  in  the  Brut,  which  gives  his  father's  name  as 
Leovenath  in  one  version  and  Leuca  in  another,  that  he  was  a 
priest,  and  the  books  he  read  stirred  him  to  sing  of  "the  noble 
history  of  the  English".  These  books  included  the  works  of 
"Saint  Bede";  of  "Saint  Albin";  Wace,  "a  French  clerk"; 
GeoftVey  of  Monmouth,  and  old  British  and  English  books  that 
cannot  be  identified.  He  refers  to  "  feole  bocken  (line  28,868), 
"many  books",  evidently  Celtic,  in  which  Carrie,  a  British 
king,  was  called  "  Kenric  ".  The  priestly  poet  was  familiar  also 
with  Welsh  legends,  especially  those  regarding  Arthur,  and  he 

'  Lines  2055  ^^  ■*^?- 


LAYAMON'S    "BRUT"  215 

shared,  in  a  limited  degree,  British  prejudices  regarding  the 
Anglo-Saxon  invaders.^ 

Layamon's  Brut  is,  in  part,  a  translation  of  the  Anglo- 
Norman  metrical  chronicle  the  Brut  by  Wace,  which  was  a 
rendering  in  French  of  Geofi'rey  of  Monmouth's  Historia 
Byitonum^  completed  in  the  year  1155,  and  dedicated  to  "the 
noble  Eleanor,  who  was  the  high  King  Henry's  queen  ".^ 
Wace's  poem  comprises  15,300  lines  and  Layamon's  32,250. 
In  adapting  and  elaborating  Wace's  Brut  Layamon  developed 
his  poetic  genius;  the  best  parts  of  his  poem  are  those  which 
are  entirely  his  own.  He  appears  to  have  completed  his  Brut 
during  the  early  part  of  the  thirteenth  century. 

The  standard  edition  of  Layamon's  Brut  is  that  edited  by 
the  late  Sir  Frederick  Maddeh,  of  the  British  Museum,  for  the 
Society  of  Antiquaries,  in  1847.  Two  texts  are  printed;  the  first 
is  of  the  early  thirteenth  century,  and  the  second,  an  abbreviated 
recension  of  the  original,  belongs  to  a  much  later  period.  Both 
were  collected  by  the  famous  Sir  Richard  Cotton,  and  the  second 
text  was  damaged,  like  the  Beowulf,  in  the  fire  at  Ashburnham 
House  in  1731.  These  Cottonian  manuscripts  are  among  the 
literary  treasures  of  the  British  Museum. 

Layamon  begins  his  poem  with  the  lines 

An  preost  wes  on  leoden,  A  priest  was  in  the  land, 

Layamon  wes  ihoten;  Layamon  was  he  named; 

He  wes  Leouenathes  sone —  He  was  Leovenath's  son — 

Lithe  him  beo  drihte!  Loving:  to  him,  Lord,  be! 

Having  named  the  sources  of  his  narrative,  he  refers  to  the 
Trojan  war,  which  had  been  caused  by  the  abduction  of  Helen 
by  Paris  Alexander,  ^^ilneas,  "the  duke",  escaped  from  Troy 
with  difficulty,  and  with  his  son,   Ascanius,  and  his  followers 

^  When,  for  instance,  Arthur  had  defeated  the  Scots  at  Loch  Lomond,  the  women  came 
to  him  lamenting  their  fate.  In  appealing  for  mercy,  they  reminded  him  that  they  were 
Christians    and  said  (lines  21,900-3),  referring  to  previous  misfortunes: 

Ssexisce  men  beoth  The  Saxish  men  are 

Hasthene  hundes;  Heathen  hounds; 

Heo  comen  to  these  londe  They  came  to  this  land 

And  this  folc  here  aqualden.  And  the  folk  here  slaughtered. 

2  Layamon's  BnU,  lines  42-3. 


2i6  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

sailed  with  "  tuenty  gode  scipen  "  (twenty  good  ships)  over  the 
"wintrede  sse "  (wintry  sea).  Ultimately  the  Trojans  reached 
the  site  of  Rome.  Turnus  opposed  ^^neas,  and  after  he  was 
defeated  and  killed  in  battle,  ^neas  reigned  as  king  with 
Lavine  as  his  wife.  Their  son  was  named  Silvius  ^neas. 
Ascanius  succeeded  his  father,  and  after  he  died  Silvius  ^neas 
became  king. 

Ascanius,  the  grandson  of  Priam  of  Troy,  was  the  grand- 
father of  Brute.  His  son,  named  Silvius  after  his  uncle,  married 
in  secret  a  niece  of  Lavine.  It  was  prophesied,  before  this  son. 
Brute,  was  born,  that  he  would  cause  the  death  of  both  his 
parents.  His  mother  died  on  child-bed,  and  when  Brute  grew 
into  young  manhood  he  accidentally  shot  his  father  with  an 
arrow  while  hunting  deer.  His  horrified  kinsmen  banished 
him  from   Italy. 

And  he  iwende  sorhful  And  sorrowfully  wended  he 

Ouer  sea  streames  Over  the  streams  of  the  sea 

Into  Gric  loiide.'  Into  the  Greek  land. 

In  Greece  he  found  Trojan  kinsfolk,  including  tlie  descendants 
of  Helenus,  son  of  Priam,  who  were  in  bondage  to  the  Greek 
king.  The  exiles  welcomed  him,  and  he  ultimately  led  them  to 
Britain. 

As  Layamon's  Arthurian  matter  has  been  utilized  in  the 
previous  section,  it  is  not  drawn  upon  here. 

^  Lines  325-7. 


The   Brut 

I.   The  Quest  of  Freedom 

The  Trojans  whom  Brute  found  in  Greece  were  numerous; 
the  women  had  thrived;  cattle  had  they  in  abundance.  Ere 
long  the  generous  Brute  became  very  dear  to  the  people,  and 
they  said  to  him  in  secret  that  if  he  would  make  them  free,  and 
lead  them  out  of  that  country,  they  would  make  him  their  duke 
and  ruler.      "  We  have  seven  thousand  knights,"  they  said. 

"  For  muchel  we  vvlleth  driyen,  "  For  much  will  we  endure 

And  habben  care  of  ure  life,  And  distress  have  of  our  life, 

Aer  we  nulleth  mid  frescipe  Ere  we  will  not  with  freedom 

Faien  fro  ure  feonden."^  Be  faring  from  our  foemen.'- 

These  words  were  spoken  at  a  st^cret  assembly,  and  all  agreed 
to  them.  Assaracus,  a  young  Greek  of  noble  birth,  whose 
mother  was  a  Trojan,  espoused  the  cause  of  the  oppressed 
people  because  he  loved  them  as  kinsmen.  On  his  advice 
Brute  was  made  duke  over  them.  Then  Brute  assembled  his 
own  followers,  and  arranged  for  the  collection  of  weapons  and 
provisions.  When  his  soldiers  were  armed,  he  caused  all  the 
Trojans  to  retire  to  the  mountains,  and  he  went  with  them  to 
defend  them. 

Afterwards  Brute  sent  a  letter  to  Pandrasus,  the  Greek  king, 
in  which  he  said  he  had  been  appointed  duke  by  the  Trojans 
who  had  dwelt  in  the  land  in  disgrace,  doing  the  work  of 
slaves,  and  desired  greatly  to  be  free.     Thus  did  he  write: 

*'  Leouere  heom  hif  to  liben  "  Liefer  't  is  to  them  to  live 

Bi  than  wode-roten,  On  wood-roots  and  to  rove 

Al  swa  that  wilde  swin  All  as  wildly  as  the  swine 

That  wroteth  yeond  than  g-rouen,  Which  i<nib  witliin  the  grove, 

1  Lines  370-3.  -  In  thf  sense  of  "fiends". 

217 


2i8  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Than  heo  thine  theowedomes  Than  that  they  should  longer  be 

Lengre  itholien.  Sufferers  in  slavery. 

Yif  heo  wlleth  frescipe  bi-\vinnen,  If  they  would  their  freedom  win, 

Ne  wndre  thou  nawiht  ther  fore;  No  wonderer  therefore  be; 

Heo  biddeth  the  mid  freonscipe  They  with  friendship  now  entreat 

That  thu  heom  ifreoie.  That  thou  wilt  them  set  free. 

Thes  word  he  sendeth,  These  words  they  now  are  sending", 

.AJl  swa  the  wriht  the  seith,  As  the  letter  saith  to  thee. 

That  heo  moten  wonien,  That  they  may  have  their  dwelling, 

Wer  swa  heo  willeth,  Where'er  they  will  to  be 

Inne  grithe  and  in  frithe,  In  peace  and  amity. 

And  heo  wileth  the  freonscipe  don.  And  they  will  friendship  keep  with  thee. 

Yif  thou  thif  nult  itholien  If  thou  will  not  permit-  them  this. 

The  seal  beon  tha  wrse."  '  It  shall  be  worse  for  thee." 

When  King  Pandrasus  received  this  letter  he  was  filled  with 
wrath.  It  seemed  to  him  strange  speech  indeed.  Then  he 
said:  "They  are  working  their  own  destruction,  these,  my 
slaves,  who  dare  to  threaten  me." 

The  king  assembled  his  army,  and  went  against  Brute  and 
his  followers,  declaring  he  would  hang  them  all  on  high  trees. 
Brute,  however,  met  the  advancing  host  and  drove  it  back  across 
the  River  Achalon,  smiting  grim  blows.  The  king's  brother 
hastened  to  the  rescue,  but  he  also  suffered  great  loss. 

Thereafter  Brute  made  a  night  attack,  and  captured  Pan- 
drasus and  his  brother,  whom  he  had  bound  with  chains  and 
thrust  into  prison. 

When  the  terms  of  peace  were  arranged  Pandrasus  was 
forced  to  give  his  daughter  Ignogen  in  marriage  to  Brute,  and 
to  provide  the  Trojans  with  treasure  and  ships  so  that  they 
might  depart  from  Greece. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  Trojans  set  sail  in  sixteen  times 
twenty  ships,  and  with  them  went  also  four  large  ships  laden 
with  weapons. 

Heo  fusden  from  stronde  They  departed  from  the  strand 

Vt  of  Gric  londe;  Out  of  the  land  of  Greece; 

Heo  wenden  vt  i  wide  sse,  They  voyaged  o'er  the  ocean  wide, 

Tha  wilde  wurthen  itemedc."  The  wild  waves  were  at  peace. 

In  two  days  the  Trojans  reached  the  island  of  Logice,  which 

'  Lines  466-83.  2  Xhc  Scoitish  word  "thole  "  is  nearer  'iiholien". 

^  Lines  1109-12. 


THE    BRUT 


219 


was  uninhabited,  for  all  the  people  had  been  slain  by  outlaws. 
Deer  were  plentiful  there,  and  they  hunted  them,  and  carried 
their  flesh  to  the  ships.  On  the  island  was  a  temple,  lofty  and 
spacious,  and  built  of  marble,  and  in  it  was  the  image  of  a  fair 
woman  who  was  called  by  the  heathen  Diana.  She  was  loved 
by  the  devil.  Fiends  assisted  her  to  work  magic.  The  queen 
of  all  forests  on  the  earth  was  she,  and  the  heathen  regarded  her 
as  a  goddess. 

Brute  went  to  this  temple  with  twelve  sages.  He  carried  in 
his  hands  a  golden  vessel  filled  with  wine  and  the  milk  of  a 
white  hind 


The  Brut  sceat  mid  liis  honde. 


That  Brute  shot  with  his  hand. 


At  the  altar  he  lit  a  winsome  fire,  and,  for  his  need,  he  went 
round  it  nine  times.  To  the  lady  he  called — she  who  was  his 
heart's  love.  With  gentle  words  he  invoked  her  help.  Win- 
some were  his  looks,  and  oft  he  kissed  the  altar. 

He  halde  tha  mile  I  that  fur  He  poured  the  milk  on  that  fire, 


saying,  softly 


Leafdi  Diana,  leoue  Diana, 

Heye  Diana,  help  me  to  neode! 

Wise  mi  and  witere, 

Thurh  thine  wihtful  craft, 

Whuder  ich  mae  lithiin; 

And  ledan  mine  leoden 

To  ane  winsome  land; 

Ther  ich  mihte  wonien. 

And  yif  ich  that  lend  mai  bi-yeten, 

And  mi  folc  hit  thur-g'engcn, 

Makian  ich  wile  on  thine  nonie 

JVlaeren  ane  stowe; 

And  ich  the  wulle  huren 

Mid  wrhscipe  hKzan.' 


Lad)-  Diana,  lovid  Diana, 
Higfh  Diana,  help  me  in  need. 
Teach  nie  and  guide  me 
With  thy  craft  so  wise  indeed 
Whither  I  should  fare  now, 
And  tny  followers  all  lead 
To  a  land  that  is  winsome, 
Wherein  I  may  reside; 
And  if  I  may  this  land  possess 
With  my  people,  far  and  wide, 
In  thy  name  a  temple 
Most  great  erect  will  I, 
And  I  will  do  thee  honour 
With  worship  true  and  high. 


When  Brute  had  spoken  thus,  he  spread  out  the  hide  of  the 
white  hind  before  the  altar  and  kneeled  on  it;  then  he  lay  down 
on  the  hide  and  began  to  slumber. 

Soon  after  sleep  came  on  him  he  dreamed  a  dream  in  which 
he  beheld  Diana.     3he  gazed  with  love,  and  smiled  winsome 


^  Lines  1 198-1211. 


220  THE    WORI.D'S    HERITAGE 

smiles;  and,  laying  her  hand  courteously  on  his  head  she  spoke 
to  him,  saying: 

"  Bi-yendc  France  i  thet  west  "  Westwjird  France  beyond 

Thu  scali  finden  a  wiinsiim  lond;  Success  awaits  for  thee. 

That  lond  is  bi-urnan  mid  thiere  see,  Thou  shalt  find  a  winsome  land 

Thar  on  thu  scalt  wrthan  ssel.  A  land  encircled  by  the  sea; 

Thar  is  fuyel,  thar  is  fisc,  There  is  fowl,  there  is  fish, 

Thar  wuniath  feire  deor,  There  the  fair  deer  races, 

Thar  is  wodc,  thar  is  water,  There  is  wood,  there  is  water, 

Thar  is  wilderne  muchel.  There  be  desert  places. 

Tliet  lond  is  swithe  wunsum.  'T  is  a  very  winsome  land, 

W'eallen  ther  beoth  feire;  With  many  a  shining  well; 

Wuniath  i  thon  londe  Giants  great  and  mighty 

Eotantes  swith^  stroge.  In  that  country  dwell. 

Albion  hatte  that  lond;  Albion  the  land  is  named; 

Ah  leode  ne  beoth  thar  nane.  Of  mankind  it  is  bare. 

Ther  to  thu  scalt  teman  Thither  thou  shalt  journey. 

And  ane  neowe  Troye  thar  makian.    And  build  a  new  Troy  there. 

Ther  scalt  of  thine  cunne  From  thy  kinsfolk  will  arise 

Kine-bearn  arisen;  A  royal  progeny, 

And  seal  thin  msere  kun  They  the  land  shall  rule  with  power — 

Waelden  thus  londes.  Mighty  shall  they  be! 

Yeond  tha  weorld  beon  ihsyed.  Their  fame  shall  spread  the  whole  world  round. 

And  thu  bco  hsel  and  isund.''^  And  thou  shalt  live  there  whole  and  sound." 

When  Diana  had  spoken  thus,  Brute  awoke. 

Wei  wes  hi  on  life.  Well  was  he  in  life." 

He  pondered  over  his  dream,  and  then  related  it  with  love  to  his 
people.  To  Diana  he  gave  thanks,  speaking  earnest  and 
gracious  words,  and  he  vowed  that  he  would  build  a  temple, 
and  place  in  it  a  golden  image  of  his  Lady  when  he  reached  the 
land  she  had  promised  to  him. 

Thereafter  the  people  .sailed  away,  and  after  fighting  the  folk 
of  Mauritania,  where  they  had  to  land,  they  passed  beyond  the 
marble  pillars  that  Hercules  had  made  with  his  own  hands. 

Ther  heo  funden  the  merminnen.  And  there  they  found  the  merfolk. 

That  beoth  deor  of  muchele  ginnen;  Great  beasts  of  evil  wish; 

Wifmen  hit  thiichet  fuliwis  Womon  they  seemed,  but  under 

Bi-neothe  thon  gurdle  hit  thuncheth.  The  girdle  they  were  fish. 

Theos  habbeth  swa  murie  song  They  have  all  a  merry  song, 

Ne  beo  tha  dai  na  swa  long.  And  if  the  day  be  e'er  so  long, 

Ne  bith  na  man  weri  No  man  grows  tired  when  they  are  near, 

Heora  songes  to  heraen.  So  sweet  will  be  tiu-ir  songs  tc  hear. 

>  Lines  1231-52.  ^  Or    'alive". 


THE    BRUT  221 

Hit  is  half  moil'  and  Iialt"  fisc,  Half  is  woman  and  half"  is  fish, 

Hit  hafth  thes  wurse  take  fuliwis,  A  sure  sig-n  of  deceiving:, 

For  his  weikes  beoth  swa  swete  So  sweet  their  works  will  be  that  men 

Thatfeolan  men  heom  nemayen  forleten.^  Are  Jain  them  to  be  leaving-. 

Brute  was  told  by  his  sailors  of  the  evil  practised  by  these  mer- 
folks,  and  he  caused  the  sails  to  be  hoisted  to  the  mast  tops  so 
that  the  ships  might  hasten  over  the  waves. 

Tha  mereminnen  heom  to  svommcn     Th<-  nier-folks  towards  them  swimming 

On  Alchare  sidan,  On  every  side  came  nigh, 

Swithe  heo  heom  lietten  And  greatly  did  them  hinder 

Mid  luthere  heora  crafteii.  With  wicked  crafts  and  sly. 

Nethelas  Brutus  at-braec  But  nevertheless  did  Brutus 

Al  buten  bursta,  Escape  unscathed  and  free, 

And  ferde  riht  on  his  wei —  And  fared  he  right  upon  his  way — 

His  scipe  runden  swithe.^  His  ships  ran  merrily. 

In  time  the  steersman  on  Brute's  ship  told  the  glad  tidings  that 
he  sighted  Spain.  They  reached  a  safe  haven,  and  merry  were 
they  when  they  went  ashore.  There  they  found  kinsmen  of 
theirs  who  had  fled  from  Troy.  Atenor  had  led  them,  but  he 
was  dead,  and  the  mig^htv  Corineus  was  their  duke.  Brute  was 
greeted  by  Corineus. 

Heo  comen  to  gadere  They  did  come  together 

And  ofte  heo  custen.  And  often  did  they  kiss. 

Said  Corineus,  when  Brute  had  told  him  of  Diana's  words:  '*  I 
and  my  good  people  will  go  with  you  to  Britain.  We  shall 
obey  you  as  our  lord." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  all  the  Trojans  departed  from  Spain 
towards  Britain.  But  first  they  landed  at  a  haven  in  Armorica 
(Brittany),  where  Goffar  reigned  as  king.  That  king's  knights 
were  angry  because  that  the  Trojans  hunted  in  the  park  of  the 
king.  One,  named  Numbert,  the  royal  steward,  shot  an  arrow 
at  Corineus,  who  darted  aside  and  escaped  it.  Then  Corineus 
leapt  at  Numbert  like  to  a  lion,  and  he  killed  him  with  a  single 
blow,  using  but  his  bow.  Thereafter  war  was  declared,  but 
Brute  conquered  and  wasted  the  land  of  the  French,  and  thou- 
sands were  slain.  Much  booty  and  silver  and  gold  were  cap- 
tured by  the  victors. 

1  The  later  version  reads  "  Elf  his  wimnian"  (Half  is  woman).  '^  Lines  1321  ei  seq. 

3  Lines  1342  et  seq. 


222 


THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 


Brute  then  led  his  men  back  to  the  ships.  The  wind  had 
fallen,  wild  fish  tumbled  and  played  on  the  water,  and  the  weaves 
were  calm.  Merry  were  all  the  men.  Across  the  sea  they 
sailed,  and  they  reached  land  at  Dartmouth  in  Totnes.  Well 
pleased  was  Brute  when 


Tha  scipen  biten  on  that  sond, 
And  all  that  folc  code  an  lond. 


The  ships  did  bite  upon  the  sand, 
And  all  the  folk  leapt  on  the  land. 


The  gift  that  Diana  had  promised  was  given ;  they  had  arrived 
in  the  Island  of  Logice  (Albion).  The  folk  were  merry,  and 
with  prudent  words  they  gave  thanks  to  God. 

There  dwelt  in  the  land  at  that  time  twenty  great  giants,  but 
they  were  driven  by  arrows  to  the  mountains  and  the  caverns. 
Not  long  afterwards,  however,  they  came  against  the  Trojans, 
carrying  trees  as  clubs,  and  throwing  great  stones,  and  they 
slew  five  hundred.  But  Brute  attacked  them,  and  they  fled 
again  before  the  arrows  of  the  Trojans,  who  pursued  them  and 
slew  nineteen.  The  remaining  giant,  one  named  Geomagog, 
was  taken  alive.  With  him  did  Corineus  w-restle,  and  after  a 
great  struggle  that  mighty  man  threw  the  giant  over  a  cliff,  so 
that  his  body  was  broken  all  in  pieces.  To  this  day  the  place 
where  he  fell  is  called  "  Geomagot's  leap  " 

Now  the  land  which  the  Trojans  possessed  had  been  known 
as  Albion,  but  they  gave  it  the  name  of  Britain  after  Brute,  and 
the  people  called  themselves  Britons. 

Brute  gave  to  Corineus  a  part  of  the  land.  It  was  named 
Corinee  after  him,  and  is  now  called  Cornwall. 

As  the  years  went  past  Trojans  multiplied  and  throve,  for 
each  could  do  according  to  his  will.  Numerous,  indeed,  they 
became. 


Brut  hine  bi-thohte; 
And  this  folk  bi-heold, 
Bi-heold  he  tha  muntes, 
Feire  and  muchele, 
Bi-heold  he  tha  medewan 
That  weoren  swithe  maere, 
Bi-heold  he  tha  wateres, 
And  the  wilde  deor, 
Bi-heold  he  tha  fisches, 
Bi-heold  he  tha  fuyeles, 


Brute  then  bethoug-ht  him; 
The  folk  beheld  he  there, 
He  beheld  the  mountains, 
Numerous  and  fair, 
He  beheld  the  meadows 
Stretching  far  and  near, 
He  beheld  the  waters, 
And  also  the  wild  deer, 
He  beheld  the  fishes 
And  fowls  that  were  for  food, 


THE    BRUT  223 

Bi-heold  he  tha  leswa  He  beheld  the  leasowes 

And  thene  leofliche  wode,  And  the  lovely  wood, 

Bi-heold  he  thene  wood  hu  he  bleou,  He  beheld  the  wood  how  it  blew, 

Bi-heold  he  tha  corn  hu  hit  greu —  He  beheld  the  corn  how  it  grew — 

Al  he  iseih  on  bodS  All  he  saw  in  every  part 

That  him  leof  was  on  heorten.'  Was  very  dear  to  him  in  heart. 

Then  he  pondered  on  the  new  Troy  he  was  to  construct,  and 
went  through  the  land  viewing  it.  In  time  he  found  a  winsome 
spot  nigh  to  water,  and  there  he  built  a  rich  burgh  with  high 
walls  of  stone.  It  was  well  formed  and  spacious,  and  he  named 
it  New  Troy.  Many  winters  afterwards  it  became  known  as 
Trinovant.  Then  arose  Lud,  who  was  a  powerful  king,  and  he 
proclaimed  that  the  burgh  be  named  Kaerlud,  after  himself. 
Afterwards  came  new  rulers  with  new  customs,  and  men  called 
it  Lunden.  When  the  English  men  possessed  the  land  they 
knew  it  as  Londene.  Thereafter  came  the  French,  and  they 
named  it  Lundres.  Thus  has  it  fared  with  this  burgh  since  it 
was  built. 

Brute  made  goodly  laws  for  New  Troy.  He  bade  that  there 
should  be  love  between  the  people,  and  that 

^Ic  halden  othren  riht  Each  should  hold  other's  right 

Ba  bi  dale  and  bi  nith.  Both  by  day  and  by  night. 

Brute  reigned  for  four-and-twenty  years  with  his  queen,  and 
they  had  three  fair  sons,  who,  when  he  died,  divided  the  land 
between  them.  The  eldest  was  Locrin,  and  his  kingdom  was 
called  Locres,  the  second  was  Camber,  and  his  kingdom  was 
called  Cambria,  that  is  the  wild  land  beloved  by  the  Welsh; 
and  the  third  brother  was  Albanac,  who  had  his  kingdom  of 
Albanie  in  the  land  now  called  Scotland. 

'  Lines  2001  et  seq. 


II.   The   Royal    Airman 

One  of  the  early  kings  of  Brute's  line  was  named  Leil.  He 
built  a  fair  and  comely  burgh  in  the  northern  part  of  his  king- 
dom, and  called  it  Kaer  Leil  (Carlisle).  He  made  good  laws, 
but  his  latter  days  were  sorrow-ful  because  the  noble  barons  made 
great  contention  and  waged  war.  His  son.  King  Ruhhudibras, 
was  a  goodly  knight,  and  he  made  peace  and  enacted  strong 
laws. 

He  was  sturne  thon  dusien,  He  was  stern  to  the  foolish, 

He  hiuede  theo  leoden  And  loved  he  the  people 

The  his  lawen  heolden.  Who  held  to  his  laws. 

He  built  a  noble  burgh  and  named  it  Winchester,  and  he  built 
Canterbury  and  Cestesbury  Castle.  A  strange  thing  happened 
after  he  had  reigned  nine-and-thirty  years.  On  the  v.all  of  the 
royal  castle  appeared  an  eagle  that  spake,  and  its  words  were 
heard  by  the  king  and  all  his  knights.  It  foretold  the  death  of 
Ruhhudibras,  and  he  died  soon  afterwards.  Then  sorrowful 
were  his  subjects. 

His  son  Bladud  reigned  after  him. 

He  wes  a  swithe  bisi  mon;  He  was  a  very  busy  man; 

He  wes  strong  and  swithe  muchel:  He  was  strong  and  lofty  too; 

Rich  he  wes  and  mashti;  Rich  he  was  and  powerful; 

He  cuthe  Ihene  vuele  craft,  And  the  evil  craft  he  knew. 

That  he  with  thene  Wurse'  space.  With  the  Evil  One  he  spake. 

And  al  that  euer  he  wolde  And  all  that  he  would  ever  know 

The  Wurse  him  talde.-'  The  Evil  One  him  told. 

King  Bladud  constructed  baths  which  were  supplied  through 
stone  pipes  from  springs.  The  water  was  made  hot,  and  gave 
the  folk  healing.  Near  the  baths  he  erected  a  heathen  temple 
to  Minerva,  in  whom  he  believed,  and  he  called  her  the  Lady. 

1  The  Wurse.  i.e.  the  Evjl  One,  or  l-'iend.  '-  Unes  2837-43. 

•iii 


THE    BRUT  225 

A  fire  burned  constantly  in  this  temple  during  summer  and 
winter.     It  was  he  who  founded  Bath. 

King  Bladud  planned  another  thing.  He  boasted  he  would 
fly  like  to  a  fowl,  and  made  himself  wings,  but  he  was  brought 
to  shame. 


To  Lundene  he  ferde 

Mid  tmichelene  his  folke; 

His  fether-home  he  dude  him  on 

And  he  his  fluht  ther  bigfon. 

Mid  wiyeful  his  fluhte 

Tasih  him  to  thon  lufte; 

He  ferde  svvithe  heh}'e, 

There  weolcne  he  wes  swithe  tiih. 

The  wind  him  com  on  withere; 

Weotheleden  his  fluhtes; 

Brecon  tha  strenges, 

The  he  mid  strahte, 

And  he  feol  to  folde — 

The  king  wes  feie. 

Vppen  are  stouwe 

The  i  Lundene  stod 

AppoUones  temple, 

The  wes  the  tirfulle  feond — 

The  king  fele  on  thene  rof, 

Thet  he  al  to-draf; 

Thus  wes  thas  kineriehe 

Of  heora  kinge  bi-raeued.* 


To  London  with  a  multitude 

Of  people  did  he  fare; 

His  feather-hems  he  put  them  on, 

His  flight  began  he  there. 

With  his  guileful  flying  he 

Attained  to  near  the  sky; 

Loftily  indeed  he  fared. 

To  the  welkin  verj'  nigh. 

The  wind  came  on  against  him; 

Weak  became  his  flight; 

Then  broke  the  strings  that  stretching 

Supported  him  with  might; 

Then  to  earth  he  tumbled — 

The  king  was  dead  and  humbled. 

This  chanced  upon  the  very  place 

That  in  London  stood 

The  temple  of  Apollo 

Who  was  a  fiend  not  good — 

The  king  fell  on  the  roof, 

In  pieces  was  he  cleft; 

And  thus  a  mighty  kingdom 

Was  of  their  king  bereft. 


^  Lines  2876  et  seq. 


VOL.  11 


44 


III.   The  Story  of  King  Leir 

Fathers  that  wear  rags 

Do  make  their  children  blind. 

Shakespeare's  King  Lear. 

Bladud  had  a  son  named  Leir,  and  he  became  the  next  king. 
He  built  a  noble  burgh,  which  he  loved  greatly,  and  it  was 
named  Kaer  Leir.  In  our  country  speech  we  called  it  Leir- 
chester  (Leicester).  For  sixty  winters  did  Leir  govern  the 
kingdom.  It  was  sorrowful  to  him  not  to  have  a  son  who  would 
succeed  him.  Three  daughters  he  had.  The  eldest  was  named 
Gornoille,  the  second  Ragau,  and  the  third  Cordoille.  Now 
the  youngest  was  the  fairest.  To  her  father  she  was  as  dear  as 
his  own  life. 

When  the  king  grew  old  and  frail  he  bethought  him  what 
he  would  do  with  his  kingdom,  and  he  said:  "I  will  share  it 
among  my  children;  but  first  of  all  I  will  prove  their  love. 
She  who  loves  me  best  will  have  the  best  part  of  my  realm." 

Thus  the  king  thohte  Thus  the  king  thought 

And  ther  aefter  he  worhte.  And  thereafter  he  wrought. 

First  he  called  Gornoille,  and  to  her  he  spake  saying: 

Sei  me,  Gornoille,  Say  me,  Gornoille, 

Fothere  worden;  Words  of  verity; 

Swithe  dure  theo  eart  me  Very  dear  to  me  art  thou, 

Hu  leof  asm  ich  the?  How  dear  am  I  to  thee? 

Hu  mochel  worth  holdist  thou  me  How  much  worth  hold'st  thou  me 

To  welde  kineriche?  To  wield  the  sovereignty? 

Wary  as  women  are  everywhere  was  this  Gornoille,  and  she 
spake  a  falsehood  to  her  sire  the  king,  saying:  "  Dear  and 
beloved  Father,  as  I  expect  God's  mercy — so  help  me,  Apollo! — 
thou   art  dearer  to  me   than   all  the  world.      Indeed,   you  are 

22« 


THE    BRUT  227 

dearer  to  me  than  my  life.  This  I  say  in  truth,  so  that  you  may 
well  believe." 

Said  the  king:  "  My  dear  and  beloved  daughter,  good  shall 
be  thy  greeting.  I  will  divide  my  land  in  three  parts,  and  thou 
shalt  have  the  best  share,  and  thou  shalt  have  for  husband  the 
best  lord  in  the  realm." 

King  Leir  then  spoke  to  Regau  in  like  manner,  and  she 
said:  **  All  that  is  in  life  is  not  so  dear  to  me  as  thee." 

Her  father  was  pleased  with  her  answer,  and  promised  her 
a  third  part  of  his  land. 

Then  came  Cordoille,  the  youngest  and  most  truthful.  She 
had  been  told  of  the  falsehoods  her  sisters  had  uttered,  and  she 
took  her  oath  that  she  would  not  lie. 

Said  her  sire:  **  I  will  hear  thee  now,  Cordoille — so  help  thee, 
Apollo!     How  dear  is  my  life  to  thee?" 

With  laughter  she  made  answer,  saying:  "Thou  art  dear  to 
me  as  my  father,  and  I  am  dear  to  thee  as  thy  daughter.  My 
love  is  true  because  of  our  near  kinship.  Thou  art  worth  as 
much  as  thou  art  master  of,  and  in  accordance  with  what  thou 
dost  possess  men  will  love  thee.  Soon  is  he  hated  who  hath 
little." 

The  king  became  angry.  He  thought  Cordoille  had  con- 
tempt for  him,  and  did  not  love  him  as  did  her  sisters.  So 
angry  was  he  that  he  swooned.  When  he  rose  up,  he  spoke 
evil  words,  and  his  daughter  was  afraid.  "Hearken,  Cordoille!" 
he  said.  "  I  will  make  known  my  will.  Thou  who  wert  dearest 
to  me  art  now  the  most  hateful. 

Ne  scalt  thou  neuere  holde  Thou  shalt  never  hold 

Deal  of  mine  londe.  A  part  of  my  land. 

I  shall  divide  it,  and  thou  wilt  live  in  poverty.  I  never  dreamed 
that  thou  wouldst  shame  me. 

Fleo  vt  of  mine  ehscene!  Flee  out  of  my  eyesight! 

Thy  sisters  shall  get  my  kingdom,  for  this  is  pleasing  to  my  will. 

The  duk  of  Cornwale  The  Duke  of  Cornwall 

Sal  habbe  Gornoille,  Gornoile  shall  have, 

And  the  Scottene  king-  And  the  Scottish  king- 

Regau  the  scene.  Regau  the  fair. 


228  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

They  shall  possess  my  whole  kingdom  between  them." 

Ofte  was  thane  maide  wo,  Often  to  the  maid  came  woe, 

And  neuere  worse  thane  the;  But  ne'er  worse  than  she  now  doth  know; 

Wo  hire  was  on  mode  In  her  mind  great  woe  she  hath 

For  hire  fader  wreththe,  By  reason  of  her  father's  wrath. 

Yeo  code  in  to  bure,  To  her  chamber  goeth  she, 

And  ofte  sithe  sore,  And  often  sore  doth  sigh, 

For  yeo  nolde  leye  Because  to  her  beloved  sire 

Hire  fader  leue.^  She  will  not  tell  a  lie. 

In  the  days  that  followed  she  shunned  her  father,  and  suffered 
her  sorrow  alone  and  in  secret;  greatly  indeed  did  she  mourn. 

Then  came  a  message  to  King  Leir  from  Aganippus,  the 
young  King  of  France,  asking  for  Cordoille  to  be  his  queen. 
Much  had  he  heard  of  her  beauty  and  affability,  and  of  her 
patience,  fair  manners,  and  courtesy.  King  Leir  sent  him  an 
answer,  saying:  "  I  have  divided  my  kingdom  between  my  twc 
daughters.  I  have  a  third  daughter  whom  I  despise  because 
that  she  has  made  me  angry  in  mine  old  age.  From  me  she 
shall  receive  naught,  but  if  thou  wilt  have  her  I  shall  send  her 
to  thee  in  a  ship." 

The  French  king  said:  '*  Never  shall  Leir  keep  this  maiden 
from  me.  I  ask  not  land,  or  silver,  or  gold.  I  have  enough 
of  all  treasure,  except  this  maiden,  Cordoille." 

King  Lear  at  once  sent  his  noble  daughter  to  France  with 
naught  but  her  clothing.  Stern  was  he  to  her.  Very  pleasing 
was  she,  however,  to  King  Aganippus,  and  he  made  her  his 
queen. 

King  Leir  lived  as  before  for  a  time  in  the  land  after  he  had 
divided  his  kingdom  between  his  daughters.  Then  his  sons-in- 
law  plotted  against  him.  He  went  to  the  Scottish  Court,  and 
his  daughter  there  grew  weary  of  him,  and  said  he  was  in  his 
dotage.  She  caused  all  his  knights  and  servants  to  be  sent 
away.  Leir  sorrowed  and  repented  that  he  had  divided  his 
kingdom.  He  left  the  Scottish  Court  and  went  to  Cornwall, 
but  when  he  had  lived  there  for  half  a  year,  he  was  treated  in 
like  manner.  Great  was  his  woe,  and  with  sorrowful  counten- 
ance he  exclaimed : 

'  Lines  3103  et  seq  (the  later  version). 


THK    BRUT 


229 


"VVele!  wele!  wele !  wele! 
Ou  thou  bi-s\vikest  mani  man. 
Wan  hii  the  trouest  abre  best 
Than  thou  heom  bi-swikest." 


"Weal!  weal!  weal!  weal! 
How  thou  deceivest  many  a  man; 
When  they  trust  thee  best  of  all 
Then  dost  thou  deceive  them." 


Much  did  he  lament.  "  I  was  a  rich  king,"  he  said,  "and  had 
many  knights,  and  now  I  have  been  bereft  of  all  my  possessions." 
He  resolved  to  return  to  Scotland,  believing  that  his  daughter, 
the  queen,  would  take  pity  on  him,  but  she  refused  to  allow  him 
to  have  more  than  a  single  knight.  The  old  king  was  vexed  at 
heart  and  moaned: 


Wola,  death !  wola,  death  ! 
That  thou  me  nelt  for-deme. 


Alas,  death!  alas,  death! 
That  thou  wilt  not  destroy  me. 


Said  he:  "Truthful  was  Cordoille,  my  youngest  daughter. 
Well  I  know  it  now.  Very  dear  was  she  to  me,  and  then  she 
became  most  hateful  because  that  she  said  most  truly  that  my 
worthiness  depended  on  my  possessions. 


Soth  seide  the  J'ong-  wimmon, 
Hire  folweth  moche  wisdom  1" 


Truth  said  the  young  woman, 
Much  wisdom  her  followeth!" 


Thus  did  he  lament: 

The  while  ich  hadde  mine  kineiond 

Louede  me  mi  leode; 

For  mi  lond  and  mi  feo, 

Eorles  fulle  to  mi  cneo. 

Nou  ich  ham  a  wrecche  ma 

Ne  loueth  mi  no  man  for  tha. 

Ac  mi  dohter  me  seide  soth, 

For  ich  hire  iJeue  inoth; 

Bothe  two  hire  sostres 

Lesingf  ne  seide, 

That  ich  ham  was  so  leof 

Ase  hire  oyen  lif; 

And  mi  yong-e  dohter, 

Cordoille,  me  seide, 

That  yeo  me  loue  wolde 

So  man  his  fader  solde. 

Wat  wolde  ich  bidde  more 

Of  mine  dohter  deore?^ 


The  while  I  had  my  kingdom 

My  people  all  loved  me; 

For  my  land  and  for  my  fee, 

Earls  were  falling  to  my  knee. 

Now  I  am  a  pauper  man 

And  no  man  loveth  me. 

But  my  daughter  spoke  the  truth, 

Her  I  now  believe; 

Both  of  her  two  sisters 

Said,  but  to  deceive. 

That  to  them  I  was  more  dear 

Than  was  e'en  their  own  life  here; 

And  my  youngest  daughter 

Said  to  me  with  laughter, 

That  she  love  me  ever  would 

As  one  love  a  father  should. 

What  more  would  I  ask  of  here 

Of  my  daughter  very  dear? 


Then  said  Leir:   "  I  will  go  over  the  sea  to  Cordoille.    Ashamed 
am  1  now  that  I  was  angered  by  her  words.     I  shall  seek  the 

'  Lines  3469  et  seq. 


230  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

thing  I  despised.  She  cannot  do  worse  than  forbid  me  her 
land." 

Accompanied  with  but  a  single  swain,  Leir  crossed  the  sea. 
He  found  a  safe  haven,  went  ashore,  and  lay  in  a  field,  and  he 
sent  the  swain  with  a  message  to  his  daughter. 

Cordoille  welcomed  her  sire.  She  sent  knights  to  wait  upon 
him,  and  money  to  buy  rich  clothing  and  horses,  and  when  he 
came  to  the  Court  he  was  honoured  greatly.  Many  times  did 
Cordoille  kiss  him,  and  there  was  joy  in  the  palace.  A  great 
feast  w'as  held.  Trumpets  and  pipes  were  sounded,  and  men 
sang  to  fiddle  and  harp  music. 

For  a  whole  year  Leir  dwelt  at  the  Court,  and  he  was 
honoured  as  High  King  of  France  by  Aganippus  and  his  people. 

When  at  length  Leir  said  that  he  would  go  home,  his  royal 
son-in-law  sent  with  him  an  army  of  good  knights  in  five 
hundred  ships.  He  bade  his  wife,  Cordoille,  accompany  her 
sire.  With  this  army  Leir  won  back  his  kingdom,  which  he 
gave  to  Cordoille,   Queen  of  France. 

Three  years  went  past,  and  then  King  Leir  died.  His 
daughter  had  him  buried  in  the  temple  of  Janus  at  Leicester. 
Thereafter  she  reigned  as  Queen  of  Britain  for  five  years.  Her 
husband,  Aganippus,  died,  and  when  the  King  of  Scotland 
heard  this  he  sent  word  to  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  to  wage  war  in 
the  south,  while  he  himself  waged  war  in  the  north.  Cordoille's 
army  was  attacked  by  armies  led  by  her  nephews.  They 
defeated  her,  and  took  her  and  put  her  in  the  torture-house  of  a 
prison.  There  did  Cordoille  die  by  her  own  hand.  An  evil 
thing  it  was  that  she  should  kill  herself.  Her  nephews  divided 
the  kingdom  between  them  and  waxed  powerful. 


IV.   The  Coming  of  the  EngUshmen 

After  King  Arthur  had  departed  to  Avalon,  Constantine 
reigned  in  Britain,  and  he  was  beloved  by  the  people.  Modred's 
two  sons  raised  a  revolt,  and  one  marched  with  armies  to 
London,  and  the  other  to  Winchester.  When  Constantine 
went  to  London,  the  rebel  prince's  followers  deserted  him.  He 
himself  fled  to  a  church,  but  Constantine  followed  him,  and  with 
his  sword  took  off  his  head.  Then  went  the  king  to  Winchester, 
and  there  in  a  church  he  slew  the  other  son  of  Modred,  so  that 
the  altar  was  covered  with  blood. 

There  was  peace  in  Britain  after  that.  The  people  enjoyed 
free  laws,  and  full  well  were  these  laws  maintained  as  in  the  days 
of  Arthur.  Constantine  reigned  but  for  four  years;  his  foes 
slew  him.  Then  did  his  people  carry  him  to  Stonehenge,  where 
he  was  laid  beside  his  dear  ancestors. 

The  wicked  Conan  was  the  next  king,  and  his  own  men 
fought  against  him.  Every  burgh  decayed,  so  greatly  was 
the  land  disturbed.  After  reigning  for  six  years,  he  fell  from 
his  horse,  and  good  for  all  folk  was  his  death! 

Then  Vortiporus  became  king.  In  his  reign  the  Saxish  men 
came  sailing  to  Britain,  and  meikle  harm  did  they  do  beyond 
the  Humber,  for  they  slew  or  captured  all  they  came  nigh. 
The  king  attacked  them,  and  drove  them  from  the  land.  He 
reigned  for  seven  years  and  then  died. 

King  Malgus  reigned  next  over  the  realm.  The  old  books 
tell  that,  except  Adam  and  Absalon,  he  was  the  fairest  man  that 
ever  lived.  But,  although  a  generous  king,  he  was  as  sinful  as 
were  those  of  Sodom.  After  him  came  King  Carrie.  He  was 
a  brave  knight,  but  did  not  prosper,  the  reason  being  that 
foreigners  destroyed  all  his  nation.  Because  of  this  he  was 
called  Kinric. 

Folc  hine  gunne  hsenen  The  people  ga.n  to  rate  him, 

Folc  hine  g-unne  hatien  The  people  gan  to  hate  him, 

And  hoker  loth  sungen  Songs  of  mocking  did  they  sing 

Bi  lathen  than  kingen.  About  that  very  odious  king. 

231 


232  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

War  broke  out  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  the  Saxish  men 
came  in  great  numbers.  King  Carrie  lived  in  exile  from  a 
great  part  of  his  people. 

Then  came  to  Britain  Gurmund,  a  brave  knight,  who  was 
the  son  of  a  king  of  Africa.  He  led  an  army  of  youths  that  he 
had  gathered  from  Babylonia,  Macedonia,  Turkey,  Persia, 
Nubia,  and  Arabia.  He  first  invaded  Ireland  and  conquered  it. 
Then  he  crossed  to  Southampton  with  his  mighty  host  and 
landed  there. 

The  kindred  of  Hengest,  who  were  beyond  the  Humber, 
hearing  of  the  coming  of  Gurmund,  resolved  to  betray  King 
Carrie  and  kill  the  Britons.  First  they  made  peace  with  Carrie, 
promising  to  pay  him  tribute  and  help  him  against  the  foreign 
king.  Carrie  believed  and  trusted  them.  Then  they  sent  mes- 
sengers to  Gurmund,  saying:  **Thou  art  a  heathen  king,  and 
we  are  heathen  warriors.  Carrie  is  a  Christian  man,  and  is 
therefore  hateful.  If  thou  wilt  seize  all  his  land,  we  shall  fight 
for  thee,  and  slay  Carrie  and  all  his  knights." 

Gurmund  made  a  compact  with  the  Saxish  men,  and  with 
them  joined  forces.  Then  the  combined  armies  marched  against 
the  King  of  Britain. 

Carrie  assembled  his  followers  and  fought  many  battles, 
and  he  would  have  overcome  Gurmund,  by  reason  of  his 
bravery,  but  Gurmund's  force  was  ever  being  reinforced  by  the 
Saxish  men.  In  the  end  Carrie  was  driven  into  Cirencester. 
There  was  he  well  supplied  with  corn,  and  the  walls  were  very 
strong. 

Meanwhile  Gurmund  overran  the  kingdom.  Destruction 
fell  upon  the  land.  Monks  were  tortured,  high  ladies  were 
dishonoured,  priests  were  slain,  and  churches  destroyed;  the 
clerks  were  killed,  and  each  child  was  put  to  death;  knights 
were  hung  by  Gurmund. 

Many  wretched  folk  fled  from  Britain.  Some  went  to  Corn- 
wall, some  to  Wales,  some  to  Normandy,  and  some  to  Brittany, 
while  some  fled  to  Ireland,  where  they  became  slaves,  they  and 
all  their  kin,  and  never  did  they  return  again. 

Gurmund  besieged  Cirencester,  but  could  not  take  it.  Then 
came  to  him  a  French  prince  who  had  been  banished  by  his 


THE    BRUT  233 

sire,  the  king;  he  had  forsaken  Christ  and  taken  to  heathenism. 
With  two  thousand  knights  he  gave  aid  to  Gurmund.  Still 
Cirencester  held  out. 

Then  a  heathen  man  hit  on  a  cunning  plan.  He  filled  nut- 
shells with  fire,  and,  having  netted  many  sparrows,  he  knotted 
the  shells  to  their  feet  and  set  them  free.  The  birds  flew  to 
their  nests  in  the  eaves  of  the  houses  of  Cirencester,  and  the 
wind  kindled  the  smouldering  fire  in  the  nutshells  and  set 
many  houses  on  fire.  The  burgh  burned  all  night;  boundless 
was  the  burning.  King  Carrie  and  many  of  his  men  escaped, 
however,  and  fled  to  Wales.  The  rich  burgh  was  completely 
destroyed,  and  for  many  years  afterwards  was  mockingly  called 
**  Sparrow-chester  ". 

The  heathen  king,  Gurmund,  destroyed  Christendom  in 
Britain.  He  overthrew  the  churches;  he  cut  off  the  lips  of 
knights  and  the  teats  of  maidens;  he  blinded  the  priests;  many 
folk  he  maimed,  and  many  men  he  dismembered. 

Thereafter  he  went  to  London.  Many  Saxish  men  began 
to  arrive  in  the  kingdom,  many  and  without  number,  and  they 
acknowledged  Gurmund  as  their  king. 

The  wicked  Gurmund  bade  all  who  loved  him  to  slay  each 
Briton  he  might  find  in  the  land,  or  draw  him  in  pieces  with 
horses,  unless  he  would  promise  to  live  as  a  slave,  and  desert 
God's  mass  and  be  a  heathen. 

Beside  Alemaine  is  the  land  of  the  Engles.  To  these  Engles 
Gurmund  gave  all  his  kingdom,  so  that  it  was  called  Engle- 
land,  and  all  the  folk  in  it  English. 

Many  of  the  burghs  and  lands  and  dwellings  were  then 
deprived  of  their  names,  so  as  to  disgrace  the  Britons.  The 
Engles  took  possession  of  all,  and  Gurmund  went  away. 

Greatly  did  the  Engles  quarrel  among  themselves  as  to  who 
should  be  king,  and  soon  there  were  five  kings  in  the  land. 
Each  fought  with  the  other,  and  each  took  what  he  could  from 
the  other,  sometimes  awhile  at  enmity  and  another  while  in 
amity. 

And  thus  heo  wunedon  here  And  thus  they  did  live  here 

An  hundred  and  fif  yere;  A  hundred  and  five  years; 

That  neuere  com  here  Cristindon  And  never  Christendom  came  here 

Icud  i  thissen  londe;  To  be  known  in  this  land; 


234  THE   WORLD'S    HKRITAGE 

No  belle  i-rungen,  Nor  bell  was  ever  rung-, 

No  masse  isunge.  Nor  mass  was  ever  sung^. 

No  chirche  then  nes  ihaleyed,  Nor  church  was  hallowed  there, 

No  child  ther  nes  ifuleyed.^  Nor  child  was  christened  there. 

Then  came  a  time  when  Pope  Gregory  saw  in  Rome  three 
men  of  noble  birth  who  had  been  sold  out  of  the  land  of  the 
Engles.  They  were  exceedingly  fair,  and  they  said  to  the  Pope, 
when  he  spoke  to  them:  "We  are  heathen  men.  We  yearn 
for  baptism.     Will  you  set  us  free?" 

Said  the  Pope:  "Truly  English  are  you,  and  you  resemble 
angels.     Of  all  men  in  the  earth  you  are  the  fairest." 

The  Pope  caused  the  men  to  be  set  free,  and  had  them  bap- 
tized. He  then  asked  them  regarding  England,  and  when  they 
had  told  all,  he  called  together  his  cardinals,  and  caused  Austin, 
the  noblest  of  clerks,  to  be  sent  to  England  to  preach  the  gospel. 

After  King  .^thelbert  believed  and  was  baptized  with  his 
knights,  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was  built.  Austin 
went  east  and  west  and  south  and  north,  and  in  time  he  turned 
all  England  into  God's  land. 

The  Britons  still  held  a  great  deal  of  land  in  the  north  of 
England.  They  would  not  submit  to  the  English.  Many 
monks  were  among  them,  and  in  all  there  were  seven  bishops. 
One  archbishop  there  was,  and  he  was  stationed  at  Kaerleon. 
At  Bangor  was  an  abbey  with  many  monks,  and  the  abbot  was 
of  high  birth. 

The  British  bishops  would  not  submit  to  Austin,  nor  would 
they  make  peace  with  yEthelbert,  whom  they  scorned.  In  time 
many  of  the  Britons  were  driven  into  the  Welsh  land. 

And  /Englisce  kinges  And  Eiis^lish  kings 

Walden  thas  londes;  They  ruled  these  realms; 

And  Bruttes  his  loseden  And  the  Britons  lost 

This  lond  and  thas  leode;  This  land  and  this  nation; 

That  naeuere  seoththen  maere  So  that  ne'er  again  in  after  time 

Kinges  neouren  here.  Were  they  kings  here. 

Tha  yet  ne  com  pses  ilke  dsei,  Nor  have  they  yet  come  this  same  day, 

Beo  heonne  uorth  alse  hit  maei,  Be  it  henceforth  as  it  may, 

Iwurthe  thet  iwurthe,  Happen  what  may  happen, 

Iwurthe  Godes  wille.  Happen  may  God's  will. 

Amen.  Amen. 

1  Lines  29437  et  seq. 


BARBOUR'S    BRUCE 
Introductory 

The  Bruce  is  Scotland's  national  epic.  Its  author,  John 
Barbour,  whose  name  was  also  written  Barbere  and  Barbar, 
was  Archdeacon  of  Aberdeen  in  1357.  Nothing  is  known  of 
his  family.  His  name  suggests  that  an  ancestor  had  been  a 
barber.  He  studied  at  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Paris, 
and  his  poetic  work  shows  that  he  had  a  good  knowledge  of 
classical  and  romantic  literature.  Apparently,  too,  he  knew 
Gaelic,  as  did,  without  doubt,  Robert  the  Bruce,  who  was  able 
to  converse  with  Highland  allies  like  Angus  of  Islay.  He 
makes  passing  reference  to  the  Ossianic  heroes  Goll  and  Fionn. 

The  year  of  his  birth  is  uncertain,  and  is  given  by  different 
authorities  as  13 16  and  1320.  He  was  evidently  Chaucer's 
senior  by  over  twenty  years.  In  1373  he  received  the  appoint- 
ment of  clerk  of  audit  of  the  household  of  Robert  II.  He  was 
also  an  auditor  of  Exchequer.  His  leisure  time  during  this 
period  appears  to  have  been  devoted  to  poetic  composition, 
for  he  received  a  royal  grant  of  ;^io  from  the  customs  of  Aber- 
deen in  March,  1377'.  Eighteen  months  later  an  annual  pension 
of  twenty  shillings  was  allocated  to  him  and  his  assignees  for 
all  time.  The  Bruce  had  been  completed,  and  its  author  was 
evidently  deemed  worthy  by  the  king  of  special  recognition  and 
reward.  Other  grants  were  subsequently  made  to  him  "for 
faithful  service  ". 

Barbour  assigned  his  perpetual  pension  to  the  Dean  and 
Chapter  of  Aberdeen  for  religious  purposes.  He  appears  to 
have  died  in  1395,  having  passed  "  the  alloted  span  "  of  ''  three 
score  and  ten  years  ". 


236  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Born  in  the  reign  of  King  Robert  the  Bruce — who  died  on 
7th  June,  1329,  in  his  fifty-fifth  year — and  a  few  years  after 
Bannockburn,  Barbour  was  able  to  speak  with  men  who  had 
fought  in  the  famous  battle.  Thus  we  find  him  telling  us, 
in  his  description  of  Douglas: 

In  vysage  wes  he  sumdeill  gra)',  In  visage  he  was  somewhat  grey, 

And  had  black  har,  as  Ic  hard  say . . .  And  had  black  hair,  as  I've  heard  say  .  .  ■ 

His  body  wes  wejll  maid  and  lenj'C,  His  body  lean  was  and  well  made, 

As  thai  that  saiv  him  said  to  me.  As  they  that  saw  him  to  fne  said. 

In  relating  the  story  of  Edward  Bruce's  raid  in  Galloway 
he  names  his  informant: 

A  knycht,  that  then  was  in  his  rout,  A  knight  that  then  was  in  his  rout, 

Worthi  and  wycht,  stalwart  and  stout,  Worthy  and  brave,  stalwart  and  stout, 

Curtaiss,  and  fayr  and  off  gud  fame,  Courteous  and  fair  and  of  good  fame, 

Schyr  Alane  of  Catkert  by  name.  Sir  Alan  of  Cathcart  by  name, 

Tauld  me  this  taile,  as  I  sail  tell.  . .  .  Told  me  this  tale,  as  I  shall  tell.  . .  . 

The  Bruce  is  divided  into  twenty  books,  comprising  some 
14,000  lines.  Two  manuscript  copies  survive,  one  at  Edin- 
burgh and  one  at  Cambridge,  which  were  written  about  a 
hundred  years  after  the  date  of  composition.  These  v^ary  some- 
what, as  is  to  be  expected,  all  copyists  not  having  been  equally 
careful.^  The  dialect  of  the  poem  is  northern  English,  which 
was  common  to  Northumbria  and  the  Scottish  lowland  and 
east  coast  burghs.  "  The  Durham  dialect  of  the  Cursor  Mundi 
and  the  Aberdeen  Scotch  of  Barbour  are ",  says  Professor 
Skeat,2  "hardly  distinguishable  by  grammatical  and  ortho- 
graphical tests ;  and  both  bear  a  remarkable  resemblance  to 
the  Yorkshire  dialect  as  found  in  Hampole.  What  is  now 
called  Lowland  Scotch  is  so  nearly  descended  from  Old  North- 
umbrian, that  the  latter  was  invariably  called  '  Ingliss  '  by 
the  writers  who  employed  it;  and  they  reserved  'Scottish' 
to  designate  Gaelic  or  Erse,  the  tongue  of  the  original  'Scots' 
who  gave  this  name  to  the  country.  Barbour  {Bruce.,  IV,  253) 
calls  his  own  language  *  Ynglis'."  English  was  the  language 
of  commerce,  and  made  headway  in  Scotland,  in  which  Gaelic 

1  See  the  editions  of  the  poem  edited,  by  Skeat,  for  the  Early  English  Text  Society  in 
1870-89,  for  the  Scottish  Text  Society  in  1893-5,  ^"^  W.  M.  Mackenzie's  The  Bruce,  London, 
1909.  -  English  Dialects,  p.  33. 


BARBOUR'S    BRUCE  237 

had  displaced  old  British,  Pictish,  and,  in  some  areas,  Norse. 
The  Anglian  settlement  in  the  Lothians  had  also,  no  doubt, 
stimulated  the  growth  of  early  English  in  Scotland.  The  great 
majority  of  rural  place-names  remain  Celtic  to  our  own  day, 
a  clear  indication  of  the  persistence  of  the  stock  that  spoke 
Celtic  languages.  Families  like  the  Scots  and  Douglases  are, 
as  their  names  indicate,  clearly  of  Gaelic  origin. 

Although  Barbour  does  not  tell  us  anything  about  himself, 
he  has  stamped  his  own  character,  as  well  as  that  of  his  age, 
on  his  poem  The  Bruce.  His  personality  is  in  every  line,  and 
it  is  a  sweet  and  lovable  personality.  One  is  drawn  to  him  by 
his  naturalness,  his  simplicity,  his  unaffected  piety,  his  healthy 
humour,  his  admiration  of  valour  and  loyalty,  his  hatred  of 
wrong  and  oppression,  which  he  accounted  sinful,  and  his 
fervid  love  of  liberty,  which  is  concentrated  in  his  inspiring 
lyrical  outburst  in  the  first  book  of  The  Bruce-. 

Ah !  freedom  is  a  noble  thing  ! 

This  is  the  keynote  of  the  poem.  It  is  essentially  a  poem  of 
freedom,  being  a  "  suthfast  [truthful]  story"  of  the  Scottish 
war  of  independence. 

There  are  those  who  would  deny  to  Barbour  outstanding 
poetic  genius.  If  he  had  written  naught  else  but  the  lines  on 
freedom,  he  would  have  been  assured  of  immortality.  But  there 
are  many  other  passages  which  are  of  similarly  high  poetic 
merit;  all  through  The  Bruce  the  spirit  of  true  poetry  pulsates 
and  flashes,  sometimes  in  isolated  lines,  and  often  in  long,  well- 
sustained  passages  of  undeniable  vigour  and  beauty.  One  must, 
however,  apply  oneself  to  appreciate  him,  to  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  the  poem,  and  to  bring  out  its  music.  Barbour  is  difficult 
to  read  in  these  days,  sometimes  even  more  difficult  than 
Chaucer.  His  work  has  been  characterized  as  "crude", 
"rugged",  and  "unmusical";  but  such  criticisms  do  not 
take  into  account  the  changes  in  the  pronunciation  of  even 
familiar  words,  or  attempt  to  appreciate  the  beauty  of  archaic 
words  and  phrases.  When  read  aright,  after  due  preparation, 
The  Bruce  reveals  real  poetic  charm,  and  is  found  to  have  a 
limpid   flow   of   metrical    music.      Barbour   wrote   octosyllabic 


2';8 


THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 


verse  with  more  skill  than  Scott,  whose  couplets  grow  mono- 
tonous, as  in: 

The  western  waves  of  ebbing-  daj- 
Rolled  o'er  the  glen  their  level  way; 
Each  purple  peak,  each  flinty  spire, 
Was  bathed  with  floods  of  living  fire, 
But  not  a  setting  beam  could  glow 
Within  the  dark  ravine  below. 

The  elder  poet  gave  variety  to  his  medium;  he  did  not 
confine  himself  to  couplets,  but  flowed  on  occasion  through 
several  lines,  with  breaks  and  pauses  and  changes  of  beat  that 
are  artistically  effective  and  satisfying.  In  his  two  descriptions 
of  May  which  follow,  these  characteristics  can  be  detected.  The 
writer  has  endeavoured  to  reproduce  in  modern  verse,  beside 
the  originals,  the  mannerisms  and  charm  of  Barbour: 

This  was  in  vere,  quhen  wyntir  tyde, 
With  his  blastis  hydwis  to  bydc, 
Was  ourdriffin:  and  byrdis  sniale, 
As  thristill  and  the  nychtingale, 
Beg-outh  rycht  meraly  to  syng, 
And  for  to  mak  in  thair  synging' 
Syndry  notis,  and  soundis  sere, 
And  melody  plesande  to  here. 
And  the  treis  begouth  to  ma 
Burgeonys,  and  brycht  blumys  alsua, 
To  win  the  healing  of  thar  hevede. 
That  wikkid  wyntir  had  them  revede; 
And  all  gravis  begouth  to  spring.  .  .  .' 

This  wes  in  the  monelh  of  Ma}', 
Quhen  byrdis  syngis  on  the  spray; 
Melland  thair  notys  with  S3'dry  sowiie. 
For  softness  of  that  sweit  sesoune; 
And  levis  on  the  branchis  spredis, 
And  blomys  bricht  besyd  them  bredis. 
And  feldis  florist  ar  with  flowris 
Well  savourit,  of  seir  colouris; 
And  all  thing  worthis  blith  and  gay; 
Quhen  that  this  gud  king  tuk  his  way 
To  ryd  furthward." 


This  was  in  spring,  when  winter-tide, 

With  hideous  blast  could  not  abide 

And  was  outspent:  birds  in  the  dale, 

The  throstle  and  the  nightingale. 

Began  right  merrilj'  to  sing, 

And  make  the  sounding  woodlands  ring 

With  varied  notes  afar  and  near. 

In  melody  most  sweet  to  hear; 

And  when  the  trees  began  to  dight 

Their  stems  with  leaves  and  blooms  so  bright, 

To  win  the  coverings  once  they  wore 

-And  cruel  winter  from  them  tore. 

When  all  the  groves  began  to  spring.  . . . 

This  was  in  the  month  of  May 

When  little  birds  sing  on  the  spray; 

Mingling  their  notes  with  sounds  that  greet 

The  softness  of  the  season  sweet; 

When  leaves  spread  o'er  the  branches  green, 

And  bright  blooms  are  beside  them  seen, 

And  in  tlie  fields  are  flowers  a-flare, 

Of  many  hues  and  forms  so  fair; 

And  all  things  be  so  blithe  and  gay. 

'Twas  then  the  good  king  took  his  way 

Forthward  to  ride. 


As  a  poet,  Barbour  has  been  somewhat  neglected.  His 
chief  readers  nowadays  are  the  historians  and  philologists. 
The    latter   find    him    intensely    interesting;    the   former   have 

'  Book  V,  1-13.  2  Book  XVI,  63-73. 


BARBOUR'S    BRUCE  239 

waged  wordy  battles  over  his  data.  Recent  research  work  in 
Scottish  history,  however,  has  demonstrated  that  Barbour  was 
no  mere  romancer.  Although  he  made  minor  slips,  and  utilized 
his  material  with  occasional  freedom  to  suit  the  poetic  mode, 
he  told  on  the  whole  very  faithfully  a  "suthfast  story".  The 
views  no  longer  obtain  of  historians  like  Green, ^  who  regarded 
the  poem  as  "historically  worthless";  or  like  Freeman,  who, 
with  characteristic  bias,  called  Archdeacon  Barbour  a  "con- 
scious liar",  and  held  that  the  historical  value  of  The  Bruce 
"is  as  low  as  value  can  be".^  "It  is  on  the  whole,  moderate, 
truthful,  and  historical  ",  says  a  later  writer,^  who  is  not  inclined 
to  enthusiasm  regarding  Barbour.  Happily,  national  and  racial 
antipathies  are  now  being  eradicated  from  British  history. 

Barbour's  first  claim  upon  our  attention  is  as  a  poet,  and 
when  we  go  to  him  for  poetry,  the  reward  is  considerable. 
He  may  not  be  a  Chaucer,  who  was  a  more  poetic  poet,  but 
he  is  an  inspirer  of  great  ideals,  a  teacher  who  was  convinced 
of  the  righteousness  of  freedom,  and  he  wrote  "nothing  base". 
If  he  was  not  as  great  a  poet  as  Chaucer,  he  was,  perhaps, 
greater  as  a  man.  He  is  at  once  a  man  with  a  mission  and 
a  real  interpreter  of  a  people  and  their  ideals.  The  soul  of  Scot- 
land shines  forth  in  The  Bruce ^  and  not  even  Burns  is  more 
distinctively  Scottish.  Withal,  he  is  entirely  free  of  the  rant  and 
cant  and  swagger  of  that  aggressive  kind  of  cheap  patriotism 
which  is  little  more  than  a  form  of  national  vanity.  Barbour's 
patriotism,  like  his  religion,  is  as  unaffected  as  it  is  nobly 
sincere;  indeed,  it  is  a  part  of  the  religion  of  a  man  of  humble 
spirit  and  steadfast  character. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  Barbour  had  more  than  a 
judge's  conviction  of  the  rightfulness  of  Bruce  in  his  struggle 
for  independence.  His  love  for  the  cause  for  which  Bruce  stood 
prompted  him  to  deal  gently  with  his  sins,  as,  for  instance, 
when  the  king  murdered  his  kinsman  and  rival,  the  Red  Comyn. 
It  was  not  for  the  sin  of  murder  so  much  as  for  his  desecration 
of  the  church  that  the  poet  condemned  his  hero's  impulsive 
deed.    But  Barbour  deals  sparingly  and  charitably  with  Edward, 

*  Short  History,  p.  21  r.  '^  Saturday  Review,  1872,  Vol.  XXXIII,  p.  90, 

3  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  Vol.  TI,  p.  108. 


240  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

the  enemy  of  Scottish  lovers  of  liberty.  He  simply  states  the 
case  against  him,  and  lets  the  facts  speak  for  themselves.  King 
Edward  was  undoubtedly  a  great  ruler  and  a  great  soldier,  but 
he  was  also  a  fiery  and  intolerant  tyrant.  He  "  made  history", 
and,  like  many  a  "  maker  of  history",  he  made  tragic  mistakes; 
the  consequences  of  some  of  Edward's  blunders  survived  long 
after  his  day.  It  can  hardly  be  held  that  his  attempts  to  stamp 
out  national  feeling  in  Wales,  Ireland,  and  Scotland  were  dic- 
tated by  the  instincts  or  foresight  of  a  great  statesman.  The 
desired  union  of  the  kingdoms  was  undoubtedly  a  good  ideal. 
His  means  and  motives,  however,  cannot  now  be  defended. 
Gross  forms  of  oppression  only  fanned  the  flames  he  attempted 
to  extinguish,  and  his  personal  vanity  and  desire  for  aggrand- 
izement undoubtedly  postponed  the  accomplishment  of  the  end 
which  the  wise  statesmen  of  his  age  had  in  view.  The  union 
of  Scotland  and  England  might  have  been  consummated  perhaps 
two  centuries  earlier  than  was  the  case  had  Edward  been  less 
ambitious,  less  impulsive,  less  impatient,  and  more  broad- 
minded,  sympathetic,  and  far-seeing.  His  experiences  in  the 
Near  East,  when  he  fought  against  the  Saracens,  may  have 
fostered  in  his  mind  an  appreciation  of  Oriental  tyranny  and 
Oriental  methods  of  forming  an  Empire  by  sheer  oppression. 

The  people  give  heed  to  those  who  terrorize  them, 

sang  an  ancient  Egyptian  poet,  who  voiced  an  Oriental  idea 
based  on  Oriental  experiences.  But  such  a  policy,  when  trans- 
ferred to  the  British  Isles,  was  like  a  plant  of  foreign  growth, 
unsuitable  for  soil  and  climate.  Freedom  is  a  British  social 
ideal  of  great  antiquity,  as  may  be  gathered  from  Layamon's 
Brut.  To  the  people  it  was  and  is,  as  Barbour  puts  it,  "  prized 
more  than  all  the  gold  in  the  world  ".  It  was  because  Edward 
ignored,  in  dealing  with  the  Scottish  part  of  Britain,  the  ideals 
and  the  genius  of  a  people  with  great  traditions,  including  the 
love  of  liberty  and  independence,  that  he  failed  so  tragically. 
He  committed  the  unforgiveable  crime  of  breaking  the  hundred 
years'  peace  between  Scotland  and  England.  The  peoples  were 
being  gradually  drawn  together,  until  Edward,  "the  hammer 
of  the  Scots",   hammered    out   a    deep  chasm   betw^een   them. 


BARBOUR'S    BRUCE  241 

When  he  died  he  left  naught  but  the  chasm  as  a  memorial  of 
his  policy  of  union,  which  was  essentially  a  good  policy.  It 
took  some  three  centuries  to  construct  a  bridge  over  it. 

Edward's  intervention  in  Scottish  politics  was  brought  about 
by  a  dispute  regarding  succession  to  the  throne.  King  Alex- 
ander III,  grandson  of  William  the  Lion,  died,  in  1286,  leaving 
no  male  heir.  The  descendants  of  David,  Earl  of  Huntingdon, 
brother  of  William  the  Lion,  then  urged  their  claims.  A  son 
of  the  earl's  had  died  childless.  His  eldest  daughter,  Margaret, 
married  the  Lord  of  Galloway,  and  they  had  a  daughter,  Dervor- 
gilla,  whose  son  was  John  Baliol.  The  earl's  second  daughter 
married  Lord  Bruce,  and  they  had  a  son,  known  as  Robert 
Bruce  "the  Competitor";  this  was  the  grandfather  of  King 
Robert  the  Bruce.  In  the  royal  line,  therefore,  a  male  heir  was 
born  to  the  second  daughter,  the  elder  daughter  having  had  an 
heiress,  the  mother  of  Baliol.  Before  Alexander  II  had  a  son, 
who  afterwards  succeeded  him  as  Alexander  III,  he  recognized 
Robert  Bruce  ''the  Competitor"  as  his  heir. 

The  dispute  between  the  elder  Robert  Bruce  and  John  Baliol, 
the  son  of  his  first  cousin,  divided  the  barons  of  Scotland. 
Among  Baliol's  chief  supporters  was  his  nephew,  John,  the 
Red  Comyn,  son  of  his  sister  Margaret. 

Edward  was  appealed  to  as  arbiter  to  give  judgment  on  the 
claims  of  Bruce  and  Baliol.  He  did  not  act,  however,  with 
impartial  spirit.  He  saw  Scotland  divided  against  itself,  and 
decided  to  take  advantage  of  the  circumstance.  Accordingly,  he 
went  north  with  an  army  and  met  the  competitors  at  Norham. 
There  he  first  made  it  known  that  the  man  who  was  to  become 
King  of  Scotland  must  recognize  him  as  Lord  Paramount  of 
Scotland.  The  Scots,  taken  by  surprise,  asked  for  a  short 
period  of  grace  to  consider  the  matter.  They  were  first  granted 
twenty-four  hours,  and  then  three  weeks.  Imagine  the  situation. 
Scotland,  divided  against  itself,  was  as  helpless  as  was  Russia 
when  its  delegates  attended  the  conference  at  Brest-Litovsk. 
Edward's  condition  had  to  be  complied  with,  and  was  complied 
with.  Then  he  urged  a  new  one  by  demanding  that  his  soldiers 
should  occupy  the  fortresses  of  Scotland.  This  was  followed 
by  a  demand  that  the  Scottish  nobles,  priests,  burgesses,  &c., 

Vol.  II.  45 


242  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

should  swear  allegiance  to  him.  Baliol  was  declared  king,  and 
having  taken  the  oath  to  be  faithful  to  the  lord  paramount,  he, 
before  he  was  crowned,  formally  delivered  up  the  Scottish  fort- 
resses to  Edward.  Baliol  had  a  brief,  unhappy  reign.  Ed- 
ward's constant  interference  in  Scottish  domestic  affairs  ulti- 
mately forced  him  to  revolt  and  form  an  alliance  with  France 
against  England.  Then  ensued  the  War  of  Independence, 
which  broke  out  in  March,  1296.  English  military  supremacy 
did  not  come  to  an  end,  however,  until  Robert  Bruce  fought 
and  won  the  Battle  of  Bannockburn  in  1314.  The  war  did  not 
end  even  then.  Not  until  March,  1328,  was  the  independence 
of  Scotland  formally  recognized  by  England.  Thirty-two  un- 
happy years  of  war,  in  which  fell  many  a  brave  Englishman 
and  Scotsman,  was  the  price  paid  for  Edward's  ambition.  The 
Scots   were   forced    to  fight  for  freedom,  because,  as  Barbour 

sings, 

Freedom  all  solace  to  man  gives  : 
He  lives  at  ease  who  freely  lives. 
A  noble  heart  can  have  no  ease, 
And  nothing  else  that  will  him  please, 
If  freedom  fail. 

The  harsh  and  oppressive  policy  of  Edward  I  had  caused  the 

people  to  feel  keenly 

the  wrekched  doom 
That  coupled  is  with  foul  thraldom. 

Barbour's  poem,  which  is  epical  in  character,  affords  us 
interesting  glimpses  of  the  chief  characters  in  the  struggle  for 
national  freedom.  The  most  vivid  impression  is  that  of  James, 
the  Good  Douglas.  His  loyalty  to  Bruce  appealed  strongly  to 
Barbour. 

Leute  to  loff  is  gfretumly;  'T  is  seemly  to  love  loyalty, 

Throuch  leiitie  liffis  men  rychtwisly.         Right  wise  all  loyal  men  do  be. 

Although  the  poet  compares  him  to  Hector  of  Troy,  he  seems 
to  have  remembered  the  heroic  Neesha  of  the  Gaelic  bards. 

Of  the  lustre  of  the  raven  were  his  locks,  .  .  . 
His  skin  was  like  the  foam  of  streams, 
Like  quiet  waters  was  his  voice, 
His  heart  was  manly  and  generous.  .  .  . 


BARBOUR'S    BRUCE  243 

But  when  arose  his  wrath  and  ire 
His  likeness  was  the  ocean  fierce,  .  .  . 
Like  the  springtide's  violent  flood 
Was  he  in  battle  at  strife  of  swords.* 

Douglas  was  similarly  unaffected  and  heroic,  but  not  hand- 
some. 

He  was  in  all  his  dedis  lele ;  He  was  in  all  his  doings  leal ; 

For  him  dedeynyheit  nocht  to  dele  For  never  did  he  deign  to  deal 

With  trechery,  na  with  falset.  With  tyranny  or  falsehood  yet. 

His  hart  on  hey  honour  was  set:  His  heart  was  on  high  honour  set; 

And  hym  contenyt  on  sic  maner,  Pleasing  he  was  to  see  and  hear, 

That  all  him  luffyt  that  war  ner.  That  all  him  loved  that  were  him  near. 

Bot  he  wes  nocht  so  fayr,  that  we  But  he  was  not  so  fair  that  we 

Suld  spek  gretly  off  his  beaute :  Can  say  that  beautiful  was  he : 

In  vysage  wes  he  sumdeill  gray,  In  visage  he  was  somewhat  grey. 

And  had  blak  hair,  as  Ic  hard  say;  And  had  black  hair,  as  I  've  heard  say; 

Bot  off  lymms  he  wes  weill  maid.  But  shapely  were  his  limbs,  and  great 

With  banys  gret  and  schuldrys  braid.  His  bones,  his  shoulders  broad  and  straight. 

His  body  wes  weyll  maid  and  lenye.  His  body  lean  was  and  well  made, 

As  thai  that  saw  hym  said  to  me.  As  they  that  saw  him  to  me  said. 

Quhen  he  was  blyth  he  wes  lufly,  When  he  was  biythe,  charming  was  he. 

And  meyk  and  sweyt  in  cumpany:  And  meek  and  sweet  in  company. 

Bot  quha  in  battail  mycht  him  se  But  who  in  battle  might  him  see 

All  other  contenance  had  he.  A  different  countenance  had  he 

And  in  speke  wlispyt  he  sum  deill ;  In  speech  he  lisped,  but  I  've  heard  tell 

Bot  that  sat  him  rycht  wondre  weill.  His  lisp  became  him  wondrous  well. 

Till  gud  Ector  of  Troy  mycht  he  To  the  good  Trojan  Hector  he 

In  mony  thingis  liknyt  be.  In  many  things  might  likened  be. 

Ector  had  blak  har,  as  he  had  Hector  had  black  hair  like  to  him. 

And  stark  lymmys,  and  rycht  weill  maid;  Was  shapely,  too,  and  stark  of  limb; 

And  wlyspit  alsua  as  did  he,  And  Hector  lisped  just  as  did  he, 

And  was  fulfillyt  of  leawte,  And  was  fulfilled  of  loyalty, 

And  was  curtais  and  wys  and  wycht.^  And  courteous  was  and  wise  and  brave. 

The  poet,  unfortunately,  does  not  similarly  give  an  indica- 
tion of  the  personal  appearance  of  the  Bruce.  He  tells  us  he 
was  "wicht^  and  wise",  and  **  hardy  of  heart  and  hand",  but 
not  whether  he  was  dark  or  fair,  tall  or  of  short  stature.  Some 
ethnologists  who  have  seen  the  skull  said  to  be  Bruce's  regard 
him  as  having  been  of  Cro-Magnon  type,  with  "prominent 
brows  and  receding  forehead".  Doubtless  he  was  an  impressive 
man,  perhaps  of  rugged  countenance,  who  commanded  respect 

'  Dr.  Carmichaers  Dei^-dire,  pp.  122-3.  *  Rook  I,  375-403. 

3  Muscular,  brave. 


244  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

in  the  days  when  muscle  counted  as  much  as  brain.  We  gather 
from  Barbour  that  he  was  emotional.  Sometimes  he  displayed 
fiery  temper,  as  when  he  stabbed  Comyn,  and  he  was  readily 
moved  to  tears.  Once,  while  in  hiding,  enduring  many  perils 
and  sufferings,  he  met  and  welcomed  Lennox  and  his  men,  and, 
hearing  of  their  sad  experiences,  "for  pite  gret "  ("for  pity 
wept").  Lennox  "  kysst  (kissed)  him  full  tendirly ".  Bruce 
was  evidently  loved  as  well  as  admired  by  his  followers.  He 
always  seemed  cheerful  even  when  things  looked  blackest. 
More  than   once 

(He)  fenyeit  to  mak  better  cher  He  feigned  to  make  better  cheer 

Than  he  had  matir  to.  Than  he  had  reason  to. 

Sometimes  he  entertained  his  fellow  fugitives  by  reading  old 
romances  to  them.'  On  Loch  Lomondside  the  tales  he  recited 
included  that  of  Roland  and  Oliver. 

The  gfud  king:,  apon  this  maner,  The  good  king  in  this  manner  dear 

Comfortyt  thaim  that  war  him  near.       Comforted  them  that  were  him  near. 

He  had  a  sense  of  humour.  After  winning  the  Battle  of  Loudon, 
he  made  merry  with  his  men,  he  was 

A  lord  so  sweet  and  deboner,  .\  lord  so  sweet  and  debonair, 

So  curtas  and  of  sa  fair  effer,  So  courteous  and  of  bearing  fair, 

So  blith  als,  and  so  weil  bourdand.  ...     So  blithe  and  humorous  as  well.  .  .  . 

There  are  several  instances  in  the  poem  of  the  modesty  of  this 
brave  man  and  accomplished  general.  He  had  a  shrewd  insight 
into  character,  and  was  diplomatic  in  his  dealings  with  men. 
When  victorious,  he  treated  his  prisoners  chivalrously. 

Edward  Bruce  was  no  less  ambitious  and  resolute  than  King- 
Robert,  but  was  more  impulsive  and  rash,  and  inclined  to  take 
greater  risks.  After  Bannockburn  was  won,  he  was  robbed  of 
the  joy  of  victory  because  Sir  Walter  Ross  had  been  slain.  He 
loved  Sir  Walter  as  he  did  his  own  life,  the  poet  informs  us: 

And  quehn  he  wist  that  he  was  dcde      And  when  he  saw  that  he  was  dead 
He  wes  so  wa  .   .  .  He  was  so  sad  .  .  . 

Sir  Walter's  sister  was  very  dear  to  him.     Edward  was  a 

'  Book  III,  435  et  seq. 


BARBOUR'S    BRUCE  245 

faithful  follower  of  King  Robert's,  but  after  Bannockburn  was 
won  he 

Thoucht  Scotland  to  litill  wes         Thought  Scotland  too  little  wai 
Till  his  brothir  and  him  alsua.'       For  his  brother  and  him  also. 

Accordingly  he  went  over  to  Ireland  to  win  a  crown  for  himself, 
and  there  his  impulsiveness  ultimately  brought  him  disaster  and 
death. 

The  extracts  and  summaries  of  Barbour's  Bruce  that  follow 
are  necessarily  restricted,  but  they  are  fairly  representative.  In 
selecting  passages,  of  which  renderings  in  modern  English  are 
given,  the  writer  has  kept  in  mind  that  the  poet  is  to  his  readers 
as  interesting  as  his  characters.  After  all,  it  is  Barbour  the 
Archdeacon  who  sings  of  freedom,  and  who  mourns  the  fate, 
not  only  of  his  own  country,  but  also  that  of  Wales  and  Ireland, 
who  calls  the  Scots  ''blind  folk",  and  then  forgives  them  be- 
cause they  were  "simple"  and  guileless  when  they  appealed  to 
Edward  to  settle  the  dispute  regarding  the  succession  to  the 
throne  of  Scotland,  and  because  God  alone  can  foresee  what 
will  take  place.  The  poet,  like  his  Bruce,  was  a  patriot,  and 
he  was  similarly  a  great  man. 

1  Book  XIV,  4-5. 


The   Bruce 

I.    Scotland  in  Thraldom 


Stories  to  rede  are  delitabill, 
Suppos  that  thai  be  nocht  hot  fabill: 
Than  auld  storys  that  suthfast  wer, 
And  thai  war  said  on  gud  maner, 
Have  doubill  plesance  in  her3ng-. 
The  fyrst  plesance  is  the  carpyng- 
And  the  tothir  the  suthfastnes 
That  schaws  the  thing  rycht  as  it  wes: 
And  suth  thyngis  that  ar  likand 
Tyll  mannys  heryng  ar  plesand. 
Tharfor  I  wald  fayne  set  my  will, 
Giff  my  wyt  mycht  suffice  thartill, 
To  put  in  wryt  a  suthfast  story, 
That  it  lest  ay  furth  in  memory, 
Swa  that  na  tyme  of  lenth  it  let, 
Na  ger  it  haly  be  forget. 
For  aulde  storys  that  men  redys, 
Representis  to  thaim  the  dedj's 
Of  stalwart  folk  that  ly  vyt  ar,    . 
Rycht  as  thai  than  in  presence  war. 
And  certis,  thai  suld  weill  have  prys 
That  in  thar  tyme  war  W3'cht  and  wys. 
And  led  thar  lyfF  in  gret  travaill. 
And  oft,  in  hard  stour  of  bataill, 
Wan  richt  gret  price  off  chevalry, 
And  war  voydyt  off  cowardy. 
As  wes  King  Robert  off  Scotland, 
That  hardy  wes  off  hart  and  hand; 
And  gud  Schyr  Jam^s  off  Doiglas, 
That  in  his  tyme  sa  worthy  was, 
That  off  hys  price  and  hys  bountie,* 
In  fer  landis  renownyt  wes  he. 
Off  them  1  think  this  buk  to  ma: 
Now  God  gyff  grace  that  I  may  swa 
Tret  it,  and  bryng  it  till  endyng. 
That  I  say  nocht  bot  suthfast  thing!* 


Stories  to  read  are  likeable. 
Supposing  they  be  naught  but  fable: 
Then  truthful  stories  ever  should, 
If  they  be  put  in  manner  good. 
Give  double  pleasure  while  they  hold  us. 
The  first  joy  is  the  tale  that 's  told  us, 
The  other  is  its  truth,  because 
It  shows  the  thing  just  as  it  was. 
Now,  as  true  tales  that  be  held  dear 
Are  ever  pleasant  to  man's  ear. 
Therefore  to  set  my  will  I  'm  fain 
If  that  my  wit  may  me  sustain. 
To  write  a  truthful  tale  for  ye. 
That  it  may  last  in  memory. 
And  that  Time  may  no  limit  set  it, 
Nor  cause  men  wholly  to  forget  it. 
For  the  old  stories  that  we  read 
Depict  to  us  each  mighty  deed 
Of  stalwart  folk  who  lived  of  yore, 
So  that  they  seem  to  live  once  more. 
Certes,  we  should  their  memory  prize, 
Who  in  their  time  were  brave  and  wise, 
•And  led  their  lives  in  travail  great. 
And  oft  when  battling  in  hard  state 
Won -right  great  fame  for  chivalry. 
Devoid  of  cowardice  were  they. 
As  was  King  Robert  of  our  land. 
Who  hardy  was  of  heart  and  hand. 
And  good  Sir  James  of  Douglas  aye. 
Who  was  so  worthy  in  his  daj', 
And  who  for  fame  and  virtue  stands 
In  great  renown  in  distant  lands. 
To  them  this  book  will  tribute  pay: 
Now  God  give  grace  that  so  I  may 
Treat  it,  and  to  an  end  it  bring, 
That  I  '11  say  no  untruthful  thing ! 


When  King  Alexander  had  died,  Scotland  lay  desolate  for 
six  or  more  years.     Then  the  barons  assembled  to  choose  as 

1  "  Price"  signifies  fame,  reputation,  &c.,  of.  in  Proverbs,  "  Her  price  (reputation)  is  far 
above  rubies".  "  Bountie  ",  French  bunti,  aignifies  worth,  virtue,  goodness,  and  even  valour 
in  some  contexts.  -  P.ook  I,  1-36. 

217 


248  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

king  to  guide  the  nation  one  who  was  descended  from  royal 
ancestors,  and  had  most  right  to  reign.  But  envy  created  dis- 
sension among  them.  Some  favoured  Baliol,  who  was  descended 
from  an  elder  sister  (the  daughter  of  David,  Earl  of  Hunting- 
don, brother  of  William  the  Lion);  others  held  that  their  king 
should  be  the  one  who  was  descended  from  the  nearest  male  in 
the  royal  line,  and  for  this  reason  they  favoured  Robert  the 
Bruce,  Earl  of  Carrick  and  Lord  of  Annandale  (a  son  of  the 
second  sister  of  David,  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  and  a  first  cousin 
of  Baliol's  mother).^  As  the  barons  were  unable  to  agree  as 
to  who  was  the  rightful  heir,  they  decided  to  ask  Sir  Edward, 
King  of  England,  to  act  as  arbiter  and  declare  which  of  the  two 
(Baliol  or  Bruce)  should  succeed  to  the  throne. 

For  at  that  time  there  was  peace  and  rest  between  Scotland 
and  England.  The  English  king  had  been  friendly  with  the 
late  king  (Alexander),  and  the  barons  believed  that  he,  as  a 
good  neighbour,  would  act  as  judge-at-law  as  a  friendly  arbiter. 
*'  But  the  game  went  otherwise."  ^ 

A!  blynd  folk  full  of  al  foly!  Ah!  blind  folk,  how  unwise  were  ye! 
Haid  yhe  umbethoucht  yhow  enkrely,  Had  ye  bethought  you  earnestly 
Quhat  perell  to  yhow  mycht  apper,  What  peril  to  you  might  be  brought 
Yhe  had  nocht  wrocht  on  that  maiier:  \'ou  had  not  in  that  manner  wrought. 
Haid  yhe  tane  keip  how  at  that  king  You  heeded  not  how  that  the  king 
Alwayis,  for-owtyn  sojournyng,  Always,  besides  a-visiting, 
Travayllyt  for  to  wyn  senyhory,  Travelled  his  lordship  to  extend. 
And,  throw  his  mycht,  till  occupy  And,  through  his  might,  to  make  an  end 
Landis  that  war  till  him  marcheand.  Of  kingdoms  bord'ring  on  his  own- 
As  Walis  was,  and  als  Ireland;  Like  Wales  and  Ireland,  as  is  known. 
That  he  put  to  swylk  thrillage,  For  these  he  in  such  thraldom  held 
That  thai  that  war  off  hey  parage  That  their  high  nobles  were  compelled 
Suld  ryn  on  fute,  as  ""ebaldaill.  To  run  on  foot,  a  rabble  band, 
Quehen  he  wald  ony  folk  assail.  When  he  assailed  another  land. 
Durst  nane  of  Walls  in  bataill  ride-  In  Wales  none  dared  to  battle  ride, 
Na  yhet,  fra  evyn  fell,  abyd  Nor  yet  from  eventide  abide 
Castell  or  wallyt  toun  with-in,  Within  wall'd  town  or  castle  dim, 
That  he  ne  suld  lyff  and  lymmys  tyne.  Lest  he  should  forfeit  life  and  limb. 
In-to  swilk  thrillage  thaim  held  he.  For  he  into  such  thraldom  threw  them 
That  he  ourcome  throw  his  powste.  That  with  his  power  he  did  subdue  them. 


1  The  elder  sister,  named  Margaret,  had  a  daughter,  named  Dervorgilla,  and  the  second 
sister,  named  Isabel,  had  a  son  named  Robert.  This  Robert  was  the  grandfather  of  King 
Robert  the  Bruce,  although  the  poet  did  not  trouble  to  bring  this  out. 

*  Bot  othir  wayis  all  yheid  the  gle. 


THE    BRUCE 


249 


Vhe  mycht  se  he  suld  occupy 

Throw  slycht,  that  he  ne  mycht  throw 

maistri. 
Had  )'he  tane  kep  quhat  was  thrillag, 
And  had  consideryt  his  usag-e, 
That  gryppt  ay,  but  gayne-gevyng-, 
Yhe  siild,  for-owtyn  his  detnyng, 
Haiff  chosyn  yhow  a  king,  that  mycht 
Have  haldyn  weyle  the  land  in  rycht. 
Walys  ensample  mycht  have  bene 
To  yhow,  had  yhe  it  forow  sene. 
And  wys  men  sayis  he  is  happy 
That  be  othir  will  him  chasty. 
For  unfayr  thingis  may  fall,  perfay, 
Als  weil  to-morn  as  yhisterday. 
Bot  yhe  traistyt  in  lawte, 
As  sympile  folk,  but  mavyte; 
And  wyst  nocht  quhat  suld  eftir  tyd. 
For  in  this  warld,  that  is  sa  wyd. 
Is  nane  determynat  that  sail 
Knaw  thingis  that  ar  for  to  fall: 
But  God,  that  is  off  maist  poweste, 
Reservyt  till  his  majeste 
For  to  know,  in  his  prescience 
Of  alkyn  tyme  the  mowence. 


Ye  might  have  seen  he'd  seize  with  will 
Through  sleight  what  he  could  not  through 

skill. 
Had  ye  ta'en  heed  what  thraldom  meant 
And  to  the  usage  been  intent 
Of  him  who  gripped  but  ne'er  let  go. 
You,  wishing  not  his  will  to  know, 
Could  chosen  have  a  king  who  might 
Have  held  full  well  the  land  in  right. 
Wales  an  example  might  have  been 
To  you,  had  only  ye  foreseen. 
Happy,  the  wise  men  say,  is  he 
Who  will  by  others  chastened  be. 
For,  true,  unfair  things  happen  may 
To-morrow  as  on  yesterday. 
But  ye  did  trust  in  loyalty 
As  simple  folk— no  guile  had  ye; 
And  ye  knew  not  what  should  betide. 
For  in  this  world,  that  is  so  wide, 
It  is  so  fixed  that  no  one  shall 
Know  of  the  things  that  are  to  fall: 
Since  God,  and  of  most  power  is  He. 
Reserves  unto  his  majesty 
To  know  with  foresight  what  will  be 
And  each  time's  mutability. 


Having  agreed  in  this  manner,  as  has  been  said,  the  Scottish 
barons  sent  messengers  to  Edward,  who  was  at  the  time  in  the 
Holy  Land  fighting  against  the  Saracens.^  When  he  heard 
what  the  messengers  had  to  say,  he  changed  his  purpose  and 
returned  to  England.  In  time  he  sent  word  to  Scotland  that 
they  should  hold  an  assembly,  and  that  he  would  come  to  do  as 
they  desired  him  to.  He  thought  that  he  would  through  their 
debate  find  a  way  to  a  just  decision.  Thereafter  he  said  to 
Robert  the  Bruce :^ 


"  Gyff  thou  will  hald  in  cheyff  off  me 
For  evirmar,  and  thine  ofspryng, 
I  sail  do  swa  thou  sail  be  king." 
"  Schyr,"  said  he,  "  sa  God  me  save, 
The  kynryk  yharn  I  nocht  to  have, 
Bot  gyff  it  fall  off  rycht  to  me, 
.\nd  gyff  God  will  that  it  sa  be, 
I  sail  als  freely  in  all  thing 


"  If  you  me  own  as  overlord 

For  evermore  and  thine  offspring, 

I  shall  so  do  that  thou  'It  be  king." 

"  O  sir,"  said  he,  "  so  God  me  save, 

I  do  not  for  the  kingship  crave; 

But  if  it  fall  by  right  to  me. 

And  if  God  wills  that  it  so  be, 

I  shall  right  nobly  reign  and  cling 


^  This  is  not  historically  conect. 

2  Grandfather  of  King  Robert,  the  hero  of  Bannockburn. 


250  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Hald  it,  as  it  afferis  to  king-;  To  it  as  it  becomes  a  king; 

Or  as  m3n  eldris  forouch  me  Or  as  mine  ancestors  before  me 

Held  it  in  freyast  rewate."  Hold  it  in  freest  royalty." 

The  tothir  wreythyt  him,  and  swar  The  other  angry  was  and  swore 

That  he  suld  have  it  nevir  mar:  That  he  should  have  it  never  more. 

And  turnyt  him  in  wrath  away.  And  then  he  turned  in  wrath  away. 

Bot  Schyr  Ihon  the  Balleol,  perfay.  Sir  John  the  Baliol,  sad  to  say, 

Assentyt  till  him,  in  all  his  will;  Assented  to  him  in  all  his  will; 

Quhar-throuch  fell  efter  mekill  ill.  Wherefore  fell  afterwards  much  ill. 

He  was  king  bot  a  lifill  quhile;  He  king  was  but  a  little  while; 

And  throuch  gret  sutelte  and  ghyle,  Then  through  great  subtlety  and  guile, 

For  lilill  enchesone,  or  nane,  For  little  reason  or  for  none, 

He  was  arestyt  syne  and  tane,  He  was  arrested  and  undone; 

And  degradyt  syne  wes  he  Degraded  afterwards  was  he 

Off  honour  and  off  dignitie.  From  honour  and  from  dignity. 

Quhethir  it  wes  throuch  wrang  or  rycht,     Whether  it  was  through  wrong  or  right, 

God  wat  it,  that  is  maist  off  mycht.  God  knows,  who  is  of  greatest  might. 

When  Sir  Edward,  the  mighty  king,  had  his  way  with  John 
Bah'oi,  who  so  soon  was  defaulted  and  undone,  he  occupied 
Scotland.  He  seized  all  the  castles  and  towns,  from  Wick,  near 
Orkney,  to  the  Mull  of  Galloway,  and  garrisoned  them  with 
Englishmen.  Then  Edward  appointed  English  sheriffs  and 
bailies  and  other  officers  to  govern  the  land's  affairs.  These 
men  became  felons,  and  so  wicked  and  covetous  and  so  haughty 
and  proud  that  Scotsmen  dared  not  do  aught  but  what  was 
pleasing  to  them.  Scottish  wives  were  violated,  and  daughters 
cruelly  treated.  And  if  any  man  made  complaint,  these  officers 
bided  their  time  to  bring  about  his  ruin.  If  a  man  had  anything 
worth  taking,  such  as  a  horse  or  a  hound  or  any  other  thing  to 
their  liking,  the  Englishmen  would  have  it  rightly  or  wrongly; 
and  if  anyone  attempted  to  withhold  them,  they  would  so  ar- 
range it  that  he  should  lose  his  land  or  his  life.  They  doomed 
such  a  man  as  they  pleased;  the  judges  cared  little.  Good  and 
worthy  knights  were  hanged  for  little  excuse. 

Alas!  that  folk,  that  evir  wes  fre.  Alas!  that  folk  who  e'er  were  free. 

And  in  fredome  wounl  for  to  be,  And  in  freedom  were  wont  to  be, 

Throw  thar  great  myschance  and  foly,  Should  through  mischance  and  foolishness, 

War  tretyt  than  sa  wykkytly,  Be  treated  thus  with  wickedness. 

That  thar  fays  thar  jugis  war:  So  that  their  foes  the  judges  were: 

Ouhat  wrechitness  may  man  have  mar?  What  greater  misery  can  men  share? 

A!  fredome  is  a  noble  thing!  Ah  !  freedom  is  a  noble  thing! 

Fredome  mays  man  to  haiff  liking;  What  joy  to  man  doth  freedom  bring! 


THE    BRUCE 


Fredome  all  solace  to  man  giffis: 
He  levys  at  es  that  frely  levys. 
A  noble  hart  may  haiff  nane  es, 
Na  ellys  nocht  that  may  him  pies, 
Gyff  fredome  failyte:  for  fre  liking" 
Is  yharnyt  our  all  othir  thing-. 
Na  he,  that  ay  has  levyt  fre, 
May  nocht  knaw  weill  the  prop}  rte, 
The  angyr,  na  the  wretchyt  dome, 
That  is  cowplyt  to  foule  thyrldomc. 
Bot  gyff  he  had  assayit  it, 
Than  all  perquer  he  suld  it  wyt ; 
And  suld  think  fredome  mar  to  prjs, 
Than  all  the  gold  in  warld  that  is. 
Thus  contrar  thingis  evir-mar, 
Discoveryngis  off  the  tothir  ar. 
And  he  that  thryll  is  has  nocht  his; 
All  that  he  has  enbandownyt  is 
Till  hys  lord,  quhat-evir  he  be. 
Yheyt  has  he  nocht  sa  mekill  fre 
As  fre  liking  to  leyve,  or  do 
That  at  hys  hart  him  drawis  to. 


Freedom  all  solace  to  man  gives: 
He  lives  at  ease  who  freely  lives. 
A  noble  heart  can  have  no  ease, 
And  nothing  else  that  will  him  please, 
If  freedom  fail:  what  freedom  brings 
Is  yearned  for  o'er  all  other  things. 
Now,  he  who  ever  has  lived  free 
Knows  little  of  the  misery, 
The  anger  and  the  wretched  doom. 
That  coupled  is  with  foul  thraldom. 
But  if  he  had  endured  this  state, 
And  knew  full  well  its  sorrows  great, 
He  would  think  freedom  of  more  worth 
Than  all  the  gold  upon  the  earth. 
Thus  things  opposed  continually 
Discoverings  of  each  other  be. 
The  thrall  has  nothing  that  is  his; 
All  that  he  owns  abandoned  is 
To  his  hard  lord  whoe'er  he  be; 
Yet  he  has  naught  so  greatly  free 
As  the  free  right  to  live  and  do 
Just  as  his  heart  may  prompt  him  to. 


Thus  in  Scotland  lived  in  thraldom  the  poor  and  the  mighty 
as  well. 

For  off  the  lordis  sum  thai  slew,  For  of  the  barons  some  they  slew. 

And  sum  thai  hangyt,and  sum  thai  drew;  And  sometheyhanged,andsometheydrevv; 

And  sum  thai  put  in  hard  presoune.  And  some  they  put  in  hard  prison 

For-owtyn  cause  or  enchesoun.  For  little  reason  or  for  none. 

Among  others  they  imprisoned  Sir  William  of  Douglas.^  Of 
him  they  made  a  martyr,  because  they  slew  him  and  gave  his 
lands  to  the  Lord  of  Clifford. 

Douglas  had  a  son,  who  was  but  a  lad.  In  time,  however, 
he  avenged  the  death  of  his  sire,  after  enduring  great  pain  and 
hardships.  His  name  was  James  of  Douglas.  For  three  years 
he  lived  in  exile  in  Paris.  Then  he  returned  to  Scotland, 
landing  at  St.  Andrews,  where  the  bishop  received  him  with 
courtesy,  and  had  him  clad  in  worthy  attire.  He  was  loved  by 
all  men  for  his  generosity,  wisdom,  and  pleasing  manners,  and 
especially  for  his  loyalty.  James  of  Douglas  hated  falsehood 
and  treachery.  He  was  dark-haired  and  of  sallow  complexion, 
with  a  lean,  muscular  body.     Cheerful  and  unassuming  was  he 


^  Douglas  is  Gaelic,  and  signifies  "the  dark  watei  ";  it  is  thus  a  territorial  name. 


252  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

in  company,  but  in  battle  he  was  fierce.  He  lisped  in  speech, 
yet  his  lisp  became  him  wondrous  well. 

Lordingis,  quha  likis  for  till  here,  Ye  gentle  folk,  who  like  to  hear, 

The  Roinanys  now  begynnys  her.  Now  niy  romance  beginneth  here, 

Off  men  that  war  in  gret  distres.  Of  men  who  were  in  great  distress, 

And  assayit  full  gret  hardynes,  And  strove  with  full  great  hardiness, 

Or  thai  mycht  cum  till  thar  entent.  Ere  they  achieved  their  high  intent. 

There  were  ever  a  thousand  against  one  of  them, 

Bot  (jod  that  maist  is  of  all  mycht,       But  God  who  most  is  of  all  might, 
Preservyt  thaim  in  his  forsycht.  Did  tliem  preserve  in  his  foresight. 

The  simple  and  worthy  Scots  were  like  to  the  Maccabees,  who, 
as  the  Bible  tells,  with  valour  and  might  fought  to  deliver  their 
country  from  the  folk  who  wickedly  held  it  in  thraldom.  They 
achieved  victory. 

And  delyvert  thar  land  all  fre;  And  all  their  land  delivered  free, 

Quharfor  thar  name  suld  lovyt  be.  .  .  .     Wherefore  their  name  should  lov^d  be. . .  . 


II.   The  Treachery  of  the  Red  Comyn 

Now  when  Bruce  saw  all  the  country  going  to  ruin,  and  the 
folk  suffering  so,  his  heart  was  filled  with  pity,  although  his 
face  did  not  betray  his  feelings.  To  him  one  day  came  Sir 
John  Comyn  (the  Red  Comyn),  who  lamented  the  oppression 
of  Scotland  and  its  people,  and  said:  "  You  should  be  our  lord; 
you  should  make  yourself  king.  Now,  I  will  help  you  on  con- 
dition that  you  give  me  your  lands.  If  you  do  not  desire  to 
be  king,  I  shall  take  the  crown  and  give  you  all  my  own  lands. 
There  is  neither  man  nor  boy  in  Scotland  who  is  not  longing 
for  freedom." 

Never  dreaming  that  the  Red  Comyn  spoke  otherwise  than 
truthfully,  Bruce  assented,  saying:  "Since  you  will  have  it  so, 
I  will  cheerfully  assume  the  royal  state  which  is  mine  by  right. 
And  right  will  make  the  feeble  strong." 

The  barons  were  thus  agreed,  and  that  night  they  sealed  a 
compact  together,  and  swore  oaths  that  they  would  keep  it. 

Bot  of  all  thing  wa  worth  tresoun  !  Woe  be  to  treason  o'er  all  here ! 

For  thar  is  nothir  duk  ne  baroun,  Nor  duke  nor  baron  afar  or  near, 

Na  erle,  na  prynce,  na  king-  off  mycht  Nor  earl,  nor  prince,  nor  king  so  great, 

Thocht  he  be  nevir  sa  wys  na  wycht  Although  of  wisdom  and  of  weight, 

For  wyt,  worschip,  price,  na  renoun,  Worthy  of  praise,  renown,  regard, 

That  evir  may  wauch  him  with  treasoune.  Can  ever  himself  gainst  treason  guard. 

Wes  nocht  all  Troy  with  treasoune  tane,  Was  not  all  Troy  with  treason  won, 

Quhen  ten  yheris  of  the  wer  wes  gane?  When  ten  years  of  the  war  were  done? 

Then  slayn  wes  nione  thousand  Ai.d  then  were  many  thousand  slain 

Off  them  with-out,  throw  strength  of  hand;  When  those  without  did  entry  gain; 

As  Dares  in  his  buk  he  wrate.  As  Dares  in  his  book  did  write, 

And  Dytis,  that  knew  all  thar  state.^  And  Dytis  who  knew  well  their  plight. 

1  Dares  Phrygius,  who  in  his  eleventh-  or  twelfth-century  Latin  work,  De  Excidio  Trojae, 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  Trojans,  and  pretended  to  translate  a  Greek  manuscript,  and  Dictys 
Cretensis,  the  pro-Greek  author  of  a  more  antique  fabulous  work.  These  writings  were  incor- 
porated in  a  Latin  history  on  which  Barbour  drew.  Apparently  he  could  not  read  Homer 
in  the  original. 

263 


254 


THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 


Tliai  mycht  nocht  haiff  beyn  tane  throw 

mycht, 
Hot  treasoun  tuk  thaim  throw  h\r  sh'cht. 
And  Alexander  the  Conqueroure, 
That  conqueryt  Babilonys  tour. 
And  all  this  warld  off  lenth  and  breid, 
In  twelf  yher,  throw  his  douchty  deid, 
Was  syne  destroy  it  throw  piisoiine, 
In  his  awyne  house,  throw  gret  tresoune. 
Bot,  or  he  deit,  his  land  delt  he: 
To  se  his  deit  was  gfret  pite. 
Julius  Cesar  als,  that  war. 
Bretane  and  Fraunce,  as  donchty  man, 
Affryk,  Arrabe,  Egypt,  Surry, 
And  all  Europe  halyly, 
And  for  worschip  and  valour 
Off  Rome  wes  fryst  maid  emperour; 
Syne  in  hys  capitole  was  he, 
Throw  thaim  of  his  consaill  prive, 
Slayne  w^ilh  punsoune,  rycht  to  the  ded: 
And  quhen  he  saw  thair  wes  na  rede, 
Hys  eyn  with  his  hand  closit  he. 
For  to  dey  with  mar  honeste. 
Als  Arthur,  that  throw  chevalry 
Maid  Bretane  maistress  and  lady 
Of  twelf  kinrykis  that  he  wan; 
And  alsua,  as  a  noble  man. 
He  wan  throw  battaill  France  all  fre; 
And  Lucius  Yber  vencusyt  he. 
Than  then  of  Rome  was  empereur: 
Bot  yheit,  for  all  his  gret  valour, 
Modreyt  his  systir  son  him  slew; 
And  gud  men  als  ma  then  inew. 
Throw  tresoune  and  throw  wikkitness 
The  Broiie  beris  tharoff  wytnes.* 


They  could  not  liave  been  ta'en  through 

might, 
But  treason  them  took  through  hersleight. 
And  Alexander  the  Conqueror, 
Who  conquered  Babylonia's  tower, 
And  all  this  wide  world,  as  one  reads, 
In  twelve  years  through  his  doughty  deeds. 
In  time  from  poison  met  his  fate 
In  his  own  house,  through  treason  great 
Before  he  died  his  land  shared  he: 
'T  was  pitiful  his  death  to  see. 
And  Julius  Caisar  did  o'erawe 
Britain,  and  France,  and  Africa, 
Syria,  Egypt,  and  Araby; 
The  whole  of  Europe  conquered  he. 
For  valour  and  regard  him  paid, 
Of  Rome  he  was  first  emperor  made; 
But  in  his  capital  was  he, 
B}'  those  who  plotted  secretly. 
Slain  with  a  dagger  gainst  all  laws; 
And  when  he  saw  no  help  there  was, 
His  two  eyes  with  his  hand  closed  he. 
That  he  might  die  more  honestly. 
And  Arthur,  chivalrous  and  great, 
Made  Britain  mistress  of  the  fate 
Of  kingdoms  twelve  tliat  he  o'er-ran; 
He  also  was  a  noble  man. 
He  won  through  battle  France  all  free; 
Iberian  Lucius  vanquished  he. 
Who  then  in  Rome  as  Emperor  sate: 
But  yet,  for  all  his  valour  great, 
Modred  his  sister's  son  him  slew; 
And  other  goodly  men  fell  too 
Through  treason  and  through  treachery, 
Thereof  the  Brut  doth  witness  be. 


So  fell  it  in  this  covenant-making  of  which  1  have  told,  for 
Comyn  rode  to  the  King  of  England  and  told  all,  and  even 
gave  Edward  the  written  agreement.  Then  did  the  king  swear 
to  be  avenged  on  Bruce.  He  called  a  meeting  of  Parliament 
and  summoned  Bruce  to  take  his  seat.  In  the  Privy  Council 
he  spoke  to  Bruce,  and  showed  him  his  agreement  with  the 
Comyn.  Bruce  perceived  at  once  that  his  life  was  in  danger. 
"Is  this  your  seal?"  Edward  asked.  The  other  examined  it 
intently,   and   said:    "How  careless   I   am!      I   do   not  always 


P'jok  I,  lines  515  et  ^eq. 


THE    BRUCK  255 

carry  my  seal  with  me.  It  is  cared  for  me  by  another.  With 
your  permission,  I  will  go  for  it  and  bring  it  to  you  to-morrow 
morning.  Meanwhile,  permit  me  to  examine  this  document. 
In  surety  I  pledge  all  my  heritage." 

The  king  consented  to  this,  and  Bruce  departed  to  his  inn. 
That  night  he  made  his  escape  from  London.  After  riding 
northward  for  fifteen  days  he  reached  Lochmaben,  and  found 
there  his  brother  Edward,  to  whom  he  revealed  what  had  taken 
place. 

Now,  as  it  happened,  on  that  day  Comyn  was  at  Dumfries. 
Bruce  rode  at  once  to  see  him,  and  they  met  in  the  Grey  Friars' 
Church.  He  showed  Comyn  the  agreement,  and  then  stabbed 
him. 

Meanwhile  King  Edward  had  made  search  in  vain  to  find 
Bruce,  vowing  that  he  should  be  drawn  and  hanged. 

As  soon  as  Bruce  had  slain  the  Comyn,  he  resolved  to  make 
himself  King  of  Scotland,  so  he  sent  letters  to  his  supporters, 
including  the  Bishop  of  St.  Andrews,  who  said:  "  I  have  great 
hope  that  Bruce  shall  be  king  of  all  Scotland." 

James  of  Douglas  spoke  in  private  to  the  bishop,  and  said 
he  would  fain  espouse  the  cause  of  Bruce,  saying: 

''Throw  hym  I  trow  my  land  to  wyn,      '•  Through  him  I  hope  my  land  to  win, 
Magre  the  ClyflFurd  and  his  kyn."  Despite  the  Clifford  and  his  kin." 

The  bishop  blessed  him  and  provided  him  with  silver;  he  also 
counselled  him  to  take  a  palfrey  by  force  from  the  stables,  so 
that  he  himself  might  not  be  suspected  of  aiding  him. 

Douglas  followed  his  advice,  and,  going  to  the  stables,  struck 
down  the  groom  who  tried  to  prevent  his  departure.  Then  he 
rode  away  towards  Lochmaben.  Near  Arickstone  he  met  the 
Bruce,  who,  with  his  followers,  was  riding  towards  Scone,  there 
to  be  declared  king.  James  of  Douglas  greeted  Bruce  with 
courtesy,  and  told  him  of  his  own  sad  state,  and  said  he  wished 
to  do  him  homage  as  the  rightful  King  of  Scotland. 

Bruce  honoured  the  young  man,  and  gave  him  arms  and 
a  horse  and  men  to  lead.  Thus  did  these  two  first  meet,  and 
every  day  afterwards  their  friendship  increased. 

In  Scone  Bruce  was  crowned  in  presence  of  his  followers, 


256  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

and  the  barons  paid  homage  to  him.  And  when  King  Edward 
heard  of  this,  and  of  how  Comyn  had  been  slain,  he  became  very 
angry,  and  gave  command  that  an  army  should  at  once  enter 
Scotland, 

And  byrn,  and  slay,  and  rais  drag-oun.    And  burn,  and  slay,  and  raise  the  dragon.' 

'This  might  be  rendered  "raise  the  devil".  The  reference  is  to  raising  the  dragon 
banner  against  rebellious  subjects.  Under  this  dreaded  banner  soldiers  plundered,  wastM, 
and  slew  with  the  utmost  barbarity,  all  laws  being  suspended. 


III.   A   King  in  Exile 

Sir  Aymer  was  in  command  of  the  English  army,  and  with 
him  was  Sir  PhiHp  Mowbray  and  Ingram  of  Umfraville,  who 
were  both  **full  of  gret  chevalry".  King  Robert  found  Sir 
Aymer  in  Perth,  which  was  strongly  defended,  and  he  took 
up  position  in  the  wooded  park  of  Methven.  There  was  he 
attacked  by  the  English  and  defeated.  Some  of  his  great  men 
were  scattered  in  flight;  others,  including  his  nephew,  Ran- 
dolph, were  taken  prisoners. 

Bruce  himself  escaped  with  a  small  band  of  faithful  friends, 
including  James  of  Douglas,  Sir  Gilbert  de  la  Hay,  and  Sir 
Neil  Campbell.  For  many  a  day  they  were  outlaws  together. 
Bruce  could  not  venture  to  leave  the  mountains  and  go  to  the 
plains. 

For  all  the  commownys  went  him  fra;      For  all  the  commons  from  him  went, 
That  for  thar  liffis  war  full  fayn  Who  for  their  lives  became  full  fain 

To  pas  to  the  Inglis  pes  agayn.  To  have  the  English  peace  again. 

But  although  the  common  folk  deserted  Bruce  because  he  could 
not  protect  them,  they  wished  him  well  and  yearned  for  him. 

Bruce  and  his  men  lived  among  the  mountains,  where  their 
clothing  became  ragged,  and  they  had  to  make  rough  boots  of 
animal  hides. 

Tharfor  thai  went  till  Abyrdeyne,  Therefore  they  went  to  Aberdeen, 
Quhar  Nele  the  Bruys  come  and  the  Queyii,  Where  Nigel  Bruce  came,  and  the  queen, 

And  othir  ladyis  fayr  and  farand,  And  other  ladies  fair  and  statel}', 

Ilkane  for  luff  off  thar  husband;  For  each  one  loved  her  husband  greatly; 

That  for  leyle  luff  and  leawte  They  for  true  love  and  loyalty 

Wald  partenerys  off  thair  paynys  be.  Would  sharers  of  their  sufferings  be. 

Thai  chesyt  tyttar  with  thaim  to  ta  They  sooner  chose  with  these  to  take 

Angyr,  and  payn,  na  be  thaim  fra.  Sorrow  and  pain  than  them  forsake. 

For  luff  is  off  sa  mekill  mycht,  For  oft  is  love  of  such  great  might, 

That  it  all  paynys  raakis  lycht ;  That  it  of  every  pain  makes  light ; 

Vol.  TI.     '  357                                                          46 


258  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

And  mony  tyme  mais  tendir  wychtis  And  irany  a  time  will  love  impart 

Off  swilk  strenthtis  and  swilk  myelitis,  To  tender  folk  such  strength  of  heart 

That  thai  may  mekill  paynys  endur,  That  they  great  suffering  and  care 

And  forsakis  nane  aventur  Endure  will,  and  each  peril  share 

That  evyr  may  fall,  with-thi  that  thai  That  ever  ma\'  fall,  if  only  they 

Thar-throw  succur  thar  luffys  may.  Thereby  their  dear  loves  succour  may. 


In  wemen  mekill  comfort  lyis;  In  women  comfort  lies  indeed, 

And  great  solace  on  mony  wis.  And  solace  great  in  time  of  need. 

So  fell  it  her,  for  thar  cummyng  So  fell  it  here,  for  they  did  bring 

Rejosyt  rycht  gretumly  the  king;  Exceeding  gladness  to  the  king; 

The-quihethir  ilk  nycht  him-selvyn  wouk  While  yet  each  night  sure  watch  he  kept 

.And  his  rest  apon  daiis  touk.  And  only  in  the  daytime  slept. 

For  a  goodly  time  they  sojourned  in  this  district.  But  at  length 
the  Englishmen  came  to  know  where  they  were  and  planned 
to  take  them  by  surprise.  Bruce  discovered  that  their  force  was 
greater  than  his  own  and  withdrew  to  the  mountains,  where 
food  was  scarce.  But  worthy  James  of  Douglas  busied  himself 
for  the  sake  of  the  ladies.  Sometimes  he  brought  them  venison, 
and  sometimes  salmon  and  trout  and  other  fish,  and  sometimes 
he  plundered  the  foe.  In  time  the  wanderers  reached  the  head 
of  Tay. 

Now,  the  Lord  of  Lome  had  his  dwelling  in  this  neighbour- 
hood, and  he,  being  the  nephew  of  Comyn,  was  Bruce's  enemy. 
When  he  heard  that  the  king  was  near,  he  summoned  together 
a  thousand  men  from  Argyll  to  take  him  and  his  company  by 
surprise.  He  made  swift  attack,  but,  although  outnumbered, 
the  royal  band  fought  bravely.  Many  were  slain,  and  among 
the  many  wounded  were  James  of  Douglas  and  Sir  Gilbert  de 
la  Hay.  The  issue  hung  in  the  balance  when  King  Robert 
rode  against  the  enemy  and  drove  them  back,  dealing  hard 
blows.  Then  he  caused  his  men  to  make  orderly  retreat,  and 
he  himself  covered  it,  until  none  dared  come  near.  He  proved 
himself  a  king  indeed. 

The  Lord  of  Lome  was  angry  when  he  saw  Bruce  retreating. 
In  a  narrow  place  between  loch  and  brae  the  king  had,  how- 
ever, a  narrow  escape.  Three  men  rushed  at  him.  One  caught 
his  bridle  rein,  but  Bruce  cut  off  his  arm;  another  seized  him 
by  the  leg,  but  the  king  spurred  on  his  horse  which  galloped 
away,  dragging  the  assailant,  whose  hand  was  fixed  between 


THE    BRUCE  259 

the  stirrup  and  the  king's  foot;  the  third  man  sprang  up  behind 
the  Bruce,  who  then  performed  a  wonderful  feat,  for  he  clutched 
the  fellow  and  swung  him  round  to  the  front,  where  he  slew 
him  with  his  sword.  Having  done  this,  he  killed  the  man  who 
was  being  dragged  onward  fixed  to  the  stirrup. 

No  follower  of  the  Lord  of  Lome  cared  to  pursue  the 
Bruce  any  farther  when  he  had  defended  himself  in  this 
manner. 

There  was  a  baron  named  MacNaughton  who  praised  the 
king  greatly  for  his  prowess,  and  the  Lord  of  Lome  said:  "  !<■ 
seems  to  please  you  that  he  is  slaying  our  men." 

"  Schyr,"  said  he,  "  sa  our  Lord  me  se !  "Sir,"  said  he,  "  so  our  Lord  me  guard ! 

To  sauff"}'hour  presence  it  is  nocht  swa.  Saving  your  presence,  'tis  not  so. 

Bot  quhethir  sa  he  be  freynd  or  fa,  But  whether  he  be  friend  or  foe 

That  wynnys  prys  off  chevalry.  Who  doth  win  fame  for  chivalry, 

Men  suld  spek.  tharoff  ielyly.  Of  him  should  men  speak  faithfully. 

And  sekyrly,  in  all  my  tyme,  And  certainly,  in  all  my  time, 

Ik  hard  nevir,  in  sang  na  ryme,  I  've  never  heard,  in  song  or  rhyme, 

Tel  off  a  man  that  swa  smerthy  Tell  of  a  man  who  quick  as  he 

P2schevyt  swa  gret  chevalry.  "^  Achieved  so  great  chivalry." 

The  king  set  his  night  watches  in  his  mountain  retreat. 
He  counselled  his  men  to  make  merry  and  not  yield  to  despair, 
and  told  them  that  God  had  many  times  brought  relief  to  men 
who  found  themselves  harder  beset  than  they  were.  Then  he 
related  to  them  the  story  of  Hannibal  and  other  tales  of  heroes, 
and  especially  he  spoke  of  Cassar,  who  ever  put  forth  all  his 
might  to  achieve  his  purpose.  So  did  the  king  feign  to  make 
good  cheer,  although  he  had  indeed   much  cause  to  despair. 

The  Earl  of  Athol  was  unable  to  endure  the  fatigue  and 
cold  and  hunger,  and  a  day  came  when  he  pleaded  to  be  allowed 
to  seek  a  place  of  refuge.  King  Robert  took  counsel  with  his 
captains  on  this  matter,  and  it  was  decided  that  the  earl  and 
all  the  ladies  should  be  taken  to  Kildrumy  Castle  by  Nigel 
Bruce. 

The  queyne  and  all  hyr  cumpany  The  queen  and  all  her  company 

Lap  on  thair  hors  and  furth  thai  far.  On  horses  leap  and  forth  they  fare. 

Men  mychthaiffsene.quha  had  bene  thar,  Men  might  have  seen,  had  they  been  there, 

At  leve-takyng  the  ladvis  gret,  The  ladies  parting  from  their  dears, 

!  Book  III,  lines  147  et  ieq. 


26o  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

And  mak  ih.ir  face  with  teris  wet:  Witli  all  their  faces  wet  with  tears; 

And  kn3-chtis,  for  thar  luffis  sak.  And  knig-hts  who  for  their  true  loves'  sake 

Baith  sich,  and  wep,  and  murnyng^  mak.  Did  sigh,  and  weep,  and  mourning  make. 

Thai  kyssyt  thair  luffis  at  thair  partyiig.'  They  kissed  their  loves  at  parting  there. 

King  Robert  gave  all  the  horses  to  the  ladies,  and  with  only 
two  hundred  men  went  wandering  westward  among  the  moun- 
tains. In  time  he  crossed  the  sea  to  Islay,  where  Angus  re- 
ceived him  as  king;  then  he  sailed  to  the  Island  of  Rathlin, 
there  to  pass  the  winter.  Meanwhile  the  queen  and  her  daughter, 
Marjorv,  left  Kildrumy,  and,  riding  northward  through  Ross, 
went  to  Tain,  but  there  they  were  arrested  and  sent  to  England 
as  prisoners.  The  Prince  of  Wales  entered  Scotland  with  an 
army  and  laid  siege  to  Kildrumy  Castle,  which  ultimately  fell 
through  treachery.  Nigel  Bruce,  the  Earl  of  Athol,  and  Sir 
Simon  Eraser  were  executed. 

King  Edward  I  died  at  Burgh-on-Sands  as  he  came  north- 
ward with  a  strong  force  to  strike  at  the  Bruce.- 

^  Boi,.k  III.  lines  344  ct  scq.  -  This  «ai  on  7th  Juni.-,  1307. 


IV.   The   Battle  of  Bannockburn 

For  seven  years  King  Robert  continued  the  struggle  for 
freedom,  assisted  by  his  brother  Edward,  Sir  James  of  Douglas, 
and  ultimately  also  by  Thomas  Randolph,  Earl  of  Moray,  his 
nephew,  who  for  a  time  espoused  the  English  cause. 

In  time  Bruce  defeated  the  army  of  John  of  Lome  in  the 
west,  won  to  his  side  the  Earl  of  Ross,  and  subdued  Buchan. 
Castle  after  castle  was  captured  and  destroyed.  Randolph 
captured  the  castle  of  Edinburgh,  and  Edward  Bruce,  who 
had  triumphed  in  Galloway  and  Nithsdale,  captured  the  castles 
of  Rutherglen  and  Dundee.  Then  Edward  laid  siege  to  Stirling 
Castle.  The  garrison  was  being  gradually  starved  to  subjection 
when  Sir  Philip  Mowbray,  the  keeper,  made  a  treaty  with 
Edward  which  provided  that  he  should  give  up  the  castle  by 
midsummer  if  it  was  not  relieved  by  that  time.  King  Robert 
was  ill-pleased  with  his  brother  for  making  this  rash  compact. 

King  Edward  prepared  to  relieve  Stirling  Castle  and  strike 
at  the  same  time  a  shattering  blow  against  the  Bruce.  Accord- 
ingly he  assembled  a  great  army.  Besides  his  own  knights, 
he  had  many  from  far  countries.  From  France  came  the  Earl 
of  Hainault  with  his  worthy  men.  Strong  and  well-armed  men 
came  also  from  Gascony,  Germany,  Holland,  and  Brittany. 
Wales  and  Ireland  contributed  large  numbers.  Knights  of 
renown  assembled  from  Poitou,  Aquitaine,  and  Bayonne. 
Numerous  were  Edward's  knights. 

And  of  Scotland  he  had  yheit  then      And  of  Scotland  he  still  had  then 
A  gret  menyhe  of  worthy  men.  A  great  many  of  worthy  men. 

The  English  army  numbered  a  hundred  thousand  men  and 
more,  forty  thousand  being  mounted  and  fifty  thousand  archers.^ 

1  These  figures  must  not  be  taken  literally.     The  English  army  was  less  than  20,000  strong. 

20\ 


262  THE    WORLD'S    HIIRITAGH: 

When  Berwick  was  reached  some  lodged  in  the  inns,  and  many 
in  tents  and  pavilions  outside  the  town. 

And  quhen  the  king-  his  host  has  seyne  And  when  the  king  his  host  has  seen 

So  gret,  so  giid  men,  and  so  cleyne.  So  great  and  good  men  and  so  clean, 

He  wes  richt  joyful!  in  his  thoucht,  He  was  right  joyfui  in  his  thought, 

And  weii  presumyt  thar  wes  nocht  Behe\  ing  in  this  world  was  not 

In  warld  a  kyng  mycht  him  withstand.  A  king  who  could  against  him  stand. 

From  Berwick  the  king  led  his  army  over  hills  and  valleys  in 
warm  June  weather. 

The  Sonne  wes  brycht  and  schynand  cler,  The  sun  was  bright  and  shining  clear, 

And  armys,  that  new  burnyst  wer,  And  arms,  new  burnished,  far  and  near 

So  blenknyt  with  the  sonnys  beyme  So  glimmered  in  the  sunnv  rays 

That  all  the  land  wes  in  ane  leyme.  That  all  the  land  was  in  a  blaze; 

With  baneris  richt  freshly  flawmand,  The  right  fresh  banners  fluttered  brightly, 

And  pensalis  to  the  wynd  waffand.  And  pennons  in  the  wind  waved  lightly. 

The  king  with  all  that  gret  menyhe,  The  king  with  all  that  army  great 

Till  Edinburgh  he  raid  on  rycht.  To  Edinburgh  did  ride  on  right. 

Thai  war  all  out  to  fele  to  ficht  Many  they  were  come  out  to  fight 

With  few  folk  of  ane  sympiji  land  With  few  folk  of  a  simple  land; 

Bot  quhar  God  helpis  quhat  may  with-  But    where  God    helps,   what   can   with- 
stand? stand? 

When  King  Robert  heard  that  the  army  of  England  in  such 
great  array  had  arrived  in  his  laud,  he  summoned  together 
his  men,  and  they  came  with  good  will  to  the  Torwood.  The 
worthy  Edward  Bruce  arrived  with  a  great  company,  Walter, 
Steward  of  Scotland,  then  but  a  beardless  youth,  came  with 
many  noblemen,  the  good  Lord  Douglas  brought  a  force  well 
used  to  the  fighting,  and  the  Earl  of  Moray  arrived  with  his 
hardy  warriors,   who  were 

In-to  gud  covyne  for  to  ficht  In  good  agreement  all  to  fight 

In  gret  will  to  maynteyne  thar  rycht.       With  great  will  to  maintain  their  right. 

Other  good  barons  and  knights  came  also  with  their  stalwart 
men.  In  all  there  were  thirty  thousand  and  somewhat  more.^ 
King  Robert  welcomed  them  with  gladsome  face,  speaking 
good  words  here  and  there,  and  all  were  joyful  and  ready  for 
hard  fighting  to  maintain  the  honour  of  the  king.     The  Bruce 

1  'Ihere  could  not  have  been  70C0,  and  probably  there  were  no  more  than  5000. 


THE   BRUCE 


263 


addressed  his  men  in  the  evening  and  said  they  would  fight 
on  foot  in  the  wooded  park  among  the  trees,  where  they  could 
put  the  English  horsemen  to  confusion. 

That  night  the  English  army  lay  at  Edinburgh.  The  Scots 
made  ready  for  battle  by  digging  pits  that  might  be  likened 
to  the  combs  of  wax  made  by  bees.  These  were  intended  to 
prevent  massed  attacks  by  mounted  men. 

On  Sunday  morning,  soon  after  sunrise,  the  Scots  heard 
mass  and  prayed  to  God  for  their  right.  None  dined  that  day, 
but  for  the  vigil  of  St.  John  took  only  bread  and  water.  King 
Robert  addressed  his  men,  saying: 


That  quhat  sa  evir  he  war  that  fand 
His  hert  nocht  sekir  for  till  stand 
To  wyn  all  or  de  with  honour, 
For  to  maynteyne  that  stalward  stour, 
That  he  be  tyme  siild  tak  his  way; 
And  nane  siild  duell  with  him  hot  thai 
That  wald  stand  with  him  to  the  end, 
And  tak  the  ure'  that  God  wald  send. 
Then  all  ansuered  with  a  cry. 
And  with  a  voce  said  g'eneraly; 
That  nane  for  dout  of  dede  suld  fale, 
Quhill  disciimfit  war  the  battale. 


That  whosoe'er  he  was  that  found 
His  heart  unsure  to  stand  his  ground 
To  win  or  die  with  honour  bright, 
Bearing  himself  with  stalwart  might, 
That  he  betimes  should  take  his  way; 
For  none  but  those  must  with  him  stay 
Who  would  stand  bravely  till  the  end, 
And  take  the  fate  that  God  would  send. 
Then  all  him  answered  with  a  cry, 
And  with  unanimous  voice  and  high, 
That  none  for  fear  of  death  should  fail, 
While  yet  the  fighting  did  prevail. 


The  Bruce  arranged  his  army  in  four  divisions.  One  was 
led  by  Randolph,  Earl  of  Moray,  another  by  Sir  Edward  Bruce, 
a  third  by  Walter  Stewart  and  Douglas,  and  the  fourth  by  him- 
self. King  Robert  had  in  his  company  the  men  of  Carrick, 
Argyll,  Cantyre,  and  the  Isles,  with  Angus  of  Islay,  and  also 
well-armed  men  of  the  "  playne-land"  (lowlands).  The  camp 
followers^  were  sent  to  a  valley  behind  the  army. 

On  that  Sunday^  the  English  army  moved  out  from  Falkirk, 
having  marched  thither  from  Edinburgh  on  the  Saturday.  Sir 
Robert  Clifford,  with  a  force  of  mounted  men,  endeavoured  to 
reach  Stirling  Castle,  but  Randolph  led  his  footmen  to  the 
attack.  By  spearing  the  horses  and  striking  down  the  knights 
Randolph's  men  cut  through  and  routed  Clifford's  knights,  who 
scattered  in  flight,  some  to  Stirling  Castle  and  some  back  to 

1  "  Fate",  and  according  to  Skeat  "good  luck";  Old  French  eur. 

-These  "small  folk"  included,  no  doubt,  poorly  armed  but  excellent  fighting-men. 

3  23rd  June,  1314. 


204  I'HE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

the  main  army.     Earl  Randolph  and  his  men  were  then  bUthe 
indeed. 

Another  advanced  force  had  pushed  forward  to  attack  King 
Robert's  division  on  the  edge  of  the  wood.  Catching  sight  of 
the  king  mounted  on  a  palfrey,  Sir  Henry  de  Bohun  spurred 
forward  his  steed,  believing  that  he  should  be  able  to  take 
Bruce  captive.  The  Scottish  king  caused  the  palfrey  to  swerve 
as  the  knight  came  near. 

Schir  Henry  myssit  the  noble  kyiig-,  Sir  Henry  missed  the  noble  king; 

And  he,  that  in  his  sterapis  stude,  And  he  high  in  his  stirrups  stood, 

With  ax  that  wes  bath  hard  and  gude,  With  axe  that  was  both  hard  and  good, 
With  so  great  mayne  rouch  him  ane  d3'nt,  And  struck  a  blow  with  might  and  main, 

That  nouthir  hat  no  helm  m3'cht  stynt.  That  hat  nor  helm  could  not  sustain. 

The  hevy  dusche  that  he  him  gaf,  The  heavy  slash  the  king  him  gave 

That  he  the  hed  till  harnys  claf.  Right  through  the  head  and  harness  clave. 

The  hand-ax-schaft  frushat  in  twa,  The  hand-axe-shaft  was  snapped  in  twain. 

And  he  doune  till  the  erd  can  ga  Down  fell  De  Bohun  upon  the  plain 

All  flatlyngis,  for  him  falyheit  mycht ;  All  flatly,  for  so  failed  his  might. 

This  wes  the  first  strak  of  the  ficht  This  was  the  first  stroke  of  the  fight, 

That  wes  perfornyst  douchtely.  And  doughtily  was  it  performed. 

The  English  force  withdrew. 

And  durst  nocht  then  abyde  to  ficht,      And  dared  not  then  abide  to  fight, 
So  dred  thai  the  kyngis  mycht.  So  dreaded  they  King  Robert's  might. 

When  the  Bruce  returned  to  his  company  the  lords  blamed 
him  greatly  for  so  risking  his  life  and  their  cause. 

The  king  thame  answer  maid  he  nane.      To  them  the  king  no  answer  made, 

Bot  menyt  his  hand-ax-schaft,  that  swa    But  mourned  because  with  but  one  stroke 

Wes  with  ane  strak  brokyn  in  twa.  In  twain  his  battle-axe  he  broke. 

That  night  Bruce  addressed  his  troops,  assuring  them  of 
victory.  The  English,  who  had  been  discouraged  by  their 
reverses,  crossed  the  Bannockburn  and  encamped  on  the  Carse.^ 

Thair  thai  herbeyt  thame  that  nicht  There  they  did  harbour  them  that  night 

Doune  in  the  Kers,  and  gert  all  dicht,  Down  in  the  Carse,  and  caused  all  dight. 

And  mak  reddy  ther  apparale  And  ready  make  against  the  morn 

Again  the  morne  for  the  battale.  Armour  to  be  in  battle  worn. 

Houses  had   been   unroofed    to   make   "  bryggs  quhar  thai 

'  The  English  army  thus  occupied  the  V-shaped  area  between  the  burn  and  the  river,  the 
burn  being  on  their  hft  and  the  river  on  their  right.  It  was  a  perilous  position,  rendering 
manoeuvring  on  an  extensive  scale  quite  impossible,  and  permitting  of  only  a  portion  of  the 
army  coming  into  action  should  it  be  attacked      King  Robert  decided  to  attack. 


BRUCE    AND    {:>¥.    BOHUN 


THE    BRUCE  265 

tnycht  pas"  (bridges  where  they  might  pass)  over  the  burn  and 
pools.  And  some  say  that  doors  and  window-shutters  were 
carried  down  from  Stirling  Castle  for  the  same  purpose. 

When  it  was  day,  the  Scots  said  mass  devoutly;  then  they 
breakfasted  and  made  ready  for  battle.  Thereafter  they  marched 
out  to  attack  the  English  army.     King  Edward  was  astonished, 

And  said,  "Quhat!  will  j^hon  Scottis  And    said,    "What!    will   yon    Scotsmen 

fycht?"  fight?" 

"  Yhaa   sekirly,    Schir!"   than   said  a  "  Yea,  surely  sir,"  then  said  a  knight, 

knycht.  Sir  Ingram  de  Umfraville  by  name. 
Schir  Ingerame  the  Umphrevell  hat  lie. 

The  Scots  moved  forward,  and  then  paused  momentarily. 

The  Scottis  men  full  devotly  The  Scotsmen  full  devoutly  all 

Knelyt  all  doune,  till  God  to  pray,  Were  kneeling  down  to  God  to  pray, 

And  a  schort  prayer  thair  maid  thai  And  a  short  prayer  there  made  they 

Till  God,  till  help  thame  in  that  ficht.  To  God  to  help  them  in  that  fight. 

And  quhen  the  Inglis  king  had  sicht  The  English  king  when  he  had  had  sight 

Of  thame  kneland,  he  said  in  hy —  Of  them  a-kneeling,  said  hastily: 

"Yhon  folk  knelis  till  ask  mercy."  "Yon  folk  ask  mercy  now  of  me." 
Schir  Ingerame  said,"  Yhe  say  suth  now;   Sir  Ingram  said,  " 'T  is  true  they  du 

Thai  ask  mercy,  bot  nocht  at  yhow:  For  mercy  ask,  but  not  from  you: 

For  thair  trespas  to  God  thai  cry.  Thej'  for  their  sins  to  God  now  cry. 

I  tell  yhow  a  thing  sekirly.  One  thing  I  '11  say  assuredly. 

That  yhon  men  will  wyn  all  or  de,  That  yon  men  will  win  all  or  die. 

For  dout  of  ded  thar  sail  nane  fle."  For  fear  of  death  they  shall  not  fly." 

"  Now  be  it  swa,"  than  said  the  king.  "  Now  be  it  so,"  then  said  the  king. 

The  Earl  of  Moray  was  first  to  make  attack  as  the  English 
knights  rode  forth  against  the  Scottish  spearmen.  So  sturdily 
did  the  Scots  fight 

That  moiiy  of  thame  till  erd  thai  bar,  That  many  knights  to  earth  they  bore. 

For  mony  a  steid  was  stekit  thar,  For  many  a  steed  was  wounded  sore; 

And  mony  a  gud  man  fellit  undir  feit  Fell  many  a  good  man  on  the  plain 

That  had  no  power  to  rise  yheit.  Who  had  no  powei-  to  rise  again.' 

Walter    Stewart   and    Douglas   attacked    the    English    in    like 
manner. 

And  see  tummyll  knychtis  and  stedis,         And  saw  tumbling  knights  and  steeds. 
With  mony  rich  and  ryoll  wedis  With  many  rich  and  royal  weeds 

Defoulit  roydly  under  feit.  Defoul^d  rudely  under  foot. 

*  This  was  an  outstanding  feature  of  the  battle.  The  horses  were  attacked  by  the  Scots, 
and  the  knights  who  fell  were  unable,  owing  to  the  weight  of  their  armour,  to  rise  from  the 
ground. 


;66 


THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 


The  English  archers  (on  the  right)  shot  arrows  thick  and  fast 
towards  the  Scots,  but  King  Robert  sent  against  them  his 
marshal,  Sir  Robert  Keith,  with  five  hundred  mounted  men, 
and  the  archers  were  cut  up  and  scattered  in  confusion.  Three 
Scottish  divisions  were  now  in  action.  Then  King  Robert, 
perceiving  that  the  issue  hung  in  the  balance,  attacked  suddenly 
with  his  own  reserve  division.  Fiercely  fought  the  Englishmen 
as  the  Scots  went  sturdily  to  the  attack.  Loud  was  the  crash 
of  battle  as  weapons  smote  armour  and  spears  were  thrust  and 
jerked,  and  as  wounds  were  given  and  taken. 

While  the  Scots,   now  confident  of  victory,   were  pressing 
hard,  crying: 

"On  thame!  on  thame!  on  thame !    Thai     "On  them!  on  them!  on  them!     They 
faill!"  fail!" 


the  camp  followers,  using  sheets  as  banners,  marched  forth  in 
battle  array  from  the  valley  behind  a  hill,  shouting: 


'  Sla  !  sla!     Apon  them  hastily." 


"Slay!  slay!     Upon  them  hastil)'." 


The  Englishmen  thought  a  new  army  was  coming  against 
them,  and,  as  Bruce  pressed  more  and  more  fiercely  with  his 
fresh  men,  they  broke  in  flight.  When  King  Edward  saw  this, 
he  was  forced  to  flee  also.  Ere  he  did  so,  however,  Sir  Amery 
seized  the  horse's  rein  and  led  the  king  away 


Ag^ane  his  will,  fra  the  fichting. 


Against  his  will,  from  the  fig-hting-. 


Now,  when  Sir  Giles  de  Argente  saw  the  king  turning  away 
he  came  nigrh, 


And  said,  "  Schir,  sen  that  it  isswa 
That  yhe  thusgat  yhour  gat  will  ga, 
Haffis  gud  day!  for  agane  will  I: 
Yheit  fled  I  nevir  sekirly, 
And  I  chcis  heir  to  byde  and  de 
Than  till  lif  heir  and  schamfully  fie.  ' 
His  brydill  than  but  mar  abaid, 
He  turnyt,  and  agane  he  rade, 
And  on  Schir  Edward  the  Brusis  rout, 
That  wes  so  sturdy  and  so  stout, 
As  dreid  of  nakyn  thing  had  he, 
He  prikid,  cryand,  "Argente!" 


And  said,  "Sir,  since  that  it  is  so 
That  ye  this  way  your  gait  will  go, 
I  '11  bid  good  day;  for  fight  will  I: 
I  've  ne'er  fled  yet  assuredly, 
And  I  choose  here  to  bide  and  die 
Than  to  live  on  and  shamefully  flj'." 
He  shook  his  bridle,  nor  abode, 
But  turned,  and  once  again  he  rode 
Against  Sir  Edward  Bruce's  rout, 
Who  was  so  sturdy  and  so  stout, 
As  if  no  dread  of  aught  had  he, 
He  rode  and  shouted,  "Argent^!" 


THE    BRUCE 


:67 


And  thai  with  spcris  swa  him  met, 
And  swa  feill  speris  on  hym  set, 
That  he  and  hors  war  chargit  swa 
That  bath  doime  to  the  erd  can  g^a: 
And  in  tliat  place  that  slayne  wes  he, 
Of  his  ded  wes  rycht  gret  pite. 
He  wes  the  third  best  knycht,  perfay, 
That  men  wes  liffand  in  his  day. 


And  they  with  long  spears  so  him  met, 
And  many  spears  upon  him  set, 
That  he  and  horse  were  charged  so 
That  both  doun  to  the  earth  did  go: 
And  in  that  place  of  his  last  bre;ith 
Was  right  great  pity  for  his  deach. 
By  faith!  he  was  the  third  best  knight 
In  his  day  among  men  of  mignt. 


The  king  and  his  men  fled  to  Stirling  Castle,  but,  on  arriv- 
ing there,  Sir  Philip  Mowbray  said:  "Sire,  the  castle  is  at  your 
will,  but  remember  it  cannot  now  be  held  long  for  England. 
Therefore  you  should  make  escape  round  the  Park,  sad  as  you 
may  be.  Those  who  give  chase  cannot  do  much  with  so  many 
to  fight." 

King  Edward  took  Sir  Philip's  advice,  and,  having  ridden 
westward  and  round  the  Park,  held  his  way  towards  Linlithgow. 
Sir  James  of  Douglas  gave  chase,  but  the  King  of  England 
escaped  to  his  homeland. 

Stirling  Castle  surrendered  next  morning,  and  Sir  Philip 
Mowbray  was  so  well  treated  that  he  chose  to  dwell  in  the  land 
as  King  Robert's  subject.     The  castle  was  destroyed. 

Many  English  knights  had  been  taken  prisoners.  Some 
were  afterwards  ransomed.  Others,  including  the  Earl  of  Here- 
ford, were  exchanged  for  Scottish  captives  in  England,  and 
among  these  captives  were  King  Robert's  queen;  Dame  Mar- 
jorie,  who  afterwards  married  Walter  Stewart;  and  Bishop 
Robert  of  Glasgow,  who  had  become  blind. 


Kyng  Robert  now  wes  weill  at  hycht, 
For  ilk  day  than  grew  mair  his  mycht. 
His  men  war  rich,  and  his  cuntre 
Aboundanit  weill  of  corne  and  fee, 
And  of  alkynd  othir  riches:' 
Myrth,  solas,  and  ek  blithnes 
Wes  in  the  land  all  comonly 
For  ilk  man  blith  wes  and  joly.- 


King  Robert's  power  was  at  its  height, 
For  with  each  day  increased  his  might. 
His  men  were  rich,  his  country  free 
Abounded  well  of  corn  and  fee, 
And  other  riches  of  all  kinds: 
Full  merry  hearts  and  easy  minds 
Were  in  the  land,  and  through  it  wholly 
Then  every  man  was  blithe  and  jolly. 


^  The  spoils  of  Bannockburn  amount'^rt  to  the  equivalent  of  about  three  million  pounds 
sterling  in  our  day.  ^Book  XIII,  lines  713  e(  seij. 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED 
Introductory 

The  reputation  achieved  by  the  Nibelungenlied,  which  the 
Germans  regard  as  their  "national  epic",  is  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  its  merits  as  a  literary  composition.  This  is  due  mainly 
to  the  genius  of  Wagner.  When  that  great  composer  set  him- 
self to  produce  his  group  of  renowned  operas,  Der  Ring  des 
Nibehmgen,  consisting  of  Das  Rheingold^  Die  Walkilre,  Sieg- 
friedy  and  Gdtterddmmerung,  he  found  in  it  a  source  of  in- 
spiration. But  he  did  not  confine  himself  to  the  Lied  alone. 
He  gave  it  a  brilliant  setting  by  utilizing  not  only  other  heroic 
romances  of  Germany,  but  also  those  of  Scandinavia  and  Ice- 
land, in  which  Siegfried  figures  as  Sigurd  the  Volsung.  In 
doing  so  he  followed  those  German  scholars  who  have  credited 
to  their  Fatherland  a  mass  of  northern  legendary  stories  and 
poems  although  these  possess  elements  clearly  not  of  German 
origin.  In  Iceland  especially,  where  there  occurred  a  fusion  of 
diverse  cultural  influences  as  well  as  of  peoples,'  much  was  con- 
tributed by  poets  whose  productions  reached  a  higher  level  of 
excellence  than  those  of  the  minstrels  of  Germany. 

The  Nibeliingenlied  was  a  popular  courtly  lay  of  the  Middle 
Ages  in  the  "Fatherland".  It  was  overshadowed  in  time,  how- 
ever, by  imported  metrical  and  prose  romances,  including  the 
Arthurian,  which  were  of  greater  imaginative  power  and  artistic 
value,  and  by  imitations  of  these,  so  that  it  ultimately  passed  out 
of  fashion.  For  several  centuries  it  was  entirely  forgotten.  It 
was  rediscovered  in   the  summer  of  1755  by  J.   H.   Obereit,  a 

1  A  considerable  portion  of  Iceland  was  peopled  liy  colonists  of  mixed  descent  from  the 
Hebrides,  England,  and  Ireland.  Rcfeiences  to  the  elm  trc:  in  some  of  the  Eddie  poems  are 
significant,     The  eiivi  does  not  grow  in  Norway. 

269 


270  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

young  physician,  who  happened  on  a  thirteenth-century  Middle 
High-German  version  of  it  in  the  castle  of  Hohenems  in  Tyrol. 
Other  copies  subsequently  came  to  light,  and  now  about  thirty, 
some  of  which  are  fragmentary,  are  known  to  be  in  existence. 
Countless  translations  of  the  old  poem  have  been  printed.  The 
first  complete  version,  edited  by  C.  H.  Myller,  was  published  in 
1782.  It  was  dedicated  to  Frederic  the  Great,  who  made  the 
characteristic  comment  that  it  was  not  worth  a  charge  of  powder, 
and  refused  to  have  it  in  liis  library.  The  problem  of  author- 
ship, although  much  discussed,  has  never  been  satisfactorily 
settled.  Modern  scholarship  tends  to  the  view  that  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied,  as  we  know  it,  is  of  Austrian  and  probably  Tyrolese 
origin,  and  that  it  was  composed  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
twelfth  century.  The  unknown  medieval  poet  apparently  utilized 
old  ballads  sung  and  recited  by  wandering  minstrels,  who  fol- 
lowed the  usual  practice  of  adapting  these  to  the  requirements 
of  their  time.  In  doing  so  he  apparently  reflected  the  character 
of  his  age  and  his  audiences.  Attila,  "the  scourge  of  God", 
who  figures  as  Etzel,  became  a  shadowy,  inoffensive  character. 
He  is  not  "the  villain  of  the  piece",  as  in  the  northern  version 
of  the  legend.  With  Dietrich  (Theodoric  the  Goth)  and  Hilde- 
brand  he  weeps  for  the  heroes  who  have  fallen  as  victims  of 
Kriemhild,  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  characters  in  ancient 
romance. 

So  much  has  been  written  regarding  the  Nihelungenlied  that 
many  of  its  critics  have  inclined  to  vie  one  with  another  in  over- 
estimating its  value  as  literature.  It  has  been  called  by  not  a 
few  "an  epic"  and  even  "a  great  epic",  although  it  is  really 
a  ballad  poem,  vigorous  and  stirring  without  doubt,  but  entirely 
devoid  of  what  Matthew  Arnold  called  "the  grand  manner". 
In  one  of  his  Oxford  lectures  Arnold  made  direct  reference  to 
the  German  claim  in  this  connection.  "I  can  imagine  several 
poets,  with  the  literary  knack  of  the  twelfth  centur}-,  united,"  he 
said,  "to  produce  the  Nibelungen  Lay  in  the  form  in  which  we 
have  it — a  work  which  the  Germans,  in  their  joy  at  discovering 
a  national  epic  of  their  own,  have  rated  vastly  higher  than  it 
deserves.  .  .  .  But  I  cannot  imagine  several  poets,  or  one  poet, 
joined  with   Dante  in  the  composition  of   his  'Inferno'    .    .    . 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  271 

The  Nibelungen  Lay  affords  a  good  illustration  of  the  qualities 
of  the  ballad  manner.  Based  on  grand  traditions,  which  had 
found  expression  in  a  grand  lyric  poetry,  the  German  epic  poem 
of  the  N-ibehmgen  Lay^  though  it  is  interesting,  and  though  it 
has  good  passages,  is  itself  anything  rather  than  a  grand  poem. 
It  is  a  poem  of  which  the  composer  is,  to  speak  the  truth,  a  very 
ordinary  mortal,  and  often,  therefore,  like  other  ordinary  mortals, 
very  prosy.  It  is  in  a  measure  which  eminently  adapts  itself  to 
the  commonplace  personality  of  its  composer,  which  has  much 
the  movement  of  the  well-known  measures  of  Tate  and  Brady, 
and  can  jog  on,  for  hundreds  of  lines  at  a  time,  with  a  level  ease 
which  reminds  one  of  Sheridan's  saying  that  'easy  writing  may 
be  often  such  hard  reading'." 

Thomas  Carlyle,  who  could  see  no  merit  in  Shelley  or  Keats, 
did  much  to  promote  the  reputation  of  the  Nibelungenlied  in  this 
country.  In  his  review  of  Simrock's  modern  German  translation 
of  the  lay,  which  appeared  in  the  Westminster  Review y^  he  wrote 
in  a  strain  of  rhetorical  ecstasy  regarding  this  ** creation  from 
the  old  ages  still  bright  and  balmy  ",  and  drew  remarkable  and 
quite  unmerited  comparisons  between  the  **true  old  singer"  and 
Homer,  Shakespeare,  and  Milton.  He  even  suggested  that  the 
Nibelungenlied  "belongs  specially  to  us  English  Teutones  as 
well  as  to  the  German  ",  forgetting  that  he  himself  was  a  Mac- 
kerlie  and  a  descendant  of  the  hereditary  enemies  of  the  Teutones. 
But  that  by  the  way.  The  essay  is  not  without  its  *'  humorous 
side  ".  With  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  partisan,  resolved  to  find 
merit  in  everything  Germanic,  Carlyle  commended  with  char- 
acteristically ponderous  solemnity  even  the  trivialities  of  the 
narrative.  One  of  his  unconsciously  humorous  passages  refers 
to  the  marriage-bed  episode,  when  Brunhild  seizes  her  husband, 
King  Gunther,  binds  him  hard  and  fast  with  her  girdle,  and  sus- 
pends him  from  a  peg  on  the  wall.  '*  Let  any  reader  of  sensi- 
bility ",  wrote  Carlyle,  "figure  the  emotions  of  the  royal  breast, 
there  as  he  vibrates  suspended  on  his  peg  and  his  inexorable 
bride  sleeping  sound  in  her  bed  below."  Dealing  with  the 
squabble  between  the  rival  queens,  during  which  Kriemhild 
accused  Brunhild  of  having  been  her  husband's  paramour,  he 

^  Vol.  XXIX,  pp.  1-45-     Reprinted  in  Miscellaneous  Essays. 


272  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

wrote  in  similar  vein:  "Never  was  courtlier  Billingsgate  uttered, 
or  which  came  more  directly  home  to  the  business  (sw)  and 
bosoms  of  women.  The  subject  is  that  old  story  of  Precedence, 
which  indeed,  from  the  time  of  Cain  and  Abel  downwards,  has 
wrought  such  effusion  of  blood  and  bile  both  among  men  and 
women;  lying  at  the  bottom  of  all  armaments  and  battle-fields, 
whether  Blenheims  and  Waterloos,  or  only  plate  displays  and 
tongue-and-eye  skirmishes  in  the  circle  of  domestic  tea;  nay,  the 
very  animals  have  it;  and  horses,  were  they  but  the  miserablest 
Shelties  and  Welsh  ponies,  will  not  graze  together  till  it  has 
been  ascertained,  by  clear  fight,  who  is  master  of  whom,  and  a 
proper  drawing-room  etiquette  established."  This  is  the  sort 
of  matter  that  passes  not  infrequently  in  Carlyle's  writings  for 
literary  criticism. 

Even  the  German  critics  now  recognize  that  Carlyle  went  too 
far,  and,  while  acknowledging  the  high  compliment  he  desired  to 
pay  to  their  "national  epic",  admit  that  he  did  not  understand 
the  versification  of  the  poem  and  that  his  English  verse  render- 
ings are  "fantastic". 

The  tendency  to  overestimate  the  literary  value  of  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied  has  been  continued,  however,  even  outside  Germany. 
A  recent  enthusiastic  appreciation  of  it  comes  from  the  pen  of 
the  Professor  of  German  Philology  in  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania.^ "Its  characters",  he  writes,  "are  impulsive  and 
prompt  in  action,  and  when  they  have  once  acted,  "waste  no  time 
in  useless  regret  or  remorse.-  ...  It  resembles  the  older  Spiel- 
mannsdichtung,  or  minstrel  poetry,  in  the  terseness  and  vigour 
of  its  language  and  in  the  lack  of  poetic  imagery.  .  .  .  There  are 
perhaps'^  greater  poems  in  literature  than  the  Nibelungenlied^  but 
few  so  majestic  in  conception,  so  sublime  in  their  tragedy,  so 
simple  in  their  execution,  and  so  national  in  their  character,  as 
this  great  popular  epic  of  German  literature." 

What  this  writer  says  about  the  characters  is  worth  noting. 
The  fact  is,  they  are  melodramatic,  and,  as  even  Carlyle  ad- 
mitted, drawn  without  any  marked  degree  of  psychological  in- 
sight.    Hagen,   the   most  prompt  and   impulsive  of  them   all, 

1  The  Nibelungenlied,  by  Daniel  Bussicr  Shumway.      boston,  1909. 
-  The  italics  are  not  in  the  original. 


THE   NIBELUNGENLIED  273 

commits  a  cowardly  and  cold-blooded  murder  by  stabbing  Sieg- 
fried on  the  back.  He  certainly  *'  wastes  no  time  in  useless  {sic) 
regret  or  remorse",  for  he  promptly  proceeds  to  rob  the  widow. 
King  Gunther  continues,  after  this  treacherous  murder  of  his 
guest,  brother-in-law,  and  faithful  ally,  to  regard  Hagen  as  his 
best  friend.     A  low  ethical  code  pervades  the  entire  poem. 

Yet,  among  the  enthusiastic  commentators,  some  have  even 
gone  so  far  as  to  commend  Hagen's  treachery.  "Hagen ",  writes 
one  of  these,  **  appears  at  first  sight  a  ruthless  implacable  mur- 
derer whose  restless  cruelty  is  ever  in  search  of  new  victims; 
yet,  on  closer  examination,  we  shall  find  that  strangely  blended 
with  all  his  fiercer  qualities,  nay,  perhaps  at  the  very  source  of 
all,  are  loyalty  and  devotion  to  his  king,  a  devotion  which  banishes 
every  other  feeling  whether  of  pity  ^  honour,  or  remorse.  Such  a 
character,  however  guilty,  cannot  fail  to  command  some  degree  of 
respect.'''^  Comment  on  such  a  distorted  view  seems  entirely 
superfluous  in  these  days  when  Germanic  Hagenism  has  been 
revived  and  has  revealed  itself  in  its  true  light.  The  glamour 
of  Germanism  has  been  rudely  dissipated  by  the  modern  military 
representatives  of  the  Burgundians  and  Huns,  and  the  syste- 
matic, well-organized,  and  exaggerated  adulation  of  Germanic 
achievements  in  every  sphere  of  activity,  and  especially  in 
literature,  our  chief  concern  here,  has  ceased  to  be  regarded 
as  proof  of  good  scholarship. 

The  artistic  flaws  in  the  Nibelungenlied,  considered  simply 
from  a  literary  standpoint,  are  of  outstanding  character.  "The 
fatal  humdrum  and  want  of  style  of  the  Germans,"  Matthew 
Arnold  declared  without  apparent  effect  a  generation  ago,  "have 
marred  their  way  of  telling  this  magnificent  tradition  of  the 
Nibelungen.''  In  the  first  half  of  the  lay  the  sympathy  of  the 
reader  is  entirely  with  the  heroic  Siegfried  and  with  his  bride 
Kriemhild,  who  is  introduced  as  a  bashful  and  refined  young 

lady: 

Nu  gie  diu  minnecliche  also  der  morgenr6t 

Tuot  Oz  den  triieben  wolken.''' 

Now  came  the  beauteous  maiden  like  to  the  rosy  dawn 

From  gloomy  clouds  out-breaking. 

'  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Germany,  by  Madame  L.  Dav^si^s  de  Pontes.  London,  185S.  The 
italics  are  not  in  the  original.  ''■  Stan/a  282. 

Vol.  II.  47 


274  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

In  the  latter  part,  however,  the  poet  glorifies  Hagen  and  presents 
Kriemhild  as  a  veritable  impersonation  of  villainy,  reminding 
us  of  Shakespeare's  Richard  III,  who  can  order  an  execution  as 
calmly  as  if  he  were  ordering  a  meal: 

Chop  off  his  head,  man;  somewhat  we  will  do. 

But,  unlike  Richard,  Kriemhild  experiences  no  qualms  of  con- 
science even  in  her  dreams.  Her  bloodthirstiness  stirs  in  us 
feelings  of  horror;  it  is  monstrous  and  a  libel  on  the  fair  fame  of 
her  sex.  She  causes  Etzel  (Attila),  her  second  husband,  to  in- 
vite her  brothers  and  Hagen  as  guests  to  his  Court,  so  that  she 
may  have  them  put  to  death  by  her  hirelings.  The  grossness 
of  her  iniquity  is  unrelieved  even  when  she  offers  to  spare  the 
life  of  one  of  her  brothers  who  had  no  knowledge  of  the  plot 
against  Siegfried  twenty  years  previously.  He  refuses  her 
terms,  and  perishes  with  the  others.  Even  when  the  whole 
force  of  Burgundians  has  been  slaughtered,  with  the  exception 
of  Gunther  and  Hagen,  the  fiendish  Kriemhild  experiences  no 
emotional  restraint.  She  seems  to  revel  in  slaughter.  The 
revolting  story  of  how  she  avenges  her  husband's  death  reaches 
its  highest  pitch  of  iniquity  when,  having  ordered  the  execution 
of  her  sole  surviving  brother,  King  Gunther,  she  picks  up  his 
dripping  head  and  shows  it  to  Hagen.  Because  Hagen  refuses 
to  inform  her  where  he  has  hid  the  Nibelung  treasure,  she  her- 
self executes  him.  Then  Hildebrand  deals  her  "a  grievous 
sword-blow"  which  cuts  her  almost  in  twain.  Her  husband 
makes  no  protest.  Such  is  the  so-called  "sublime  tragedy"  of 
iht  Nibelungenlied.  "Sublime"  seems  hardly  the  right  word 
to  apply  to  it.  The  utter  savagery  of  the  concluding  part — the 
drinking  of  the  blood  of  the  dead  by  the  Burgundians,  the 
fiendishness  of  Kriemhild,  and  the  last  act  of  Hildebrand — 
cannot  be  otherwise  characterized  than  revolting  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

An  interesting  comparison  is  afforded  by  the  more  pic- 
turesque and  imaginative  Deirdre  tragedy,  which  was  likewise 
due  to  treachery.  In  this  story,  however,  the  villain  is  a  jealous 
king  whose  betrothed  bride  has  been  abducted  by  a  rival. 
Neesha  is  slain,   but  not  in   like  manner  to  Siegfried.     He  is 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  275 

challenged  to  open  combat,  although  against  odds,  and  the 
tragedy  is  ennobled  by  the  conduct  of  Fergus's  faithful  son 
and  by  that  of  Fergus  himself,  who  punished  the  king  for  his 
treachery  by  first  attacking  him  and  then  by  making  common 
cause  with  his  enemies.  Deirdre  remains  throughout  a  type  of 
ideal  womanhood.  She  avenges  her  husband's  death  by  taking 
her  own  life,  thus  rendering  the  king's  triumph  a  hollow  one. 
Like  a  star  amidst  dark  tempest  clouds,  she  remains  a  beautiful 
and  memorable  character  in  an  ancient  story  of  love,  jealousy, 
and  intrigue.  We  think  of  her  with  feelings  of  infinite  com- 
passion, but  we  turn  away  from  Kriemhild  horrified  by  her 
savagery. 

Attempts  which  have  been  made  to  prove  that  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied  is  a  rendering  of  an  old  Nature  myth,  in  which 
Siegfried  is  "a  form  of  the  sun",  are  not  now  regarded  seri- 
ously. To  Siegfried,  as  to  Arthur,  Finn-mac-Coul,  Dietrich, 
and  others,  were  attached  folk-legends  of  great  antiquity  and 
partly  of  mythological  origin,  but  the  Nibehingenlied  version  of 
his  story  is  no  mere  myth;  it  is  an  old  German  tale  reflecting 
German  habits  of  thought  and  life  which  was  composed  to  meet 
the  popular  taste.  In  this  sense  it  is  truly  national.  If  it  is 
found  to  lack  the  chivalrous  and  more  human  note  of  the 
northern  versions,  only  one  conclusion  can  be  drawn. 

In  the  Norwegian  poem,  the  Thidrekssaga,  Kriemhild  figures 
as  Grimhild,  Siegfried  as  Sigurd,  Etzel  (Attila)  as  Atli,  Gunther 
as  Gunnar,  Hagen  as  Hogni,  and  Brunhild  as  Brynhild.  This 
version  resembles  closely  the  story  as  related  in  the  Volsunga 
Saga  and  Eddas  of  Iceland.  The  Hiirnen  Seyfrid  is  an  upper 
German  version  of  the  vSiegfried  story,  which  is  of  later  date  than 
the  Niheliinge^ilied. 

In  what  seems  to  be  the  oldest  version  of  the  story,  Sigurd  is 
born  after  the  death  of  his  father.  He  is  reared  by  a  smith,  and, 
having  killed  a  dragon,  becomes  possessed  of  great  treasure;  he 
also  acquires  magical  qualities  by  eating  the  dragon's  heart,  and 
invulnerability  against  wounds,  except  on  one  spot  on  his  back, 
by  bathing  in  the  dragon's  blood.  Thereafter  he  passes  through 
a  ring  of  fire  and  awakes  Brynhild  (Brunhild)  from  enchanted 
sleep.     Deserting  this  lady,  he  marries  Grimhild  (Kriemhild). 


276  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

After  Sigurd  is  treacherously  slain,  Grimhild  weds  Atli  (Attila), 
who  lures  his  brothers-in-law  and  their  followers  to  his  Court, 
where  they  are  treacherously  slain.  Grimhild  avenges  their 
death  by  murdering  Atli  in  his  sleep.  In  the  Volsunga  Saga 
Kriemhild  figures  as  Gudrun. 

There  are  not  a  few  thrilling  episodes  in  the  Scandinavian 
version  of  the  legend,  which  moves  on  a  much  higher  artistic 
level  than  the  German.  After  Brynhild  accomplishes  by  in- 
trigue the  death  of  her  former  lover,  she  mounts  a  white  horse, 
and  riding  towards  the  pyre  on  which  his  body  is  being  burned, 
tries  to  those  who  are  nigh,  "Gudrun  would  have  died  with 
Sigurd  had  she  a  soul  like  to  mine."  Then  she  leaps  among 
the  flames  and  perishes. 

The  Hell  Ride  of  Bryiikild  is  a  remarkable  Icelandic  poem 
which  pictures  the  lady  riding  in  her  chariot  to  the  land  of 
shades  in  quest  of  Sigurd.  At  Hela  bridge  a  giant  maid  who 
keeps  watch  endeavours  to  hold  her  back,  accusing  her  of  caus- 
ing death  and  sorrow.  Brynhild  defends  herself,  and  vowing 
she  will  live  for  ever  with  Sigurd,  cries,  "Sink  down,  O  giant 
maid!"  and  rides  on  to  the  glittering  plains  of  Paradise. 

The  Icelandic  poet  who  composed  the  "Hell  Ride"  was  a 
greater  artist  than  the  author  or  authors  of  the  Ntbelungenlied\ 
he  is  no  mere  humdrum  story-teller,  but  a  poet  of  undoubted 
dramatic  genius.  "There  is  a  fire,  a  style,  a  distinction,  in 
Icelandic  poetry,  which  German  poetry  has  not,"  commented 
Matthew  Arnold  in  this  connection. 

In  the  condensed  version  of  the  Nibelimgenlied,  which  follows, 
extracts  are  given  of  metrical  translations  of  the  poem,  and  these 
afford  a  good  idea  of  its  character  and  style. 


The   Nibelungenlied 
I.   The  Wooing  of  Kriemhild 

We  find  in  ancient  story  Wonders  many  told, 
Of  heroes  in  great  glory  With  spirits  free  and  bold; 
Of  joyances  and  high  tides,  Of  weeping  and  of  woe. 
Of  noble  Recken  striving,  Mote  ye  now  wonders  know.^ 

At  Worms  by  the  Rhine,  in  Burgundy,  there  grew  up  a 
high-born  maiden  named  Kriemhild.  Very  fair  was  she,  and 
for  her  sake  many  warriors  died.  She  was  guarded  by  three 
brothers,  Gunther,  Gemot,  and  Giselher,  who  were  strong  and 
vahant  knights  and  had  many  vassals.  Their  mother  was 
Queen  Uta,  and  their  father,  Dankrat,  was  dead.  Much  could 
be  said  regarding  the  splendour  and  power  of  the  Court  at 
Worms,  and  of  the  bravery  of  the  warriors  there. 

Meanwhile,  amid  this  splendour,  the  maid  Kriemhilda  dreamed 
That  she  had  reared  a  falcon — strong,  fair,  and  wild  he  seem'd — 
And  that  two  eagles  tore  him,  and  eke  before  her  eyes; — 
No  worse  grief  could  life  bring  her  in  any  evil  guise. 

Quick  to  her  mother  Ute  she  told  the  vision  dread, — 
Who,  after  her  own  manner,  the  dream  interpreted: 
"This  falcon  of  thy  rearing,  thy  noble  husband  he, — 
And  now  may  God  defend  him,  or  he  is  lost  to  thee !" 

"  What  sayest  thou  of  husbands,  O  dearest  mother  mine? 
Never  for  hero's  wooing  shall  I,  your  daughter,  pine! 
Spotless  and  fair  would  I  be,  as  now,  unto  my  death; — 
I  would  forgo  the  sorrow  that  lurks  man's  love  beneath." 

"  Forswear  not  Love  thus  lightly,"  her  mother  answer  gave. 
"  If  heart's  joy  ever  reach  thee  in  life,  as  women  crave, 
Through  man's  love  thou  must  gain  it; — thou  wert  a  seemly  bride 
If  God  do  not  deny  thee  a  good  knight  at  thy  side." 

1  Carlyle's  rendering  of  first  verse. 
277 


27S  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

"  Ah,  let  alone  such  counsel,  my  mother  dear,  I  pray! 

By  many  a  woman's  witness  't  is  proven,  clear  as  day. 

How  heart's  delight  too  often  with  sorrow  sore  is  paid; — 

Lest  such  misciiance  befall  me,  I  '11  shun  them  both,"  she  said.' 


For  a  time  she  lived  believing  she  would  never  love  any 
man.  Yet  did  she  marry  a  valiant  one  at  length.  He  was  the 
falcon  of  whom  she  had  dreamed.  She  took  bitter  vengeance 
on  her  kinsmen  who  killed  him,  and  because  of  his  death  many 
a  mother's  son  was  slain. 

This  man  was  Siegfried,  son  of  King  Siegmund  and  Queen 
Sieglinde  of  the  Netherlands,  who  dwelt  in  the  famous  castle 
of  Xanten,  on  the  Rhine's  side.  He  was  a  strong  and  valiant 
knight,  whose  fame  went  through  the  whole  world.  The  people 
would  fain  have  had  him  for  king,  but  he  would  not  wear  the 
crown  so  long  as  his  father  lived. 

Siegfried  heard  of  the  beauty  of  Kriemhild  and  yearned  for 
her  with  love,  and  when  his  kinsmen  and  liegemen  counselled 
him  to  woo  a  worthy  lady,  he  vowed  he  would  wed  the  fail 
maiden  of  Burgundy.  Nor  would  he  be  turned  from  his  heart's 
desire  even  when  his  father  warned  him  that  Gunther  had  mighty 
men,  including  the  arrogant  and  overbearing  Hagen. 

Said  Siegfried:  "  What  I  cannot  win  by  request  I  shall  take 
by  force." 

"  I  know  Gunther  and  Gemot,"  his  father  answered.  "No 
man  shall  win  the  maiden  by  force.  If  you  must  ride  to 
Worms,   I  shall  summon  my  knights  to  go  with  you." 

Said  Siegfried:  '*  It  would  be  shameful  to  go  with  an  army 
to  take  Kriemhild  by  force.  Rather  would  I  win  her  unaided. 
I  shall  go  to  Gunther's  land  as  one  of  twelve,  my  father." 

The  king  and  queen  gave  their  consent  sorrowfully,  and 
Siegfried,   richly  attired,  set  forth  with  his  followers. 

Now  when  Siegfried  reached  the  Court  at  Worms,  Gunther 
took  counsel  with  his  vassals  regarding  them,  and  Hagen  spoke 
of  Siegmund's  son,  saying:  "  He  brings  new  adventures.  Great 
is  his  prowess,  for  he  has  slain  the  Nibelung  princes,  Schilbung 
and  Nibelung,  and  from  the  dwarf  Alberich  he  won  the  cloak 

1  Alice  Horton's  translation. 


THE    NIBELUNGliNLlED  279 

of  invisibility  and  then  appointed  him  keeper  of  the  Nibelung 
treasure.  Withal  he  has  slain  a  dragon.  In  its  blood  he 
bathed,  and  thus  rendered  himself  invulnerable,  for  his  skin 
became  like  to  horn  which  no  weapon  can  pierce.  Let  us  re- 
ceive him  courteously  and  avoid  making  him  our  foe." 

"No  doubt  you  speak  truthfully,"  Gunther  said.  "Let  us 
go  down  and  bid  him  welcome." 

Siegfried  was  accordingly  welcomed  with  honour.  He  sat  at 
the  feast  with  the  king  and  his  knights,  and  abode  in  the  palace. 
A  tournament  was  held,  and  the  women  who  looked  on  asked 
who  the  proud  and  nobly-clad  stranger  might  be,  and  they  were 
told:  •*  He  is  King  of  the  Netherland." 

Among  others,  Kriemhild  looked  down  as  the  young  knights 
tilted  in  the  courtyard,  but  Siegfried  knew  it  not,  but  he  carried 
his  love  for  her  in  his  heart.  A  year  went  past,  and  then  he 
rode  forth  with  the  Burgundians  to  wage  war  against  the  Saxons 
and  Danes,  and  did  mighty  deeds.  Great  was  the  joy  of  Kriem- 
hild when  she  heard  of  his  valour.  Her  cheeks  reddened  so 
that  her  face  became  beautiful  as  a  rose. 

Siegfried  refused  to  accept  any  reward  from  Gunther,  being 
too  rich  to  care  about  money.  He  would  have  taken  leave  of 
the  king  after  the  campaign  was  ended,  but,  because  he  loved 
Kriemhild  in  secret,  he  consented  to  tarry. 

A  great  festival  was  held  to  welcome  the  warriors  on  their 
return  to  Worms.  Many  a  high-born  maiden  adorned  herself 
with  care,  and  the  young  men  yearned  to  be  pleasing  to  their 
eyes.  King  Gunther  ordered  that  a  hundred  men,  with  drawn 
swords,  should  escort  his  sister.  Uta  came  forth  from  the 
women's  apartments  with  many  fair  damsels,  and  the  knights 
pressed  round  to  gaze  at  Kriemhild,  while  Siegfried  stood  apart 
waiting  with  eager  heart. 

Then  came  the  lovely  maiden:  even  as  morning  red 
From  sombre  clouds  outbreaking".     And  many  a  sorrow  fled 
From  him  whose  heart  did  hold  her,  and  eke  so  long  had  held: 
When  thus  the  winsome  fair  one  before  him  he  beheld. 

Upon  her  raiment  glittered  full  many  a  precious  stone: 
Her  rosy  blushing  colour  with  lovely  radiance  shone. 
Though  any  would  deny  it  he  could  not  but  confess, 
That  on  this  earth  he  never  had  seen  more  loveliness. 


28o  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Just  as  the  moon  in  brightness  excels  the  brightest  stars, 
And,  suddenly  outshining,  athwart  the  clouds  appears; 
So  seemed  she  now,  compared  with  dames  of  fairest  guise. 
Then  did  our  gallant  hero  feel  his  bold  spirits  rise. 

One  saw  before  her  marching  the  chamberlains,  in  state, — 
But  the  high-mettled  warriors  their  order  would  not  wait: 
They  thronged  to  where,  in  passing,  the  fair  maid  they  could  see. 
The  while  Sir  Siegfried  suffered  both  joy  and  misery. 

Sadly  he  thought  within  him:  "  How  can  it  ever  be? 

It  is  mere  foolish  dreaming  that  I  should  marry  thee ! 

Yet  to  be  still  a  stranger! — then  were  I  better  dead!" 

And,  thinking  so,  his  colour  did  change  'twixt  white  and  red. 

There  stood  the  son  of  Siegmund;  as  winsome  did  he  look 
As  if  his  torm  were  limned  upon  a  parchment-book. 
By  hand  of  cunning  master;  and  all  men  said  of  him, 
That  there  was  no  man  like  him,  so  fine  and  fair  of  limb.' 

The  king's  kinsmen  conducted  Siegfried  to  Kriemhild  so 
that  he  might  receive  her  greetings.  Then  did  he  forget  his 
sorrow.  Mildly  and  maidenly  she  spoke,  saying:  "Welcome, 
Sir  Siegfried,  good  and  noble  knight."  The  words  gave  him 
courage,  and  he  bowed  and  gave  her  thanks.  Love  possessed 
them  both,  and  secretly  did  they  yearn  as  they  gazed  at  one 
another. 

Great  was  Siegfried's  joy  as  he  walked  at  her  side.  Many  a 
knight  did  envy  him,  but  they  said:  "Never  was  a  warrior  more 
worthy  to  win  a  queen." 

They  went  before  the  king,  who  bade  Kriemhild  kiss  the 
hero.  Nor  did  Siegfried  dream  until  that  moment  when  she 
kissed  him  that  life  had  such  joy  in  store  for  him. 

Said  King  Gunther:  "Thus  is  Siegfried  greeted  because  that 
many  valiant  men  have  fallen  by  his  sword.  God  grant  that 
he  shall  not  return  to  Denmark." 

Then  did  Kriemhild  part  from  Siegfried.  She  went  away 
escorted  by  the  knights  and  followed  by  the  maidens.  Other 
women  were  as  naught  beside  her.  She  had  been  born  to 
pleasure  the  eyes  of  heroes. 

^  The  Lay  of  the  Nibeiungs,  metrically  translated  by  Alice  Horton.  London,  1898  (Bohn's 
Libr.iry). 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  281 

The  festival  lasted  for  twelve  days,  and  each  day  Siegfried 
walked  beside  Kriemhild. 

When  at  length  the  time  came  to  depart,  Siegfried's  heart 
was  filled  with  sorrow.      "Never  can  I  win  her,"  he  sighed. 

He  would  have  gone  away  with  the  other  guests,  but  Giselher, 
at  Gunther's  request,  pleaded  with  him  to  tarry,  and  he  con- 
sented because  of  his  love.  For  love  he  tarried  but  to  sorrow, 
and  in  the  end  he  died  for  love. 

Each  day  he  saw  and  spake  with  Kriemhild,  and  he  longed 
to  win  her. 

Now,  be  it  known  that  King  Gunther  desired  greatly  to 
have  Brunhild  for  his  bride,  and  he  spoke  regarding  her  to 
Siegfried.  Brunhild  had  vowed  she  would  never  wed  a  man 
who  did  not  surpass  her  in  feats  of  skill  and  strength.  And 
this  was  how  she  tested  those  who  sought  to  woo  her.  First 
she  flung  a  spear,  and  her  wooer  had  to  excel  her  in  so  doing. 
Then  she  cast  a  stone  and  leapt  to  the  spot  where  it  fell.  The 
knight  who  failed  in  either  test  was  slain  at  once.  Many  sought 
to  woo  Brunhild,  and  many  died  because  of  their  boldness. 

**  So  great  is  her  beauty,"  said  Gunther  to  Siegfried,  "that  I 
must  needs  try  to  win  her."  He  promised  him  reward  of  honour 
and  service  if  he  would  aid  him  in  his  wooing. 

Said  Siegfried:  "If  you  will  give  me  Kriemhild  for  wife,  I 
shall  serve  you  in  this  enterprise." 

Gunther  answered  him,  saying:  "Kriemhild  shall  be  yours, 
I  swear,  if  I  bring  Brunhild  hither  as  my  wife.  And  may  you 
live  happily  with  my  sister  until  your  life  is  ended." 


II.   How   Brunhild  was   Won 

Brunhild  was  Queen  of  Isenstein,  and  Gunther  set  sail  for 
her  kingdom  with  Siegfried  and  Hagen  and  his  brother  Dank- 
wart.  For  the  space  of  twelve  days  they  voyaged  across  the  sea, 
and  then  they  saw  the  strange  land,  which  Siegfried  had  visited 
aforetime,  and  put  ashore  in  a  safe  haven.  Knights  met  them 
and  bade  them  disarm.  Unwilling  was  Hagen  to  consent  to 
this,  but  Siegfried  told  him  that  such  was  the  custom  of  the 
country. 

By  the  knights  were  the  strangers  taken  before  Queen  Brun- 
hild, to  whom  Siegfried  spake,  making  known  the  object  of  their 
visit.  She  received  them  coldly,  and  made  known  the  con- 
ditions of  the  wooing.  Then  did  Siegfried  whisper  to  Gunther: 
"Fear  not,  for  I  shall  help  you!"  Whereupon  the  king  spoke 
boldly  and  said:  "For  your  dear  sake,  O  Brunhild,  I  shall  risk 
my  life  in  the  contest." 

Brunhild  was  angry.  She  put  on  her  armour,  and  when 
Hagen  and  Dankwart  beheld  her  in  it,  they  feared  for  the  life 
of  the  king. 

Meanwhile  Siegfried  hastened  to  the  ship  and  there  put  on 
the  cloak  of  invisibility.  Unseen,  he  returned  to  the  lists  and 
stood  beside  Gunther. 

The  queen  came  forth  from  her  castle,  and  when  Hagen  be- 
held her,  he  exclaimed:  "Alas,  King  Gunther,  she  is  the  devil's 
bride!     We  shall  all  be  slain." 

Said  Dankwart:  "  If  Hagen  and  I  had  our  swords,  Brun- 
hild's war  men  would  be  less  arrogant."  Hearing  this,  the 
queen  gave  orders  that  their  armour  and  weapons  should  be 
restored  to  them,  and  this  was  done. 

Twelve  knights  carried  a  great  boulder  towards  the  queen, 


BRUNHILD    CASTS    HER    SPEAR    AT    THE    TRIAL 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  283 

whereat  Hagen  groaned,  saying:  "Would  indeed  that  the  devil 
had  herl" 

Gunther  looked  at  the  boulder  with  amaze,  and  his  heart 
sank  within  him,  but  Siegfried,  wrapped  in  his  cloak  of  invisi- 
bility, stole  to  his  side  and  touched  his  arm. 

Gunther  was  startled  and  looked  round.  *' Who  laid  hand 
on  my  arm?"  asked  he. 

Siegfried,  unseen  by  all,  whispered  and  said:  "Hush!    I  have 
come  to  help  you.     Be  not  afraid." 

The  tests  began.  First  Brunhild  flung  her  great  spear  to- 
wards Gunther;  but  Siegfried  made  it  dart  sideways,  but  not 
without  hurt  to  himself.  Then  he  flung  back  the  spear,  which 
seemed  to  be  thrown  by  Gunther.  The  haft  smote  the  queen, 
and  she  was  thrown  down. 

Angrily  rose  Brunhild,  but  she  praised  Gunther. 

Then  that  mighty  queen  lifted  the  great  boulder  with  both 
hands,  flung  it  a  great  distance,  and  leapt  to  the  spot  where  it 
fell. 

Gunther  went  towards  the  boulder.  With  Siegfried's  help 
he  raised  it  and  flung  it  a  greater  distance.  Then  the  invisible 
Siegfried  leapt  to  the  spot  where  it  fell,  carrying  Gunther  in  his 
arms. 

Wroth  was  Brunhild  thus  to  be  worsted,  but  she  spake  to 
her  knights,  saying:  "Now  is  Gunther  king  over  you  all."  The 
warriors  laid  their  weapons  at  Gunther's  feet  in  token  of  sub- 
mission to  him. 

Brunhild  plotted  to  delay  her  departure  from  Isenland,  and 
assembled  a  mighty  army,  but  Siegfried  sailed  away  to  the 
Nibelung  army,  where  he  called  for  a  thousand  knights  and 
returned  with  them  in  a  fleet  of  ships.  Thus  was  Gunther  once 
again  rescued  from  peril  by  the  Prince  of  the  Netherlands. 

Brunhild  then  consented  to  leave  her  kingdom,  but  refused 
to  be  married  until  she  reached  Worms.  The  ships  set  sail,  and 
the  voyage  was  swift  and  pleasant. 

On  their  arrival  at  Worms,  Kriemhild  welcomed  Siegfried. 
Rose-red  with  love  were  the  maiden's  cheeks,  and  it  was  her 
heart's  desire  to  kiss  the  prince,  her  lover. 

A  great  banquet  was  held  when  King  Gunther  and  Queen 


284  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Brunhild  were  wedded.  Well  pleased  was  Brunhild  when  she 
found  that  Gunther  ruled  a  mighty  kingdom.  Kriemhild  and 
she  kissed  each  other  for  love. 

In  secret  Siegfried  spoke  to  Gunther,  saying:  "Do  you  re- 
member your  vow?  You  swore  that  when  Brunhild  came  hither 
I  should  be  given  Kriemhild  for  wife." 

Gunther  called  for  his  sister  and  said  to  her:  "I  promised 
you  to  Siegfried,  and  if  you  will  have  him  my  heart's  desire  will 
be  fulfilled." 

Said  Kriemhild:   *'  Him  I  shall  wed  with  great  joy." 

Then  were  they  wedded.  Proud  and  happy  w^as  the  prince; 
maidenly  and  demure  was  the  beautiful  princess. 

The  whole  Court  sat  down  to  feast  together.  All  were  happy 
except  Brunhild,  who  wept  when  she  saw  Siegfried  and  Kriem- 
hild sitting  side  by  side. 

"Why  do  you  sorrow?"  Gunther  asked.  " 'Twere  more 
seemly  to  make  merry,  for  you  are  now  Queen  of  Burgundy." 

Said  Brunhild:  "I  weep  because  your  sister  has  wedded  your 
vassal.     Great  is  my  shame  thereat." 

Gunther  told  his  queen  that  Siegfried  had  lands  and  castles 
of  his  own.  "  Great  is  his  wealth,"  said  he,  "and  therefore  am 
I  well  pleased  that  Kriemhild  is  his  bride." 

But  Brunhild  refused  to  be  comforted. 

Thereafter  all  retired  to  their  chambers.  Brunhild  told 
Gunther  she  would  not  be  as  a  wife  to  him  until  he  told  her 
all  about  Siegfried,  and,  when  he  refused  to  do  so,  she  bound 
him  with  her  waist  girdle  and  hung  him  on  the  wall. 

Gunther  informed  Siegfried  of  this,  and  received  promise  of 
further  help.  So,  when  darkness  came  on,  Siegfried  assumed 
his  cloak  of  invisibility  and  entered  the  queen's  chamber.  He 
wrestled  with  her,  and  she  thought  that  the  arms  of  Gunther 
were  about  her.  In  the  end  Siegfried  prevailed,  and  took 
from  her  her  waist  girdle  and  ring,  which  he  gave  to  his  own 
wife. 

Thus  was  Brunhild  subdued.  After  that  she  was  no  stronger 
than  other  women. 

When  the  rejoicings  were  ended  Siegfried  returned  to  Santen 
on  the  Rhine,  the  capital  of  his  own  land.     His  father  welcomed 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIi:i)  285 

Kriemhild.  He  gave  up  the  crown,  and  had  Sieo^fried  and 
Kriemhild  proclaimed  king  and  queen. 

Ten  years  went  past.  Kriemhild  had  a  son,  who  was  named 
Gunther,  and  Brunhild  had  a  son,  who  was  named  Siegfried. 

Brunhild  plotted  in  her  heart  against  Siegfried  and  Kriem- 
hild, and  there  came  a  day  when  she  prevailed  upon  Gunther  to 
invite  them  to  Worms. 

*'  Is  Kriemhild  as  fair  as  she  was  aforetime?"  Brunhild  asked 
Gary,  who  acted  as  envoy. 

"Yea,"  Gary  made  answer. 

Brunhild  brooded  over  this  while  Siegfried  came  riding  to- 
wards Worms  and  his  doom. 


III.    How  Siegfried  was   Slain 

Gunther  welcomed  Siegfried  and  Kriemhild,  but  Brunhild's 
heart  was  filled  with  jealousy  because  of  Siegfried's  wealth  and 
power. 

It  chanced  that  one  day,  as  the  knights  tilted  in  the  court- 
yard while  the  ladies  looked  on,  Kriemhild  lauded  her  husband's 
powers.  "Siegfried",  she  said,  "excels  every  other  knight  as 
the  moon  excels  the  diminishing  stars.  For  good  reason  do  I 
take  pride  in  him." 

Brunhild  protested  that  Gunther  surpassed  Siegfried,  "who", 
said  she,  "is  but  my  husband's  vassal". 

"Were  Siegfried  a  vassal,"  Kriemhild  said,  "do  you  think 
my  brother  would  have  given  me  to  him  as  wife?  I  pray  you 
not  to  repeat  what  you  have  said." 

"Indeed  I  shall,"  said  Brunhild,  "for  Siegfried  is  our  sub- 
ject." 

"  My  husband  is  a  greater  monarch  than  yours,"  Kriemhild 
retorted.  "  He  won  the  Nibelung  kingdom  by  his  strong  right 
arm,  and  has  inherited  the  Netherlands  from  his  sire.  He  owes 
allegiance  to  no  man.  I  am  a  free  and  mighty  queen.  You 
shall  see  when  I  enter  church  in  your  company  that  I  shall  not 
walk  behind." 

"  If  you  are  not  my  subject,"  said  Brunhild,  "you  shall  not 
walk  in  my  train,  but  go  by  yourself." 

Kriemhild  went  away  in  anger. 

When  the  two  met  afterwards  before  the  church,  Kriemhild 
advanced  to  enter  first,  but  Brunhild  forbade  her,  saying:  "You 
are  my  vassal.     Do  not  walk  in  front  of  me." 

"  Hold  your  peace,"  Kriemhild  said.  "  How  can  a  vassal's 
paramour  walk  before  a  queen?" 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  287 

"What  mean  you  by  calling  me  a  paramour?"  asked  Brun- 
hild. 

"  My  husband  won  you  for  your  husband.  Him  you  call  a 
vassal  you  did  prefer.   .   .  .   Now  you  know  the  truth." 

Having  spoken  thus,  Kriemhild  entered  the  church. 

When  the  service  was  over,  Brunhild  said  to  Kriemhild: 
**You  called  me  a  paramour.  I  demand  that  you  shall  now 
prove  your  words." 

"That  is  easily  done,"  returned  Kriemhild  as  she  showed 
her  rival  the  ring  and  girdle  that  Siegfried  had  taken  from  her. 

Brunhild  bowed  her  head  and  wept  bitterly,  and  weeping  did 
her  husband  find  her.  To  him  did  she  repeat  all  that  Kriemhild 
had  said. 

Gunther  brought  Siegfried  before  Brunhild,  and  he  swore 
that  he  never  had  said  what  Kriemhild  boasted  of.  "I  grieve 
that  my  wife  has  made  Brunhild  to  sorrow,"  he  said. 

"  Would  that  women  might  cease  their  gossip,"  one  knight 
repeated  to  the  other.  "  Forbid  your  wives  to  boast  about  ye, 
lest  there  should  be  strife  and  shame  amongst  us." 

Brunhild  refused  to  be  comforted.  Hagen  came  nigh  and 
found  her  weeping,  and  when  she  told  him  the  cause  he  said: 
"For  this  insult  Siegfried  shall  pay  with  his  heart's  blood." 

Thereafter  he  plotted  with  others  against  Siegfried.  To 
Kriemhild  he  spoke  deceitfully  when  rumours  of  war  were 
spread  far  and  wide.  She  feared  for  Siegfried's  life,  and  told 
Hagen  that  when  he  had  bathed  in  the  dragon's  blood  a  linden 
leaf  covered  a  spot  betwixt  his  shoulders,  and  that  if  he  were 
wounded  on  that  spot  he  would  die.  He  counselled  Kriemhild 
to  sew  a  small  red  cross  on  Siegfried's  clothing  to  mark  the  spot, 
so  that  he  might  know  where  to  defend  her  loved  one. 

After  this  Hagen  arranged  for  a  great  hunt  in  the  forest. 
Kriemhild,  who  had  dreamed  a  dream  of  ill  omen,  urged  Sieg- 
fried not  to  join  it,  but  he  laughed  at  h^r  fears. 

There  was  none  like  Siegfried  at  the  hunt.  Many  wild 
animals  he  slew,  and  he  caught  a  wild  bear  alive. 

The  huntsmen  sat  down  to  feast.  There  was  abundance  of 
food  and  no  wine,  and  Siegfried  complained  bitterly  because 
that  he  thirsted.      Hagen  said  there  was  a  clear  spring  near 


288  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

at  hand,  and  challenged  Siegfried  to  race  with  him  to  it  for  a 
wager. 

Siegfried  ran  in  armour  and  won  the  race.  When  he  reached 
the  stream  he  cast  off  his  armour  and  laid  his  weapons  on  the 
grass.  It  was  his  desire  to  await  the  coming  of  King  Gunther, 
so  that  he  might  have  refreshment  before  any  other. 

Dearly  did  he  pay  for  his  courtesy.  When  the  king  had 
drunk  his  fill,  and  Siegfried's  turn  came,  Hagen  removed  the 
weapons  and,  seizing  a  javelin,  examined  Siegfried's  back  to 
find  the  red  cross  which  Kriemhild  had  sewn  there.  Hagen 
saw  the  cross  and  waited  his  opportunity. 

Then  as  to  drink  Sir  Siegfried  down  kneeling  there  he  found. 
He  pierced  him  through  the  corslet,  that  sudden  from  the  wound 
Forth  the  life-blood  spouted  e'en  o'er  his  murderer's  weed. 
Never  more  will  warrior  dare  so  foul  a  deed. 

Between  his  shoulders  sticking  he  left  the  deadly  spear. 
Never  before  Sir  Hagen  so  fled  for  ghastly  fear, 
As  from  the  matchless  champion  whom  he  had  butchered  ihere. 
Soon  as  was  Sir  Siegfried  of  the  mortal  wound  aware, 

Up  he  from  the  runnel  started  as  he  were  wood. 

Out  from  betwixt  his  shoulders  his  own  huge  boar-spear  stood; 

He  thought  to  find  his  quiver  or  his  broadsword  true, 

The  traitor  for  his  treason  had  then  received  his  due. 

But,  ah  !  the  deadly-wounded  nor  sword  nor  quiver  found; 
His  shield  alone  beside  him  lay  there  upon  the  ground. 
This  from  the  bank  he  lifted,  and  straight  at  Hagen  ran; 
Him  could  not  then  by  fleetness  escape  King  Gunther's  man. 

E'en  to  the  death  though  wounded,  he  hurl'd  it  with  such  power. 
That  the  whirling  buckler  scatter'd  wide  a  shower 
Of  the  most  precious  jewels,  then  straight  in  shivers  broke. 
Full  gladly  had  the  warrior  ta'en  vengeance  with  that  stroke. 

E'en  as  it  was  his  manhood  fierce  Hagen  level'd  low. 
Loud,  all  around,  the  meadow  rang  with  the  wondrous  blow; 
Had  he  in  hand  good  Balmung,  the  murderer  he  had  slain. 
His  wound  was  sore  upon  him;  he  writh'd  in  mortal  pain. 

His  lively  colour  faded;  a  cloud  came  o'er  his  sight; 
He  could  stand  no  longer;  melted  all  his  might; 
In  his  paling  visage  the  mark  of  death  he  bore. 
Soon  many  a  lovely  l.»d\  sorrow'd  for  him  sore. 


THE   NIBELUNGENLIED  289 

So  the  lord  of  Kriemhild  among  the  flowerets  fell. 
From  the  wound  fresh  gushing  his  heart's  blood  fast  did  well. 
Then  thus  amidst  his  tortures,  e'en  with  his  failing  breath, 
The  false  friends  he  upbraided  who  had  contrived  his  death. ^ 

**  I  have  served  ye  well,"  Siegfried  moaned,  "and  thus  am  I 
repaid.    The  children  yet  unborn  shall  suffer  for  this  foul  deed." 

Gunther  wept,  but  Siegfried  said:  *'  Weep  not  for  treachery, 
O  you  from  whom  treachery  has  come." 

Siegfried  wept  for  Kriemhild,  and  said  to  the  king:  "  If  you 
have  any  honour  left,  protect  my  wife,  your  sister." 

When  Kriemhild  came  to  know  that  her  hero  was  dead,  she 
cried  out  in  a  sorrowful  voice:  **  Brunhild  has  willed  this,  and 
by  Hagen  was  he  murdered." 

To  Gunther,  who  prayed  for  her  forgiveness,  she  said:  **I 
forgive  with  my  lips,   but  never  with  my  heart." 

Kriemhild  obtained  the  Nibelung  treasure,  and  began  to  dis- 
tribute it  so  freely  that  she  had  soon  a  strong  force  of  warriors 
at  her  disposal.  Alarmed  at  this,  Hagen  seized  the  treasure  and 
sank  it  in  the  Rhine  at  a  spot  known  only  to  himself,  hoping  to 
use  it  in  after  time. 

Kriemhild  bided  her  time,  for  she  was  resolved  to  avenge 
Siegfried's  death.     And  terribly  did  she  accomplish  her  desire. 

1  Stanzas  1010-7,  William  N.  Lettsom's  translation  (London,  1850). 


Vol  II.  48 


IV.   The  Vengeance  of  Kriemhild 

Thirteen  years  went  past,  and  then  King  Etzel,  whose  wife 
had  died,  sought  Kriemhild  as  his  bride.  She  had  no  desire  to 
wed,  but  Queen  Uta  urged  her  to  accept  the  offer  of  the  mighty 
King  of  the  Huns,  and  she  consented  with  reluctance.  She 
asked  Hagen  to  return  the  Nibelung  treasure  to  her,  so  that  she 
might  distribute  gifts  to  the  Huns,  but  he  refused,  saying:  **She 
shall  not  give  this  gold  to  those  who  are  mine  enemies." 

Etzel  and  Kriemhild  were  married,  and  seven  years  went 
past.  Kriemhild  won  all  hearts  at  the  Hun  Court,  and  at  length 
she  said  to  herself:  "  Now  am  I  powerful,  and  can  avenge  Sieg- 
fried." 

She  caused  Etzel  to  invite  her  brothers  and  Hagen  to  a 
festival,  and  Hagen  said:  "  We  dare  not  go.  Our  lives  are  in 
peril,  for  Kriemhild  does  not  forget  who  slew  Siegfried.  Long 
is  her  memory." 

Gunther  and  his  brothers  answered:  *' You  know  your  own 
guilt,  and  have  need  to  protect  yourself.  Remain  here  at 
Worms  while  those  who  know  no  fear  sojourn  with  the  Huns." 

Hagen  was  made  angry,  and  said:  "No  man  among  you 
fears  less  to  venture  forth  than  I  do.  If  you  are  determined 
to  visit  Etzel's  Court,  I  shall  go  with  you." 

Queen  Uta  warned  her  sons  that  she  had  dreamed  a  dream 
of  ill  omen. 

vSaid  Hagen:  **  He  who  is  led  by  dreams  is  without  honour 
and  no  hero.     Let  us  depart  to  the  festival  of  Kriemhild." 

They  departed  together,  and  the  women  wept.  On  reaching 
the  Danube  Hagen  saw  certain  water-fairies  bathing  in  the  river. 
He  stole  forward  and  seized  their  garments,  so  that  he  had  them 
in  his  power  and  compelled  them  to  speak.     One  said:  "Restore 

290 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  291 

our  garments  and  we  shall  tell  you  how  you  shall  fare  among 
the  Huns." 

They  fluttered  like  birds  in  the  water.  One  said:  "You  shall 
ride  safely  into  Etzel's  land  and  be  received  with  honour." 

Hagen  restored  her  garments.  Then  another  said:  '*  If  you 
ride  to  Etzel's  Court  you  will  die  there." 

Hagen  scoffed  at  her,  but  others  said:  "You  are  all  doomed 
men." 

Said  Hagen:  "It  would  not  be  pleasant  for  me  to  tell  the 
others  that  we  must  all  perish.  Show  us  a  way  across  the 
water." 

Onward  they  went  until  they  reached  Hunland.  Dietrich 
von  Berne  rode  forth  to  meet  them.  He  desired  them  to  know 
that  Kriemhild  had  not  forgotten  Siegfried.  "This  very  day," 
he  said,  "  I  heard  her  lamenting  for  him." 

Gunther  refused  to  be  warned,  but  Hagen  knew  well  that 
sorrow  awaited  them. 

On  reaching  the  Court,  King  Etzel  welcomed  them  warmly, 
but  Kriemhild  was  haughty  and  cold.  She  kissed  her  brother 
Giselher,  who  had  naught  to  do  with  Siegfried's  death.  To 
Hagen  she  said:  "Have  you  brought  hither  the  Nibelung 
treasure  which  you  robbed  from  me?" 

He  answered  her  nay  and  said:  "I  have  brought  my  weapons 
and  armour." 

"I  need  not  gold,"  she  told  him,  "  but  would  fain  have  re- 
compense for  murder  and  robbery." 

Queen  Kriemhild  desired  the  Burgundians  to  lay  down  their 
arms,  but  Hagen  refused  for  himself  and  the  others,  saying:  "  It 
is  our  custom  to  remain  fully  armed  on  the  first  three  days  of  a 
festival." 

Soon  afterwards  Kriemhild  urged  certain  Hun  knights  to 
slay  Hagen,  but  they  feared  his  looks  and  held  back. 

When  night  fell,  Hagen  and  Volker,  the  minstrel-knight,  re- 
solved to  keep  watch  while  the  others  slept. 

With  that  his  glittering  hauberk  each  girt  his  waist  about, 

Each  grasped  in  hand  his  buckler,  and  straight,  with  courage  stout, 

From  the  house  forth  issuing,  took  post  outside  the  door, 

And  there  with  faith  and  manhood  still  watch'd  their  comrades  o'er. 


292  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

The  swift-footed  minstrel  scarce  had  left  the  hail, 
Ere  he  his  good  buckler  set  down  against  the  wall, 
And  back  hurried  thither;  his  viol  he  took  in  hand, 
And  with  it  as  became  him  charm'd  the  way-wearied  band. 

Upon  the  stone  he  sat  him  beneath  the  palace  door; 

Minstrel  more  undaunted  viol  ne'er  struck  before; 

He  struck  the  strings  so  sweetly  ever  as  he  play'd, 

That  the  meed  of  thanks  to  Volker  each  haughty  stranger  paid. 

The  house  it  all  re-echoed,  he  struck  so  loud  and  shrill; 

The  minstrel's  strength  was  matchless,  nor  less  the  minstrel's  skill, 

Sweeter  anon  and  softer  when  he  to  play  began, 

On  the  beds  he  steeped  in  slumber  many  a  care-harrowed  man. 

When  they  in  sleep  were  buried,  and  this  by  proof  he  knew. 
Once  more  in  hand  his  buckler  grasped  the  champion  true, 
And,  from  the  room  forth  stalking,  before  the  tower  he  stepp'd, 
And  so  the  slumbering  strangers  from  the  men  of  Kriemhild  kept.^ 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  the  Huns  made  stealthy  approach; 
but  when  they  saw  the  sentinels,  Hagen  and  Volker,  keeping 
watch,  they  turned  away. 

Next  day,  while  Gunther  and  Hagen  and  other  knights  sat 
at  feast  with  King  Etzel,  Kriemhild  prevailed  upon  Bloedel, 
Etzel's  brother,  to  attack  Gunther's  men  without  warning. 
Dankwart  was  the  only  man  who  escaped.  He  ran  into  the 
feasting-hall  red  with  blood  and  called  out:  "  Why  do  you  tarry 
thus,  brother  Hagen?     All  our  men  have  been  slain." 

"Guard  the  door,"  Hagen  commanded.  As  he  spoke,  he 
struck  off  the  head  of  young  Prince  Ortlieb,  son  of  Etzel  and 
Kriemhild.  Volker  also  drew  his  blade;  he  slew  the  prince's 
tutor  and  maimed  a  minstrel. 

Dietrich  von  Berne  was  appealed  to  by  Kriemhild,  who  was 
afraid  of  her  life,  and  he  prevailed  upon  Gunther  to  allow  him 
to  withdraw,  taking  with  him  Kriemhild,  Etzel,  and  his  own 
followers.  Then  the  fight  was  resumed.  It  raged  furiously 
till  midnight.  Kriemhild  at  length  promised  to  spare  the  lives 
of  the  Burgundians  on  condition  that  Hagen  was  delivered  up 
to  her. 

"Never  shall  your  wish   be  granted,"   her  brother  Gemot 

'  Stanzas  1891-5,  Leitsom's  translation. 


THE    NIBELUNGENLIED  293 

made  answer.     "Rather  would  we  die  than  ransom  our  lives 
with  a  single  knight." 

Queen  Kriemhild  then  gave  orders  that  the  palace  should  be 
set  on  fire.  Right  gladly  was  she  obeyed,  and  soon  the  flames 
raged  furiously.  "Alas,"  cried  one  within  the  palace,  "we  are 
doomed  to  die!     Rather  would  I  have  fallen  in  battle." 

Then  faintly  said  another,  "  Needs  must  we  here  fall  dead; 
What  boots  us  now  the  greeting,  to  us  by  Etzel  sped? 
Ah  me!     I  'm  so  tormented  by  thirst  from  burning  heat, 
That  in  this  horrid  anguish  my  life  must  quickly  fleet." 

Thereat  outspake  Sir  Hagen,  the  noble  knight  and  good, 

"  Let  each,  by  thirst  tormented,  take  here  a  draught  of  blood. 

In  such  a  heat,  believe  me,  't  is  better  far  than  wine, 

Nought's  for  the  time  so  fitting;  such  counsel,  friends,  is  mine." 

With  that  straight  went  a  warrior,  where  a  warm  corpse  he  found. 
On  the  dead  down  knelt  he;  his  helmet  he  unbound; 
Then  greedily  began  he  to  drink  the  flowing  blood. 
However  unaccustomed,  it  seemed  him  passing  good. 

"  Now  God  requite  thee,  Hagen,"  the  weary  warrior  cried, 
"  For  such  refreshing  beverage  by  your  advice  supplied; 
It  has  been  my  lot  but  seldom  to  drink  of  better  wine, 
For  life  am  I  thy  servant  for  this  fair  hint  of  thine." 

When  th'  others  heard  and  witness'd  with  what  delight  he  quaffed, 
Yet  many  more  among  them  drank  too  the  bloody  draught. 
It  strung  again  their  sinews,  and  failing  strength  renew'd. 
This  in  her  lover's  person  many  a  fair  lady  rued. 

Into  the  hall  upon  them  the  fire-flakes  thickly  fell; 
These  with  their  shields  they  warded  warily  and  well. 
With  smoke  and  heat  together  they  were  tormented  sore; 
Never,  I  ween,  good  warriors  such  burning  anguish  bore. 

Through  smoke  and  flame  cried  Hagen,  "  Stand  close  against  the  wall; 

Let  not  the  burning  ashes  on  your  helm-laces  fall; 

Into  the  blood  yet  deeper  tread  every  fiery  flake, 

In  sooth,  this  feast  of  Kriemhild's  is  ghastly  merry-make." 

In  such  extremes  of  anguish  passed  off"  the  dreary  night. 
Before  the  hall  yet  sleepless  stood  the  gleeman  wiglit, 
And  leaning  on  his  buckler,  with  Hagen  by  his  side, 
Look'd  out,  what  further  mischief  might  from  the  Huns  betide. 


294  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Then  thus  bespoke  he  Hagen,  "  Let 's  back  into  the  hall; 
These  Huns  will  then  imagine  that  we  have  perish'd  all 
In  the  fiery  torment  they  kindled  to  our  ill. 
They'll  see  yet  some  among  us  who'll  do  them  battle  still."* 

When  morning  came  the  Huns  wondered  greatly  to  behold 
Hagen  and  Volker  again  standing  on  guard  at  the  palace  door. 
Fierce  attack  was  made  by  the  Huns,  and  after  fierce  fighting 
all  Etzel's  chiefs  were  slain,  and  of  the  Burgundians  none  sur- 
vived save  Gunther  and  Hagen.  Dietrich  von  Berne  was  com- 
pelled to  fight  because  certain  of  his  knights  had  been  drawn 
into  the  conflict  and  slain.  He  overcame  first  Hagen  and  then 
Gunther,  but  spared  their  lives  and  delivered  them  up  to  Kriem- 
hild. 

Hagen  was  taken  before  Kriemhild,  who  demanded  that  he 
should  return  the  Nibelung  treasure. 

"  I  vowed,"  he  said,  "  not  to  reveal  where  it  is  hidden  so  long 
as  my  king  lives." 

Hearing  this,  Kriemhild  ordered  that  her  brother,  King 
Gunther,  should  be  beheaded.  With  her  own  white  hand  she 
held  up  before  Hagen  the  dripping  head  of  Gunther. 

"Now  all  thy  brothers  are  dead,"  Hagen  cried.  "Where 
the  treasure  is  concealed  is  known  only  to  God  and  to  me. 
You  shall  never  possess  it,  devil." 

So  angry  was  Kriemhild  when  Hagen  spoke  thus  that  she 
seized  a  sword  and  smote  off"  his  head. 

"Alas!"  King  Etzel  cried;  "the  boldest  knight  who  ever 
fought  in  battle  has  fallen  by  a  woman's  hand." 

Old  Hildebrand,  enraged  at  the  queen,  drew  his  sword  and 
smote  her  and  cut  her  almost  in  twain.  A  loud  cry  broke  from 
Kriemhild's  lips,  and  she  fell  down  and  died. 

Dietrich  and  Etzel  began  to  weep  and  mourn  for  their  friends 
and  kinsmen  who  had  fallen. 

What  happened  after  that  I  cannot  tell,  except  that  knights 
and  squires,  wives  and  maids,  were  seen  weeping  for  their  dead. 

The  tale  ends  here.     This  is  the  disaster  of  the  Nibelungs. 

'  .Stanzas  2188-97,  Leltsom's  translation. 


THE    NORTHERN    SAGAS 
Introductory 

Nimble  their  l<eels  as  shoreward  they  throng, 
The  dark  surf-deer  with  their  sailyards  long, 
Many  their  shields  and  their  shaven  oars. 
And  blithe  are  the  warriors  noble  and  strong. 

Eddie  lay. 

To-night  when  the  tempest  is  raging 
And  tossing  the  white  hair  of  ocean, 
I  fear  not  the  fierce  Norse  warriors 
Who  sail  o'er  the  Irish  Sea. 

Old  Irish  poem. 

Sons  of  the  sons  of  the  Norsemen 

Watch,  hurtling  to  windward  and  lee. 
Round  England,  unbacked  of  her  horsemen, 

The  steeds  of  the  sea. 

STiiinbume. 

Memories  of  the  old  vikings  still  linger  round  our  coasts. 
The  writer,  in  his  northern  birth-place,  heard  repeated  in  his 
boyhood  folk-traditions  regarding  their  visits  and  "  battles  long 
ago".  Nor  is  it  surprising  that  these  should  have  persisted  in 
an  area  where  ethnic  changes  have  been  rare  since  viking  days 
and  family  memories  span  the  centuries.  Round  the  green 
shoreland  of  the  spacious  firth,  which  is  sheltered  by  noble 
headlands  from  northerly  and  easterly  gales,  Norse  place- 
names  mingle  with  Gaelic  place-names  and  those  of  an  older 
language.  Present-day  seafarers  have  one  name  for  a  land- 
mark and  hillmen  another — "Struie"  (Gaelic,  Cnoc  na  Stmidh, 
i.e.  "hill  of  streams"),  for  instance,  being  known  to  fishermen 
as  "  Gilltrax".  Outside  the  firth,  and  a  few  miles  to  the  north, 
lies  below  a  jutting  ridge  a  ledge  of  rock  called  "The  King's 

295 


296  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Sons".  Local  tradition  tells  that  three  sons  of  a  Danish  king 
were  swept  from  it  by  a  rising  wave  and  drowned.  Their  vessel 
had  been  wrecked,  and  they  scrambled  on  to  the  rock,  the  first 
to  obtain  a  footing  assisting  the  others.  The  story  runs  that 
their  sister  had  married  a  Highland  chief,  but  she  was  so 
cruelly  treated  that  she  fled  from  him  and  sought  refuge  in  a 
viking  ship,  in  which  she  was  taken  back  to  her  native  land. 
Her  brothers  then  crossed  the  sea  to  wage  war  against  the  chief. 
A  large  cave  near  at  hand  is  called  the  "  King's  Cave",  and  a 
steep  path  leading  to  the  crest  of  the  cliff  is  known  as  the  "King's 
Path".  The  story  associated  with  the  king's  visit  is  somewhat 
hazy. 

On  the  southern  shore  of  the  firth  are  other  viking  traditions. 
One  is  associated  with  a  great  heap  of  beach  stones,  called  the 
"  Grey  Cairn  ",  which  is  situated  on  a  lonely  upland  moor.  To 
this  memorial  clings  the  legend  of  a  dark  Danish  prince  who 
fell  in  a  fierce  battle  fighting  against  overwhelming  odds. 
Before  he  died,  he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed:  "This  is  a  black 
stand  for  me!"  A  neighbouring  farm  bears  the  name  of 
"  Blackstand  ".  The  cairn  is  said  to  have  been  piled  up  over 
his  grave  by  the  natives,  who  had  a  chivalrous  appreciation  of 
his  valour,  and  honoured  him  by  carrying  the  stones  from  the 
seashore,  three  miles  distant.  According  to  local  belief,  the 
prince's  two  ships  may  still  be  sometimes  seen  by  night,  sailing, 
as  if  on  a  stormy  sea,  round  the  memoried  cairn. 

In  this  north-eastern  Scottish  area  the  Norsemen  are  remem- 
bered not  merely  as  invaders,  but  as  settlers  who  intermarried 
with  the  Highland  people.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Danes  are 
spoken  of  chiefly  as  pirates  and  raiders.  These  traditions  accord 
with  the  views  of  authorities  on  the  Viking  Age.  "  It  may  be 
said,  as  a  rough  summing  up  of  the  earlier  Viking  period," 
wrote  the  late  Professor  F.  York  Powell,^  "that  the  Danes 
showed  the  way  eastward  to  the  Norse,  but  the  Norse  set  the 
example  of  conquest  and  colonization  to  the  Danes.  .  .  .  The 
most  permanent  foreign  settlements  on  British  soil  were  chiefly 
Norse  in  origin  and  character."  The  Danes  came  chiefly  to 
plunder,  and  many  of  the  Norsemen  to  find  new  homes. 

'  Scandinavian  Britain,  p.  72.     London,  1908. 


THE   NORTHERN    SAGAS  297 

Much  has  been  written  regarding  the  origin  and  meaning  of 
the  term  "viking".  The  derivation,  ''a  man  from  the  vik",  is 
fanciful.  York  Powell  has  shown  that  '''■vikingr  means  in  the 
sagas  any  pirate,  of  whatever  nationality  ",  and  quotes  in  illus- 
tration phrases  like,  "they  went  on  viking  on  the  eastern  way  ", 
he  "died  on  the  west  voyage  in  viking",  and  "he  (Bjorn)  was 
sometimes  in  viking  but  sometimes  on  trading  voyages".  When 
the  Scandinavians  adopted  Christianity,  Goliath  was  referred  to 
as  "this  cursed  viking".  The  viking  habit  became  abhorrent 
even  to  the  British-born  descendants  of  the  vikings.^ 

The  Danish  vikings  were  attracted  to  this  country  by  its 
wealth.  They  plundered  the  monasteries  for  gold  and  jewels, 
and  those  of  the  monks  who  were  skilled  tradesmen  were  carried 
away  as  slaves.  Indeed  the  Danes  were  notorious  slave-traders, 
and  they  not  infrequently  took,  in  addition  to  prisoners  of  war, 
"a  great  prey  of  women".  We  know  of  three  attacks  which 
were  made  on  lona  in  the  ninth  century.  In  an  account  of  one, 
written  by  an  abbot  in  Switzerland,  the  Danes  are  said  to  have 
been  in  quest  of  the  famous  golden  shrine  of  St.  Columba,  which 
was  richly  adorned  with  jewels.  The  monks  fled  on  their  ap- 
proach. The  saintly  Father  Blathmac,  however,  remained  at 
the  altar  saying  mass.  When  the  Danes  entered  the  sacred 
edifice  they  demanded  that  he  should  inform  them  where  the 
treasure  was  concealed.  "  I  know  not,"  he  answered,  "and  if  I 
knew  I  would  not  tell  you."     He  was  slain  on  the  spot. 

In  these  raids  in  quest  of  gold  and  slaves,  the  Danes  sacked 
and  slew  without  mercy,  and  when,  as  it  happened,  they  were 
overcome  by  superior  forces,  they  were  as  savagely  dealt  with. 
Many  were  flayed  alive,  and  their  skins  were  nailed  on  the 
doors  of  churches  as  a  warning  to  others.^ 

Not  much  is  known  regarding  the  disposal  of  the  captives 
taken  by  the  Danes.  Some  may  have  been  sacrificed  to  their 
gods.  No  doubt,  too,  there  was  a  demand  for  slaves  at  Conti- 
nental ports  that  tapped  overland  trade  routes.  It  may  be  that 
when  the  vikings  reached  the  Mediterranean  they  disposed  of 
British  and  Irish  captives  on  its  northern  and  southern  coasts. 

1  Scandinavian  Britain,  pp.  61-3. 

2  Saga-book  of  the  Viking  Club,  No.  V,  article  on  "  Danes'  Skins  on  Church  Doors". 


298  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Colonel  W.  G.  Macpherson,  of  the  Army  Medical  Service,  has 
recorded  that  in  1896  he  met  in  Morocco  a  Gaelic-speaking  mis- 
sionary doctor  who  had  been  in  the  Sus  country  (Trans-Atlas) 
and  found  a  people  speaking  a  Gaelic  dialect,  much  of  which  he 
could  follow.  Colonel  Macpherson  added:  "  This  confirmed  my 
own  observation  regarding  the  names  of  the  Berber  tribes  I  my- 
self had  come  across,  namely,  the  Bini  M'Tir,  the  Bini  M'Touga, 
and  the  Bini  M'Ghil.  The  'Bini'  is  simply  the  Arabic  for 
'children  of,  and  is  tacked  on  by  the  Arabs  to  the  'M"  of 
the  Berbers,  which  means  'sons  of,  and  is  exactly  the  same  as 
the  Irish  'xM''  or  Gaelic  'Mac'.  Hence  the  M'Tir,  M'Touga, 
and  M'Ghil  become  in  our  country  the  MacTiers,  the  Mac- 
Dougalls,  and  the  MacGills."^  MacDougall  (Gaelic  Duhhgall, 
i.e.  "dark  stranger")  is  a  Scottish  surname  dating  from  the 
Viking  Age  like  M'Leod,   M'lver,   Macaulay,  &c. 

In  the  story  "  The  Son  of  the  Slave  Woman  ",  the  fine  saga 
story  in  this  section,  an  Irish  princess  is  carried  away  as  a  slave 
and  sold  to  an  Icelander.^  She  becomes  the  mother  of  Olaf  the 
Peacock,  who,  on  visiting  his  relatives  in  Ireland,  fights  against 
the  sea-raiders.  The  descendants  of  the  vikings  who  settled  in 
these  islands  had  no  compunction  about  opposing  their  country- 
men in  battle.  There  are,  withal,  many  accounts  in  the  sagas  of 
wars  between  kinsmen.  The  Danish  vikings  may  well  have 
carried  off  from  Argyllshire  the  MacDougalls  of  Danish  origin 
as  well  as  other  **  Macs"  of  Scotland  and  Ireland  and  sold  them 
as  slaves. 

The  Olaf  the  Peacock  story  shows  that  it  was  customary  for 
Norwegian  and  Icelandic  sea-rovers  to  visit  Ireland  with  cargoes 
of  merchandise,  and  that  there  were  certain  ports  in  that  country 
where  the  traders  were  well  received.  Reference  is  also  made 
to  an  Irish  law  regarding  the  king's  claim  on  the  cargoes  of 
stranded  ships.  It  may  be  that  the  Irishmen  of  the  Viking  Age 
were  like  the  Shetlanders  of  a  few  generations  ago,  inclined  to 
offer  up  prayers  for  wrecks. 

'  Quoted  in  Malta  and  the  Mediterranean  Race,  pp.  242-3.  By  R.  N.  Bradley, 
London,   191 2. 

-  The  story  will  be  found  in  the  Laxdcela  Saga,  the  best  English  transLition  of  which  is 
by  Muriel  A.  C.  Press  (London,  IQ06).     The  reader  is  recommended  to  study  this  work. 


THE    NORTHERN    SAGAS  299 

The  Viking  Age  began  in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighth  century, 
and  lasted  for  about  220  years.  Historians  are  not  agreed  as  to 
the  causes  that  led  to  the  earliest  sea  raids.  ''Over-population", 
"the  hatred  of  Christian  invaders",  and  "tribal  pressure  result- 
ing from  conquests  on  the  Continent"  are  among  the  suggestions 
that  have  been  offered.  Perhaps  the  quest  for  wealth  was,  after 
all,  the  chief  motive,  as  it  was  in  the  Spanish  invasions  of  the 
Americas  and  the  subsequent  buccaneering  expeditions  of  our 
own  countrymen.  As  has  been  noted,  the  Scandinavian  raiders 
preceded  the  colonists. 

The  Scandinavian  invasions  and  settlements  of  the  Viking 
Age  resembled  somewhat  those  of  the  Angles  and  Saxons  who 
plundered  a  rich  England  in  which  the  brilliant  Romano-British 
civilization  had  long  flourished.  Gold  and  girls  were  to  be  had 
in  abundance. 

According  to  Paul  du  Chaillu,  the  "so-called  Saxons"  were 
of  the  same  Scandinavian  stock  as  the  later  vikings,  and  not 
Germans.  The  term  Saxon  (Sassenach)  was  applied  by  the 
Scotsmen  and  Irishmen  to  the  inhabitants  of  England,  but 
never  by  the  Danes  or  Norsemen.  Paul  du  Chaillu  has  urged 
the  view  that  the  Angles  or  Engles  came  from  those  places  in 
Sweden  named  Engeln  and  from  Engleholm  on  the  Cattegat. 

The  North  Sea  was  not  uncrossed  by  enterprising  seamen 
prior  to  the  Viking  Age  or  even  the  period  of  Anglian  in- 
vasions. "Amber  was  carried  at  an  early  date  from  the  Baltic 
to  Britain,  and  the  gold  of  Ireland  and  Wales  was  conveyed  to 
Scandinavia,"  writes  Professor  Sayce,  who  recalls  that  "in  the 
time  of  Cassar  the  Veneti  of  Brittany  had  a  large  commercial  as 
well  as  naval  fleet."^  The  Veneti  had  superior  sea-vessels  to  the 
Romans,  and  it  should  not  be  assumed  that  they  were  used  only 
in  the  English  Channel.  As  the  Britons  had  vessels  like  the 
Veneti,  it  is  of  special  significance  to  find  that  Scandinavia 
imported  bronze  from  Britain  in  the  Bronze  Age.^  Pytheas,  the 
Greek  explorer,  who  in  the  fourth  century  B.C.  circumnavigated 
Britain,  crossed  from  the  Thames  to  the  mouth  of  the  Rhine 
and  then  sailed  northward  past  Jutland,  entered  the  Baltic,  and, 

'  Tli£  Journal  of 'Egyptian  ArchcFology,  January,  1914. 
-British  Museum  Guide  to  Bronze  Age,  pp.  102-3. 


.-^oo  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

as  is  believed,  visited  even  Norway.  References  to  long  sea 
voyages  are  found  in  the  old  Irish  manuscripts.  There  was  a 
Gaelic  name  for  the  English  Channel,  and  also  one  for  the 
Mediterranean.  '*In  Gotland",  York  Powell  has  noted,  "there 
is  a  series  of  pillar  stones  dating  from  700,  or  earlier,  with  spirals 
and  other  ornaments  of  a  Celtic  type,  which  suggests  intercourse 
between  Celtic  countries  and  the  Baltic,  possibly  by  way  of 
Orkney  and  Norway."  There  were  Irish  monks  in  the  Faeroes 
(sheep  islands)  and  in  Iceland  before  these  islands  were  reached 
by  Norsemen. 

Evidently  there  had  been  Celtic  "drifts"  eastward  prior  to 
the  westward  "drifts"  of  the  Viking  Age.  It  may  be  that  the 
fierce  sea-rovers  who  had  command  of  northern  waters  were  of 
mixed  blood — a  blend  of  Scandinavians  and  Celts,  as  un- 
doubtedly were  the  vikings  of  Orkney  and  the  Hebrides,  who 
first  peopled  Iceland  and  traded  as  well  as  harried  round  the 
coasts  of  Great  Britain,  Ireland,  France,  and  Flanders,  and  pene- 
trated the  Mediterranean  Sea. 

After  three-quarters  of  a  century  of  sporadic  raiding,  the 
Danish  vikings  set  themselves  to  undertake  the  conquest  of 
England,  Wales,  Ireland,  and  Scotland.  The  directing  mind 
in  this  great  war  appears  to  have  been  Ivar  the  Boneless,  so 
nicknamed,  apparently,  because  of  his  "slimness"  in  the  Boer 
sense  of  the  term.  The  Irish  annals  refer  to  him  as  "  chief  king 
of  all  northmen  in  Britain  and  Ireland".  He  was  reputed  to  be 
the  grandson  of  Sigurd  the  Volsung,  the  Siegfried  of  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied^  and  his  brothers  were  Sigurd  Snake  Eye,  Bjorn 
Ironside,  and  Hvitserk,  according  to  one  of  the  sagas.  Probably 
two  of  them  are  identical  with  the  Olaf  the  W'hite  and  Oisla  of 
an  Irish  record  and  Halfdan  and  Hubba  of  an  English. 

Ivar  held  command  of  the  sea.  His  armies  were  well- 
armed  and  well-trained,  and  their  successes  were  due  in  no 
small  measure  to  the  fact  that,  like  the  modern  Boers,  they  were 
mounted  infantry.  On  achieving,  after  landing,  an  initial  suc- 
cess, Ivar's  men  commandeered  horses  and  moved  rapidly  in- 
land. 

In  England  the  only  effective  resistance  offered  was  by  the 
West  Saxons,  in  whose  country  rose  another  military  genius, 


THE   NORTHERN    SAGAS  301 

the  famous  Alfred  the  Great.  His  chief  successes,  however, 
were  achieved  after  Ivar  had  died.  In  Asser's  Life  of  Alfred^ 
it  can  be  gathered  that  Alfred  adapted  himself  quickly  to  the 
new  methods  of  warfare.  He  imitated  the  Danes  by  making 
use  of  mounted  infantry.  "Then  King  Alfred",  we  read, 
"commanded  boats  and  galleys  to  be  built  throughout  the 
kingdom  in  order  to  offer  battle  by  sea  to  the  enemy  as  they 
were  coming.  On  board  of  these  he  placed  seamen  and  ap- 
pointed them  to  watch  the  seas."  He  also  did  his  utmost  to 
secure  the  co-operation  of  the  rival  Anglo-Saxon  kingdoms  in 
resisting  Danish  aggression. 

Danelaw  (i.e.  the  country  in  which  Danes  settled  and  Danish 
law  prevailed  among  non-Danes)  in  England  included  the  whole 
of  the  north  of  England  as  far  south  as  the  Humber  and  Mersey, 
Mercia,  East  Anglia,  and  Essex,  leaving  free  Alfred's  Wessex, 
which,  however,  received  in  portions  Norse  settlers.  King 
Eadmund  of  East  Anglia  fell  in  battle,  but  King  Ecgberht  of 
the  House  of  York  made  peace  with  Ivar  and  reigned  as  a 
vassal  king.  The  power  of  the  British  kingdom  in  Strathclyde 
was  broken  after  the  long  siege  of  Alclud^  (Dumbarton),  the 
Arthurian  Shalott.  Large  numbers  of  captives  from  this  area 
were  transferred  to  Dublin.  Numerous  Danes  settled  in  Dane- 
law after  the  subjection  of  the  mingled  peoples,  the  Angles, 
Saxons,  and  Ancient  Britons. 

The  Norwegian  settlements  were  mainly  in  the  west — Corn- 
wall, Devon,  South  Wales,  and  Cumberland.  These  came  chiefly 
from  Ireland,  where  the  northern  stock  had  mixed  with  the  Irish. 
There  was  no  permanent  Danelaw  in  Scotland,  an  agreement 
evidently  having  been  reached  to  leave  the  greater  part  of  that 
country  as  a  Norwegian  sphere  of  influence.  Ivar  had  co- 
operated with  the  "white  vikings".  The  Norsemen  settled 
largely  in  Shetland  and  Orkney,  Caithness,  Sutherland  and 
Ross,  the  Hebrides,  and  the  western  Highlands  from  Cape 
Wrath  in  the  north  to  the  Mull  of  Cantyre  in  the  south,  and  in 
Galloway.  Ireland  had  considerable  Norwegian  and  Danish 
settlements. 

'  Asser  is  said  to  have  been  a  bishop  of  St.  David's  in  King  Alfred's  hfetime. 
"  Ov  Alclyde. 


302  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

On  the  Continent,  Normandy  was  settled  chiefly  by  Danes. 
Norse  warriors  and  their  families,  however,  subsequently  be- 
came notable  figures  in  the  Norman  area.  William  the  Con- 
queror, for  instance,  was  a  descendant  of  Earl  Ragnvald  of 
Orkney,  whose  eldest  son,  Rolf  Ganger  (Rolf  the  Walker),  con- 
quered Normandy.  The  great  men  of  that  colony  intermarried 
with  French  and  Breton  noble  families.  Thus  the  Norman  Con- 
quest, which  stamped  out  the  remnants  of  Danish  power  in 
England,  was  a  conquest  by  the  mingled  stock  of  ancient  Scan- 
dinavian and  Celtic  sea-rovers  and  warriors  who  established 
their  supremacy  on  land  and  sea  during  the  Viking  Age.  Yet 
the  term  "Anglo-Saxon"  is  still  being  applied  in  a  racial  sense 
to  the  mingled  peoples  of  these  islands  and  their  descendants 
throughout  the  British  Empire  and  in  the  United  States  of 
America.  "Most  of  us  who  form  the  English  nation",  writes 
Professor  W.  G.  Collingwood,  referring  to  the  wars  between  the 
Anglo-Saxons  and  Danes,  "  have  in  our  veins  more  than  a  little 
of  the  viking  blood.  .  .  .  It  is  a  false  patriotism  and  a  mistaken 
view  of  history  which  asks  us  to  give  our  sympathies  exclusively 
to  either  party  in  this  struggle  of  a  thousand  years  ago."^ 

The  sagas  possess  for  us  not  only  a  literary  but  also  a  his- 
toric interest.  In  them  we  can  trace  the  rise  and  growth  of 
British  sea-power  and  colonizing  activities,  and  also  the  growth 
of  trade  over  land  and  over  sea.  The  fusion  of  peoples  and 
cultures  in  these  islands  has  produced  a  virile  stock  and  a  virile 
literature  in  which  the  older  as  well  as  the  later  influences  can 
be  traced.  Briton  and  Gael,  as  well  as  Saxon  and  Scandinavian, 
can  claim  kinship  with  our  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  our  Burns 
and  our  Wordsworth,  our  Bede  and  Macaulay,  our  Scott  and 
our  Thackeray,  as  well  as  with  our  Nelson  and  Cochrane,  our 
Drake  and  our  Beatty,  our  Wellington  and  Roberts,  our  French 
and  our  Haig,  with  our  great  princes  of  industry  and  commerce 
and  our  explorers  and  colonizers.  Our  people,  however — we 
cannot  speak  of  the  mingled  inhabitants  of  these  islands  as  a 
race  in  the  correct  sense  of  the  term — are  to  be  judged  not  by 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  their  ancestors  but  by  their  ideals  as 
revealed  by  their  achievements.     Enshrined  in  our  literature,  as 

^  ScandiHavian  Britain,  p.  83. 


THE   NORTHERN    SAGAS  303 

in  our  laws,  are  the  ideals  of  liberty,  justice,  and  independence. 
These  are  native  to  British  soil,  and  the  descendants  of  con- 
querors and  conquered  have  been  conquered  by  them.  And 
because  such  is  the  case  Britain  is  rightly  called  Great.  Its 
greatness  is  interpreted  by  its  literature,  in  which  the  soul  and 
temperament  of  our  people  are  revealed  and  maintained.  What 
Shakespeare  said  for  England  can  be  said  for  the  whole  British 

Empire: 

Nk)ught  shall  make  us  rue, 
If  England  to  Itself  do  rest  but  true. 


The   Son  of  the  Slave  Woman 
I.  The  Boyhood  of  Olaf 

Olaf,  nicknamed  "the  Peacock",  was  the  son  of  Hoskuld, 
who  was  a  great  chieftain  in  Iceland  in  the  tenth  century. 
When  Hoskuld  was  but  a  youth  it  was  said  of  him  that  his 
fulness  of  wisdom  exceeded  the  measure  of  his  years.  King 
Hakon,  who  reigned  in  Norway,  made  him  a  member  of  his 
body-guard.  After  that  Hoskuld  spent  every  second  year  at 
Hakon's  Court,  so  that  he  became  as  well  known  in  Norway 
as  in  Iceland.  He  married  Jorunn,  daughter  of  Bjorn,  a  rich 
landowner.  She  was  a  proud  and  clever  and  beautiful  young 
woman,  who  brought  him  wealth.  Hoskuld  and  she  loved  each 
other  dearly,  and  they  had  several  children. 

The  years  went  past.  Then  at  the  beginning  of  a  summer 
season  Hoskuld  launched  his  ship,  which  he  had  purchased  from 
a  Shetland  man,  and  went  to  attend  a  great  fair.  The  king  had 
gone  eastward  to  Brenn-isles  to  a  tryst  with  other  rulers  so  as  to 
arrange  a  treaty  between  Norway,  Denmark,  and  Sweden.  Many 
people  attended  the  meeting,  at  which  there  were  games  and 
feasting  and  all  sorts  of  entertainment.  Merchants  were  there 
too,  selling  goods  and  slaves. 

Hoskuld  went  to  a  handsome  tent  of  a  trader  who  was  richly 
attired  and  wore  a  Russian  cap.  "  What  is  your  name?"  asked 
he,  and  the  trader  answered:  "I  am  best  known  by  my  nick- 
name, which  is  *  Gilli  the  Russian'."^ 

^  Gilli  is  a  Gaelic  word  signifying  "lad"  or  "servant".  He  had  evidently  some  connection 
with  Ireland,  because  he  had  an  Irish  girl  among:  his  slaves.  He  may  himself  have  been  carried 
away  to  Scandinavia  from  Ireland  or  Scotland  when  a  lad.  It  is  probable  that  if  the  story  of 
his  life  had  been  recorded  it  would  have  been  a  romantic  one. 

Vol.  II.  305  49 


3o6  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Often  had  Hoskuld  heard  of  him,  for  he  was  reputed  to  be 
one  of  the  richest  of  merchants. 

"  What  have  you  to  sell?"  asked  Hoskuld. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  buy?"  GilH  asked  in  return. 

"A  bondswoman,  if  you  happen  to  have  one." 

"You  wish  to  give  me  trouble,"  says  Gilli,  "  by  asking  for 
something  I  do  not  possess,  but  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  meet 
your  wish." 

A  curtain  hung  across  the  middle  of  the  tent.  Gilli  drew  it 
aside  and  revealed  twelve  women.  "  Would  you  care,"  said  he, 
"  to  buy  one  of  them?" 

Hoskuld  stood  gazing  in  silence.  He  saw  a  young  woman 
sitting  apart  from  the  others.  Although  she  was  poorly  attired, 
he  thought  her  the  fairest  of  the  slaves,  and,  pointing  to  her,  he 
said  to  Gilli:  "If  I  should  wish  to  buy  that  woman,  what  price 
would  you  ask?" 

"  Three  silver  pieces,"  the  trader  answered. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  says  Hoskuld,  "your  price  is  high;  for 
three  silver  pieces  is  the  value  of  three  bondswomen." 

"True,  but  I  value  her  highest  of  all,"  Gilli  said,  and  added: 
"  You  may  have  any  of  the  others  for  a  silver  mark." 

"  Let  me  see  what  silver  is  in  my  purse,"  Hoskuld  grunted. 
"  Bring  forth  your  scales  while  I  search  it." 

Then  Gilli  told  Hoskuld  that  the  woman  was  dumb.  "  I  have 
tried  in  vain,"  said  he,  "to  make  her  talk,  but  not  a  word  will 
she  utter.     Yet  I  am  convinced  she  is  quite  able  to  speak." 

"  Get  your  scales,"  Hoskuld  said,  "and  see  if  I  have  enough 
silver."  The  scales  were  brought  forth,  and  when  three  marks 
of  silver  had  been  weighed,  Hoskuld  said:  "The  bargain  is  made. 
Take  the  silver,  and  I  shall  take  the  woman.  I  may  say,"  he 
smiled,  "that  you  have  dealt  with  me  fairly,  and  shown  no  desire 
to  deceive." 

Hoskuld  took  the  woman  away.  He  made  her  a  concubine, 
and  gave  her  fine  clothing.  Everyone  agreed  she  was  of  goodly 
appearance. 

When  the  meeting  came  to  an  end,  Hoskuld  went  to  great 
King  Hakon,  who  said:  "  Come  on  board  my  ship  and  stay  with 
me  as  long  as  vou  desire  to  remain  in  Norway." 


THE   SON   OF   THE   SLAVE   WOMAN  307 

Hoskuld  thanked  the  king,  but  excused  himself,  saying  he 
had  come  in  search  of  timber  that  summer. 

"  Bring  your  ship  to  the  vik  with  mine,"  said  Hakon. 

He  did  so,  and  the  king  had  Hoskuld's  ship  well  filled  with 
timber. 

*'It  will  be  difficult  for  me  to  find  a  man  to  fill  your 
place,"  said  the  king  at  parting.  He  drew  from  his  arm 
a  gold  ring  and  gave  it  to  Hoskuld,  and  he  gave  him  also 
a  sword. 

When  Hoskuld  returned  to  Iceland  his  wife  Jorunn  spoke, 
saying:  *'  Who  is  this  woman  you  have  taken  hither?" 

Said  Hoskuld:  "Perhaps  you  may  think  I  am  joking,  but  I 
do  not  know  her  name." 

"One  of  two  things  must  be  true,"  Jorunn  said.  "Either 
what  has  come  to  my  ears  is  false,  or  you  must  have  spoken  to 
her  long  enough  to  have  ascertained  her  name." 

Hoskuld  told  her  all,  and  asked  that  the  young  woman  should 
be  well  treated  and  kept  as  a  servant. 

"  It  is  not  my  intention,"  Jorunn  said,  "to  quarrel  with  this 
mistress  you  have  brought  from  Norway,  although  she  should 
not  take  joy  in  living  nigh  me.  Nor  will  I  find  fault  with  her 
because  she  is  deaf  and  dumb." 

Hoskuld  took  little  heed  of  his  mistress  after  this.  It  was 
noticed  by  everyone  that  the  bondswoman  showed  signs  of 
having  been  of  high  birth. 

In  time  the  strange  woman  gave  birth  to  a  son,  and  when 
the  babe  was  shown  to  Hoskuld,  he  thought  he  had  never  seen 
a  nobler  or  comelier  child.  He  had  him  named  Olaf  after  his 
mother's  brother,  who  was  not  long  dead.  Hoskuld  loved  him 
dearly. 

When  the  summer  came  Jorunn  spoke  one  day  and  said: 
"  The  bondswoman  must  either  do  some  work  or  go  away." 

"  She  shall  wait  upon  you  and  attend  to  her  child  at  the  same 
time,"  said  Hoskuld. 

When  the  boy  was  but  two  years  old,  he  could  speak  well, 
and  was  the  equal  of  a  child  twice  his  age. 

One  morning  Hoskuld  made  a  discovery.  He  had  gone  out 
to  look  at  his  land  when  he  heard  voices  under  the  bank  of  a 


3o8  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

stream.  Then  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  bondswoman  and 
Olaf.     She  was  talking  to  her  son  in  the  Irish  language. 

Hoskuld  went  forward  and  asked  her:  "What  is  your  name? 
It  is  useless  for  you  to  conceal  it  any  longer." 

"If  it  is  your  desire  to  know  my  name,"  said  she,  "it  is 
Melkorka." 

"Tell  me  of  your  people,"  he  urged. 

Then  said  she:  "My  father  is  Myr  Kjartan^  a  king  in  Ire- 
land. I  was  taken  as  a  prisoner  of  war  when  I  was  but  fifteen 
years  old." 

"Too  long  have  you  concealed  your  noble  birth,"  said 
Hoskuld,  who  at  once  went  and  told  his  wife  what  he  had 
discovered. 

"  I  cannot  say  if  this  be  true,"  Jorunn  says  to  him.  "Besides, 
I  have  no  liking  for  witches." 

Nothing  more  was  said  than  that. 

Jorunn  did  not  change  her  manner  towards  the  bondswoman, 
but  Hoskuld  had  more  to  say  to  her. 

One  night,  soon  afterwards,  when  Melkorka  was  undressing 
her  mistress,  Jorunn  smote  her  on  the  head  with  her  stockings. 
The  bondswoman  was  enraged  at  this  insult  and  struck  Jorunn 
on  the  nose  so  that  blood  flowed.  Hoskuld  entered  the  room 
and  thrust  them  apart. 

Next  day  Hoskuld  sent  Melkorka  and  her  son  to  a  house  he 
had  built  in  Laxdale.  There  they  had  everything  they  required. 
Olaf  grew  up  to  be  a  comely  youth,  and  his  equal  could  not  be 
found  in  Iceland. 

When  Olaf  was  seven  years  old  he  was  fostered  by  a  wealthy 
man,  who,  having  no  children  of  his  own,  promised  to  leave 
Hoskuld's  son  all  his  money.  So  Olaf  resided  with  Thord  and 
grew  to  be  tall  and  strong  and  handsome.  At  twelve  he  rode  to 
the  Thing  meeting,  and  men  admired  his  physique.  Because 
Olaf  was  particular  about  his  war-gear  and  fancied  fine  raiment, 
Hoskuld  called  him  Pa,  which  signifies  Peacock,  and  the  nick- 
name clung  to  Olaf  all  his  days. 

Melkorka  had  never  forgiven  Hoskuld  for  having  purchased 
her  as  a  bondswoman.     She  was  also  angry  with  him  because, 

'  Supposed  to  be  a  Norse  rendering  of  Murtous;h  or  Murdoch. 


THE    SON    OF    THE    SLAVE    WOMAN  309 

when  he  began  to  age  and  had  to  remain  much  at  home,  he 
neglected  her  household  needs.  Olaf  said  he  would  do  his 
utmost  to  help  her.  About  this  time  she  received  an  offer  of 
marriage  from  a  man  named  Thorbjurn  Skrjup,  but  she  refused 
him. 

It  was  her  desire  that  her  son  should  visit  Ireland  and  meet 
his  relatives  there.  It  pained  her  greatly  to  hear  him  spoken  of 
as  "  the  son  of  the  slave  woman  ".  Olaf  said  he  had  approached 
Thord  on  this  matter,  but  found  that  his  wealth  consisted  more 
in  land  and  cattle  than  in  goods  suitable  for  overseas  trading. 

"If  I  consent  to  marry  Thorbjurn,"  said  she,  "he  will  give 
you  enough  goods  to  go  on  a  voyage." 

Well  she  knew  that  Hoskuld  would  be  ill-pleased  when  he 
found  that  Olaf  had  left  Iceland  and  she  had  married.  Never- 
theless she  accepted  Thorbjurn,  who  consented  to  Olaf  borrow- 
ing from  him.  When  the  wedding  was  over,  Olaf  prepared  to 
ride  to  Board-Ere  in  Ramfirth,  so  as  to  take  berth  in  the  ship  of 
which  Orn  was  captain.  Before  he  parted  with  his  mother  she 
gave  him  a  gold  ring  and  said:  "This  ring  was  a  teething-gift 
to  me  from  my  father,  who  will  recognize  it  when  he  sees  it." 
To  him  she  also  gave  a  knife  and  belt,  saying:  "  Show  these  to 
my  nurse.  She  will  know  who  has  sent  them.  My  son,  I  have 
done  all  I  can  for  you.  I  have  taught  you  the  Irish  speech,  so 
that  it  will  not  matter  on  what  part  of  the  Irish  coast  you  land." 

Olaf  then  went  away.  He  rode  to  Ramfirth  and  went  on 
board  Orn's  ship,  which  was  immediately  put  to  sea. 

Ill  pleased  was  Hoskuld  when  he  came  to  know  of  Melkorka's 
marriage,  and  the  departure  of  Olaf. 


II.    Olaf's  Voyage 


The  ship  on  which  Olaf  sailed  first  went  to  Norway.  Orn 
urged  the  lad  to  visit  King  Harald,  who  gave  welcome  to  men 
of  good  breeding.  Olaf  took  his  advice,  and  was  well  received 
at  the  royal  Court.  The  king,  having  ascertained  he  was 
Hoskuld's  son,  invited  him  to  stay  with  him  a  time.  Gunn- 
hild,  the  king's  mother,  took  great  pleasure  in  Olaf's  com- 
pany. 

During  the  winter  Olaf  grew  very  sad,  for  he  desired  to  con- 
tinue his  voyage,  and  when  Gunnhild  came  to  know  of  this  she 
promised  he  should  be  provided  with  all  he  required  when  the 
summer  came.  She  caused  a  ship  to  be  got  ready  for  him,  and 
had  a  crew  of  sixtv  collected,  for  Olaf  had  told  her  it  was  neces- 
sary  he  should  have  that  number,  and  that  the  men  should  look 
more  like  warriors  than  traders.  It  was  arranged  that  Orn 
should  be  captain  of  the  vessel. 

When  the  time  for  departure  came,  King  Harald  and  Gunn- 
hild accompanied  Olaf  to  the  ship. 

"  How  old  are  you?"  asked  the  king. 

"  I  am  now  eighteen  winters,"  Olaf  answered. 

Said  the  king,  who  commended  him  as  a  man  of  great  worth: 
"  Come  and  stay  with  us  when  you  return." 

Olaf  sailed  away,  but  found  the  weather  unfavourable,  for 
fogs  were  frequent  and  the  wind  uncertain.  The  vessel  drifted 
about  on  the  ocean,  and  at  length  sea-bewilderment  fell  on  the 
men.  In  time,  however,  the  air  cleared  and  a  steady  wind 
sprang  up.  Sail  was  set,  but  they  could  not  agree  as  to  what 
direction  they  should  take  so  as  to  reach  Ireland.  Most  of  the 
men  were  opposed  to  Orn's  decision;  but  Olaf  deemed  that  the 
counsel  of  the  wisest  was  of  more  account  than  the  words  of  the 

310 


THE    SON    OF   THE    SLAVE    WOMAN  311 

majority,  so  the  ship  was  steered  as  Orn  wished  it  to  be.  They 
sailed  on  for  several  days  and  nights,  but  again  the  wind  be- 
came fitful.  One  night,  however,  the  watchman  called  out  that 
he  sighted  land  so  near  at  hand  that  they  were  in  danger  of 
striking  it.  There  was  no  wind,  and  Olaf,  seeing  rocks  behind, 
gave  order  to  cast  anchor. 

All  night  long  they  sat  talking,  and  when  morning  came  it 
was  seen  that  they  had  reached  the  coast  of  Ireland. 

Said  Orn:  "This  is  not  a  good  place  for  us.  We  are  far 
away  from  harbours  and  market  towns,  where  strangers  are  well 
received.  The  ebbing  tide  will  leave  us  high  and  dry  like 
sticklebacks,  or,  at  any  rate,  close  enough  to  the  shore  to  come 
under  the  Irish  law." 

Then  he  explained  that  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Irish  to  claim 
the  goods  on  board  a  ship  from  which  the  sea  has  ebbed,  leaving 
it  aground. 

Olaf  saw  there  was  a  dip  near  them  in  which  there  was  suf- 
ficient water  to  keep  the  ship  afloat  when  the  tide  was  out.  He 
ordered  his  men  to  get  into  the  boat  and  tow  the  ship  to  the  dip, 
and  this  was  done. 

The  day  brightened,  and  large  numbers  of  people  came  down 
to  the  beach.  Two  men  came  out  to  the  ship  in  a  boat  and  asked 
who  was  in  command.  Olaf  answered  them  in  the  Irish  lan- 
guage. 

Having  ascertained  that  the  strangers  were  from  Norway, 
they  claimed  the  goods  on  the  ship  in  accordance  with  the  law 
of  Ireland,  and  promised  that  if  this  was  done  no  injury  would 
be  done  to  any  man  on  board  until  the  king  had  considered 
their  case. 

Olaf  contended  that  the  law  could  not  be  enforced  at  this 
stage  when  there  was  an  interpreter  on  the  ship.  "We  are 
peaceful  men,"  said  he,  "and  refuse  to  submit  to  you  without 
trial." 

When  he  had  spoken  thus  the  Irishmen  raised  a  war-cry. 
Many  waded  out  towards  the  ship,  with  purpose  to  drag  it 
ashore,  although  its  keel  did  not  touch  the  ground. 

Olaf  called  on  his  men  to  arm  and  stand  in  battle-line  from 
stem  to  stern  with  their  shields  fixed  on  the  bulwarks  and  over- 


312  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

lapping  one  another  and  a  spear-point  projecting  under  each 
shield. 

His  order  was  obeyed.  Then  Olaf  stood  up  on  the  prow, 
clad  in  a  coat  of  mail,  with  a  golden  helmet  on  his  head,  a  gold- 
hilted  sword  girt  on,  and  in  his  right  hand  a  barbed  spear; 
on  his  left  arm  he  carried  a  red  shield  on  which  was  a  golden 
lion. 

The  Irish  shrank  back  afraid.  They  realized  it  would  not  be 
easy  for  them  to  seize  the  goods  in  the  ship.  Some  hastened 
towards  a  village  near  at  hand,  and  the  crowd  remaining  on  the 
beach  believed  that  Olaf's  vessel  was  a  war-ship,  and  that  other 
war-ships  would  likely  follow  it.  Messengers  were  sent  to  the 
king,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  vicinity  at  the  time  attending 
a  feast. 

As  soon  as  the  king  was  informed  regarding  the  ship,  he 
rode  down  to  the  beach  with  a  company  of  warriors.  He  found 
that  the  vessel  was  near  enough  for  him  to  hold  converse  with 
those  on  board. 

Olaf  remained  on  the  prow  fully  armed,  and  men  wondered 
greatly  to  behold  so  noble  a  warrior  in  charge  of  a  vessel. 

The  men  on  board  began  to  fear  when  they  saw  the  force  of 
warriors  coming  down  the  beach,  but  Olaf  spoke  to  them,  say- 
ing: "Fortune  favours  us,  for  I  hear  the  Irish  greeting  Myr- 
kjartan  their  king." 

They  were  comforted,  for  they  knew  that  Myrkjartan  was  the 
grandsire  of  Olaf. 

Silence  fell  on  the  crowd  as  the  king,  having  reached  the  sea- 
marge,  spoke  out  and  asked  who  was  captain  of  the  ship.  Olaf 
gave  his  name,  and  said:  "Who  is  the  valiant  knight  with  whom 
I  am  holding  converse?" 

"  The  name  I  bear  is  Myrkjartan,"  answered  the  king. 

"Are  you  then  a  king  of  Ireland?"  Olaf  asked  him. 

"  I  am,"  said  Myrkjartan. 

Then  the  king  asked  several  questions  and  received  good 
answers. 

Said  Olaf,  at  length:  "These  men  are  the  body-guard  of  King 
Harald.  I  come  from  Iceland.  My  father,  Hoskuld,  is  a  man 
of  noble  birth,  and  my  mother  is  named  Melkorka.     She  has 


THE    SON    OF   THE    SLAVE    WOMAN  313 

told  me  she  is  your  daughter,  O  King,  and  because  she  is  I  have 
come  on  a  long  voyage  to  know  what  you  will  answer  to  that." 

King  Myrkjartan  was  silent,  and  before  he  spoke  to  Olaf 
again  he  took  counsel  with  his  followers.  They  asked  him  if 
the  young  man  spoke  truly,  and  the  king  answered:  '*  It  is  plain 
to  see  that  he  is  of  noble  birth  whether  or  not  he  is  a  kinsman  of 
mine.    Withal,  he  speaks  the  best  of  Irish." 

Then  the  king  addressed  Olaf  again  and  said:  '*  Now  I  will 
answer  you.  Peace  is  offered  to  you  and  all  those  who  are  vi'ith 
you.  On  the  claim  of  kinship  there  must  be  further  talk  before 
I  can  make  known  my  decision." 


III.    How  Olaf  was   Honoured 

As  soon  as  King  Myrkjartan  had  spoken  in  this  manner, 
gangways  were  run  out  and  Olaf  and  his  followers  went  ashore. 
The  Irishmen  wondered  greatly  to  see  such  warriors. 

Olaf  took  off  his  helmet  and  bowed  before  the  king,  who  gave 
him  a  fond  welcome. 

Then  they  fell  to  talking  together.  Olaf  said  much,  and 
then  drew  from  his  finger  the  ring  which  his  mother  had 
received  from  her  father  as  a  teething-gift. 

King  Myrkjartan  examined  it  closely,  and  his  face  flushed 
deeply.  "This,"  said  he,  "is  indeed  the  ring.  But  I  wonder 
less  over  it  now  because  you  have  the  features  of  your  mother's 
family,  and  by  these  alone  you  can  be  recognized.  In  truth  I 
will  acknowledge  our  kinship,  Olaf,  and  let  those  who  hear  me 
be  witnesses.  You  will  come  to  my  Court  with  all  your  followers, 
but  the  honour  that  will  be  shown  you  will  depend  on  how  I  find 
you  when  you  are  tried  further." 

Then  the  king  ordered  horses  to  be  brought  for  Olaf  and  his 
men,  and  he  appointed  guards  to  watch  over  the  ship  and  all  it 
contained. 

Forthwith  Myrkjartan  and  Olaf  and  their  followers  rode  to 
Dublin.  The  Irish  were  greatly  stirred  by  the  thought  that  their 
king  was  in  company  of  the  son  of  his  daughter  who  had  been 
taken  prisoner  of  war  many  years  before.  The  tidings  went 
abroad,  but  no  one  was  more  deeply  affected  than  Melkorka's 
nurse,  who  was  then  a  frail,  old,  bed-ridden  woman.  She  rose 
up  and  was  dressed,  and  she  walked  without  the  help  of  a  staff 
to  meet  Olaf,  son  of  Melkorka. 

Said  the  king  to  Olaf:  *'  Here  comes  the  foster-mother  of  my 
daughter.  She  is  anxious  to  hear  all  you  have  to  say  regarding 
Melkorka." 

814 


THE    SON    OF   THE    SLAVE    WOMAN  315 

Olaf  took  the  old  woman  in  his  arms  and  made  her  sit  011  his 
knee.  He  told  her  that  his  mother  was  well-favoured  in  Ice- 
land, and  had  married  a  rich  man. 

Then  he  took  forth  the  knife  and  belt  which  Melkorka  had 
received  from  her  nurse.  The  old  woman  recognized  the  gifts 
at  once,  and  shed  tears  over  them. 

All  that  were  there  recognized  that  Olaf  was  a  man  of  fine 
spirit.  But  they  did  not  wonder  at  that,  knowing  the  stock  from 
which  he  had  sprung. 

So  elated  was  the  old  woman  that  her  strength  came  back 
to  her,  and  she  had  excellent  health  all  the  winter  that 
followed. 

Now  King  Myrkjartan  enjoyed  little  leisure.  His  western 
lands  were  being  continually  invaded  by  bands  of  warriors. 
During  the  winter  he  had  to  drive  from  his  kingdom  many 
vikings  and  raiders,  fighting  against  them  on  land  and  sea. 
Olaf  gave  aid  to  his  grandsire,  and  was  one  of  his  chief  atten- 
dants on  the  royal  war-vessel.  He  also  sat  in  counsel  with  the 
king's  men,  and  proved  himself  a  wise  man  as  well  as  a  goodly 
warrior. 

When  the  winter  was  wellnigh  spent,  King  Myrkjartan  sum- 
moned an  assembly,  which  was  attended  by  many,  and  he  spoke 
forth  at  it,  praising  Olaf,  saying:  "He  is  my  daughter's  son, 
and  his  father  is  a  mighty  man.  My  belief  is  that  his  equal  is 
not  in  this  land,  and  I  would  have  him  succeed  me  as  king,  for 
he  is  worthier  than  any  son  of  mine." 

Myrkjartan  resumed  his  seat,  and  then  Olaf  arose  and  said: 
"You  honour  me,  O  King,  but  I  cannot  accept  your  offer.  I 
have  won  quick  favour  here,  and  if  I  were  to  become  your  heir 
1  might  meet  with  quick  disaster.  It  is  my  desire,  now  that  1 
have  done  as  my  mother  wished  me  to  do,  to  return  to  my  native 
land.  Sorrowful  indeed  would  your  daughter  be  if  she  were 
never  to  see  me  again." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Melkorka,  "your  wish  will  be  mine." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Olaf  prepared  to  set  sail  and  depart 
from  Ireland.  The  king  gave  him  rich  gifts,  but  he  would  not 
consent  to  Olaf  taking  with  him  his  mother's  old  nurse. 

Tender  farewells  were  spoken,  and  Olaf,  being  favoured  by 


3t6  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

fair  winds,  made  a  speedy  passage  to  Norway.     King  Harald 
welcomed  him,  and  had  him  as  his  guest  for  the  winter  season. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  next  summer  Olaf  sailed  for  Iceland, 
where  he  was  greatly  honoured  when  it  became  known  ihat  he 
was  a  grandson  of  the  King  of  Ireland.  Hoskuld  insisted  that 
his  son  should  reside  with  him,  and  Olaf  consented  to  this. 

With  glad  heart  his  mother,  Melkorka,  came  to  greet  him 
He  told  her  how  it  had  fared  with  him.     Then  said  she:  "What 
of  my  old  nurse?" 

Olaf  told  her  that  the  nurse  was  still  living. 

"  Why  did  you  not  take  her  with  you?"  asked  she. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "I  asked  to  be  allowed  to  convey  her 
hither,  but  the  king,  your  father,  would  not  give  his  consent." 

"  No  doubt  that  is  true,"  said  she. 

Yet  it  was  plain  to  see  that  Melkorka  was  grieved. 

After  this  Olaf  was  looked  upon  as  the  greatest  of  Hoskuld's 
sons,  and  he  was  greatly  honoured  by  all. 


ROLAND    AND    OLIVER 

Introductory 

Oh  for  one  blast  of  that  dread  horn 
On  Fontarabian  echoes  borne 

That  to  King  Charles  did  come! 

Scoft.'^ 

Childe  Roland  to  the  dark  tower  came. 

Skakespeare.^ 

England  all  Olivers  and  Rolands  bred. 

Shakespeare.^ 

Who  bear  the  bows  were  knights  in  Arthur's  reign, 
Twelve  they,  and  twelve  the  peers  of  Charlemain. 

Dry  den.  ^ 

La  Chanso7i  de  Roland .  .  .  le  veritable  point  de  depart  de  la  littdrature 
frangaise.  Par  Lion  VaUie. 

When  the  soul  of  a  people  pulsates  in  a  song,  that  song  is 
assured  of  immortality.  If,  by  chance,  it  is  lost  for  a  time,  it 
may  lie  hidden  like  a  precious  jewel,  but  time  will  not  impair 
its  beauty  or  quench  its  enduring  fire.  To  modern  eyes  the  old 
song-gem  may  not  seem  to  be  an  artistic  triumph;  it  may  be 
deficient  in  those  pleasing  qualities  which  are  imparted  by 
improved  craftsmanship  and  more  exacting  taste,  but  if  it 
breathes  with  inspiration,  is  sincere  and  interpretive,  it  will 
make  more  continuous  and  widespread  appeal  than  later  and 
more  ambitious  literary  compositions.  When  all  is  said,  the 
greatest  technique  may,  after  all,  be  that  which  transmits  most 

*  Marmion,  vi,  33.  '^  Edgar's  song  in  King  Lear. 

'  /  Henry  VI,  2.  ♦  The  Flotuer  and  the  Leaf. 

317 


3i8  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

readily  to  the  reader  the  mood  that  has  moved  the  poet  to  sing. 
There  is  more  in  art  than  mere  craftsmanship. 

To  this  order  of  ancient  and  inspired  literature  belongs 
The  Song  of  Roland^  from  which  shines  forth  in  imperishable 
splendour  the  very  soul  of  France.  Its  lines  pulsate  with  that 
spirit  of  chivalrous  patriotism  and  temperamental  heroism  which 
in  these  latter  days  has  accomplished  the  renaissance  of  a  great 
nation  and  a  great  people.  Once  again,  "sweet  France"  of 
ancient  song  is  found  to  be  the  land  of  loyal  and  self-sacrificing 
Rolands  and  Olivers.  It  has  renewed  its  youth  like  the  fabled 
eagle  amidst  the  flames  of  adversity.  The  death  prepared  for  it 
has  proved  to  be  a  new  birth. 

In  this  country,  where  Germanic  influence  has  been  so  in- 
dustriously disseminated  that  written  history  has  been  coloured 
by  it,  The  Song  of  Roland  may  be  once  again  brought  forth  like 
some  gleaming  gem  to  reveal  ancient  cultural  and  ethnic  links 
with  a  people  now  happily  closely  allied  to  us  by  new  and 
enduring  ties — a  people  whose  young  manhood  has  been  sacri- 
ficed, as  ours  has  been,  for  the  same  ideals  of  life  and  thought, 
and  in  accordance  with  the  same  traditional  attachment  to  the 
principles  of  liberty,  justice,  and  independence.  Our  literary 
history  is  deeply  veined  with  French  influence;  our  progress 
towards  newer  and  more  enlightened  conditions  of  life  has 
flowed  along  similar  channels.  In  Britain,  as  in  France,  mili- 
tarism has  been  a  means,  and  not,  as  in  Germany,  an  end.  In 
the  artistic  sense  France  has  long  been  the  soul  of  Europe;  the 
real  France  pulsates  in  its  art.  Likewise  in  the  national  sense, 
France,  when  faced  by  a  crisis  which  threatens  its  very  exist- 
ence as  a  free  and  independent  community,  is  an  example  in 
self-sacrifice  and  heroism,  as  in  days  of  old  were  its  Roland  and 
Oliver,  and  its  other  knights  who  died  at  Roncevaux. 

No  sharper  contrast  could  be  drawn  between  two  national 
literary  works  than  The  Song  of  Roland  and  the  Nibelungen- 
lied.  One  is  as  truly  French  as  the  other  is  truly  German. 
Both  were  composed  in  ancient  times  to  suit  the  popular  taste; 
both  therefore  reflect  the  characters  of  the  peoples  who  found  in 
their  literary  products  reflections  of  their  particular  habits  of 
life  and  thought.     In  a  sense  the  material  utilized  in  both  poems 


ROLAND    AND   OLIVER 


319 


is  similar.  The  Song,  like  the  Lied,  has  its  traitor  tempted  by 
gold  and  prompted  by  jealousy  of  a  knight  whose  heroic 
achievements  have  brought  him  great  fame;  and  it  has  its  faith- 
ful lady  who  loves  and  suffers  grievous  bereavement.  But  how 
different  is  the  treatment  of  this  old-world  theme  I  Compared 
with  Roland,  Siegfried  seems  a  figure  in  stucco  modelled  on 
heroic  lines;  compared  with  the  lady  Aide,  a  French  Deirdre, 
Kriemhild  is,  as  Etzel's  queen,  a  savage  woman  of  homicidal 
tendencies,  fitter  for  Bedlam  than  a  palace.  If  we  but  pause 
to  ponder  over  the  feelings  inspired  by  The  Song  of  Roland 
as  it  draws  to  a  close,  and  by  the  Nibelungenlied,  which  con- 
cludes with  horror  falling  on  horror,  there  can  be  no  hesita- 
tion in  acknowledging  which  is  the  greater  and  more  ennobling 
work  of  art — which  satisfies  our  aspirations  towards  right  living 
and  right  thinking.  There  is  haunting  beauty  in  the  French 
tragedy,  but  not  in  the  German. 

Testimony  is  borne  to  the  heroic  inspiration  of  The  Song  of 
Roland  and  the  cycle  to  which  it  belongs  by  Barbour,  who 
makes  the  Bruce  and  his  followers  find  comfort  in  it  when 
fugitives  among  the  mountains  of  their  native  land,  and  by  the 
chronicler  Wace,  who  tells  that  when  the  Normans,  who  had 
come  under  the  spell  of  French  culture,  marched  to  the  battle 
of  Hastings,  Taillefer,  the  minstrel,  sang  of  the  glorious  deeds 
at  Roncevaux.^  One  of  the  cultural  results  of  the  Norman 
Conquest  was  the  infusion  of  a  disunited  land  with  the  spirit 
that  pulsates  in  its  own  ancient  native  literature.  Chivalry  was 
revived,  and  although  the  Cuchullins  and  Deirdres  passed  from 
memory,  the  Arthurian  romances  blossomed  forth  in  the  new 
springtime  that  ensued.  The  soul  of  ancient  Britain  was  re- 
newed by  the  soul  of  ancient  France,  for  the  Conquest  brought 
a  literary  renaissance. 

Rolandism  rather  than  Roland  permeated  Middle  English 
literature;  it  is  one  of  the  influences  traceable  in  Layamon's 
Brut.     But  Roland's  very  self  went  south-eastward  to  a  land 

^  Taillefer,  who  sung  well  and  loud, 
Came  mounted  on  a  charger  proud ; 
Before  the  duke  the  minstrel  sprang, 
And  The  Song  of  Roland  sang. 

Wace's  Brut  (tran^^lation). 


320  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

of  a  kindred  people,  ancient  Italy.  He  became  the  Orlando  of 
Italian  romance;  "Orlando  in  Love"  is  Boiardo's  epic  and 
"Orlando  Mad"  Ariosto's. 

Roland  was  a  real  historical  character.  As  Count  of  the 
Marches  of  Brittany  he  fell  at  Roncevaux  on  15th  August,  778. 
According  to  a  Latin  chronicler,  Charlemagne  had  conquered 
from  the  Saracens  a  large  part  of  Spain,  and  as  his  army 
returned  across  the  Pyrenees,  its  rear-guard  was  cut  off  by 
Gascons  and  completely  overcome.  Count  Roland  fell  fighting 
with  the  others. 

From  this  incident  grew  the  legend  of  the  Roland  of  romance. 
He  was  said  to  be  a  son  of  Duke  Milo  of  Aiglant  and  his  wife 
Bertha,  sister  of  Charlemagne.  Roland  was  fabled  to  be  eight 
feet  in  height,  and  to  have  a  great  horse  named  Veillantif,  a 
magic  sword  named  Durendal,  and  a  horn  named  Olifant, 
resembling  the  horn  of  Finn  mac  Coul,  which  could  be  heard 
"over  seven  hills  ".^  One  of  Roland's  great  feats  was  the 
slaying  at  Fronsac,  in  single  combat,  of  the  Saracen  giant 
AngoulaftVe.  For  performing  this  feat  he  was  promised  the 
hand  of  the  beautiful  maiden  Aide,  daughter  of  Sir  Gerard  and 
Lady  Guibourg,  In  the  Song  she  awaits  in  vain  at  Aix  his 
return  from  Spain  wdth  the  victorious  army  of  Charlemagne. 

Roland's  death  was  directly  due  to  the  treachery  of  his 
jealous  stepfather,  Ganelon,  w^ho  had  been  bribed  by  Marsila, 
the  Saracen  king,  to  prevail  upon  Charlemagne  to  withdraw  his 
army  and  leave  Roland  in  command  of  a  rear-guard  of  20,000 
men.  This  force  w^as  attacked  by  a  great  army,  and  was  cut 
down  to  a  man  at  Roncevaux  after  slaying  100,000  Saracens. 
Charlemagne,  having  been  summoned  by  three  blasts  of  Roland's 
great  horn,  returned  to  avenge  the  death  of  his  brave  warriors. 

The  fame  of  Roland,  which  spread  through  France,  Italy, 
and  England,  is  enshrined  in  folk  sayings:  "To  die  like 
Roland"  is  to  die  of  exhaustion,  or  starvation,  or  thirst;  "Faire 
le  Roland"  signifies  to  swagger  in  imitation  of  Roland;  "A 
Roland  for  an  Oliver"  means  "a  blow  for  a  blow",  tlie  refer- 
ence being  to  a  combat  fought  by  the  two  heroes  for  five  con- 
secutive days,  in  which  neither  prevailed,  each  giving  the  other 

'  In  Italian,  Orlando's  sword  is  called  Durandana  and  his  horse  Vegliantino. 


ROLAND    AND   OLIVER  321 

"tit  for  tat".  Edward  Hall,  the  historian,  who  lived  about 
a  hundred  years  before  Shakespeare,  made  use  of  the  term  when 
he  wrote  in  Henry  VI:  "But  to  have  a  Roland  to  resist  an 
Oliver,  he  sent  solempne  ambassadors  to  the  Kyng  of  Englande 
offeryng  hym  hys  doughter  in  mariage  ". 

Roland's  well-beloved  comrade,  Oliver,  was  Count  of  Genes 
and  brother  of  the  lady  Aide.  His  horse  was  named  "  Ferrant 
d'Espagne",  and  he  had  a  magic  sword  named  "Haute-claire". 

The  heroic  knight  Turpin  was  Archbishop  of  Rheims, 
whose  fame  was  greatly  extended  by  an  eleventh-century  chroni- 
cler. He  is  credited  with  having  conquered  Navarre  and  Aragon 
for  Charlemagne,  and  it  was  he  who  baptized  the  Saracen  pri- 
soners when  they  consented  to  embrace  the  Christian  faith.  In 
the  Song  he  survives  Oliver,  and  dies  attempting  to  bring  water 
to  Roland  after  that  heroic  knight  had  swooned  on  the  battle- 
field. 

The  Song  of  Roland  belongs  to  the  cycle  of  Charlemagne 
romances,  the  famous  chansons  de  geste  of  Northern  France, 
which  were  composed  between  the  eleventh  and  fourteenth 
centuries.  Charlemagne  (Carolus  Magnus,  Charles  the  Great) 
was  King  of  the  Franks,  and  became  Emperor  of  the  West. 
Born  in  742,  he  succeeded  his  father  in  768  to  a  portion  of  the 
kingdom.  Three  years  later,  when  his  brother  King  Carlo- 
man  died,  he  ruled  it  in  its  entirety.  As  a  Christian  ruler  he 
waged  war  against  infidel  kings,  spreading  the  Christian  faith 
at  the  point  of  the  sword.  He  conquered  the  pagan  Saxons, 
overcame  the  pagan  ruler  of  Lombardy,  and  was  himself 
crowned  with  the  iron  crown  of  that  kingdom;  Spain  he 
conquered  to  the  Ebro  at  a  time  when  civil  war  raged  among 
the  Saracens.  Ultimately  he  was  crowned  by  Pope  Leo  HI, 
at  Rome,  as  Caesar  and  Augustus  of  the  revived  Western 
Empire,  which  included  France,  part  of  Spain,  the  Nether- 
lands, Germany  to  the  Elbe,  Saale,  and  Eider,  Upper  and 
Middle  Italy,  Istria,  and  part  of  Slavonia.  His  favourite  seat 
was  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  he  died  there  on  28th  January,  814, 
after  reigning  for  forty-six  years. 

Charlemagne  was  not  only  a  great  general  and  administrator, 
but  also  a  patron  of  learning  and  the  arts.     He  is  credited  with 

VOL.   II.  SO 


322  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

having  encouraged  his  scribes  to  collect  the  folk-songs  of  the 
northern  dialect  {langue  d'o'tl),  which  celebrated  the  deeds  of 
great  heroes,  including  his  own  ancestors,  and  proved  a  source 
of  inspiration  to  warriors  and  bards.  It  is  possible  that  these 
folk-songs,  which  have  not  survived,  influenced  the  growth  of 
the  chivalric  romances  associated  with  the  Court  of  Charle- 
magne and  his  Paladins,  or  chief  knights,  including  Roland, 
Oliver,  Ogier  the  Dane,  Richard  Duke  of  Normandy,  &c. 
Charlemagne  was  given  in  the  romances  an  enchanted  sword 
named  "La  Joyeuse",  on  which  was  inscribed  the  words  Decern 
prceceptorum  custos  Carlos \  it  was  laid  in  the  monarch's  tomb 
at  burial. 

William  Caxton,  who  published  Malory's  Morte  U Arthur, 
also  translated  from  the  French  and  published  the  Lyfe  of 
Charles  the  Crete,  which  is  divided  into  three  parts,  the  first 
dealing  with  the  youth  of  Charlemagne,  the  second  giving  an 
account  of  the  duel  between  Oliver  and  Fierabras  the  Saracen, 
and  the  third  relating  the  story  of  the  conquest  of  Spain,  of 
Ganelon's  treachery,  and  the  closing  years  of  the  emperor's  life. 

The  Song  of  Roland  {Chanso7i  de  Roland)  dates  from  the  latter 
years  of  the  eleventh  century.  The  oldest  text  that  has  survived 
is  preserved  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  Oxford;  it  is  usually 
assigned  to  the  latter  years  of  the  twelfth  century. 


The  Song  of  Roland 

I.   Ganelon's  Mission 

Cordova  had  fallen,  and  the  lives  of  those  who  consented  to 
receive  Christian  baptism  were  spared ;  the  others  were  put  to 
death  for  their  infidelity.  King  Charlemagne  and  his  warriors 
were  resting  under  green  trees,  their  armour  dangling  from 
leafy  branches.  Some  sat  on  carpets  playing  chess,  and  some 
were  fencing  in  the  shade.  The  king  was  seated  in  a  golden 
chair  under  a  lordly  pine.  White  were  his  locks  and  white  his 
beard ;  his  eyes  were  stern  and  his  face  was  comely.  Even  a 
stranger  coming  upon  him  unaware  could  tell  that  he  was  the 
noble  king. 

As  Charlemagne  and  his  men  rested  thus,  there  came  to  the 
camp  an  embassy  from  Marsila  the  Moslem,  King  of  Saragossa, 
who  feared  greatly  lest  the  King  of  the  Franks  should  cross  the 
Pyrenees  with  his  conquering  host  and  bring  ruin  and  death. 

That  smooth-tongued  Moor,  Blancardine,  led  the  embassy, 
and  he  asked  for  peace,  making  offer  in  his  king's  name  of 
hostages,  and  promising  that  Marsila  would  meet  Charlemagne 
at  Aix,  and  there  do  homage  to  him  as  emperor,  receiving  at 
the  same  time  Christian  baptism.  Offer,  too,  was  made  of  many 
gifts.  Blancardine  spoke  deceitfully.  It  was  really  his  king's 
desire  to  gain  time,  so  as  to  be  better  prepared  to  oppose  the 
conquest  of  his  kingdom,. 

Charlemagne  listened  to  his  guileful  speech,  and  then  said: 
"I  shall  consider  this  matter  in  council  with  my  barons,  and 
answer  you  on  the  morrow." 

The  council  was  assembled  next  day.  Archbishop  Turpin 
of  Rheims  was  there,  and  Geoffrey  of  Anjou,  who  bore  the  royal 
banner.  There,  too,  were  Roland,  and  his  friend  Oliver,  and 
Ganelon,   husband  of  Roland's  mother,   who  was  to  prove  a 


323 


324  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

traitor;  there,  too,  were  a  thousand  Franks  of  valour  proved 
and  faithful  to  the  king. 

Charlemagne,  addressing  the  assembly,  repeated  what  Blan- 
cardine  had  said,  detailing  the  proferred  gifts  of  gold  and  jewels, 
and  of  camels  and  dogs  and  lions  and  bears.  He  also  informed 
them  of  Marsila's  promise  to  own  him  as  overlord  and  become 
a  Christian,  and  of  the  hostages  he  offered  in  pledge  of  good 
faith.  Yet  was  he  in  doubt  regarding  the  infidel.  ''Such  are 
his  words  and  promises,"  said  he,  '*  but  I  cannot  read  his  secret 
thoughts." 

Roland  arose  and  said:  *'0  King,  it  would  be  foolish  to 
have  faith  in  the  promises  of  Marsila.  An  old  traitor  he  has 
ever  been,  and  a  traitor  will  he  remain.  During  these  seven 
years  of  war  I  have  fought  for  you  and  won  victories.  Once 
before,  as  I  remember,  Marsila  sought  for  peace,  and  made 
fair  promises.  You  trusted  his  word,  and  sent  to  his  Court  two 
noble  knights;  but  he  slew  them.  Let  the  war  be  continued, 
O  King.  Let  those  be  avenged  who  were  treacherously  slain. 
Saragossa  must  fall,  although  many  a  brave  knight  must  die 
ere  its  walls  are  surmounted." 

Charlemagne  pondered  these  words;  his  brow  was  perplexed ; 
restlessly  he  fingered  his  white  beard. 

For  a  time  there  was  silence.  Then  Ganelon  arose  and 
spoke,  saying:  "'Twere  folly,  O  King,  to  be  guided  in  this 
matter  by  a  hare-brained  youth,  or  even  by  me  or  by  another. 
Decide  for  yourself.  What  has  Marsila  promised? — why,  to 
swear  allegiance  to  you,  to  forsake  Mohammed  and  to  become 
a  Christian.  He  who  urges  you  not  to  accept  these  terms  of 
peace  has  little  care  for  our  lives.  The  policy  of  pride  has  been 
urged  too  long.  Leave  fools  to  their  devices,  and  let  the  counsel 
of  wise  men  prevail." 

Next  rose  the  grey  old  Duke  Naimes,  a  heroic  vassal  of  the 
king's.  Slowly  and  deliberately  he  spoke,  saying:  ''  O  Charle- 
magne, you  have  heard  the  wise  and  goodly  words  of  Ganelon. 
He  has  spoken  as  befits  a  far-seeing  knight.  O  King,  you  have 
worsted  Marsila  in  battle.  Many  strongholds  have  you  taken; 
you  have  scattered  his  armies  in  flight.  Now  he  pleads  for 
mercy.     It  is  sinful  to  strike  the  fallen,  and  in  my  opinion  you 


THE    SONG   OF    ROLAND  325 

can  trust  him.  Accept  his  hostages  and  send  an  embassy  to 
him.  You  cannot  win  greater  victories  than  those  already 
won." 

Many  knights  applauded  these  words,  shouting:  "Well 
spoken,  Naimes!" 

Said  Charlemagne:  ''Name  the  man  who  shall  be  sent  to 
Marsila." 

Naimes  answered  him:  "If  it  be  your  will,  I  shall  be  your 
ambassador." 

Said  Charlemagne:  "I  have  need  of  you  here,  for  you  are 
a  sage  counsellor.  You  cannot  go.  Let  another  make  offer 
of  service." 

Roland  arose  and  said:  *'  Let  me  be  sent,  O  King.  Ready 
indeed  am  I  to  go." 

Oliver  protested  saying:  "No,  no,  proud  one,  your  delight 
is  in  battle.  I  fear  you  would  break  the  peace.  O  King,  permit 
me  to  go  instead." 

Charlemagne  regarded  sternly  the  two  valiant  young  knights. 
"  Be  silent,"  said  he,  "  I  swear  by  my  white  beard  that  neither 
of  you  shall  be  my  messenger.  Nor  will  I  choose  one  of  the 
Frank  lords." 

Silence  fell  on  the  assembly  when  the  king  had  spoken  thus. 

Then  arose  Archbishop  Turpin.  His  voice  rang  clear  and 
strong.  "O  King,"  he  said,  "for  seven  long  years  the  Frank 
lords  have  fought  and  suffered  hardships  and  sorrow.  They 
have  need  of  rest  now.  Let  me  go  forth  to  deal  with  the 
Saracen,  for  I  have  heartfelt  words  to  speak  to  them." 

Charlemagne  was  made  angry.  "I  swear  by  my  beard," 
said  he,  "  that  you  shall  not  go  hence.  Sit  you  down,  nor  dare 
to  rise  again  until  I  call  upon  you." 

The  archbishop  sat  him  down,  and  the  king  said:  "Choose 
from  amongst  the  knights  of  my  body-guard  one  who  is  sage  in 
counsel  and  full  of  valour." 

Roland  made  ready  answer.^  "  Ganelon  is  your  choice,  O 
King.  If  another  man  were  sent,  the  most  cunning  counsellor 
would  be  overlooked." 

The  Franks  approved  of  this  proposal.  "Let  Ganelon  be 
sent,  O  King,  if  such  is  your  will,"  said  one  and  all. 


326  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Well  pleased  was  Charlemagne.  He  called  upon  Ganelon 
to  step  forth.  "Take  the  herald's  gauntlet  and  staff,"  said  he, 
"and  fare  forth  to  meet  the  Saracen  king,  for  such,  as  you  have 
heard,  is  the  will  of  the  Franks." 

Ganelon  made  answer:  *'0  King,  I  have  indeed  heard  what 
has  been  said.  'Tis  Roland  who  has  contrived  this.  Him  do 
I  hate  as  ever  I  have  done — him  and  his  comrade  Oliver,  and 
all  the  twelve  knights,  because  they  love  him.  Here  now,  in 
your  presence,  do  I  challenge  each  and  all  of  them  to  combat." 

Said  Charlemagne:  "Let  not  your  wrath  overshadow  your 
prudence.  I  charge  you  to  obey.  Thou  shalt  be  my  ambas- 
sador." 

Ganelon  bowed  and  made  answer,  saying:  "I  shall  obey 
you,  O  King,  but  well  I  know  that  the  fate  of  Basan  and  Basi'le 
will  be  mine." 

Charlemagne  gave  his  gauntlet  to  Ganelon.  And  as  Ganelon 
took  it  his  hand  shook,  and  it  fell  at  his  feet.  Ill  was  the  omen. 
Then  Charlemagne  gave  him  the  staff,  and  with  it  a  letter 
sealed  with  his  own  seal,  and,  having  wished  him  well,  bade 
him  farewell. 

Thereafter  Ganelon  took  leave  of  his  knights,  bidding  them 
to  carry  a  message  of  love  to  his  wife.  He  put  on  his  armour, 
and  set  out  on  his  way  to  Saragossa,  there  to  speak  with  Marsila, 
the  Moslem  king. 

He  believed  in  his  heart  that  he  would  never  again  return, 
and  bitter  and  vengeful  were  his  thoughts  regarding  Roland. 

The  ambassadors  of  the  Saracen  king  had  tarried  on  their 
journey,  and  it  chanced  that  Ganelon  came  up  with  them-. 
Blancardine  bid  him  welcome,  and  they  held  converse  together 
in  secret.  Ere  long  the  wily  Saracen  caused  Charlemagne's 
ambassador  to  make  known  his  feelings  regarding  Roland. 
"Be  avenged  upon  him,"  Blancardine  urged,  "and  great  will 
be  your  reward." 

Ganelon  lent  a  ready  ear  to  his  counsel,  and  in  the  end  he 
consented  to  act  the  part  of  traitor,  so  that  Roland  might  be 
betrayed  to  the  enemy. 

Blancardine  and  Ganelon  rode  together  on  their  way  towards 
Sara^rossa. 


II.   The  Plot  against  Roland 

Marsila  fretted  impatiently  for  the  return  of  his  embassy, 
and  when  word  was  brought  to  him  that  Blancardine  was 
coming,  he  sat  on  his  throne  surrounded  by  his  knights  and 
counsellors  and  bade  him  to  be  brought  before  him  without 
delay.  Black-bearded,  with  fierce  black  glittering  eyes,  the 
king  sat  waiting,  clad  as  for  battle,  and  grasping  a  spear  in  his 
right  hand.  It  was  his  custom  to  slay  with  his  own  hand  the 
messenger  who  brought  him  ill  tidings. 

Blancardine  entered,  holding  Ganelon  by  the  hand,  to  signify- 
that  they  were  friends.  The  Saracen  king  lowered  his  brows, 
and  cast  a  grim  look  at  the  Frank. 

"O  King,"  Blancardine  said,  "this  noble  knight  brings 
you  a  message  from  Charlemagne." 

"  Let  him  speak,"  said  Marsila. 

Ganelon  raised  his  head  proudly  and  fearlessly.  Although 
he  hated  Roland,  he  was  loyal  to  Charlemagne,  and  he  read 
the  letter  he  carried  in  a  stern,  defiant  voice.  It  commanded 
Marsila  to  journey  to  Aix  without  delay,  there  to  accept  Christian 
baptism  and  do  homage  to  Charlemagne,  and  to  send  hostages 
and  rich  gifts  in  pledge  of  his  good  faith.  Wroth  was  the 
Saracen  king.  Hateful  to  him  was  the  message,  and  hateful 
the  bearing  of  the  Frank  knight  who  delivered  it.  He  raised 
his  lance  to  slay  Ganelon  where  he  stood,  but  Blancardine 
intervened,  as  did  also  the  counsellors  who  sat  on  either  side  of 
the  throne,  and  the  king  was  prevailed  upon  to  restrain  his 
anger.  Then  he  spoke  to  the  Frank,  saying:  *'  Haughty  are 
your  words." 

"I  have  come  hither,"  said  Ganelon,  *'to  deliver  the  com- 
mands of  my  king." 

Then  he  resumed  reading  the  letter,  which  demanded  that 

327 


328  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Marsila  should  rule  but  half  of  his  kingdom  as  the  vassal  of 
Charlemagne,  while  Roland  ruled  the  other  half. 

When  he  had  mentioned  Roland's  name,  Ganelon  added, 
with  a  sneer:    "An  imperious  fellow-ruler  you  shall  find  him." 

The  king  read  the  heart  of  Ganelon,  and  saw  Blancardine's 
sly  smile.  Unmoved  he  heard  repeated  Charlemagne's  threat 
to  attack  Saragossa  if  he  failed  to  comply  with  his  terms,  and  to 
have  Marsila  taken  to  Aix  there  to  be  executed. 

Ganelon  demanded  as  a  hostage  Marsila's  uncle,  the  Caliph 
of  Bagdad,  and  then  once  again  roused  the  Saracen  king  to 
fierce  wrath  by  censuring  him  for  killing  Basan  and  Basi'le. 

Marsila  was  in  doubt  whether  or  not  he  should  slay  Ganelon, 
because  of  his  insolence,  but  Blancardine  revealed  to  him  in 
secret  that  what  the  Frank  baron  desired  most  was  to  be  avenged 
on  Roland. 

Ganelon's  life  was  spared,  and  although  he  continued  to 
praise  Charlemagne,  and  declare  that  disaster  awaited  the  Sara- 
cens if  they  met  him  in  battle  again,  he  consented,  when  Blan- 
cardine had  his  will  with  him,  to  play  the  part  of  a  traitor. 

It  was  arranged  that  Ganelon  should  return  to  Charlemagne 
to  state  that  the  Saracens  accepted  his  terms,  and  that  Marsila 
was  dead.  He  was  to  take  hostages  with  him,  and  many  costly 
gifts  as  a  peace-offering,  and  prevail  upon  Charlemagne  to 
withdraw  his  army.  When  the  army  was  being  marched  away, 
the  Saracens  would  issue  forth  in  great  force  and  overwhelm 
the  rear-guard.  "  I  shall  see  to  it,"  Ganelon  said,  "that  Roland 
is  in  command  of  the  rear-guard  of  the  army." 

Marsila  gave  much  gold  to  Ganelon,  and  promised  that  he 
should  have  more  after  Roland  had  been  slain. 


III.   The  Battle  of  Roncevaux 

Charlemagne  and  his  barons  were  at  Valtierra.  Some  feared 
that  Ganelon  had  met  the  fate  of  Basan  and  Basile;  others 
were  confident  that  he  would  return  safely.  None  suspected 
that  he  would  prove  to  be  a  traitor. 

One  morning,  soon  after  dawn,  Charlemagne  was  awakened 
and  told  that  Ganelon  had  returned  accompanied  by  hostages 
from  the  enemy,  and  carrying  gifts  as  tribute.  The  heart  of 
the  king  was  filled  with  joy,  and  all  his  lords  and  warriors 
rejoiced  to  think  that  the  war  was  ended. 

Ganelon  delivered  his  false  message,  and  Charlemagne 
commanded  that  trumpets  should  be  blown  to  summon  the 
army  together  so  that  it  might  proceed  homeward  to  Aix.  All 
men  thought  it  a  great  joy  to  return  once  again  to  the  sweet  land 
of  France. 

Charlemagne  sat  in  assembly  with  his  barons  and  spoke 
saying:  "Who  shall  command  the  rear-guard  while  the  army 
retires?" 

Ganelon  arose  and  spoke,  saying:  "Who  but  Roland  is 
fitted  for  such  a  task?" 

Roland  spoke  forth  and  said  he  would  readily  accept  this 
command  if  he  were  given  twenty  thousand  goodly  and  tried 
warriors. 

Charlemagne  thought  this  force  too  small,  but  Roland  would 
have  no  more  men  than  he  had  asked  for.  Well  he  knew  that 
every  lord  and  warrior  longed  for  home.  He  put  on  his 
armour,  and  girt  on  his  trusty  sword  Durendal.  Then,  riding 
forth,  he  raised  his  lance,  from  which  fluttered  his  white  ensign, 
to  signify  that  his  friends  among  the  lords  of  Charlemagne 
should  accompany  him. 

329 


330  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Oliver  soon  rode  to  his  side,  and  then  Archbishop  Turpin 
followed.  Ogier  the  Dane  would  fain  have  gone  too,  but 
Charlemagne  commanded  him  to  lead  the  vanguard  of  the  army 
as  it  marched  to  Aix. 

Roland  then  led  forth  his  force  to  guard  the  mountain 
passes. 

Meanwhile  Charlemagne  set  his  army  on  the  march,  and 
when  the  men  climbed  the  mountains  their  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears,  for  they  caught  glimpses  of  sweet  France,  and  thought 
of  their  wives  and  children  and  parents,  whom  they  had  not 
seen  for  seven  years.  The  face  of  Charlemagne  was  perplexed 
and  sad.  He  had  dreamed  a  dream  of  ill  omen,  and  feared 
for  Roland's  safety.  In  his  heart  he  began  to  harbour  doubts 
regarding  Ganelon.  His  barons,  however,  scoffed  at  his  fears, 
and  the  army  marched  homeward  over  the  green  fields  of 
Gascony.     In  every  man's  heart  was  a  song. 

Roland  kept  faithful  watch,  defending  the  rear.  On  the  day 
that  followed  Charlemagne's  departure,  tidings  were  brought 
to  him  that  a  great  Saracen  army  was  drawing  nigh.  Listening, 
he  heard  the  sound  of  trumpets  and  the  clatter  of  thousands  of 
hoofs.  "By  my  beard,"  said  Oliver  to  Roland,  "we  shall 
have  to  do  battle  with  the  enemy!" 

"May  that  be  so,"  Roland  made  answer.  "Where  is  the 
Christian  who  would  not  fight  readily  with  the  Infidel?  Ours 
is  the  cause  of  justice.  If  fight  we  must,  let  us  so  quit  our- 
selves that  the  minstrels  shall  make  our  fame  resound  far  and 
wide." 

This  was  at  Roncevaux.  Roland  made  ready  for  battle,  and 
great  indeed  was  the  renown  that  awaited  him. 

When  Oliver  caught  sight  of  the  enemy,  whose  army  was 
four  hundred  thousand  strong,  he  cried  out:  "Ganelon  is  a 
traitor.     He  has  betrayed  us  to  the  Saracens." 

Said  Roland:  "Be  silent,  Oliver!  The  man  is  wedded  to 
mine  own  mother." 

Oliver  was  silent  after  that.  No  further  charge  made  he 
against  the  stepfather  of  his  comrade. 

The  sky  was  overcast.  Thunder  broke  forth,  and  the  light- 
ning flashed  below  black  clouds.     Then  France  was  shaken  by 


THE    SONG   OF    ROLAND 


33» 


an  earthquake,  and  the  people  ran  out  from  their  houses,  crying: 
"  Alas!  alas!  it  is  the  last  day.     The  world  is  at  an  end." 

They  knew  not  that  all  nature  sorrowed  because  Roland  was 
about  to  die. 

Oliver  sat  on  his  horse  watching  the  approaching  foe. 
"Great  is  the  Saracen  army,"  said  he,  "and  our  men  are  but 
few  in  number.  Roland,  my  brother  knight,  raise  your  great 
horn  Olifant  to  your  lips,  and  blow  but  a  single  blast.  Charle- 
magne will  hear  it,  and  return  hither  with  his  army  to  succour 
us." 

Said  Roland:  "What?  Would  you  have  me  lose  my  fame 
in  dear  and  beloved  France?  Nay,  nay ;  I  shall  not  sound  my 
horn.  I  shall  redden  my  trusty  sword  Durendal  in  the  blood 
of  my  enemies,  while  the  warriors  of  France  will  so  wield  their 
weapons  that  the  Infidel  must  ever  afterwards  remember  this 
day  with  fear  and  trembling.  Death  awaits  those  who  come 
against  us  now.     They  shall  never  again  go  forth  to  battle." 

Soon  Oliver  saw  unfolded  before  his  eyes  the  whole  force  of 
the  Saracens. 

"Roland,  Roland,  my  brother,"  he  said,  "raise  your  great 
horn  Olifant,  and  blow  but  a  single  blast.  Charlemagne  will 
hear  and  return  hither  with  his  army  to  succour  us." 

Said  Roland:  "  God  forbid  that  by  so  doing  I  should  bring 
shame  to  my  father's  name  and  to  sweet  France.  Nay,  nay; 
here  shall  I  wait  with  my  sword.  On  all  my  enemies  I  pro- 
nounce sentence  of  death." 

Once  again  Oliver  pleaded  with  his  comrade  to  sound  the 
horn  Olifant;  once  again  did  Roland  refuse,  saying:  "Goodly 
are  our  warriors.     The  Saracens  are  doomed  to  die." 

" 'Twere  no  dishonour,"  Oliver  urged,  "to  call  for  help 
against  overwhelming  odds,  seeing  we  are  but  a  handful." 

Said  Roland:  "What  you  say  makes  me  long  all  the  more 
to  go  into  battle.  God  and  his  angels  forbid  that  the  fair  fame 
of  France  should  suffer  at  my  hands.  Rather  would  I  die  here 
than  live  a  coward's  life.  Get  ready  for  great  blows  and  strong. 
Sweet  to  our  ears  is  the  sound  of  the  fray." 

Oliver  continued  to  plead  with  his  friend.  "  A  truce  to  your 
folly,"  Roland  commanded.     "Accursed  be  the  man  in  whose 


332  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

heart  there  is  fear.      We  shall  be  steadfast  this  day,  fighting 
like  heroes  with  the  joy  of  battle." 

Like  a  lion  or  pard  in  his  pride  was  Roland,  scenting  the  fray; 

And  he  cried  in  the  midst  of  the  Franks,  and  to  Oliver,  "  Nay,  brother,  nay; 

He  hath  set  these  twenty  thousand  apart  to  abide  yon  foes, 

Franks  all,  and  never  a  craven  amongst  them  Charlemagne  knows. 

The  vassal  that  serveth  his  lord  beareth  many  an  evil  grim  ; 

He  will  go  through  the  fire  or  the  snow ;  he  spareth  nor  life  nor  limb. 

Play  thou  the  man  with  thy  lance,  and  I  with  my  trusty  sword, 

With  my  good  blade  Durendal,  the  gift  of  the  king  my  lord. 

That,  if  I  must  die,  he  may  say,  who  girdeth  it  next  to  his  side, 

"  This  was  the  sword  of  a  vassal  true,  to  the  uttermost  tried." 

Meanwhile  Archbishop  Turpin,  mounted  on  his  war  steed, 
addressed  the  French  host  saying: 

"  Barons,  'tis  Charles,  't  is  our  king,  who  hath  bidden  us  here  to  remain. 

Lo  you,  our  duty  it  is  to  die  for  our  suzerain. 

Sore  is  the  peril  of  Christendom ;  stand  up  ye  for  the  right ! 

Be  ye  assured  of  this,  that  exceeding  nigh  is  the  fight. 

Lift  up  your  eyes  and  behold  the  Saracens  full  in  sight. 

Kneel  then,  ye  barons,  confess  you,  and  ask  forgiveness  of  God. 

I  will  assoil  you :  your  souls  shall  be  healed,  and  shall  cast  sin's  load. 

And  if  ye  shall  fall  in  the  fray,  'tis  the  martyr's  death  )'e  shall  die; 

And  a  place  is  prepared  for  you  in  God's  Paradise  on  high." 

They  dismounted,  they  knelt,  and  he  blessed  them  in  God's  name :  then  cried 

he: 
"  Ye  shall  smite  the  infidel  Paynim,  and  this  your  penance  shall  be."^ 

Roland  and  Oliver  marshalled  the  host  for  battle,  stirring 
the  men  with  brave  words,  so  that  when  they  were  commanded 
to  attack  the  enemy  they  advanced  with  battle  fury.  Great 
deeds  were  done  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  fierce  were  the 
combats  between  mighty  warriors. 

Roland  achieved  a  triumph  at  the  outset.  Forth  from  the 
Saracen  ranks  rode  a  nephew  of  King  Marsila,  who  uttered 
boastful  shouts  of  defiance.  Roland  met  him,  and  speedily 
slew  him  with  his  lance;  then  he  cried:  "Strike,  Franks, 
strike;    ours  is  the  first  blow." 

In  like  manner  Oliver  unhorsed  and  slew  a  brother  of  the 
Saracen  king,  while  Archbishop  Turpin  slew  a  third  brother. 

•  The  Song  of  Roland,  by  Ariliiir  Way  and  Frederic  Spencer.     London,  1895. 


ROLAND    BLOWS    HIS    HORN    IN    THE    MIUST    OF    THL    HATTLK 


THE   SONG   OF    ROLAND  333 

The  battle  waxed  in  fury.  Roland  fought  with  his  sword 
Durendal,  and  cut  down  seven  hundred  Saracens.  Oliver 
wielded  his  sword  HaiUeclere^  and  Archbishop  Turpin  also  dis- 
played great  valour.  Every  Frenchman  fought  bravely  and 
well. 

Again  and  again  the  Saracens  were  driven  back,  but  again 
and  again  they  were  reinforced,  so  greatly  did  they  outnumber 
the  rear-guard  of  Charlemagne.  Thousands  of  the  enemy  were 
slain,  but  the  Franks  were  in  time  reduced  in  numbers  until 
but  only  sixty  remained  on  that  blood-stained  battle-field.  It 
was  then  that  Roland  decided  to  blow  his  horn  to  signify  that 
he  was  in  need  of  help. 

Then  to  his  lips  the  horn  he  drew, 

And  full  and  lustily  he  blew. 

The  mountain  peaks  soared  high  around ; 

Thirty  leagues  was  borne  the  sound. 

Karl  1  hath  heard  it  and  all  his  band. 

"  Our  men  have  battle,"  he  said,  "  on  hand." 

Ganelon  rose  in  front  and  cried, 

"  If  another  spake,  I  w^ould  say  he  lied." 

Roland  blew  a  second  blast,  and  so  fiercely  he  blew  that 

Forth  from  his  mouth  the  bright  blood  sprang, 
And  his  temples  burst  for  the  very  pang. 

The  echoes  were  heard  by  Charlemagne. 

"  It  is  Roland's  horn,"  said  the  emperor, 
"  And,  save  in  battle,  he  hath  not  blown." 
"  Battle,"  said  Ganelon,  "is  there  none, 
Old  are  you  grown — all  white  and  hoar; 
Such  words  bespeak  you  a  child  once  more." 

A  third  time  Roland  sounded  his  horn,  and  his  anguish 
rang  forth  in  the  strain; 

Said  Karl :  "  That  horn  is  long  of  breath," 
Said  Naimes:  '"TIs  Roland  who  travaiieth. 
There  is  a  battle  yonder  by  mine  avow. 
He  "mho  betrayed  him  deceives  you  now. 
Arm,  sire;  ring  forth  your  rallying  cry. 
And  stand  your  noble  household  by ; 
For  you  hear  your  Roland  in  jeopardy." 

1  Cliarleniagne. 


334  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

The  king  commands  to  sound  the  alarm. 

To  the  trumpet  the  Franks  alight  and  arm ; 

With  casque  and  corselet  and  gilded  brand, 

Buckler  and  stalwart  lance  in  hand, 

Pennons  of  crimson  and  white  and  blue, 

The  barons  leap  on  their  steeds  anew, 

And  onward  spur  the  passes  through  ; 

Nor  is  there  one  but  to  other  saith, 

"  Could  we  reach  but  Roland  before  his  death, 

Blows  would  we  strike  for  him  grim  and  great." 

Ah  !  what  availeth ! — 't  is  all  too  late. 

The  emperor,  realizing  that  Ganelon  was  a  traitor,  ordered 
his  servants  to  put  him  under  arrest. 

To  Begsun,  chief  of  his  kitchen  train, 
"  Hold  me  this  felon,"  he  said,  "in  chain." 
Then  full  a  hundred  round  him  pressed, 
Of  the  kitchen  varlets  the  worst  and  best ; 
His  beard  upon  lip  and  chin  they  tore, 
Cuffs  of  the  fist  each  dealt  him  four, 
Roundly  they  beat  him  with  rods  and  staves ; 
Then  around  his  neck  those  kitchen  knaves 
Flung  a  fetterlock  fast  and  strong, 
As  you  lead  a  bear  on  a  chain  along; 
On  a  beast  of  burden  the  count  they  cast. 
Till  they  yield  him  back  to  Karl  at  last. 

Charlemagne  was  angry  as  he  hastened  onward  with  his 
fiost,  thinking  of  Ganelon's  treachery  and  the  peril  in  which  his 
rear-guard  had  been  placed.     Meanwhile 

Roland  looketh  to  hill  and  plain, 

He  sees  the  lines  of  his  warriors  slain, 

And  he  weeps  like  a  noble  cavalier. 

"  Barons  of  France,  God  hold  you  dear, 

And  take  you  to  Paradise's  bowers, 

Where  your  souls  may  lie  on  holy  flowers; 

Braver  vassals  on  earth  were  none, 

So  many  kingdoms  for  Karl  ye  won ; 

Years  a-many  your  ranks  I  led. 

And  for  end  like  this  were  you  nurtured. 

Land  of  France,  thou  art  soothly  fair; 

To-day  thou  liest  bereaved  and  bare ; 

It  was  all  for  me  your  lives  you  gave, 

And  I  was  helpless  to  shield  and  save. 


THE    SONG   OF    ROLAND  335 

May  the  great  God  save  you  who  cannot  he. 
Ohver,  brother,  I  stand  thee  by; 
I  die  of  grief,  if  I  'scape  unslain  : 
/»,  brother,  in  to  the  fight  again ^ 

Having  spoken  thus,  Roland  led  his  men  in  their  last  attack. 
They  cut  their  way  deeply  into  the  enemy's  ranks,  and,  as  baron 
after  baron  fell,  Roland's  battle-fury  waxed  greater  and  fiercer. 
He  pressed  towards  the  Saracen  king,  who  took  part  in  the 
fray  surrounded  by  his  kinsmen.  Roland  smote  the  monarch 
with  Durendal^  cutting  off  his  right  hand.  Then  he  swept  off 
the  head  of  a  son  of  Marsila.  The  treacherous  king  sought 
safety  in  flight,  but  the  Caliph  advanced  speedily  with  a  great 
force  of  Ethiopians  to  overwhelm  the  surviving  Franks. 

But  what  availeth?  though  Marsel  fly, 

His  uncle,  the  Caliph,  still  is  nigh ; 

Lord  of  Carthagena  is  he, 

Of  Alferna's  shore  and  Garmalie, 

And  of  Ethiopia,  accursed  land  : 

The  black  battalions  at  his  command, 

With  nostrils  huge  and  flattened  ears, 

Outnumber  fifty  thousand  spears ; 

And  on  they  ride  in  haste  and  ire, 

Shouting  their  heathen  war-cry  dire. 

"■^  At  last,''''  said  Roland,  "  the  hour  is  come, 

Here  receive  we  our  martyrdom  ; 

Yet  strike  with  your  burnished  brands — accursed 

Who  sells  not  his  life  right  dearly  first ; 

In  life  or  death  he  your  thought  the  same, 

That  gentle  France  be  not  brought  to  shame. 

iVhen  the  emperor  hither  his  steps  hath  bent. 

And  he  sees  the  Saracens'  chastisment. 

Fifteen  of  their  dead  against  our  one, 

He  will  breathe  on  our  souls  his  benison.''''  ^ 

Thus  did  Roland  call  upon  his  band  to  fight  their  last  fight  in 
a  manner  befitting  the  glory  of  sweet  France,  and  then  led  them 
against  their  enemies.  Oliver  was  mortally  wounded  by  the 
Caliph,  but  ere  he  fell  he  slew  that  warrior  and  many  of  his 
knights. 

Only  three  French  knights  remained.     These  were  Walter 

'  Extracts  from  translation  by  John  O'Hagan. 


336  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Archbishop  Turpin,  and  Roland,  whose  sword  Durendal  was 
red  with  Saracen  bjood,  and  Oliver.  The  brave  Oliver  shouted 
to  encourage  his  fellows.  He  had  already  received  his  death- 
wound,  and  knew  it  well. 

Roland  sprang  towards  him,  and  said:  "O  God,  what  can 
I  do  now?  Your  equal  is  not  to  be  found  anywhere.  Alas, 
your  valour's  reward  is  death !  Beloved  France  is  bereft  of  its 
bravest  hero,  and  great  is  the  loss  that  our  Lord  Charlemagne 
must  sustain." 

When  he  had  spoken  thus,  he  swooned  in  the  saddle. 
Oliver's  eyes  were  dimmed  by  the  blood  mist,  so  that  he  could 
not  tell  friend  from  foe,  and  he  continued  to  smite  with  his 
sword.  One  of  his  weakening  blows  fell  on  the  helmet  of 
Roland,  who,  roused  from  his  swoon,  spoke  softly,  saying: 
"Alas,  comrade!  know  you  whom  you  smite?  'Tis  Roland, 
who  loves  you." 

Oliver's  hearing  was  failing  him,  and  he  dropped  from  his 
saddle  upon  the  ground  and  lay  there.  Death  was  nigh,  and, 
clasping  his  hands,  he  prayed  in  a  loud  voice,  saying:  "Deai 
Lord,  be  granted  to  me  a  portion  in  Paradise.  Oh,  bless  Charle- 
magne, and  bless  my  beloved  France,  and  chiefly  bless  my 
friend  Roland!" 

Then  his  heart  failed  him  and  he  died.  Roland  wept.  Not 
on  this  earth  shall  ever  be  found  a  man  who  sorrowed  more 
deeply  than  did  Roland  in  that  hour.  "Alas!"  said  he;  "for 
many  years  we  were  comrades  true.  Never  did  Oliver  wrong 
me,  and  never  have  I  wronged  Oliver.  Now  he  is  dead,  and  I, 
alas!  continue  to  live." 

Again  did  Roland  swoon,  and  but  for  his  golden  stirrups  he 
would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  beside  Oliver. 

No  sooner  did  the  hero  recover  than  the  enemy  came  on 
again.  The  dusky  warriors  were  terrified,  however,  by  the 
fierce  aspect  of  Roland  and  Walter  Archbishop  Turpin. 
Pausing,  they  cast  showers  of  javelins.  The  archbishop  was 
stricken  down  and  his  horse  was  slain.  But,  although  griev- 
ously wounded,  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  shouting  to  Roland: 
"  Not  yet  am  I  undone  ",  he  rushed  with  him  against  the  foe. 

The  two  heroes  fought  fiercely.     Roland  smote  with  Duren- 


THE    SONG   OF    ROLAND  337 

dal  until  he  felt  his  strength  leaving  him.  Greatly  had  he  been 
weakened  by  the  mighty  blasts  he  had  blown  on  his  horn,  but 
once  again  he  sounded  it,  for  great  was  his  longing  for  the 
coming  of  the  king. 

Charlemagne  heard  the  faint  call,  and  said:  *'Alas,  my 
barons,  now  is  Roland  in  great  need  of  us!  So  low  is  the 
sound  of  his  horn  that  his  strength  must  be  ebbing  from  him. 
Let  us  make  haste,  lest  we  be  too  late  to  give  him  aid.  Blow 
every  trumpet,  that  he  may  hear." 

Then  three-score  thousand  trumpets  were  sounded,  and  the 
mighty  blast  echoed  among  the  mountains  like  to  thunder. 

The  enemy  heard  and  trembled.  "  Charlemagne  is  coming," 
they  cried,  '*and  even  now  he  is  nigh  at  hand.  If  Roland  is 
not  slain,  the  war  will  be  renewed  and  we  shall  be  driven  from 
Spain." 

A  band  of  four  hundred  Ethiopians  made  fierce  attack  on 
Roland  and  the  archbishop.  The  heroes  scorned  to  flee;  they 
would  rather  die  than  turn  their  backs  on  the  enemy.  Together 
they  rushed  against  the  Moslems,  who  cried:  "  Flee,  flee,  for  the 
clarions  of  France  have  been  blown,  and  Charlemagne  is  at 
hand!" 

Many  broke  in  flight,  but  Roland  could  not  follow,  because 
his  horse  had  been  slain.  He  went  towards  the  archbishop, 
who  lay  dying  on  the  green  earth,  and  spoke  tenderly  to  him, 
saying:  "Ah!  permit  me,  brave  knight,  to  give  you  relief." 
He  unlaced  Turpin's  helmet,  took  off  his  hauberk,  and,  tearing 
his  surcoat  in  pieces,  bound  up  the  bleeding  wounds,  saying: 
"Our  dear  comrades  are  all  dead,  but  I  cannot  leave  them.  I 
will  go  and  find  their  bodies,  and  lay  them  here  beside  you." 

"Do  so,  and  come  to  me  again,"  the  archbishop  said. 
"  Victory  is  to  you  and  to  me,  for  which  I  give  thanks  to  God." 

Roland  made  search,  and  found  the  bodies  of  the  fallen 
knights.  One  by  one  he  carried  them  to  the  green  spot  where 
lay  his  dying  comrade.  Tears  fell  from  the  archbishop's  eyes, 
and  with  uplifted  hand  he  blessed  the  dead,  saying:  "Ah, 
brave  knights,  sorrowful  has  been  your  fate!  May  Almighty 
God  receive  your  souls  amidst  the  flowers  of  heaven.  May  He 
also  receive  mine,  for  my  own  death  is  at  hand,  and  it  is  grievous 

Vol.  II.  51 


338  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

to  me,  because  I  shall  never  again  behold  my  lord,  Charle- 
magne." 

Roland  made  search  for  the  body  of  his  friend  Oliver,  and 
found  it  lying  beside  a  briar  that  grew  in  the  shade  of  a  lordly 
pine.  Carrying  it  lovingly  in  his  arms,  he  went  slowly  towards 
the  archbishop,  for  his  strength  was  failing  him.  Tenderly  he 
laid  the  body  on  a  shield  near  to  his  dying  friend,  and  then 
spoke,  weeping  bitter  tears:  "  Dear  Oliver,  my  sweet  comrade,'' 
said  he,  "son  of  Count  Rayner,  never  was  there  a  better  knight 
than  you,  and  never  a  truer  friend  and  counsellor.  Your  equal 
is  not  to  be  found  in  any  land." 

Faintly  he  spoke,  because  his  strength  was  spent.  He 
swooned  and  fell  beside  Oliver. 

Then  did  the  archbishop  rouse  himself.  He  seized  Roland's 
horn  to  fill  it  with  water,  so  that  his  friend  might  be  revived, 
but  death  took  him  as  he  strove  to  reach  the  cool  stream  that 
flowed  sweetly  nigh  to  them.  Roland  revived  and  crept  towards 
the  dead  prelate,  whose  hands  he  crossed  on  his  breast. 

Then  after  the  wont  of  his  country,  lamenting  he  speaketh  his  praise : 

"Ah,  gentle  knight,  ah,  scion  of  lineage  proud  and  high. 

To  the  hands  I  commit  thee  of  Him  who  is  glory-enthroned  in  the  sky. 

Never  man  shall  be  found  whose  desire  to  His  service  so  fervent  hath  been. 

Nay,  since  the  Apostles'  days,  such  prophet  hath  no  man  seen, 

To  champion  the  cause  of  the  Cross,  to  turn  men  away  from  their  sin. 

May  thy  soul  from  the  pains  of  the  cleansing  fires  exemption  win. 

And  wide  be  the  portals  of  Paradise  opened  to  welcome  it  in."  ^ 

Roland  arose,  struggling  with  death,  and  went  forward, 
sword  in  hand,  as  if  following  the  retreating  enemy,  until  he 
fell  on  a  green  mound.  A  wounded  Saracen,  believing  him  to 
be  dead,  crept  towards  him  to  steal  Durendal\  but  when  he  laid 
hand  on  it,  Roland  revived  and  smote  a  blow  that  brought 
speedy  death.  Then  did  the  hero  make  lament  for  himself, 
and  he  uttered  a  prayer  for  sweet  France.  Placing  sword  and 
horn  beneath  him,  he  lay  down  to  die  with  his  face  turned 
towards  Spain  and  the  enemy.  He  committed  his  soul  to  God, 
and  the  .saints  carried  it  to  the  heavenly  rest. 

Great  was  the  sorrow  of  Charlemagne  and  his  barons  when 

'  Translation  by  Aithui  Way  and  Frederick  Spencer. 


THE   SONG   OF    ROLAND  339 

they  reached  the  battle-field  and  found  the  bodies  of  Roland  and 
his  brave  comrades. 

The  emperor's  army  pursued  the  retreating  Saracens,  who 
were  scattered  in  flight,  thousands  being  slain.  Saragossa  was 
captured,  and  only  those  who  became  Christians  were  spared. 

A  just  but  terrible  punishment  was  inflicted  upon  Ganelon,! 
the  traitor.     Charlemagne's  council  having  condemned  him  to 
death,   he  was  torn  to  pieces  by  horses. 

When  Charlemagne's  army  returned  to  Aix  there  was  one 
who  waited  in  vain  to  greet  Roland.  This  was  Aide,  sister  of 
Oliver,  who  loved  her  brother's  comrade  very  dearly. 

Once  more  to  Aix  comes  Charlemagne 

In  royal  robes  arrayed; 
"  Why  is  not  Roland  with  the  king?" 

Low  cried  a  beauteous  maid. 
"  O  where  is  he  who  vowed  he  would 

Wed  me  for  dear  love's  sake?" 
Tears  filled  the  eyes  of  Charlemagne 

As  he  in  sorrow  spake : 

"  Sweet  lady,  thou  dost  ask  of  one 

Whose  days  are  ended  here  ; 
But  let  thy  heart  not  broken  be 

For  him  thou  lovedst  so  dear. 
For  I  shall  give  to  thee  my  son, 

And  thou  shalt  be  his  bride; 
And  he  shall  guard  the  marches  of 

My  kingdom  far  and  wide." 

"  Alas!  O  King,  in  grief  I  hear 

What  thou  dost  say  to  me ; 
Now  God  forbid  that  I  should  e'er 

Another's  consort  be ! 
And  God  forbid  that  I  should  live 

When  Roland  lies  in  death  !  "— 
God  and  the  saints  her  prayer  heara 

And  took  her  passing  breath. 

Rendering  by  D.  A.  Mackenzie. 


CAMOENS'    LUSIADS 


Introductory 


As  Armas,  c  os  Baioes  assinaldos, 
Que  da  Occidental  praia  Lusitana' 
Por  mares  nunca  d'antes  iiavegfados, 
Piissaram  ainda  alem  da  Taprobana,- 
Em  perig-os  e  ^uerras  esforcjados, 
Mais  do  que  promettia  e  for^a  humana; 
E  entie  gfente  remota  edificaram 
Novo  reino,  que  tanto  subliniaram: 

E  tambem  as  memorias  gfloriosas 
Daqiielles  Reis,  que  foram  dilatando 
A  F^,  o  Imperio;  e  as  terras  viciosas 
De  Africa  e  de  Asia  aiidaram  devas- 

tando; 
E  aquelles  que  por  obras  valerosas 
Se  vao  da  lei  da  morte  libertando ; 
Contando  espalharei  por  tod'a  parte, 
Se  a  tanto  me  ajudar  o  engento  e  arte. 


Ot  arms  and  heroes  high  and  celebrated, 
Who  from  the  western  shore  of  Lusitana 
O'er  seas  that  ne'er  before  were  navigated, 
Passed  far  beyond  the  distant  Taprobana, 
All  forceful  amidst  perils  war-created, 
With  more  than  promised  is  of  strength 

"  humana  "; 
And  midst  a  folk  remote  established  timely 
A  kingdom  new  that  flourished  full  sub- 
limely: 

And  of  achievements  memoried  and  glori- 
ous. 

Likewise  of  kings  who  greatly  have  ex- 
tended 

The  Faith  and  Empire;  and  to  lands 
notorious, 

Afric  and  Asia,  devastating  wended ; 

And  those  who  by  their  actions  meritorious 

'Gainst  Death's  oblivion  havf  themselves 
defended. 

In  every  part  be  by  my  song  uplifted 

If  well  I  am  with  art  and  genius  gifted.* 


So,  in  a  manner  reminiscent  of  the  ^neid^  opens  the  national 
epic  of  Portugal,  Camoens'  Lusiads^  which  was  composed  in 
the  sixteenth  century  and  comprises  ten  cantos.  Metrical  trans- 
lations into  English  have  been  made  by  Sir  Richard  Fanshaw 
(1655),  William  Julius  Mickle  (1776),  Thomas  Moore  Musgrave 

*  The  Roman  province  of  Lusitania  comprised  almost  all  Portugal  and  a  part  of  Spain. 
-Ceylon.     Usually  translated  Taprobana.     yV\\\.o\\  [Paradise  Regained,  iv,  75)  has  it : 
And  utmost  Indian  isle  Tapr6ban6. 

It  was  called  Tapr6bana  by  Onesicritus  ;  some  think  the  name  is  derived  from  Tape,  "island  ", 
and  Ravan(a),  the  demon  King  of  Ceylon  in  the  Ramayana. 
'^  Rendering  by  D.  A.  Mackenzie. 

341 


342  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

(1826),  Edward  Quillinan  (1853)/  Thomas  Livingston  Mitchell 
(1854),  John  James  Auberton  (1878),  James  E.  Hewitt  (1879), 
Robert  Ffrench  Duff  (1879),  Richard  F.  Burton  (1S80),  and 
J.  J.  Aubertin  (revised  edition,  1884).  Sir  Richard  Fanshaw 
adopted  Camoens'  v^erse  form : 

Amies,  a?td  the  Men  above  the  vulgar  file, 
Who  from  the  Western  Lusitanian  shore 
Past  ev'n  beyond  the  Trapobaiiian-\s\e, 
Through  Seas  which  never  ship  had  sayld  before ; 
Who  (brave  in  action,  patient  in  long  Toyle, 
Beyond  what  strength  of  humane  nature  bore), 
'Mongst  Nations,  under  other  stars,  acquir'd 
A  modern  scepter  which  to  Heaven  aspir'd. 

Mickle  adopted  the  grandiloquent  style  of  Pope,  so  popular 
in  his  day,  embellishing,  "improving",  and  even  elaborating 
the  original : 

Arms  and  the  Heroes,  who  from  Lisbon's  shore 

Thro'  seas  where  sail  was  never  spread  before, 

Beyond  where  Cej-lon  lifts  her  spicy  breast, 

And  waves  her  woods  above  the  wat'ry  waste. 

With  prowess  more  than  human  forc'd  their  way 

To  the  fair  kingdoms  of  the  rising  day: 

What  wars  they  wag'd,  what  seas,  what  dangers  pass'd, 

What  glorious  empire  crown'd  their  toils  at  last, 

Vent'rous  I  sing,  on  soaring  pinions  borne, 

And  all  my  country's  wars  the  song  adorn ; 

What  kings,  what  heroes  of  my  native  land 

Thunder'd  on  Asia's  and  on  Afric's  strand: 

Illustrious  shades,  who  levell'd  in  the  dust 

The  idol-temples  and  the  shrines  of  lust : 

And  where,  erewhile,  foul  demons  were  rever'd, 

To  Holy  Faith  unnumber'd  altars  rear'd  : 

Illustrious  names,  with  deathless  laurels  crown'd, 

While  Time  rolls  on  in  every  clime  renown'd! 

Musgrave,  adopting  blank  verse,   was  more  faithful  in  his 

rendering: 

Arms,  and  the  heroes  of  illustrious  fame. 
Who,  from  the  western  Lusitanian  shore. 
Remote,  unnavigated  seas  explor'd, 
Far  beyond  Taprobana's  distant  isle, 

1  Mr.  Quillinan  had  translated  the  first  five  cantos  when  he  took  ill  and  died. 


CAMOENS'    LUSIADS  343 

And,  'midst  the  perils  of  adventVous  war, 
With  more  than  human  constancy  endur'd, 
In  Eastern  climes  a  mighty  empire  rais'd 
And  aggrandiz'd  by  great  and  glorious  deeds: 

Duff  achieved  no  small  degree  of  success,  utilizing  the 
Spenserian  stanza: 

The  arms  I  sing  and  that  most  glorious  band 

Of  heroes  far  renowned,  who  did  of  yore 

Embark  on  Lusitania's  western  strand 

For  seas  where  fleets  had  never  sailed  before, 

And  boldly  passed  beyond  the  balmy  shore 

OfTaprobana:  neither  storm  nor  fight 

Can  stop  their  course;  above  them  all  they  soar 

Triumphant,  and  by  superhuman  might 

They  raise  their  native  realm  unto  its  proudest  height. 

In  Burton's  elaborate  and  scholarly  translation  there  is 
usually  more  force  than  poetic  feeling,  and  his  verse  is  often 
fantastic  and  unmusical: 

The  feats  of  Arms  and  famed  heroick  Host 

From  occidental  Lusitanian  strand, 

That  o'er  the  seas  by  seamen  never  crost 

FarM  beyond  the  Taprobane-land, 

Forceful  in  perils  and  in  battle-post. 

With  more  than  promised  force  of  mortal  hand; 

And  in  the  regions  of  a  distant  race 

Reared  a  new  throne  so  haught  in  Pride  of  Place. 

The  hero  of  the  Liisiads  is  Dom  Vasco  Da  Gama  (1450-1524), 
the  great  Portuguese  navigator,  who,  with  a  fleet  of  four  vessels, 
doubled  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  reached  the  East  Indies. 
He  left  Lisbon  in  1497  and  returned  in  1499,  having  visited 
Mozambique,  Mombaza,  Melinda,  and  Calicut.  In  1502  he 
made  another  voyage  along  the  new  trade  route,  establishing 
Portuguese  trading  stations.  He  was  appointed  Viceroy  of 
India  about  three  months  before  his  death.  Tasso  celebrated 
his  fame  in  a  famous  sonnet: 

Vasco,  whose  bold  and  happy  bowsprit  bore 
Against  the  rising  morn ;  and  homeward  fraught 
Whose  sails  came  westward  with  the  day,  and  brought 
The  wealth  of  India  to  thy  native  shore; 


344  'i'HE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Ne'er  did  ihe  Greek  such  length  of  seas  explore, 
The  Greek  who  sorrow  to  the  Cyclops  wrought; 
And  he  who,  victor,  with  the  harpies  fought, 
Never  such  pomp  of  naval  honours  wore. 
Great  as  thou  art,  and  peerless  in  renown, 
Yet  thou  to  Camoens  ow'st  thy  noblest  fame; 
Farther  than  thou  didst  sail,  his  deathless  song 
Shall  bear  the  dazzling  splendour  of  thy  name; 
And  under  many  a  sky  thy  actions  crown. 
While  time  and  fame  together  glide  along. ^ 

Fanshaw,  in  his  dedicatory  preface  to  his  translation  of 
Camoens'  masterpiece,  addressing  William,  Earl  of  Stafford, 
wrote:  "I  can  not  tell  how  your  Lordship  may  take  it,  that  in 
so  uncourted  a  language^  as  that  of  Portugall,  should  be  found 
extant  a  Poet  to  rival  your  beloved  Tasso,  How  himself  took  it, 
I  can;  for  he  was  heard  to  say  (his  gret  Jerusalem  being  then 
an  Emhrio)  He  Feared  no  Man  But  Camoens:  Notwith- 
standing which,  he  bestowed  a  Sonet  in  his  praise". 

Luis  Vaz  de  Camoens  (Camoes),  who  is  not  only  Portugal's 
greatest  poet  but  one  of  the  great  poets  of  Etirope,  was  born  in 
1524  or  1525,  probably  at  Lisbon,  although  other  towns  claim 
him,  including  Coimbra,  the  birth-place  of  his  father.  There 
was  a  strain  of  genius  in  his  family,  which  belonged  to  the 
ancient  Galician  nobility  and  is  believed  to  have  had  a  castle 
and  estate  called  Camoens  in  the  vicinity  of  Cape  Finisterre, 
within  sound  of  the  poet's  beloved  ocean.  The  first  of  his 
ancestors  who  settled  in  Portugal  was  named  Vasco  Pires  de 
Camoens,  a  nobleman  famed  in  his  day  not  only  as  a  warrior 
but  also  as  a  poet.  Having  espoused  the  ill-fated  cause  of 
Peter  the  Cruel  of  Castille  against  Henry  H,  he  fled  with  other 
noblemen  to  Portugal,  where  he  was  given  estates  by  King 
Ferdinando.  The  family  fortunes,  however,  subsequently  suf- 
fered decline.  Camoens'  paternal  grandmot'ner  was  a  Gama, 
so  that  the  poet  was  a  relative  of  the  great  navigator,  Vasco  da 
Gama,  the  hero  of  the  Lusiads.  His  father,  Simon  Vas  de 
Camoens,  commanded  a  ship  of  war  which  was  lost  on  the 
Indian  coast;  his  mother,  Anna  de  sa  Macedo,  belonged  to  an 
old  and  influential  family. 

'  .Vlickle's  translation. 


CAMOENS'    LUSIADS  345 

Camoens  studied  at  the  University  of  Coimbra  and  graduated 
as  a  Bachelor  of  Arts.  He  proved  himself  an  excellent  classic 
scholar.  Like  our  own  Milton,  he  was  fair-haired  and  blue- 
eyed,  and,  like  him,  too,  he  did  not  belong  to  the  cult  of  shy 
scholar  poets.  There  were  Byronic  traits  in  his  character,  and 
if  he  made  devoted  friends  he  also  made  bitter  enemies.  Essen- 
tially a  man  of  the  world,  he  delighted  in  company,  and  was 
vivacious,  active,  and  robust.  He  dressed  not  only  well,  but 
even  gaudily.  Contemporary  references  testify  to  his  fondness 
for  practical  joking.  He  appears  to  have  been  quick-tempered, 
haughty,  prodigal  in  awarding  praise  or  blame,  and,  although 
chivalrous  and  generous-hearted,  also  somewhat  Quixotic.  He 
was  ever  as  ready  with  sword  as  with  pen.  As  he  himself  has 
put  it,  addressing  his  king  in  the  Lusiads: 

An  arm  to  serve  you,  trained  in  war  have  I, 
A  soul  to  sing  you,  to  the  Muses  bent. 

At  first  intended  for  the  Church,  he  studied  theology,  but  he 
was  not  of  the  material  of  which  clergymen  are  made.  On 
leaving  college,  he  became  tutor  to  the  Count  of  Linares,  at 
Lisbon,  where  he  soon  became  known  as  a  rising  poet  and  a 
distinct  personality  in  social  circles.  As,  however,  he  tended 
to  break  away  from  classical  traditions,  he  did  not  recommend 
himself  to  the  prominent  literary  men  of  his  day. 

Introduced  by  the  count  to  high  circles  of  society,  he  formed 
influential  friendships  among  titled  noblemen.  Then  he  fell 
in  love  with  a  dama  do  pazo,  a  "dame  of  the  palace",  the 
Nathercia  of  his  love  songs,  who  was  to  become  his  Beatrice. 
This  was  D.  Catherina  de  Alaide,  a  lady-in-waiting  to  the  queen 
and  daughter  of  a  high  and  influential  offlcial.  In  time  the 
gossips  became  busy  with  their  names,  and,  although  the  lady 
appears  to  have  encouraged  his  advances,  she  was  influenced 
to  take  a  more  practical  view  of  the  future  than  her  impecunious 
although  devoted  admirer.  Something  happened  which  caused 
Camoens  to  retire  for  a  time  to  his  patron's  country  house.  It 
may  be,  as  is  conjectured,  that  he  was  banished  for  a  period  from 
the  capital  on  account  of  his  love  affair.  His  passion  found 
release  in  poetry,  and  to  such  effect  that  when  he  returned  to 


346  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Lisbon  he  was  hailed  as  "the  Lusitanian  Virgil".  He  had 
now  reached  his  twenty-second  or  twenty-third  year,  and,  with 
all  the  pride  of  a  young  poet,  flushed  with  early  fame,  he  grew 
bolder  and  more  indiscreet  in  his  wooing.  Ultimately  he  was 
banished  from  Lisbon  for  an  offence  against  Court  etiquette, 
intensified  apparently  by  a  clever  play  containing  topical  refer- 
ences, including  his  own  love  affair,  and  by  some  obscure  quarrel, 
perhaps  a  duel,  with  a  relative  of  Catherina's.  He  retired  to 
the  home  of  his  mother's  relatives,  near  Santarem,  where  he 
again  composed  passionate  verse,  but  of  higher  imaginative 
and  artistic  value  than  had  ever  before  come  from  his  pen.  To 
this  period  belongs  his  fine  Elegy  of  Exile  and  also  certain  of 
the  sonnets  so  greatly  admired  by  Tasso  among  others. 

In  those  days  even  popular  poets  could  not  earn  a  living 
from  the  pen,  and  Camoens  found  it  necessary  to  secure  employ- 
ment. He  accordingly  volunteered  for  military  service  in  North 
Africa,  and  in  1547  sailed  for  Ceuta.  In  one  engagement, 
whether  against  the  Moroccans  or  pirates  who  are  said  to  have 
attacked  the  ship,  he  acquitted  himself  bravely,  but  suffered  a 
serious  and  disfiguring  wound,  for  he  lost  his  right  eye. 

After  three  adventurous  years  of  fighting  and  big-game 
hunting,  the  poet  returned  to  Lisbon.  He  still  cherished  hopes 
of  winning  Catherina,  and  had  composed  poems  at  Ceuta  which 
are  as  sad  as  the  saddest  of  Shelley's.  He  found  it  impossible, 
however,  to  secure  an  official  appointment  which  would  make 
marriage  possible.  At  Lisbon  he  lived  a  Bohemian  life,  asso- 
ciating himself  with  a  band  of  lively  youths,  and  achieved  some 
notoriety,  as  is  evident  from  his  nicknames,  "One-eyed  Face" 
and  "  Devil  ".  In  time  he  became  involved  in  a  quarrel  which 
brought  him  misfortune.  Espousing  the  cause  of  two  boon 
companions  in  a  street  brawl  during  the  festival  of  Corpus 
Christi,  he  wounded  a  palace  servant,  for  w'hich  offence — a 
grave  one  at  the  time — he  was  arrested  and  imprisoned.  Owing 
to  the  intervention  of  influential  friends,  his  release  was  after 
some  months  secured  without  trial,  and  he  was  pardoned.  He 
volunteered  for  military  service  in  India  for  a  term  of  five  years, 
and  this  may  have  been  one  of  the  conditions  under  which  he 
secured   his  liberty.     On   Palm   Sunday,   1553,  he  accordingly 


CAMOENS'    LUSIADS  347 

set  sail  from  Lisbon  for  India,  having  taken  a  tender  last  fare- 
well of  Catherina.  Then  fortune  seemed  to  smile  upon  him,  for 
in  his  day  impecunious  young  noblemen  who  ventured  eastward 
invariably  returned  rich  and  influential  men. 

Camoens  landed  at  Goa,  on  the  Malabar  coast,  which  ulti- 
mately became  the  capital  of  Portuguese  India,  and  developed 
an  extensive  trade  between  the  East  and  West.  He  was  wel- 
comed by  the  settlers,  but  in  time  his  enemies  outnumbered  his 
friends.  The  poet  was  haunted  by  his  temperament.  He  took 
part  in  at  least  two  punitive  expeditions — one  to  China,  and  the 
other  to  the  Red  Sea  in  quest  of  Corsairs.  His  leisure  time 
was  spent  in  wooing  the  Muses. 

The  social  life  of  Goa  was  displeasing  to  him.  Immorality, 
corruption,  and  injustice  were  rampant,  and  he  compared  the 
growing  settlement  to  ancient  Babylon,  '*  mother  of  villains" 
and  ''the  stepmother  of  honest  men".  He  expressed  his  feel- 
ings in  the  vigorous  satires.  Disparates  na  India  {Follies  of 
India)  and  Satyra  do  Torneio  {Satire  of  the  Tourney)^  which  gave 
much  offence  to  the  authorities  and  society  in  general. 

In  1556  he  left  his  newly-discovered  "Babylon"  for  the 
Moluccas,  where  he  wielded  sword  and  pen  for  two  years. 
China  gifted  Macao  to  the  Portuguese  for  destroying  a  fleet 
of  pirates  which  had  attacked  Canton,  and  he  took  part  in  its 
occupation.  There  he  settled  down  for  a  time  —  some  say 
because  he  had  been  banished  from  Goa — and  accepted  an 
official  position.  He  had  already  made  progress  with  his  epic, 
The  Lusiads,  and  set  himself  seriously  to  complete  it.  He 
found  appropriate  solitude  in  a  picturesque  cave  which  is  still 
known  as  "Gruta  de  Camoes "  (''Camoens'  Grotto").  It  is 
situated  on  the  windy  isthmus  between  Macao  and  the  continent, 
and  commands  an  inspiring  prospect  of  sea  and  mountain 
scenery.  In  1558  he  got  into  trouble  with  a  high  official,  and 
set  out  to  return  to  Goa.  He  appears  to  have  accumulated  some 
wealth,  but  disaster  dogged  his  footsteps,  for  he  suffered  ship- 
wreck at  the  mouth  of  the  River  Gambia.  All  his  possessions 
were  lost  except  the  manuscript  of  his  poem,  which  he  held  in 
one  hand  as  he  clung  with  the  other  to  the  plank  that  carried 
him  to  the   beach.      The  sea-drenched   poem   was  a  priceless 


348  THH    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

treasure  indeed,  but  no  one  dreamed  at  the  time  that  its  value 
to  Portugal  was  to  be  rated  above  that  of  all  the  Indian  gold 
and  rubies  brought  home  by  its  sons  of  fortune. 

At  Goa  he  was  not  forgotten  by  his  enemies,  who  were  still 
twitching  under  the  lash  of  his  satirical  rhymes.  A  trumped-up 
charge  of  malversation  in  the  position  he  occupied  at  Macao 
was  libelled  against  him,  and  he  was  thrust  into  prison.  Ulti- 
mately, however,  owing  to  the  intervention  of  the  new  viceroy, 
D.  Constantino  de  Braganza,  he  secured  his  liberty.  A  few 
months  later  he  was  arrested  again.  He  was  tried  and  acquitted, 
but  ere  long  was  arrested  a  third  time.  Then  the  persecuted 
poet  wrote  a  stinging  satire  which  so  greatly  amused  the  viceroy 
that  he  had  its  author  released  from  "durance  vile". 

Camoens  subsequently  took  part  in  several  military  expedi- 
tions. Many  misfortunes  as  well  as  adventures  fell  to  his  lot, 
and  it  was  with  a  joyful  heart  he  once  more  set  sail  for  his  native 
land,  where  he  arrived  in  1570.  He  was  poor  and  in  bad  health, 
and  found  himself  without  friends  either  in  courtly  or  literary 
circles.  Two  years  later  The  Lusiads  was  published.  It  achieved 
considerable  success,  and  the  poet  was  awarded  a  royal  pension 
of  fifteen  milreis,  the  equivalent  in  our  day  of  about  ;i^20  a  year. 
This  allowance  was  his  chief  source  of  revenue,  and  was  irre- 
gularly paid.  Camoens  was  in  time  reduced  to  such  straits  that 
his  faithful  Javanese  servant,  Antonio,  had  to  beg  for  him  in  the 
streets  of  Lisbon.  Death  came  as  a  happy  release  in  his  fifty- 
fifth  or  fifty-sixth  year,  and,  as  Pedro  de  Mariz,  his  first  bio- 
grapher, puts  it,  he  was  "poorly  and  plebeianly  buried"  in  the 
chapel  of  Santa  Anna,  the  patronage  of  which  belonged  to  the 
Shoemakers  of  S.  Christpin.  The  grave  was  purchased  by  a 
nobleman  in  1598,  and  an  inscribed  marble  slab  placed  over  it, 
but  it  was  subsequently  destroyed  during  the  reconstruction  of 
the  church;  and  when  the  earthquake  of  1775  caused  the  roof 
to  collapse,  the  marble  slab  was  shattered.  A  search  was  made 
in  1836  for  the  poet's  bones.  Some  remains  were  found,  and 
these  were  placed  in  a  coffin  and  interred  beside  the  supposed 
remains  of  the  great  Da  Gama  in  the  church  of  the  Jeronymites. 
By  this  time  T/ie  Lusiads  had  passed  through  about  sixty  edi- 
tions, and  had  been  translated  into  several  European  languages. 


CAMOENS'    LUSIAUS  349 

"None  can  deny",  writes  Burton  in  his  elaborate  and 
scholarly  edition  of  The  Lusiads^  "that  this  poem  stereotyped 
the  tongue  in  which  it  was  written;  and  left  to  Portugal  an 
eternal  mould  and  model  of  form.  None  can  be  blind  to  the 
fact  that  it  has  taken  a  prime  share,  not  only  in  shapini^  popular 
character,  but  even  in  preserving  national  life.  It  played  a 
considerable  part  in  liberating  Portugal  from  Spain.  .  .  .  Even 
in  the  present  day  it  keeps  the  peace  between  Portugal  and  her 
young  giant  Brazil ;  both  speak  the  tongue  which  Camoens 
spoke;  and  the  tie  is  not  the  weaker  for  being  one  of  sentiment. 
.  .  .  '  The  conqueror,'  says  a  Portuguese,  '  who  shall  ever  attempt 
to  subjugate  our  beloved  country,  must  first  tear  in  pieces  every 
page  of  the  immortal  Lusiads.^  " 

"At  the  period  in  which  Camoens  wrote,"  De  Sismondi 
reminded  his  readers  in  his  great  work  on  south  European 
literature,  "we  must  remember  that  there  had  in  fact  appeared 
no  epic  poem  in  any  of  the  modern  tongues.  Trissino  had, 
indeed,  attempted  the  subject  of  the  liberation  of  Italy  from  the 
Goths,  but  had  not  succeeded.  Several  of  the  Castilians  had, 
likewise,  dignified  with  the  title  of  epics  their  histories  of 
modern  events,  related  in  rhyme,  but  possessing  nothing  of  the 
spirit  of  poetry.  Ariosto,  and  a  crowd  of  romance  writers,  had 
thrown  enchantment  round  the  fictions  of  chivalry  .  .  .  but 
neither  Ariosto,  nor  any  of  these  whom  he  so  far  surpassed  .  .  . 
ever  aspired  to  the  character  of  epic  writers.  Tasso,  it  is  well 
known,  did  not  publish  his  Jerusalem  Delivered  until  the  year 
after  the  death  of  Camoens." 

A  spirit  of  high  and  disinterested  patriotism  pulsates  in  the 
Litsiads.     The  following  stanzas  are  from  the  first  canto: 

Let  wonder  cease  at  voyages  of  old 
By  the  wise  Greek  and  by  the  Trojan  made ; 
Let  Amnion's  son  and  Trajan  cease  to  hold 
The  pahn  for  Eastern  victories  displayed  : 
I  sing  the  illustrious  Lusian  heart  so  bold, 
Whom  Neptune's  self  and  stubborn  Mars  obey'd. 
Hush'd  be  all  praise  that  ancient  Muses  sing, 
For  later  valour  soars  on  stronger  wing ! 

A  love  of  country,  on  no  sordid  aim 
Intent,  but  on  a  high  immortal  hope: 


350  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

To  be  the  poet  of  my  country's  fame, 
Is  no  ambition  of  a  vulgar  scope. 
Thou,  their  supernal  lord,  thy  hero's  name 
Shalt  hear  resounded  to  the  starry  cope; 
And  judge  if  't  were  a  loftier  pride  of  place 
To  rule  the  world  or  govern  such  a  race. 

Attend !  and  thou  in  their  applause  shalt  hear 
No  vain  exploits,  fantastic,  false  or  feign'd. 
Such  as  strange  Muses  have  devised  to  cheer 
Their  own  delight  in  fancies  overstrained. 
Thy  people's  deeds,  enrolled  by  Truth  severe, 
Excels  the  fables,  in  those  lays  contain'd, 
Of  Rodomente  and  Rugero  too, 
And  Roland,  even  if  his  feats  were  true.^ 

Columbus  was  not  the  first  navigator  to  cross  the  Atlantic, 
his  feat  having  been  anticipated  by  the  vikings  who  discovered 
"  Wineland";  nor  was  Da  Gama  the  first  to  round  South  Africa. ^ 
Evidence  has  of  late  years  come  to  light  that  Pharaoh  Necho 
of  Egypt  (609-593  B.C.),  who  is  referred  to  in  the  Old  Testament,^ 
dispatched  southward  from  the  Red  Sea  a  Phoenician  fleet  on 
a  voyage  of  exploration.  It  returned  three  years  later  by  the 
Straits  of  Morocco,  having  circumnavigated  Africa.  No  sur- 
prise was  excited  among  the  Egyptian  scholars  of  the  time,  for 
they  clung  to  the  belief  that  the  world  was  surrounded  by  the 
"  Great  Green  "  (Ocean),  the  "  Great  Circle  "  of  the  Greeks.* 

The  part  of  the  Lusiads  dealt  with  in  the  pages  that  follow 
includes  the  vision  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  one  of  the  finest 
portions  of  the  great  poem.  Vasco  Da  Gama  describes  his 
voyage  to  the  King  of  Melinde. 

1  Canto  I,  stanzas  iii,  x,  and  xi,  Quillinan's  translation. 

-  Bartholomew  Diaz's  discovery  of  the  Cape  is  referred  to  in  ibo  portion  of  the  poem  dealt 
with  below. 

5*  2  Kings,  xxiii,  29.  ^  Egyptian  Myth  and  Legend,  p.  372. 


Os  Lusiados  (The   Lusitanians) 

The  famM  Gama  tells  the  forceful  king 
His  long-drawn  voyage,  and  uncertain  road ; 
What  countless  nations  in  hot  Africk  spring, 
And,  eke,  Fernam  Velloso's  hardihood  : 
How  Adamastor,  Giant  menacing 
They  saw,  who  claimed  to  be  of  Terra's  brood ; 
And  other  things  that  happened  till  w^as  found 
Haven  of  rest,  with  comfort  safe  and  sound.  ^ 

The  aged  father-  was  still  speaking  when  sails  were  spread  to 
the  gentle  breeze,  and  we  left  the  beloved  harbour  (Lisbon) 
calling  "Boon  voyage!"  as  is  the  custom  of  seafarers.  Then 
the  wind  hardened,  and  the  masts  creaked  as  the  ships  speeded 
on  their  course.  Slowly  faded  the  shores  of  our  native  land, 
but  long  in  sight  remained  well-loved  Tagus  and  the  windy 
ridge  of  Cintra.  In  time  these  vanished  too;  we  sped  on  our 
way,  but  left  our  hearts  in  our  beloved  kingdom.  Dusky  grew 
the  air,  and  soon  we  saw  naught  but  the  sea  and  the  sky. 

Thus  went  we  opening  those  seas,  which  (save 

Our  own)  no  station  open'd  ere  before : 

See  those  new  Isles,  and  clymates  near ;  which  brave 

Prince  Henry  showed  unto  the  world  before. 

The  Mauritanian  Hills,  and  strand,  which  gave 

Anteus  birth,  who  there  was  king  of  yore. 

Upon  the  left  hand  left  (for  there  is  none 

Upon  the  right,  though  now  suspected,  known).-' 

We  passed  the  great  island  of  Madeira,  which  derives  its  name 
from  its  abundant  trees,  a  famous  isle  we  were  first  to  people, 

^  r$urton's  tninslation. 

2  Called  "Old  Man  of  Beiem".     In  the  poem  he  personifies  the  people.     The  vo\Tii;e 
began  on  Saturday,  8th  July,   1497  (old  style),  23rd  July  (new  style). 
^  Fanshaw's  translation. 

351 


352  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

and  of  greater  renown  than  the  islands  beloved  of  yore  by 
Venus,  Cythera,  Cyprus,  Paphos,  or  Cnidos.  Massylia's  dreary 
coast  we  reached  and  passed  likewise.  In  time  we  crossed  the 
line  which  the  sun  reaches  when  it  slopes  towards  the  north. 
We  came  to  the  Canarian  Isles,  named  of  old  "  Happy  Islands  ", 
and  the  wind  favoured  us  as  we  made  for  the  port  of  St.  lago, 
there  to  obtain  fresh  provisions.  Thereafter  w^e  coasted  the 
African  shore,  past  the  great  Congo  kingdom,  where  our  people 
had  converted  men  to  the  laws  of  Christ.  Soon  we  reached  the 
burning  line  that  divides  the  world. 

There  we  before  us  saw  by  its  own  light 
In  this  new  Eplcjxle  a  star  new: 
Of  which  the  other  iiatiojis  ne'er  had  sight, 
And  (long  in  darkness)  no  such  matter  knew. 
The  world's  Antartick  Henge  (less  gilt,  less  bright 
For  want  of  stars,  then  th'  Artick)  we  did  view: 
Beneath  the  which,  a  question  yet  depends, 
Whether  more  Land  begins,  and  the  Sea  ends.^ 

Onward  we  sped  through  the  clime  which  is  traversed  by 
Apollo,  and  the  year  welcomes  twice  the  summer  and  the  winter 
as  the  god  passes  from  one  pole  to  another. 

I  saw  both  Beares  (the  little  and  the  great) 
Despight  of  Juno  in  the  Ocean  set.^ 

It  would  be  tedious  to  tell  of  all  the  perils  we  endured. 

While  thus  our  keels  still  onward  boldly  stray'd. 
Now  tossed  by  tempests  now  by  calms  delay'd  .  .  . 
What  toils  we  suffer'd,  and  what  storms  defied  ; 
What  rattling  deluges  the  black  clouds  pour'd, 
What  dreary  weeks  of  solid  darkness  lower'd ; 
What  mountain-surges  mountain-surges  lash'd, 
What  sudden  hurricanes  the  canvas  dashed ; 
What  bursting  lightnings,  with  incessant  flare, 
Kindled,  in  one  wide  flame,  the  burning  air, 
What  roaring  thunders  bellow'd  o'er  our  head.^ 

I  saw  that  living  fire  (Saint  Elmo's  fire)  which  seafarers  regard 
as  a  heavenly  omen  sent  to  cheer  and  comfort  them  in  time  of 
trouble  when  wind  and  sea  are  raging. 

'  Fanshaw's  uanslation.  -  Mickle's  translation. 


OS    LUSIADOS  353 

Nor  less  to  one  and  all  was  exquisite 
Marvel,  surpassing  power  of  wonderment, 
To  see  the  sea-based  clouds,  with  bulkj'  shaft. 
Upheaving  Ocean's  depth  with  sucking  draught. 

Certes  I  saw  it  (nor  can  I  presume 

My  sight  deceived  me)  as  high  it  grew, 

An  airy  vapourlet,  a  subtle  fume 

Which,  caught  by  windy  currents,  whirling  flew  : 

Thence  towering  tall  to  circumpolar  gloom 

A  Tube  appeared  so  thin,  so  faint  of  hue, 

That  man's  unaided  sight  could  hardly  see  it : 

Yet  of  some  cloudy  substance  seemed  to  be  it.^ 

The  waterspout  grew  in  bulk  as  it  rose  in  the  air,  until  it  was 
like  a  ship's  mast;  the  top  of  it  was  spread  out  among  the 
clouds.  Like  a  leech  clinging  to  the  lips  of  a  heifer,  it  drank 
till  it  was  full,  and  then  dropped  down,  dissolving  in  spray. 

Five  times  the  moon  waxed  and  waned  as  our  ships  sped 
over  the  sea.  Then  the  sailor  on  the  maintop  shouted:  '*  Land  ! 
land  ahead!"  Sweet  were  the  tidings.  All  our  men  crowded 
the  decks,  gazing  towards  the  horizon. 

At  first  the  dusky  mountains  (of  the  Land 

Wee  made)  like  congregated  Clowds  did  look  : 

Seen  plain,  the  heavie  Anchors  out  of  hand 

Wee  ready  make  :  approached,  our  sailes  we  strook. 

And  (that  we  might  more  clearly  understand 

The  parts  remote  in  which  we  were)  I  took 

The  Astrolabe,  a  modern  histrumeyit: 

Which  with  sharp  Judgment  sages  did  in  vent. ^ 

We  entered  a  bay,"  and  the  crews  went  ashore  to  scatter  them- 
selves over  a  land 

Which  never  stranger's  foot  before  did  tread. 

They  met  a  native  with  coal-black  face,  and  he  was  taken  on 
board  a  ship.  He  was  shown  silver  and  spices,  but  these  did 
not  attract  him. 

Then  bade  I  baser  things  be  brought  to  view, 
Bunches  of  glassy  beads  transparent  bright. 
Of  little  tinkling  falcon-bells  a  few, 
A  cap  of  cramosie  that  glads  the  sight. 

1  Burton's  translation.        -  Fanshaw's  translation.        •'*  St.  Helen's  Bay,  Cape  Colony, 
Vol.  II.  52 


354  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

By  signs  and  signals  then  I  saw  and  knew 
In  such  cheap  trash  he  takes  a  child's  delight : 
1  bid  them  loose  him  with  his  treasures  all, 
When  off  he  hurries  to  the  nearest  kraal.' 

Next  day  many  natives  came.  They  were  friendly,  but  a  band 
of  savages  attacked,  with  stones  and  arrows  on  a  hill-side,  one 
of  our  men  and  a  boat's  crew  that  hastened  to  rescue  him.  We 
did  not  waste  our  anger  with  such  men. 

We  spent  several  days  in  this  (St.  Helen's)  bay,  and  then 
sailed  southward  round  the  coasts,  favoured  by  a  gallant  breeze, 

When  on  a  night  (without  suspect,  or  dred, 
Chatting  together  in  the  cutting  prow) 
Over  our  Heads  appeared  a  sable  Clowd, 
Which  in  thick  darkness  did  the  Welkin  shrowd. 

So  big  it  lookt,  such  stern  Grimaces  made, 
As  filled  our  Hearts  with  horror,  and  appall, 
Black  was  the  Sea,  and  at  long  distance  braj-d 
As  if  it  roar'd  through  Rocks,  down  Rocks  did  fall. 

0  Pow^r  inhabiting  the  Heav'ns,  I  said ! 
What  divine  threat  is?  what  mystical 
Imparting  of  thy  will  in  so  new  form. 
For  this  is  a  Thing  greater  than  a  Storm? 

1  had  not  ended,  when  a  httmane  Feature 
Appear'd  to  us  'ith  Ayre,  Robustious,  ralli'd 
Of  Heteroge7ieal  parts,  of  boundless  Stature, 

A  Clowd  in  's  Face,  a  Beard  prolix  and  squallid  : 

Cave-Eyes,  a.  gesture  that  betray 'd  ill  nature. 

And  a  worse  mood,  a  clay  complexion  pallid : 

His  crispt  Havre  fill'd  with  Earth,  and  hard  as  Wyre, 

A  mouth  cole-black,  of  Teeth  two  yellow  Tyre. 

Of  such  portentous  Bulk  was  this  colosse. 
That  I  may  tell  thee  (and  not  tell  amiss) 
Of  that  of  Rhodes  it  might  supply  the  loss 
(One  of  the  World's  Seav'n  Wonders)  out  of  this 
A  Voyce  speaks  to  us!  so  profound  and  grosse, 
It  seems  ev'n  torn  out  of  the  vast  abyss. 
The  Ilayre  with  horror  stands  on  end,  of  mee 
And  all  of  us,  at  what  we  hear  and  see.'^ 

'  Rnrton's  translation. 

-  They  had  reached  the  Cape  and  saw  the  giant  of  Table  Mountain,  named  .Adaniastor. 
According  to  Rabelais  (11,  i)  he  was  the  son  of  Porphyrio  and  father  of  Antasus. 
'  Fanshaw's  translation. 


OS    LUSIADOS  355 

Thus  spoke  the  giant:  "O  boldest  of  all  people  that  ever  in 
this  world  attempted  great  things,  ye  who  have  not  been  wearied 
by  war  or  labour,  since  you  have  entered  these  great  forbidden 
seas  no  foreign  keel  has  ever  before  violated ;  since  you  are 
come  to  spy  out  the  secrets  of  Nature  and  her  ocean  which  are 
hidden  from  mankind,  hear  now  of  the  terrors  your  people  must 
meet  with  on  sea  and  land, 

"  Which  with  hard  War  shah  bow  to  your  command." 

With  mighty  voice  Adamastor  then  uttered  a  dread  prophecy, 

saying: 

Know  that  whatever  ships  hereafter  brave, 
Like  yours,  these  fatal  latitudes,  shall  find 
A  fierce  antagonist  in  every  wave, 
A  raging  enemy  in  every  wind. 
And  the  first  warlike  force  these  waters  lave 
To  it,  on  rough  and  boist'rous  route  inclined — 
By  me  shall  sudden  punishment  be  dealt — 
More  than  the  danger  shall  the  loss  be  fealt.^ 

■>^ 
On  him  who  first  discovered  me,  if  true 

My  hope,  consummate  vengeance  shall  be  mine, 

Nor  there  will  end  the  retribution  due 

To  stubborn  arrogance :  if  I  divine 

Aright,  your  navies,  year  by  year,  shall  strew 

My  coasts  with  wreck :  woe  in  all  forms  malign 

Shall  haunt  them ;  evils  countless  shall  befall 

Your  people — death  the  mildest  of  them  all. 

Lo,  homeward  comes,  secure  in  fortune's  smiles, 
A  man  whose  Orient  fame  has  reach'd  the  skies, 
Here  to  resign  his  trophies,  here  his  spoils 
Won  from  the  Turk,  and  he  himself  my  prize : 
Here  yawns  his  grave,  the  end  of  all  his  toils ; 
Such  the  dark  judgment  of  the  Power  ."Ml- Wise; 
On  me  Quiloa  and  Mombassa  call 
Their  wrongs  to  avenge  by  their  destroyer's  fall. 

Another  comes,  a  man  of  honoured  fame,^ 
A  lover,  and  true  knight  in  heart  and  deed  ; 

'  The  reference  is  to  the  fleet  of  Pedi'  Alvarez  Cabral.     B.  Dias  perished. 

-  This  reference  is  to  the  shipwreck  of  .M;inuel  de  Sousa  de  Sepulveda.  Having  accumu- 
lated great  wealth  while  acting  as  governor  of  Diu  in  India,  he  was  returning  to  Portugal 
accompanied  by  the  beautiful  Don  Emmanuel,  his  wife,  and  their  three  children.  The  ship 
was  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  at  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  about  four  hundred  survivors 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  shore.     They  endured  terrible  hardships.     Some  died  of  hunger 


356  THE   WORLDS    HERITAGE 

And  with  him  brings  the  young  and  beauteous  dame 
Whom  Love  has  given  him  as  a  precious  meed. 
Sad  is  their  chance,  and  black  the  fate  for  them 
When  from  dire  wreck  and  coils  of  breakers  freed, 
On  these  more  dreadful  shores  they  fall  alive, 
With  tenfold  anguish  in  my  grasp  to  strive. 

Their  children,  fostered  with  such  tender  care, 
Shall  die  of  hunger  in  the  parents'  sight. 
Through  burning  sands  shall  trail  that  mother  fair 
Her  delicate  feet  for  many  a  day  and  night : 
Stript,  by  the  hands  of  ruthless  Caffres,  bare, 
,  And  wandering  naked,  goaded  by  the  light. 

O'er  trackless  wilds,  beneath  the  torrid  sky, 
The  miserable  Dame  shall  long  to  die. 

And  some — who  hence  surviving,  home  shall  reach, 
As  witness  of  the  horrors  which  were  borne 
By  these  two  lovers — woes  enough  to  teach 
The  rocks  and  stones  to  weep  such  fate  forlorn — 
Shall  tell  how  sad  they  trod  the  stony  beach, 
Or  by  the  thickets'  tangling  brakes  were  torn ; 
Embracing  still,  they  found  a  wretched  tomb, 
Their  souls  exhaling  to  a  brighter  doom.^ 

Much  more  the  Monster  would  have  prophesied,  but  I  called  to 
him,  saving:  "Who  are  you  whose  great  bulk  amazes  and 
terrifies  me?" 

He  pouted  his  black  mouth,  rolled  his  .saucer  eyes,  and 
groaned.     Then  he  made  answer: 

Thi^  Spirit  of  yr.n  haughty  cliff  am  I 
Cali'd  Cape  of  Storm  by  your  precursor  bold,' 
A  headland  in  impassive  mystery, 
Enshrouded  from  geographers  of  old. 
Here  ends  the  Afric  shores  that  nearest  lie 
Unto  the  pole  antarctic — shores  controll'd 

and  thirst;  others  were  killed  by  wild  beasts.  Savages  attacked  the  survivors,  as  they 
searched  for  water,  and  robbed  them  of  their  clothing.  Sepulveda's  lady  is  sa'd  to  have 
walked  on  foot  a  distance  of  300  leagues  before  she  collapsed.  Lying  down,  she  covered  her 
naked  body  with  sand.  Two  of  her  children  died  before  her  eyes ;  then  death  put  an  end  to 
her  sufferings.  The  frenzied  husband  seized  the  remaining  child  and  ran  into  a  thicket,  there 
to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts.  Twenty-six  survivors  were  subsequently  traced  and  ransomed. 
This  catastrophe  is  the  subject  of  a  poem  by  Jerome  de  Cortereal. 

'  Quillinan's  translation. 

"  Bartholomew  Diaz,  who  discovered  the  Cape,  and  called  it  "Cape  of  Storms"  ten  years 
before  Vasco  da  Ganja  doubled  it.  John  II  uf  I'ortugal  subsequently  renamed  it  "  Cape  of 
Good  Hope". 


OS    LUSIAUOS  357 

By  that,  my  mountain  throne  so  long  occult, 
Which  you  in  your  audacity  insult.* 

But  I  loved  Peleus's  spouse  (Thetis,  the  sea-nymph,  mother  of 
Achilles),  scorning  the  goddess  of  heaven.  One  day  I  beheld 
her  rising  from  the  sea,  and  loved  her  with  a  love  that  time 
cannot  quench.  I  knew  that  I  could  not  win  her  heart  because 
of  my  deformity.  A  nereid  cannot  love  a  giant.  The  sea- 
nymph  lured  me  from  the  war,  and  her  sister,  Doris,  set  a 
snare  for  me.  One  night  I  saw  the  beauteous  form  of  Thetis 
gleaming  from  afar  and  hastened  towards  her. 

O,  how  I  choake  in  utt'ring  my  disgrace ! 
Thinking  I  Her  embrac'd  whom  I  did  seek 
A  Mountain  hard  I  found  I  did  embrace 
O'regrown  with  Trees  and  Bushes  nothing  sleek. 
Thus  (grappling  with  a  Mountain  face  to  face, 
Which  I  stood  pressing  for  her  A  ngeVs  cheek) 
I  was  no  Man :  No  but  a  stupid  Block, 
And  grew  into  a  Rock  another  Rock. 

My  solid Jiesh  converteth  to  tough  clay : 
My  Bones  to  Rocks  are  metamorphosed : 

1  Quillinan's  translation.     Fanshaw's  rendering  begins; 

I  am  that  great  and  secret  head  of  land 
Which  you  the  cape  of  tempests  well  did  call. 

Mickle's  characteristic  rendering  runs : 

In  me  the  Spirit  of  the  Cape  behold 

That  rock,  by  you  the  Cape  of  Tempests  nam'd, 

By  Neptune's  rage,  in  horrid  earthquakes  fram'd, 

When  Jove's  red  bolts  o'er  Titan's  offspring  flam'd, 

With  wide-stretch'd  piles  I  guard  the  pathless  strand, 

And  Afric's  southern  mound,  unmov'd  I  stand: 

Nor  Roman  prow,  nor  daring  Tyrian  oar 

Ere  dash'd  the  white  wave  foaming  to  my  shore ; 

Nor  Greece,  nor  Carthage  ever  spread  the  sail 

On  these  my  seas,  to  catch  the  trading  gale. 

You,  you  alone  have  dar'd  to  plough  my  main, 

And,  with  the  human  voice,  disturb  my  lonesome  reign. 

My  name  was  Adamastor,  I  was  one 

Of  those  gigantic  brothers,  born  of  earth, 

As  vast  .■Egeon  and  Enceladon, 

Who  against  the  Lord  of  Thunder  tried 

In  battle:  they  Heaven's  fortress  would  have  won 

By  piling  hill  on  hill:  but  I  went  forth 

To  be  their  champion  on  the  Ocean-plain 

And  challenge  Neptune  on  his  own  domain. 


358  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

These  leggs,  these  thighs  (behold  how  large  are  they !) 

O're  the  long  sea  extended  were  and  spred 

In  fire  into  this  cape  out  of  the  way 

My  monstrous  Ti-utik,  and  high-erected  Head, 

The  Gods  did  turn :  where  (for  my  greater  payn) 

Thetys  doth  Tantalize  nie  with  the  mayn.* 

Having  spoken  thus,  the  giant  vanished  in  a  black  cloud,  and 
the  ocean  echoed  his  hideous  wail.  I  prayed  the  Lord  to  shield 
me  from  calamity. 

We  pursued  our  course.^ 

Now,  from  the  wave  the  chariot  of  the  day, 

Whirl'd  by  the  fiery  coursers,  springs  away. 

When,  full  in  view,  the  giant  Cape  appears. 

Wide  spread  its  limbs,  and  high  its  shoulders  rears ; 

Behind  us,  now,  it  curves  the  bending  side. 

And  our  bold  vessels  plough  the  eastern  tide. 

Nor  long  excursive  oflF  at  sea  we  stand, 

A  cultur'd  shore  invites  us  to  the  land.^ 

Here  their  sweet  scenes  the  rural  joys  bestow 

And  give  our  wearied  minds  a  lively  glow. 

The  tenants  of  the  coast,  a  festive  band. 

With  dances  meet  us  on  the  yellow  sand ; 

Their  brides  on  slow-pac'd  oxen  rode  behind; 

The  spreading  horns  with  flow'ry  garlands  twin'd  .  .  . 

Methought  I  saw  the  sylvan  reign  of  Pan 

And  heard  the  music  of  the  Mantuan  swan.* 

With  smiles  we  hail  them,  and  with  joy  behold 

The  blissful  manners  of  the  age  of  gold 

With  that  mild-kindness,  by  their  looks  display'd. 

Fresh  stores  they  bring,  with  cloth  of  red  repaid. 

Yet  from  their  lips  no  word  we  knew  could  flow, 

Nor  sign  of  India's  strand  their  hands  bestow.^ 

Thereafter  we  set  sail  again,  and  passed  the  isle  where  he  who 
discovered  the  Cape  of  Storms  had  left  a  cross  to  mark  the 
farthest  limit  of  his  voyage.^ 

^  Fanshaw's  translation. 

-  The  Cape  was  rounded  at  noon  on  Wednesday,  22nd  November,  1497.  Table  Mountain 
was  named  "  Mesa"  by  the  Portuguese. 

3  The  landing  was  made  at  Mossel  Bay  after  rounding  Cape  St.  Blaize.  The  bay  was 
named  by  the  Portuguese  "  Angra  de  Sam  Braz"  ("  Bight  of  St.  Dlasius"). 

*  Virgil.  0  Mickle's  translation. 

8  Cross  erected  by  B.  Diaz  on  a  small  island  he  named  "Santa  Cruz" — probably  one  of 
the  Bird  Islands. 


OS    LUSIADOS  359 

O'er  desert  waters,  working  our  new  ways, 
And  solely  piloted  by  Hope,  we  went ; 
Small  reckoning  made  for  many  weary  days 
'Twixt  storm  and  calm  unprofitably  spent. 
And  once  the  sea,  in  this  perplexing-  maze, 
The  faithless  sea  on  every  humour  bent, 
Opposed  our  progress  with  a  current-tide 
That  all  our  strain  our  master}'  defied. 

The  wind  was  with  us,  filling  every  sail, 
And  yet  astern  we  drifted  far  and  fast, 
So  much  the  vigour  of  the  southern  gale 
Was  by  the  waves'  repellant  force  surpast; 
Till  angry  Notus  stubborn  to  prevail, 
Put  forth  his  strength  in  a  tremendous  blast, 
Whereby,  against  the  rushing  waters  urged, 
Victors  at  last  our  struggling  hulls  emerged. 

The  sun  brought  round  the  consecrated  morn 
Whereon  Three  Kings,  whose  path  a  star  foreran. 
Adored  an  infant  King,  the  lowly  born. 
The  God  in  God — Triune,  the  Christ  in  Man. 
That  day  auspicious  to  our  plight  forlorn, 
We  reach'd  a  harbour  of  the  friendly  clan. 
Where  the  large  river,  fed  from  inland  springs, 
We  named  in  honour  of  the  Feast  of  Kings. ^ 

Fresh  water  from  the  river  we  took  in, 

Fresh  food  the  natives  brought  us;  but  withal 

No  token  here  of  India  might  we  win 

From  men,  to  us,  as  though  they  dumb  were  all.* 

In  the  concluding  portion  of  the  Lusiads  the  poet  sang: 

No  more,  my  Muse,  no  more;  my  Harp's  ill  strung. 
Heavy,  and  out  of  tune,  and  my  Voyce  hoarse : 
And,  not  with  singing,  but  to  see  I've  sung 
To  a  deaf  people  and  without  remorse. 
Favor  (that  won  t' inspire  the  Poet's  tongue) 
Our  Countrey  yields  it  not,  but  minds  the  Purse 
Too  much,  exaling  from  her  gUdad  Mud 
Nothing  but  gross  and  melancholy  blood. 

Your  Nobles  and  your  Gentry  highly  prize, 
For  they  their  boyling  blood  undaunted  spend, 

1  I.e.  Natal,  Christmas. 

'•'  Quillinan's  translation.  The  landing  is  supposed  to  have  been  made  in  Delagoa  Bay, 
Portuguese  East  Africa.  Camoens  then  describes  Da  Gama's  voyage  northward  to  Mozam- 
bique, past  Zanzibar  to  Mombasah,  which  was  reached  by  the  aid  of  two  Arabian  pilots.  The 
voyage  was  made  to  India  by  the  Arabian  trade  route  across  the  Indian  Ocean. 


360  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Thereby  not  only  Christianitie's, 
But  ev'n  your  Empire's  limits  to  extend: 
And  He  who  to  a  Clyme  so  distant  flyes 
Your  Royall  Service  duely  to  attend, 
O're  comes  two  Enemies;  the  \J\\\n)g first , 
Excessive  Toile  the  second  and  the  worst. 

Great  Sir,  let  never  the  astonisht  Gall 
The  English,  German,  and  Italian, 
Have  cause  to  say,  the  fainting  Portugall 
Could  not  advance  the  Great  Work  he  began. 
Let  your  Advisers  be  experienc'd  All, 
Such  as  have  seen  the  World,  and  studied  man. 
For,  though  in  Science  much  contained  bee. 
In  speciall  Cases  Practice  more  doth  see.^ 

^  Funshaw'b  translation. 


THE    CID 

Introductory 

When  the  genial  canon  in  Don  Quixote  held  discourse  on 
knight-errantry  with  Cervantes'  immortal  hero,  and  referred  to 
King  Arthur,  Tristram  and  Iseult,  Lancelot  and  Guinevere, 
Roland,  Archbishop  Turpin,  and  other  heroes  and  heroines  of 
romance,  he  said:  "  I  cannot  deny,  sir,  but  that  there  is  some 
truth  in  what  you  have  said,  especially  in  what  relates  to  the 
Spanish  knights-errant;  and  I  will  grant  there  were  twelve 
peers  of  France,  yet  I  will  not  believe  they  performed  all  those 
actions  Archbishop  Turpin  ascribes  to  them.  .  .  .  Nor  is  it  to 
be  doubted  but  that  there  were  such  men  as  Barnardo  del 
Carpio  and  the  Cid,  yet  we  have  reason  to  question  whether 
they  achieved  those  mighty  exploits  that  are  attributed  to  them." 

This  is  pretty  much  the  standpoint  of  modern  scholars. 
There  was  probably  an  Arthur,  although  he  may  not  have  been 
a  king,  and  there  certainly  was  a  Cid  whom  the  Arabs  in  Spain 
knew  as  El  Seid  (Lord)  and  El  Campeador  (champion  par 
excellence).  The  historical  Cid  was  Don  Rodrigo  de  Bivar  (his 
native  place).  He  was  born  before  1040,  married,  as  his 
marriage  contract,  which  is  extant,  shows,  in  1074,  and  died  in 
the  month  of  July,  1099,  at  Valencia.  The  earliest  surviving 
reference  to  him  is  in  a  charter  of  Ferdinand  I,  dated  1064. 
The  don  was  of  noble  descent,  and  one  of  his  ancestors  had 
been  a  judge  in  Castile. 

When  the  Cid  first  saw  the  light,  modern  Spain  was  in  the 
making.  After  the  power  of  Rome  had  declined  it  had  been 
invaded  by  the  Franks  in  the  third  century;  the  next  invaders 
were  the  Goths,  and  a  Visigothic  kingdom  was  established  in 


362  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

the  fifth  century.  Early  in  the  seventh  century  Spain  was 
overrun  by  the  Saracens,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  then  formed 
a  province  of  the  Bagdad  caliphs.  Subsequently  it  was  ruled 
by  emirs  chosen  by  the  caliphs  of  Damascus.  In  the  eighth 
century  the  Spanish  Moslems  established  an  independent  king- 
dom, which  ultimately  crumbled  on  account  of  internal  dissen- 
sions and  the  attacks  of  Christian  rulers.  Several  Christian 
kingdoms  had  come  into  existence,  including  Asturias,  Leon, 
Navarre,  Aragon,  and  Castile,  but  these  too  suffered  from  the 
rivalries  of  their  rulers,  who  struggled  with  each  other  for 
supremacy.  In  time  Castile  and  Aragon  absorbed  the  others, 
and  were  powerful  and  aggressive  when,  in  the  eleventh  century, 
the  Ommiade  dynasty  was  going  to  pieces. 

It  was  Sancho  III  of  Navarre,  surnamed  *'the  Great",  who 
first  consolidated  the  Christian  States  of  Spain.  He  secured 
Castile  by  marrying  its  heiress,  and  his  second  son,  Ferdinand, 
married  the  sister  of  the  last  King  of  Leon,  who  w^as  of 
Gothic  descent.  The  Asturias,  Navarre,  and  Aragon  thereafter 
acknowledged  Sancho  as  their  ruler.  Sancho's  son.  King 
Ferdinand,  was  waging  successful  campaigns  against  the  Moors 
when  Don  Rodrigo  (Ruy  Diaz  ^)  was  born  at  the  Castle  of  Bivar, 
near  Burgos. 

Before  King  Ferdinand  died,  in  1065,  he  decided  to  divide 
his  kingdom  into  five  portions.  He  left  Castile  to  Sancho,  his 
eldest  son,  Leon  to  Alphonso,  Galicia  to  Garcia,  Zamora  to  his 
daughter  Urraca,  and  Tora  to  his  daughter  Elvira.  As  a  result, 
the  old  inter-State  rivalries  were  revived. 

The  Cid  had  achieved  military  renown  under  King  Ferdinand, 
fighting  against  the  Moors.  He  then  became  a  hero  of  Sancho 
of  Castile,  surnamed  ''The  Strong",  whom  he  aided  in  his 
war  against  Navarre,  earning  his  title  "El  Campeador"  when 
he  slew  a  renowned  champion  in  single  combat.  Family 
rivalries  led  to  bitter  war  between  Christians,  and  Sancho,  aided 
by  the  Cid,  overcame  Garcia  of  Galicia  and  Alphonso  of  Leon, 
who  fled  and  took  refuge  with  the  Moorish  King  of  Toledo. 
Then  Sancho  seized  the  kingdoms  of  his  sisters.  He  was  killed 
in  1072  at  the  siege  of  Zamora,  where  Urraca  was  holding  out. 

'  An  abbreviated  appellation. 


THE   CID  363 

King  Alphonso  immediately  returned  from  exile,  and  was 
enthroned  by  the  Cid,  after  he  had  made  declaration  that  he 
had  no  concern  in  the  death  of  Sancho.  According  to  the 
romantic  narrative,  the  scene  was  a  dramatic  one.  Everyone 
kissed  the  hand  of  Alphonso  on  his  arrival  except  the  Cid,  who 
said:  **Sir,  all  who  are  here  suspect  that  you  plotted  the  death 
of  your  brother.  Unless  you  clear  yourself  of  this,  I  shall  never 
kiss  your  hand  or  acknowledge  you  as  my  king."  The  monarch 
denied  on  oath  that  he  was  guilty,  and  the  Cid  declared:  "  If 
you  gave  command  that  such  a  deed  should  be  done,  may  you 
die  by  the  hand  of  a  villain  in  whom  you  repose  faith." 

Alphonso  is  said  to  have  disliked  the  Cid  from  that  hour. 
He,  however,  enjoyed  the  apparent  confidence  of  the  monarch 
for  a  time.  In  1074  he  married  the  beautiful  Ximena,  daughter 
of  the  Count  Gormaz  of  Oviedo,  of  the  Spanish  and  French 
tragedies;  her  mother  was  the  daughter  of  Alphonso  V  and 
sister-in-law  to  King  Ferdinand  and  the  last  King  of  Leon. 

The  intrigues  against  the  Cid  at  Alphonso's  Court  ultimately 
brought  about  his  banishment  by  royal  decree.  He  had  been 
sent  to  collect  tribute  from  the  rulers  of  Seville  and  Cordova. 
While  at  Seville  he  assisted  its  king  in  his  war  against  Abdallah, 
King  of  Granada,  which  resulted  in  victory  and  the  capture  of 
much  booty.  A  charge  of  keeping  back  part  of  the  tribute  from 
Seville  caused  his  banishment. 

The  Cid  bade  farewell  to  Bivar  followed  by  three  hundred 
horsemen,  and  entered  the  service  of  Ahmed  el  Muktadir,  the 
Moorish  King  of  Saragossa,  who  raised  him  to  a  high  post  in 
the  state.  For  eight  years  he  lived  in  exile,  and,  as  an  ally  of 
the  Moors,  fought  against  the  Christians  of  Aragon,  Navarre, 
and  Barcelona.  Ultimately  he  was  recalled  by  King  Alphonso, 
who  was  in  need  of  help,  for  Spain  had  been  invaded  by  a  new 
army  of  Moors,  and  he  had  suffered  defeat  at  Zalaka.  The  Cid 
had  a  force  of  seven  thousand  levied  at  his  own  expense.  He 
captured  Valencia,  which  was  a  wealthy  city.  His  career  closed 
in  gloom.  Shortly  before  his  death  he  suffered  defeat  at  Cuenca. 
His  widow  held  possession  of  Valencia  for  three  years,  but  was 
compelled  in  the  end  to  evacuate  it,  and  the  Moors  entered  into 
possession. 


364  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Don  Rodrigo  was  buried  in  the  monastery  at  Cardena  in  the 
vicinity  of  Burgos,  and  his  chief  warriors  were  laid  around  him. 
His  bones  have  since  been  removed  to  the  town  hall  of  Burgos. 

Although  lauded  by  the  bards  as  a  champion  of  Christendom, 
and  a  rival  in  this  connection  of  Charlemagne,  the  Cid  fought 
in  his  day  against  Christians  as  well  as  against  Moslems. 
Tradition,  however,  hallowed  his  memory.  He  became  the 
darling  of  the  Spanish  romance  poets,  and  "the  ballad-maker's 
joy  ".  The  Poema  del  Cid,  extracts  from  translations  of  which 
are  given  in  the  pages  that  follow,  survives  in  a  fourteenth- 
century  manuscript,  and  was  evidently  composed  about  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century.  It  is,  in  a  manner,  a  Spanish 
Chanson  de  gest.  Don  Rodrigo,  like  Arthur  and  Roland, 
Cuchullin,  Lancelot,  Finn-mac-Coul,  and  the  others,  became  a 
symbol  of  his  country's  chivalry  and  valour. 

The  Poema  del  Cid  opens  with  his  banishment  from  the 
kingdom  of  Alphonso  VL  He  bids  farewell  to  Bivar  sorrow- 
fully, shedding  tears,  and  wends  his  way  through  Burgos  with 
his  small  band  of  followers,  and  the  people  lament  that  so  good 
a  vassal  has  not  so  good  a  king.  No  one  in  the  Castilian 
capital  durst  offer  him  hospitality. 

The  condensed  summary  of  the  narrative,  with  extracts, 
which  follows,  will  enable  the  reader  to  obtain  an  idea  of  the 
famous  Poema.  It  is  composed  in  rough  Alexandrines  with 
metrical  lapses,  for  many  lines  are  either  too  short  or  too  long. 
The  style,  however,  is  vigorous,  and  not  infrequently  the  poetry 
reaches  a  high  level. 

A  second  poem,  Cronica  rimada  del  Cid,  which  is  about  two 
centuries  later  than  the  Poema,  does  not  present  the  hero  as  a 
loyal  and  long-suffering  subject  of  an  ungrateful  monarch,  but 
rather  as  a  rival.  It  goes  back  to  the  hero's  youth,  and  deals 
with  his  quarrel  with  Count  Comez  de  Gormaz,  whom  he  slew, 
and  his  marriage  with  the  count's  daughter  Ximena.  There 
are  also  many  imaginative  stories  regarding  the  Cid's  adven- 
tures, including  his  combats  with  the  knights  of  Charlemagne. 
Southey's  Chronicles  of  the  Cid,  a  prose  translation,  is  an  ex- 
cellent compilation  for  English  readers  of  the  Poema  del  Cid, 
the  Cronica,  and  the  ballads. 


THE    CID  365 

One  of  the  many  ballads  deals  with  Don  Rodrigo's  visit  to 
the  Pope,  who  found  him  an  ardent  if  somewhat  violent  patriot. 

It  was  from  Spain  across  the  main,  the  Cid  was  come  to  Rome, 

He  chanced  to  see  chairs  four  and  three,  beneath  St.  Peter's  dome ; 

"  Now  tell,  I  pray,  what  chairs  are  they?"  ..."  Seven  kings  do  sit  thereon, 

As  well  doth  suit,  all  at  the  foot  of  the  holy  father's  throne. 

"  The  pope  he  sitteth  above  them  all,  that  they  may  kiss  his  toe, 
Below  the  kings  the  Flower-de-lys  doth  make  a  gallant  show ; 
For  his  puissance  the  King  of  France  next  to  the  pope  may  sit, 
The  rest  more  low,  all  in  a  row,  as  doth  their  stations  fit." 

"Ha!"  quoth  the  Cid,  "now  God  forbid,  it  is  a  shame,  I  wis. 
To  see  the  Castle  ^  planted  beneath  the  Flower-de-lys.^ 
No  harm  I  hope,  good  father  pope,  although  1  move  thy  chair  "... 
In  pieces  small  he  kicked  it  all  ('t  was  of  an  ivory  fair). 

He  kicked  away  the  pope's  chair,  and  put  the  Spanish  chair 
in  its  place.  Angry  was  the  pope,  and  he  cursed  the  Cid, 
whose  soul  was  therefore  consigned  to  everlasting  pain.  The 
Cid  was  sorrowful  indeed  when  he  came  to  know  of  this,  and  at 
dawn  knelt  at  the  Pope's  feet  and  said : 

"Absolve  me,  blessed  father,  have  pity  upon  me. 
Absolve  my  soul,  and  penance  I  for  my  sin  will  dree." 

"  Who  is  this  sinner,"  quoth  the  pope,  "  who  at  my  foot  doth  kneel?" 
"  I  am  Rodrigo  Diaz,  a  poor  baron  of  Castile  " — 

Much  marvelled  all  were  in  the  hall,  when  that  word  they  heard  him  sa}'— 
"  Rise  up,  rise  up,"  the  pope  he  said,  "  I  do  thy  guilt  away : 

"  I  do  thy  guilt  away,"  he  said — "  and  my  curse  1  blot  it  out; 

God  save  Rodrigo  Diaz,  my  Christian  champion  stout! 

I  trow  if  I  had  known  thee,  my  grief  it  had  been  sore 

To  curse  Ruy  Diaz  de  Bivar,  God's  scourge  upon  the  Moor." 

Another  ballad  celebrates  the  fame  of  the  Cid's  horse  *'  Bavieca  ". 
In  a  third  he  is  presented  as  a  humane  and  Christian  knight. 
This  is  The  Cid  and  the  Leper.  It  relates  that  he  once  went 
riding  with  some  twenty  gentlemen  to  pay  an  ancient  vow  at  a 
holy  shrine.  He  saw  a  loathsome  leper  lying  in  the  mud  by 
the  roadway,  but  none  would  help  him.  "Help  a  Christian 
brother,"  called  the  miserable  man,  "for  the  sake  of  God  our 

J  The  aims  of  Castile.  '  The  arms  of  France, 


366  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Saviour."  The  Cid  at  once  dismounted,  and  lifted  the  sufferer, 
whom  he  made  to  mount  behind  him  on  his  horse.  When  they 
reached  an  inn  he  sat  at  food  beside  the  leper,  although  the 
others  shrank  away  with  horror. 

That  night  the  Cid  was  awakened  from  sleep,  and  beheld  in 
his  chamber  a  ghostly  figure,  who  said:  "Are  you  asleep  or 
awake,  Sir  Knight?" 

"  I  sleep  not,"  quoth  Rodrigo,  "  but  tell  me  who  art  thou? 
For  in  the  midst  of  darkness,  much  light  is  on  your  brow." 
"  I  am  the  holy  Lazarus,  I  come  to  speak  to  thee; 
I  am  the  same  poor  leper  thou  savedst  for  charity. 

"  Not  vain  the  trial,  nor  in  vain  thy  victory  hath  been; 
God  favours  thee,  for  that  my  pain  thou  didst  relieve  yestreen. 
There  shall  be  honour  with  thee,  in  battle  and  in  peace. 
Success  in  all  thy  doings,  and  plentiful  increase. 

"  Strong  enemies  shall  not  prevail  thy  greatness  to  undo; 

Thy  name  shall  make  men's  cheeks  full  pale— Christians  and  Moslems  too; 

A  death  of  honour  shalt  thou  die,  such  grace  to  thee  is  given, 

Thy  soul  shall  part  victoriously,  and  be  received  in  heaven." — 

When  he  these  gracious  words  had  said,  the  spirit  vanished  quite; 
Rodrigo  rose  and  knelt  him  down— he  knelt  till  morning  light; 
Unto  the  Heavenly  Father,  and  Mary  Mother  dear. 
He  made  his  prayer  right  humbly,  till  dawned  the  morning  clear.* 

^  John  Gibson  Lockhart's  translations. 


Poema  del  Cid 

I.   The  Count   Who  Would  Not   Eat 

The  Cid  had  fought  valiantly  against  the  Moors  for  two  long 
years,  but  had  displeased  his  king,  Alfonso  VI,  who  banished 
him,  thrust  his  wife  and  son  in  prison,  and  confiscated  all  his 
possessions.  With  a  sorrowful  heart  did  he  quit  Bivar,  in 
which  he  had  been  born. 

De  los  sus  ojos  tan  fuertemientre  lorando, 

Tornaba  la  cabeza,  e  estabalos  catando  : 

Vio  puerlas  abiertas,  e  uzos  sin  canados, 

Alcandaras  vacias,  sin  pielles  e  sin  mantos  : 

E  sin  falcones,  e  sin  adtores  mudados. 

Sospir6  mio  Cid,  ca  mucho  avie  grandes  ciudados: 

Fabl6  mio  Cid,  bien  e  tan  mesurado. 

Grado  a  ti,  senor  padre,  que  estas  en  alto, 

Esto  me  ban  buelto  mios  enemigos  malos. 

(Casting  round  him  piercing  glances,  the  chieftain  turns  his 
head  and  views  the  stable.  The  doors  are  torn  down,  and 
nothing  is  left  there.  The  chests  are  empty  of  furs  and  cloaks. 
The  falcons'  mews  are  deserted.  I  sigh,  O  Cid,  when  I  recall 
the  armour  and  all  the  treasure  that  was  stored  therein.  But  I 
am  grateful  to  thee,  O  Lord  who  art  on  high,  that  thou  hast 
granted  me  victory  over  mine  enemies!) 

Having  lost  all  his  possessions,  the  Cid  was  unable  to  equip 
his  troops.  But  he  hit  on  a  cunning  plan.  He  had  two  large 
cases  filled  with  sand  and  securely  locked.  These  were  carried 
to  a  Jew,  who  was  made  to  believe  that  they  contained  treasure. 
On  their  security  the  Cid  borrowed  five  hundred  marks  of  silver 
for  a  year,  and  he  made  the  Jew  promise  not  to  open  the  cases 
until  the  period  of  the  loan  had  expired. 


368  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Although  the  Cid  practised  this  deception,  he  was  a  man  of 
honour.  Before  the  year  had  gone  past  he  had  defeated  a  force 
of  Moors,  and  from  the  spoils  of  battle  repaid  the  Jew  with  full 
interest. 

When  the  Cid  parted  from  his  fair  lady  and  his  daughters 
he  wept  and  said : 

"  Ximena  !  fairest  woman,  as  my  soul  to  me  you  're  dear, 

But  we  must  part,  and  I  must  go,  and  you  must  tarry  here. 

Still,  if  it  pleases  God,  and  the  Holy  Virgin  too, 

I  hither  will  return  to  my  daughters  and  to  you ; 

I  '11  marry  them,  and  pass  again  some  happy  days  with  thee ; 

Now  farewell,  honoured  lady,  sometimes  think  of  me."^ 

He  left  Castile  and  waged  war  against  the  Moors,  and 
although  his  force  was  small,  and  his  supplies  all  too  scanty, 
he  won  a  victory  and  took  great  spoils.  Then  he  did  a 
gracious  thing,  which  brought  him  back  to  royal  favour,  for 
he  sent  to  King  Alphonso,  who  had  banished  him,  an  envoy 
with  thirty  of  the  captured  horses.  The  king  was  well  pleased, 
and  gave  permission  to  the  Cid  to  raise  troops  in  Castile. 
Then  did  many  brave  men  hastened  to  join  the  army  of  the 
peerless  warrior. 

Now  it  so  chanced  that  the  victories  won  by  the  Cid  were 
displeasing  to  some  of  the  Christian  princes  of  Spain.  Among 
them  was  Don  Raymond  Berenger,  Count  of  Barcelona,  who 
had  formed  an  alliance  with  the  Moorish  kings  whose  lands 
the  Cid  had  raided. 

The  Count  of  Barcelona,  when  the  tidings  met  his  ear 

How  that  my  Cid  Ruy  Diaz  made  forays  far  and  near. 

And  laid  the  country  waste,  with  wrath  his  inmost  soul  was  stirred, 

And  in  anger  hastily  he  spake  a  braggart  word — 

"  He  cometh  to  insult  me,  doth  my  Cid,  he  of  Bivar. 

Up  to  my  very  court,  methinks,  he  means  to  carry  war. 

My  nephew  he  hath  wronged  ;  the  wrong  remaineth  unrepaired  : 

And  now  the  lands  that  I  protect  to  harry  hath  he  dared. 

No  challenge  have  I  sent  him,  nor  sought  him  for  my  foe; 

But  now  I  tall  him  to  account,  since  he  will  have  it  so."- 

An  army  of  Christians  and  Moors  was  speedily  mustered. 
It  was  led  by  the  count,  and  for  two  days  and  three  nights  went 

1  Freie's  translation.  -  Oi  msby's  translation. 


POEMA    DEL   CID  369 

in  quest  of  the  Cid.  Then  it  took  up  position  near  to  the  pine 
wood  of  Tebar,  and  there  made  ready  to  make  sudden  onslaught 
on  the  Cid. 

The  Cid  came  with  his  plunder,  a  convoy  large  and  good, 
Descending  from  the  mountain  to  a  vale  beside  the  wood ; 
A  summons  there  was  sent  him  from  the  Count  of  Berenger, 
The  Cid,  when  he  received  it,  returned  a  messenger — 
"  Tell  the  Count  Berenger  we  mean  to  part  from  hence; 
We  wish  to  part  in  peace,  we  never  meant  offence ; 
Whatever  gain  we  made  was  not  at  his  expense."' 

This  answer,  however,  was  not  considered  satisfactory. 

The  count,  in  haste  and  anger,  replied — "  It  is  not  true  ; 
He  shall  now  pay  me  for  the  past,  and  for  the  present  too ; 
1  shall  teach  this  outlaw  the  respect  that  is  my  due."^ 

Finding  that  he  could  not  avoid  battle,  the  Cid  addressed 
to  his  followers  stirring  Avords  of  encouragement.  **  Look  to 
your  baggage,"  said  he,  "and  lay  aside  what  encumbers  you. 
Get  ready  for  the  fray,  for  our  enemies  are  at  hand  and  boast 
greatly.     It  is  their  desire  to  fight;  we  are  ready  for  battle." 

"We  shall  teach  the  Count  Don  Raymond  Berenger, 
With  knighthood  and  with  practice  and  proof  of  manhood  sheer. 
What  kind  of  knights  and  what  a  chief  he  comes  pursuing  here. 
To  take  our  booty  from  us,  the  spoil  we  bought  so  dear."' 

The  Cid's  warriors  formed  in  serried  squadron.  Each  man 
grasped  his  lance  and  sat  firmly  on  his  horse  as  the  enemy 
descended  to  the  plain. 

Then  gives  my  Cid  the  word  to  charge — with  a  goodwill  they  go. 
Fast  ply  the  lances ;  some  they  pierce,  and  some  they  overthrow. 
.'\nd  he  that  in  a  good  hour  was  born  soon  hath  he  won  the  field ; 
And  the  Count  Raymond  Berenger  he  hath  compelled  to  yield ; 
And  reaping  honour  for  his  beard  a  noble  prize  hath  made ; 
A  thousand  marks  of  silver  worth,  the  great  Colada  blade.* 

The  count's  sword,  Colado,  was  a  rich  prize,  for  it  was  worth 
a  thousand  marks  of  silver.  Greatly  ashamed  was  the  count  to 
find  himself  a  prisoner.     The  Cid  was  proud. 

Unto  his  quarters  under  guard  the  captive  count  he  sent. 
While  his  men  haste  to  gather  in  their  spoils  in  high  content. 

'  J.  Hookham  Freres  translation,  -  Ormsby's  translation. 

Vol.  it.  63 


370  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Then  for  my  Cid  Don  Roderic  a  banquet  they  prepfire ; 
But  little  doth  Count  Raymond  now  for  feast  or  banquet  care. 
They  bring  him  meat  and  drink,  but  he  repels  them  with  disdain. 
"  No  morsel  will  1  touch,"  said  he,  "  for  all  the  wealth  of  Spain. 
Let  soul  and  body  perish  now;  life  why  should  I  prolong, 
Conquered  and  captive  at  the  hands  of  such  an  ill-bred  throng?"  ^ 

The  conqueror  wondered  to  hear  him  speak  thus. 

"Nay,"  said  my  Cid,  "  take  bread  and  wine;  eat,  and  thou  goest  free; 
If  not,  thy  realms  In  Christendom  thou  never  more  shalt  see." 
"Go  thou,  Don  Roderic,"  said  the  count,  "eat  if  thou  wilt,  but  I 
Have  no  more  lust  for  meat  and  drink :  I  only  crave  to  die."^ 

The  count  was  firm  in  his  resolution;  for  three  days  he 
fasted. 

Then  said  my  Cid,  "  I  pray  thee,  Count,  take  food  and  trust  to  me; 
Thyself  and  two  knights  of  thy  train  I  promise  to  set  free."* 

Pleased  was  the  count  to  hear  these  words,  and  he  answered 
the  Cid,  saying:  "  If  you  really  mean  what  you  say,  I  shall  be 
filled  with  wonder  as  long  as  I  live." 

Said  the  Cid: 

"  Then,  Count,  take  food,  and  when  I  see  thy  hunger  satisfied, 

My  word  is  pledged  to  let  thee  go,  thyself  and  two  beside. 

But  understand,  one  farthing's  worth  I  render  not  again 

Of  what  has  been  in  battle  lost  and  won  on  yonder  plain. 

I  give  not  back  the  lawful  spoils  I  fairly  win  In  fight ; 

But  for  mine  own  and  vassals'  wants  I  hold  them  as  my  right. 

My  followers  are  needy  men  ;  I  cannot  if  I  would  ; 

For  spoil  from  thee  and  others  won  is  all  our  livelihood. 

And  such,  while  God's  goodwill  It  Is,  must  be  our  daily  life, 

As  outcasts  forced  to  wander,  with  an  angry  king  at  strife."' 

The  count's  heart  grew  lighter.  He  immediately  asked  for 
water  to  wash  his  hands.  Then  he  and  his  two  gentlemen  sat 
down  to  partake  of  food. 

God  !  with  what  gust  ate  he! 
And  glad  was  the  Compeador  such  heartiness  to  see. 
Quoth  he,  "  Until  thou  eat  thy  fill  we  part  not.  Count,  to-day." 
"  Nor  loath  am  I,"  Count  Raymond  said,  "such  bidding  to  obey."* 

'  J.  H.  Frere's  translation.  *  Ormsby's  translation. 


POEMA    DEL  CIU  371 

Heartily  did  they  eat.  It  gave  the  Cid  much  pleasure  to 
watch  them. 

"  Now,  if  thou  wilt,"  Count  Raymond  said,  "  that  we  are  satisfied. 

Bid  them  to  lead  the  horses  forth,  that  we  may  mount  and  ride. 

Never  since  I  have  been  a  count  have  I  yet  broken  fast 

With  such  relish;  long  shall  I  remember  this  repast." 

Three  palfreys  with  caparisons  of  costly  sort  they  bring, 

And  on  the  saddles  robes  of  fur  and  mantles  rich  they  fling. 

Thus,  with  a  knight  on  either  hand,  away  Count  Raymond  rides; 

While  to  the  outposts  of  the  camp  his  guests  the  Champion  guides, 

"  Now  speed  thee,  Count;  ride  on,"  quoth  he,  "  a  free  Frank  as  thou  art. 

For  the  brave  spoil  thou  leavest  me  I  thank  thee  from  my  heart ; 

And  if  to  win  it  back  again  perchance  thou  hast  a  mind. 

Come  thou  and  seek  me  when  you  wilt ;  I  am  not  far  to  find. 

But  if  it  be  not  to  thy  taste  to  try  another  day. 

Still,  somewhat,  be  it  mine  or  thine,  thou  carriest  away." 

— "  Nay!  go  in  peace  for  me,  my  Cid:  no  more  I  seek  of  thee; 

And  thou,  I  think,  for  one  year's  space  hast  won  enough  of  me."* 

The  count  rode  away  hastily.  He  wondered  at  the  Cid,  and 
feared  that  hero  might  change  his  mind.  Little  did  he  know 
the  Cid.  He  never  did  a  base  act  of  treachery;  nor  could  he 
do  so  if  he  were  tempted  by  all  the  gold  on  the  earth. 

'  Ormsbys  translation. 


II.   The   Cruel   Sons   of  Carrion 

After  this  the  count  waged  war  in  the  south  and  captured 
various  towns.  His  army  grew  large,  for  the  knights  of  Castile 
and  Aragon  flocked  to  his  standard.  Then  he  besieged  Valencia, 
which  held  out  for  six  months,  and  when  it  fell  he  caused  a 
Christian  bishop  to  be  installed  there.  Great  was  the  booty, 
and  well  did  the  Cid  reward  his  followers.  Every  foot  soldier 
received  a  hundred  marks  of  silver.  He  also  sent  gifts  to  King 
Alphonso,  and  begged  of  him  to  set  his  wife  and  daughters  free 
so  that  they  might  share  in  his  triumph.  Well  pleased  was  the 
king  with  the  success  achieved.  He  restored  the  Cid  to  favour, 
and  ordered  a  guard  to  escort  Dona  Ximena  and  her  daughters 
to  Valencia. 

The  Cid  met  them  three  leagues  distant  from  the  city,  and 
embraced  them,  while  tears  of  joy  fell  from  his  eyes. 

Then  spake  the  noble  Cid  the  words  that  )'ou  shall  hear : 
"Beloved  and  honoured  woman,  and  you,  my  children  dear, 
The  pride  and  solace  of  my  heart,  my  darlings,  welcome  here; 
Come  hither  to  Valencia,  the  mansion  and  the  land 
That  I  have  purchased  for  you  !" 

Tliev  knelt  and  kissed  his  hand. 
He  took  them  to  the  palace  in  triumph  through  the  town. 
He  showed  them  from  the  tower  the  prospect  looking  down. 
The  city  spread  below,  the  cultivated  plain, 
The  garden  of  Valencia,  the  paradise  of  Spain, 
Stretching  beyond  the  sight,  the  mountains  and  the  main 
Encompassing  it  round;  they  lift  their  hands  and  eyes 
To  Heaven  that  had  bestowed  so  fair  and  rich  a  prize. 

There  were  pastimes  fair  enow  at  the  entrance  of  the  town, 
Of  tourneying  and  riding  and  riving  targets  down, 
And  hurling  darts  and  snapping  spears  that  was  a  joy  to  see, 
With  songs  and  instruments  among,  and  mirth  and  minstrelsy; 

372 


POEMA    DEI.   CID  373 

The  Cid  with  his  companions  has  kept  a  noble  Court, 
The  while  the  winter  lasted,  in  solace  and  disport. ^ 

King  Yusef,  the  Emperor  of  Morocco,  was  wroth  when  he 
heard  of  the  fall  of  Valencia,  and  crossed  the  sea  to  Spain  with 
a  great  army  of  fifty  thousand  men.  The  Cid  cried:  "Thanks 
be  to  God!"  on  hearing  of  his  coming,  and  prepared  for  battle. 
His  own  army  was  invincible,  and  the  Moorish  monarch  suf- 
fered a  crushing  defeat,  and  great  booty  was  taken.  Then 
did  the  Cid  send  to  King  Alphonso  a  gift  of  two  hundred 
nimble-footed  steeds  and  the  tent  of  King  Yusef.  Alphonso 
was  greatly  astonished  as  well  as  delighted,  for  never  before 
had  he  received  such  a  present  from  a  vassal.  He  requested 
that  the  Cid  should  visit  him,  and  thus  it  came  about  that  the 
two  met  once  again  and  held  converse  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tagus. 

King  Alphonso  made  it  known  that  he  desired  the  Cid  to 
give  his  two  daughters  in  marriage  to  Diego  and  Fernando, 
the  sons  of  Count  Gonzales  of  Carrion.  To  this  the  Cid 
gave  ready  consent,  although  there  were  misgivings  in  his 
heart. 

The  weddings  were  celebrated  at  Valencia  with  great  pomp 
and  splendour,  and  for  a  time  the  young  counts  remained  in 
the  city  as  the  guests  of  the  Cid. 

Now,  as  it  chanced,  on  the  very  day  of  the  marriage,  the 
Cid's  heart  was  made  sore  to  discover  that  Diego  and  Fernando 
were  not  men  of  courage.  A  lion  which  was  kept  in  captivity 
in  the  palace  broke  its  chain  and  entered  the  hall  where  the 
guests  were  assembled.  And  this  was  how  Peter  the  Dumb, 
as  the  Cid's  friend  Bermuez  was  called,  related  in  after  time 
what  took  place: 

The  Cid  was  sleeping  in  his  chair,  with  all  his  knights  around, 
The  cry  went  forth  along  the  hall,  that  the  lion  was  unbound — 
What  did  you  do,  Fernando?  like  a  coward  as  you  were, 
You  slunk  behind  the  Cid,  and  crouched  beneath  his  chair. 
We  pressed  around  the  throne  to  shield  our  Lord  from  harm, 
Till  the  good  Cid  awoke ;  he  rose  without  alarm  ; 
He  went  to  meet  the  lion  with  his  mantle  on  his  arm ; 

'  Frere's  translation. 


374  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

The  Hon  was  abash'd  the  noble  Cid  to  meet, 

He  bowed  his  mane  to  the  earth,  his  muzzle  at  his  feet. 

The  Cid  by  the  neck  and  mane  drew  him  to  his  den, 

He  thrust  him  in  at  the  hatch,  and  came  to  the  hall  again : 

He  found  his  knights  and  vassals,  and  all  his  valiant  men ; 

He  asked  for  his  sons-in-law,  they  were  neither  of  them  there.* 

In  other  way.s  the  young  counts  showed  they  were  not  men 
of  valour.  However,  when  they  decided  to  leave  Valencia  with 
their  wives,  the  Cid  treated  them  with  great  generosity,  little 
dreaming  that  there  was  treachery  in  their  hearts.  He  gave 
them  rich  gifts,  including  the  swords  Colado  and  Ti^on  taken 
in  battle. 

The  sons  of  Carrion  went  away,  and  when  they  came  to 
a  lonely  place  they  bade  their  followers  go  in  front  of  them. 
On  being  left  behind  with  their  brides,  they  stripped  these  fair 
ladies  of  all  their  clothing.  Then  they  took  the  horses  reins 
to  lash  their  tender  bodies. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,"  cried  Donna  Sol,  "  we  supplicate  that  ye, 
As  ye  have  two  trenchant  swords,  Colado  and  Tison. 
With  them  will  slay  us  speedily,  that  we,  when  we  are  gone. 
The  martyr  crown  not  shamefully  may  be  reckoned  to  have  won. 
But  whip  us  not  like  slaves;  lest  when  we  are  beaten,  you, 
By  the  blows  which  you  have  given,  shall  be  degraded  too."^ 

The  pitiful  words  of  the  fair  lady  were,  however,  without 
avail.  She  and  her  sister  were  beaten  until,  their  bodies  stream- 
ing blood,  they  fell  fainting  on  the  ground  and  seemed  to  die. 
Then  did  the  young  counts  take  their  departure,  leaving  them 
for  the  birds  and  beasts  of  prey. 

By  good  fortune  the  stricken  ladies  were  found  by  Felez 
Munioz,  who  had  accompanied  the  sons  of  Carrion,  suspecting 
that  all  was  not  well.  When  he  saw  the  young  nobles  rejoining 
their  force  without  their  wives,  he  stole  away  in  search  of  them. 
Great  was  his  sorrow  when  he  found  his  fair  young  relatives 
lying  on  the  ground  naked  and  bleeding. 

"  Cousins!  gentle  cousins!"  cried  he,  "waken  you  I  pray; 

For  the  love  of  God,  awaken;  and  hasten,  while  'tis  day. 

Lest  the  night  arrive,  and  wild  beasts  should  eat  us  on  our  way." 

*  Frere's  translation. 


THE    CRUELTY    OF    THE    SONS    OF    CARRION 


POEMA    DEL   CID  375 

At  his  cries,  his  cousins  botli  their  senses  did  regain, 

And  opening  their  eyelids,  saw  Felez  Munioz  again. 

"  Make  an  effort,  cousins,  for  God's  sake,  cousins  dear, 

For  if  your  husbands  miss  me,  they  '11  follow  my  footsteps  here; 

And  if  God  should  not  assist  us,  we  all  must  die,  I  fear." 

"  For  the  love  of  the  Cid,  our  father,"  Donna  Sol  she  cried  out  first, 
"  Bring  us  some  water,  cousin,  to  quench  our  raging  thirst." 
Felez  Munioz,  hearing  her  complaint,  a  stream  of  water  sought. 
And  in  his  hat,  which  lately  in  Valencia  he  had  bought. 
To  satisfy  his  cousin's  thirst,  some  water  straightway  brought ; 

Both  cruelly  were  torn,  but  he  did  exhort  them  so. 

That  their  courage  he  restored  and  they  both  declared  they'd  go ; 

So  he  placed  them  on  his  horse,  and  with  his  mantle  he 

Did  cover  them,  and  he  took  the  reins,  and  they  journeyed  joyfully 

Through  the  oak  woods  of  Corpes  and  out  of  that  wild  country. 

At  twilight  they  had  passed  the  hills,  and  reached  the  Douro's  side, 
Where  Felez  Munioz  left  them,  for  Santesteban,  to  provide 
Horses  and  habits  fit  for  them,  and  everything  beside' 

At  Santesteban  the  ladies  remained  until  tidings  of  the  out- 
rage were  carried  to  Don  Rodrigo,  He  immediately  caused  his 
daughters  to  return  to  Valencia,  where  he  greeted  them  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  kissing  them  tenderly. 

Then  did  the  Cid  send  a  messenger  to  King  Alphonso  to 
demand  justice,  and  urging  that  the  offenders  had  wronged 
king  and  father  alike.  Alphonso  caused  the  Cortez  to  assemble, 
and  summoned  the  Cid  and  the  sons  of  Carrion,  so  that  the 
case  might  be  judged.  He  agreed  with  Don  Rodrigo  that  he 
himself  had  been  insulted,  because  he  had  arranged  that  the 
weddings  should  take  place. 

At  the  Cortez  the  Cid  first  claimed  that  the  two  swords, 
Colado  and  Tison,  should  be  restored  to  him.  His  claim  was 
allowed,  and  the  Cid  at  once  gave  them  to  two  of  his  knights. 

Then  he  asked  for  the  gifts  he  had  bestowed  on  his  sons- 
in-law,  and  they  opposed  the  claim.  The  Cortez,  however, 
decided  in  favour  of  the  Cid.  As  the  young  counts  were  unable 
to  restore  the  p'roperty,  they  were  ordered  to  deliver  up  as  much 

as  they  had  with  them. 

Within  a  little  space 
There  was  many  a  noble  courser  brought  into  the  place, 

1  Frere's  translation. 


376  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

Many  a  lusty  mule  with  palfreys  stout  and  sure, 
And  many  a  goodly  sword  with  all  its  furniture. 
The  Cid  received  them  all  at  an  appraisement  made, 
Besides  two  hundred  marks  that  to  the  king  were  paid: 
The  Infants  give  up  all  they  ha%'e,  their  goods  are  at  an  end, 
They  go  about  in  haste  to  their  kindred  and  each  friend; 
They  borrow  as  they  can,  but  all  will  scarce  suffice; 
The  attendants  of  the  Cid  take  each  thing  at  a  price.  ...  * 

Then  did  Don  Rodrigo  arise  to  claim  justice  for  the  insult 
to  his  daughters,  saying: 

Let  all  men  present  in  the  Court  attend  and  judge  the  case 

Listen  to  what  these  counts  have  done  and  pity  my  disgrace. 

Dishonoured  as  I  am,  I  cannot  be  so  base, 

But  here  before  I  leave  them,  to  defy  them  to  their  face. 

Sav,  Infants,  how  had  I  deserved,  in  earnest  or  in  jest, 

Or  on  whatever  plea  you  can  defend  it  best, 

That  you  should  rend  and  tear  the  heart-strings  from  my  breast? 

I  gave  you  at  Valencia  my  daughters  in  your  hand, 

I  gave  you  wealth  and  honours,  and  treasure  at  command : 

Had  you  been  weary  of  them,  to  cover  your  neglect. 

You  might  have  left  them  with  me,  in  honour  and  respect. 

Why  did  you  take  them  from  me.  Dogs  and  Traitors  as  you  were? 

In  the  forest  of  Corpus,  why  did  you  strip  them  there? 

Why  did  you  mangle  them    with  whips?     Why  did  you  leave  them  bare 

To  the  vultures  and  the  wolves,  and  to  the  wintry  air? 

The  count  will  hear  your  answer,  and  judge  what  you  have  done. 

I  say  your  name  and  honour  henceforth  are  lost  and  gone."^ 

The  Count  Don  Garcia  of  Carrion  spoke  forth  and  said: 
"The  blood  of  our  House  is  too  high  for  our  sons  to  take 
daughters  of  the  Cid's  lineage  except  as  concubines  and 
lemans  ....  Little  care  we  for  the  threats  of  Don  Rodrigo. 
We  do  not  fear  him." 

After  the  Cid  had  protested  with  vigour  against  this  insult, 
Peter  the  Dumb,  so  called  because  he  spoke  rarely  except  when 
something  was  to  be  done,  censured  the  sons  of  Carrion, 
accusing  them  of  cowardice,  and  relating  the  story  of  the  lion. 

Diego  made  answer,  boasting  of  his  noble  lineage,  and 
saying  that  neither  he  nor  his  brother  regretted  that  they  had 
inflicted  chastisement  on  the  daughters  of  the  Cid.  "  We  leave 
them  to  make  lament,"  said  he  mockingly. 

'  Frere's  translation. 


POEMA    DHL   CID  377 

"  It  will  follow  them  through  life  for  a  scandal  and  a  jest ; 

I  stand  upon  this  plea  to  combat  with  the  best, 

That  having  left  them  as  we  did,  our  honour  is  increas'd." 

Uprose  Martin  Antolinez  when  Diego  ceas'd  : 

*'  Peace,  thou  lying  mouth  !  thou  traitor-coward,  peace! 

The  story  of  the  lion  should  have  taught  you  shame  at  least : 

"  You  rushed  out  at  the  door,  and  ran  away  so  hard, 

You  fell  into  the  cesspool  that  was  open  in  the  yard. 

We  dragg'd  you  forth  in  all  men's  sight,  dripping  from  the  drain  ; 

For  shame,  never  wear  a  mantle,  nor  a  knightly  robe  again  ! 

I  fight  upon  this  plea  without  more  ado. 

The  daughters  of  tlie  Cid  are  worthier  than  you. 

Before  the  combat  part  you  shall  avow  it  true. 

And  that  you  have  been  a  traitor  and  a  coward  too."  ^ 

vSo  did  they  rail:  and,  after  others  had  spoken  angrily,  King- 
Alphonso  called  for  silence.  He  gave  permission  to  the  chal- 
lengers to  meet  in  combat  so  as  to  settle  the  dispute. 

Three  weeks  later  the  combat  was  fought,  and  the  champions 
of  the  Cid  were  the  victors.  In  this  manner  honour  was 
satisfied. 

Meanwhile  two  ambassadors  came  from  Aragon  and  Navarre 
and  asked  the  Cid,  in  the  presence  of  King  Alphonso,  for  his 
daughters  as  the  wives  of  the  young  princes  of  these  kingdoms. 
The  Cid  accepted  the  offer,  and  his  daughters  were  thus  worthily 
wedded. 

Don  Rodrigo,  the  Cid,  died  on  the  day  of  Pentecost.^ 

^  Frere's  translation.  '^  The  date  or  cause  of  death  is  not  given. 


CERVANTES'    DON    QUIXOTE 

Introductory 

"The  Spaniards",  wrote  Montesquieu  in  his  happy  French 
way,  "have  but  one  good  book,  that  one  which  has  made  all 
the  others  ridiculous."  The  reference  is,  of  course,  to  The 
History  of  Don  Quixote,  which  has  long  been  a  European 
classic.  It  was  begun  as  a  satire  on  the  books  of  chivalry  which 
were  still  popular  three  hundred  years  ago,  and  mainly  with 
purpose,  as  Cervantes  confessed  in  his  preface,  "to  kindle 
mirth  ".  But  it  is  more  than  the  work  of  a  humorist,  for  it  has 
its  serious  side;  the  moral  of  the  tale  is  that  in  real  life  true 
heroism  can  be  displayed  without  adopting  a  line  of  conduct 
which  renders  it  ridiculous  and  ineffective.  The  history  of  the 
famous  Don  is  an  eternal  warning  to  those  who  forget  that  their 
passion  for  doing  good  is  of  little  benefit  to  themselves  or 
society  at  large  unless  it  is  directed  into  practical  channels. 

Don  Quixote  is  thus  no  mere  burlesque.  It  is  an  important 
character  study  of  a  type  familiar  to  every  generation  in  every 
walk  of  life.  It,  however,  required  a  genius  to  make  us  laugh 
at  and  yet  not  cease  to  admire  the  hero  of  the  immortal 
story. 

A  writer  of  fiction  cannot  well  keep  himself  out  of  the 
character  he  loves  most  to  portray,  and  in  Don  Quixote  we  have 
glimpses  of  his  creator.  Cervantes  was  a  kindly,  high-hearted 
man  of  generous  instincts,  not  devoid  of  Quixotic  traits,  and  in 
his  study  of  a  crazy  bookworm  who  imagined  he  was  living  in 
the  age  of  chivalry,  as  conceived  by  poets  and  romancers,  we 
find  revealed  one  of  Nature's  real  noblemen.  Someone  has 
called  the  Don,  indeed,  "the  first  gentleman  in  Europe",  using 

379 


3So  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

a  term  applied  to  a  historical  character  who  was  that  in  only  a 
superficial  sense,  in  manners  but  not  in  actions.  The  Don  is 
a  gentleman  at  heart;  he  is  large-hearted,  heroic,  sublimely 
earnest,  and  inspired  by  a  high  sense  of  duty.  But,  being 
Quixote  himself,  he  cannot  be  other  than  quixotic.  His  life 
was  as  great  a  failure,  from  the  worldly  point  of  view,  as  was 
that  of  his  creator,  who,  in  his  day,  cut  as  sorry  a  figure  as 
did  his  hero. 

Miguel  de  Cervantes  Saavedra^  was  born  in  1547  in  the  city 
of  Alcala  de  Henares.  The  date  of  his  birth  is  uncertain,  but 
it  has  been  ascertained  that  he  was  baptized  in  the  church  of 
Santa  Maria  la  Mayor,  in  his  native  place,  on  9th  October  of 
that  year.  His  grandfather,  a  lawyer  and  estate  agent,  was 
still  living,  and  his  father  was  an  apothecary  surgeon,  who 
practised  in  more  than  one  locality  before  he  finally  settled  down 
in  Madrid  in  1566.  Of  the  apothecary's  wife  little  is  known 
except  that  she  was  a  devoted  wife  and  mother  with  several 
children. 

Cervantes  appears  to  have  "lisped  in  numbers",  and  dis- 
played from  his  early  years  a  thirst  for  knowledge.  We  can 
imagine  him  in  his  youth  being  as  devoted  a  student  of  romantic 
literature  as  was  Don  Quixote  himself.  At  twenty-two  (1569) 
he  made  his  first  appearance  in  print,  as  the  author  of  a  few 
poems  published  in  a  volume  in  memory  of  the  queen  of 
Philip  n.  The  editor  and  fellow  contributor,  Juan  Lopez  de 
Hoyos,  a  literary  ecclesiastic,  makes  reference  in  the  volume  to 
young  Miguel  as  his  "dear  and  beloved  pupil"  ("caro  dis- 
cipulo",  "  amado  discipulo "),  and  comments  on  his  literary 
promise. 

In  the  following  year  Cervantes  went  to  Rome  to  fill  a  post 
offered  him  by  Monsignor  Giulio  Aquaviva,  who  had  visited 
Madrid  as  an  ambassador  from  the  Pope.  For  about  a  year  he 
acted  as  his  patron's  chamberlain.  Then  he  enlisted  in  a  joint 
Papal  expedition,  under  Don  John  of  Austria,  against  the  Turks. 
At  the  naval  battle  of  Lepanto  he  served  on  board  the  Marquesa, 
and,  although  laid  low  by  sickness,  he  left  his  bed  to  take  part 
in  the  fighting  against  the  hated  infidels.     A  great  victory  was 

'  Pronounced  "  thei-Y;m'les  sa-a-va'dra". 


CERVANTES'    DON   QUIXOTE  381 

won,  and  the  young  poet,  who  displayed  much  valour,  suffered 
grievous  wounds;  one  bullet  penetrated  his  chest,  and  another 
permanently  maimed  his  right  hand,  "for  its  greater  glory",  as 
he  was  wont  to  say  proudly  in  after  years.  On  recovering,  he 
took  part  in  other  expeditions. 

In  1575,  when  he  had  reached  his  twenty-eighth  year,  he 
obtained  permission  to  return  to  his  native  land,  and  was  given 
letters  of  high  commendation,  addressed  to  the  King  of  Spain, 
from  Don  John  of  Austria  and  Don  Carlos  of  Aragon,  the  viceroy 
of  Sicily.  He  sailed  in  the  El  6*0/ with  other  heroes  of  the  Papal 
campaigns,  including  his  brother  Roderigo,  but  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  taken  prisoner  by  Barbary  corsairs  who  attacked 
and  captured  the  vessel.  The  letters  which  were  intended  to 
promote  his  interests  proved  to  be  only  a  source  of  misfortune. 
On  perusing  them,  Dali  Mami,  a  Greek  renegade,  who  had 
purchased  him  as  a  slave,  concluded  he  was  a  person  of  much 
importance,  and  was  sure  to  bring  him  a  considerable  sum  as 
ransom. 

Cervantes  chided  in  captivity,  and  made  several  attempts  to 
effect  his  escape.  About  two  years  went  past  before  his  parents 
were  able  to  send  two  priests  to  Algiers  with  a  sum  of  300 
crowns  to  ransom  their  two  sons.  As  it  proved,  however,  the 
sum  was  only  sufficient  to  purchase  the  liberty  of  Roderigo. 
Cervantes  attempted  soon  afterwards  to  effect  his  escape,  and 
was  arrested,  tried,  and  sentenced  to  death.  At  his  trial,  he 
bore  himself  with  so  much  gallantry  that  the  pasha  who  pre- 
sided purchased  him  for  500  crowns.  The  disheartened  poet 
then  composed  a  poetic  appeal  to  the  Spanish  Secretary  of  State, 
in  which  he  advocated  an  attack  on  Algiers.  His  proposal  was 
quite  feasible,  but  unfortunately  for  him  was  not  given  serious 
consideration.  A  petition  presented  by  his  father  to  the  State, 
which  detailed  the  services  rendered  by  the  captive,  similarly 
proved  ineffective.  In  September,  1580,  after  enduring  five 
years  of  slavery,  Cervantes  was  ransomed  for  a  sum  of  500  gold 
ducats.^  This  was  more  than  the  sum  sent  from  home,  but  the 
balance  was  made  up  by  Christians  at  Algiers.  In  December 
of  the  same  year  Cervantes  arrived  at  Madrid,  to  find  that  his 

1  A  gold  ducat  represents  about  95. 


382  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

mother  and  sisters  had  been  rendered  poor  by  their  sacrifices  to 
liberate  the  captives. 

After  serving  for  a  period  as  a  soldier  in  the  Portuguese 
army,  Cervantes  wrote  his  pastoral  poem  Galatea^  being  at  the 
time  about  thirty-six  years  of  age.  He  also  engaged  in  writing 
for  the  stage,  but  although  he  produced  several  plays  he  did 
not  find  the  work  particularly  remunerative.  In  December, 
1584,  he  married  a  young  lady,  eighteen  years  his  junior,  who 
belonged  to  a  highly  respectable  family  with  limited  means. 
Her  dowry  consisted  of  a  small  orchard,  a  few  beehives,  and 
about  half  a  hundred  barn  fowls.  His  father  died  in  the  follow- 
ing year. 

Three  years  after  his  marriage,  Cervantes,  finding  the  literary 
life  unprofitable,  found  employment  at  Seville  when  the  Invin- 
cible Armada  was  being  provisioned.  A  business  and  official 
career  was  little  to  his  liking,  however,  and  time  and  again,  as 
a  result  of  his  faulty  accounting,  he  found  himself  in  serious 
trouble.  How  much  he  was  sinned  against,  as  well  as  a  sinner, 
in  this  connection,  it  is  difficult  to  say.  His  salary  was  often 
overdue,  and  in  the  winter  of  1590  he  had  to  borrow  money  to 
purchase  clothing.  In  the  end  he  found  himself  in  a  debtor's 
prison.  His  literary  leanings  had,  by  this  time  (1592),  again 
influenced  him  to  give  expression  to  his  genius,  and  he  pro- 
duced a  few  poems.  In  1595  a  poetical  tournament  was  held 
at  Saragossa,  and  he  won  the  first  prize.  He  still  continued 
to  occupy  an  official  position,  but  his  carelessness  as  an 
accountant,  and  the  dishonesty  of  a  merchant,  who  absconded, 
brought  about  his  arrest,  and  when  he  was  released  he  found 
himself  dismissed  from  the  public  service. 

In  1603,  when  in  disgrace  and  afflicted  with  poverty,  he  was 
already  at  work  writing  the  first  part  of  Don  Quixote.  A 
portion  of  it  appears  to  have  been  written  in  prison.  It  was 
published  at  Madrid  in  1605,  and  met  with  immediate  success. 
All  classes  took  delight  in  its  genial  comedy,  its  delightful 
irony,  and  broad  humanity.  The  story  is  told  that  one  day  when 
the  king  saw  a  student  walking  by  the  river-side  poring  over 
an  open  volume,  and  bursting  into  fits  of  occasional  laughter,  he 
remarked  that  the  youth  must  be  mad  if  he  was  not  engaged  in 


CERVANTES'    DON   QUIXOTE  383 

reading  Do7i  Quixote.  Three  pirated  editions  of  the  story  were 
published  in  Lisbon  a  few  weeks  after  its  appearance,  and  a 
second  issue  of  the  authorized  edition  was  called  for  before  the 
year  was  ended. 

Cervantes  was  again  in  prison  in.  1605,  and  we  know  little 
or  nothing  of  his  life  for  the  next  three  years.  He  fell  into  the 
direst  poverty,  although  Don  Quixote  continued  to  circulate 
freely.  In  1614,  he  was  stirred  to  resume  work  on  his  master- 
piece by  a  contemporary  named  Avellandea,  who  had  written 
a  continuation  of  it  which  was  distin-ctly  inferior  to  the  work 
of  the  creator  of  the  famous  Don.  Cervantes  issued  in  the 
following  year  the  second  volume  of  the  History^  in  which  he 
made  his  hero  complain  of  the  false  account  of  his  doings  that 
had  been  published.  Critics  generally  are  agreed  that  the 
second  part  is  even  better  than  the  first.  Don  Quixote  has 
mellowed  with  experience,  and  become  a  more  stately  figure. 
He  realizes  the  dream  of  his  life,  and,  with  his  faithful  Sancho, 
carries  into  what  he  believes  to  be  real  life  the  high  ideals  and 
nobility  of  soul  which  moved  him  to  mount  his  horse  in  old 
armour  and  masquerade  as  a  knight-errant.  In  the  end  comes 
disillusionment  and  death,  and  he  passes  from  life  a  truly  heroic 
and  noble  figure  whom  we  love  and  admire.  None  but  a  great 
genius  could  have  so  mingled  real  pathos  with  ridicule,  or  made 
a  heroic  gentleman  of  such  a  crazy  fellow.  The  work  is  unique 
in  the  world's  literature.  Cervantes  had  no  predecessor,  and 
when  one  contrasts  his  Don  Quixote  with,  for  instance,  Mark 
Twain's  A  Yankee  at  the  Court  of  King  Arthur,  it  will  be 
acknowledged  that,  although  he  may  have  imitators,  he  can 
never  have  a  successor. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  in  Don  Quixote  Cervantes  had 
often  his  own  character  and  career  in  mind.  He  satirized  mis- 
directed enthusiasm,  and  presented  in  bold  contrast  a  poetic  soul, 
with  high  ideals  and  deluding  dreams,  in  contact  with  the  com- 
monplace world.  Something  of  a  knight-errant  himself,  he  had 
gone  out  to  battle  against  giants,  and  found  himself  attacking 
windmills  with  disastrous  results,  and  he  suffered  many  bruises 
and  disappointments.  He  could  not  help  feeling  that  his  own 
life  had  been  lived  in  vain.     His  military  career  was  a  failure, 


384  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

although  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  and  he  had  been  a  failure 
in  official  life.  In  literature,  too,  he  seemed  ever  to  be  pursuing 
a  hopeless  quest.  Happily  he  was  saved  from  utter  despair  by 
his  serene  gaiety,  and  his  capacity  for  laughing,  not  only  at  the 
world,  but  even  at  himself.  Withal,  although  his  poems  and 
plays  failed  to  catch  the  public  ear,  he  could  find  comfort  in 
reflecting  that  the  critics  and  readers  had  illusions  as  well  as 
himself.  The  imitative  romances  they  set  up  as  standards  of 
excellence  were,  for  the  most  part,  shallow,  bombastic,  and 
unreal.  Their  appeal  was  simply  to  a  childish  sense  of  wonder, 
and  the  life  they  depicted  was  as  far  removed  from  actuality  as 
was  the  fairyland  in  which  Don  Quixote  lived.  The  Don  was 
a  symbol  of  his  age;  he  symbolized  the  literary  mode,  and 
Sancho,  the  innkeepers,  the  housekeeper,  the  barber,  and  curate 
were  the  common-sense  people  who  were  forced  to  endure  the 
illusions  of  the  Quixotes  of  literature.  Compared  with  Cervantes, 
Pope  and  Dryden  were  merely  destructive  critics.  The  author 
of  Don  Quixote  not  only  destroyed  much  but  constructed  as 
well,  for  he  created  a  group  of  characters,  and  portrayed  phases 
of  life  which  restored  sanity  to  the  literature  of  the  age. 

In  satirizing  others  Cervantes  satirized  himself.  When  Don 
Quixote  returned  from  his  first  adventure,  and  his  friends  began 
to  examine  his  library,  prior  to  burning  it,  the  curate  addressed 
the  barber,  saying:   "  What's  the  next  book?" 

"It  is  the  Galatea  by  Miguel  de  Cervantes,"  answered  the 
other.  '*  This  Cervantes,"  the  curate  said,  "  has  for  many  years 
been  an  intimate  acquaintance  of  mine,  and  I  know  he  is  more 
familiar  with  misfortunes  than  with  poetry.  His  book  certainly 
displays  a  certain  degree  of  inventive  power;  it  aims  at  some- 
thing but  it  reaches  nothing.  Let  us  await  for  the  second  part^ 
which  he  has  promised  us.  Who  knows  but  that  when  it  is 
issued  he  may  be  found  to  have  made  amends,  and  be  worthy 
of  the  pardon  w^e  are  now  forced  to  deny  him.  Until  that  time 
comes  keep  the  book  a  close  prisoner." 

The  disappointed  and  neglected  writer  little  thought  when 
he  began  his  diverting  history  of  the  crazy  knight,  that  he  was 
to   give   the   world   an    immortal    masterpiece.       He    not  only 

*  Cervantes  never  published  the  promised  sequel. 


CERVANTES'    DON    QUIXOTE  385 

banished  knight-errantry  to  oblivion,  but  unfolded  real  life  as 
a  serious  critic  of  it,  so  that  future  novelists  might  see  poetry  in 
realism.  Withal,  he  opened  the  eyes  of  men  and  women  to  the 
absurdity  of  the  mock-heroic  pose  in  word  and  deed;  he  intro- 
duced a  new  literary  style,  which  became  a  model  for  those  who 
were  to  follow  him.  No  stylist  in  any  language  has  surpassed 
Cervantes  as  a  writer  of  prose.  Don  Quixote,  in  the  original, 
has  grace  and  simplicity  of  diction,  directness,  clearness,  and 
melodiousness  combined  with  marked  individuality,  that  make 
it  a  source  of  unfailing  delight.  The  story  has  many  passages 
of  sustained  beauty,  of  tender  and  delicate  pathos,  and  it  sparkles 
with  humour  which  is  never  forced,  and  irony  which  is  never 
cruel.  The  character-drawing  is  accomplished  with  the  hand 
of  a  master.  Each  character  reveals  himself  in  speech  and 
action  as  naturally  as  in  real  life,  requiring  neither  description 
nor  comment.  One  can  instance  in  this  connection  the  pompous, 
poetic  language  of  Don  Quixote,  and  the  simple  blunt  remarks 
of  Sancho  Panza,  or  one  of  the  innkeepers.  Some  characters 
are  drawn  in  a  few  sentences.  The  exasperate  housekeeper,  the 
hot-tempered  Biscayan,  so  ready  to  take  offence,  the  bewildered 
friars,  the  jocular  merchants  suddenly  confronted  by  the  strange 
figure  of  a  knight  on  the  highway,  impress  our  imaginations, 
and  linger  in  our  memories.  Cervantes  could  keep  as  many 
characters  in  hand  as  did  Dickens.  Nor  did  he  require  to  make 
them  odd  so  as  to  give  them  distinction.  The  laughing  country 
girls  at  the  inn,  who  were  tickled  to  find  themselves  addressed 
as  high-born  ladies,  are  but  casual  passers-by  in  the  tale,  but 
we  never  forget  them.  Cervantes  characterized  them  once  and 
for  all. 

It  was  not  in  prose  that  our  author  hoped  to  win  immortality. 
Shortly  before  his  death  he  issued  his  last  poem,  A  Journey  to 
Parnassus,  which  runs  to  eight  cantos,  with  about  three  hun- 
dred verses  in  each.  In  this  work  he  himself  is  the  hero.  It 
is  an  autobiographical  satire,  in  which  we  have  glimpses  of  the 
mind  and  character  of  the  poet  as  well  as  of  his  experiences  in 
life.  Having  bidden  farewell  to  Madrid,  as  did  Byron's  Childe 
Harold  to  his  native  land,  but  striking  a  loftier,  sadder,  and 

more  convincing   note,    he  sets  out  on  a  journey  in   quest  of 
VOL.  II.  54 


386  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Apollo,  before  whom  he  ultimately  pleads  his  cause  as  a  man 
and  a  poet.  There  are  man}'  beautiful  passages  in  this  work, 
but  its  numerous  contemporary  allusions  render  it  difficult  and 
obscure  to  those  unacquainted  with  the  literature  of  the  poet's 
age.  No  doubt  Byron  found  in  Cervantes  a  model  to  follow, 
not  only  in  Childe  Harold^  but  also  in  Don  Juan.  But  between 
him  and  Cervantes  is  as  great  a  gulf  as  yawned  between  him 
and  Shelley.  The  Spanish  poet  and  satirist  was  a  greater  man 
than  Byron,  and  would  have,  had  he  been  a  contemporary, 
dealt  more  effectively  with  the  Childe  and  Manfred  than  did 
their  author  with  "Bob  Southey "  and  the  others  he  abused 
so  consistently  and  invariably  so  cruelly.  The  wit  of  Cervantes 
was  kindlier  and  greater  and  more  keen  than  that  of  a  Byron 
or  a  Pope;  he  laughed  at  manners  rather  than  men,  and,  as 
has  been  said,  he  could  laugh  at  himself. 

Cervantes  joined  the  Order  of  Franciscan  friars  in  April, 
1616,  seeking  that  consolation  in  religion  which  literature  had 
denied  to  him.  His  poems,  his  plays,  and  his  dozen  novels 
brought  him  but  meagre  monetary  reward,  and  his  fame  rested 
with  the  future.  Death  had  already  laid  its  hand  upon  him, 
but,  as  he  showed  in  a  preface  written  to  his  last  work,  a 
romance  called  Labours  of  Persiles  and  Sigismunda^  he  pre- 
served his  calm  gaiety  and  unaffected  courage  till  the  end. 
"As  to  my  future,"  he  declared,  "I  leave  that  to  the  care  of 
posterity.  No  doubt  my  friends  will  be  extremely  anxious  to 
tell  my  story.  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  hear  it.  .  .  . 
Good-bye  to  pleasantry,  good-bye  to  humour,  good-bye  to  my 
dear  friends.  I  am  about  to  die,  and  my  fondest  w^sh  is  that 
I  shall  yet  see  you  all  well  contented  in  the  next  world." 

Such  was  the  farew-ell  of  one  of  the  greatest  humorists  and 
satirists  who  ever  lived.  He  could  laugh  and  yet  not  cease  to 
love;  he  might  be  disappointed,  but  he  could  not  be  soured. 

Cervantes  closed  his  eyes  in  death  on  23rd  April,  1616,  the 
same  date  on  which  his  great  contemporary,  Shakespeare,  de- 
parted this  life,  but  not  the  same  day.  The  Gregorian  calendar 
had  been  adopted  in  Spain  before  it  was  in  England,  so  that 
Cervantes  really  predeceased  Shakespeare  by  ten  days,  23rd 
April  in  Spain  at  that  time  being  13th  April  in   England. 


CERVANTES'    DON    QUIXOTE  387 

The  great  Spanish  genius  was  buried  in  the  Convent  of  the 
Nuns  of  the  Trinity  in  Madrid.  It  is  not  known  now  whether 
his  coffin  was  removed  when  a  new  convent  was  subsequently 
provided  for  the  nuns  in  another  quarter.  A  statue  to  his 
memory  was  erected  in  the  Plaza  del  Estamento  in  Madrid  in 
1835,  but  his  most  enduring  monument  is  Don  Quixote. 

In  the  pages  that  follow  are  partly  summarized  selections 
from  Cervantes'  immortal  work.  The  romance  has,  however, 
to  be  read  in  full  to  be  appreciated;  and  as  no  translation  can 
possibly  do  justice  to  the  style,  which  is  one  of  its  distinctive 
features,  those  who  qualify  to  read  it  in  the  original  are  assured 
of  exceeding  great  reward. 


Don  Quixote 

I.   How  the  Hero  became  a  Knight 

An  old-fashioned  gentleman  once  lived  in  a  small  village 
somewhere  in  La  Mancha.  He  was  a  bachelor,  and  he  had 
a  housekeeper  about  forty  years  of  age,  a  niece  of  twenty,  and  a 
male  servant  who  did  work  out  of  doors.  Having  little  or 
nothing  to  do,  this  gentleman  passed  much  time  reading  books 
on  knight-errantry,  and  became  so  absorbed  in  them,  that  he 
not  only  neglected  country  sports,  but  sold  many  acres  of 
arable  land  so  as  to  purchase  books.  Much  that  he  read 
puzzled  him,  and  he  worried  himself  greatly  on  that  account. 
He  used  to  enter  into  long  arguments  with  the  parish  curate 
and  the  village  barber  regarding  the  merits  of  various  knights. 

As  time  went  on  he  read  more  and  more,  taking  little  sleep, 
until  at  length  he  lost  the  free  use  of  his  reason,  and  lived  in 
a  world  of  disorderly  notions.  The  knights  of  the  romances 
haunted  his  imagination,  and  he  thought  of  nothing  but  en- 
chantments, challenges,  battles,  amours,  tournaments,  and  other 
impossible  things.  He  would  say  the  Cid  was  a  brave  man, 
and  yet  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  Knight  of  the 
Burning  Sword,  who  had  slain  two  giants  with  but  a  single 
sword-stroke,  and  he  lauded  Bernardo  del  Carpio  above  Roland. 
He  admired  the  giant  Morgante,  because  he  always  behaved 
like  a  gentleman. 

An  odd  fancy  took  possession  of  his  brain.  He  resolved 
to  turn  knight-errant,  so  as  to  do  public  service  and  win  renown, 
and  to  go  forth,  mounted  on  his  horse,  in  quest  of  adventures. 
First  he  set  himself  to  clean  a  rusty  old  suit  of  armour  that  had 
belonged  to  his  great  grandfather.     Only  a  single  headpiece 


390  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

of  the  helmet  remained,  but  he  made  up  the  defect  by  using 
pasteboard.  Then  he  went  to  look  at  his  old  horse,  and,  after 
pondering  a  time,  decided  to  rename  it  Rozinante,  which,  he 
thought,  exalted  it  above  the  ordinary  breed.  Himself  he  called 
Don  Quixote,  which  sounded  better  than  his  real  name, 
Quixada,  and  not  Quesada,  as  some  would  have  us  believe. 
Then,  remembering  that  a  knight  like  Amadis  added  the  name 
of  his  country  to  his  own,  styling  himself  Amadis  de  Gaul, 
he  resolved  he  should  be  known  as  Don  Quixote  la  Mancha. 
He  next  thought  he  should  have  a  fair  lady  to  whom  he  might 
send  a  trophy  of  his  valour,  so  he  fixed  on  Aldonza  Lorenzo, 
because  he  admired  her  greatly,  although  she  knew  it  not, 
and  decided  to  call  her  Dulcinea,  with  the  addition  of  del 
Toboso,  after  her  native  place,  and  he  thought  this  name  very 
sweet  and  harmonious. 

One  warm  July  morning  Don  Quixote  clad  himself  in  his 
armour,  and,  grasping  his  lance,  mounted  his  horse.  Then 
he  rode  away  in  quest  of  adventures  without  informing  anyone 
in  his  house  of  his  strange  intention.  As  he  rode  on  he  pon- 
dered over  his  mission.  **  O  happy  Age!  O  auspicious  time!" 
said  he,  "decreed  to  usher  into  this  world  my  renowned  achieve- 
ments, worthy  to  be  engraved  on  marble  and  brass,  and  extolled 
on  paintings  and  monuments  as  an  example  to  posterity." 

Believing  himself  to  be  in  love,  he  made  soft  complaint 
against  his  Princess  Dulcinea,  who  had  sent  him  forth  to  face 
unknown  perils  in  strange  places. 

All  day  long  he  rode  his  solitary  way  without  meeting  with 
a  single  adventure.  He  grew  tired  and  very  hungry,  and 
yearned  to  see  a  castle  or  cottage  in  which  to  rest  and  refresh 
himself.  Evening  came  on,  and  then  he  caught  sight  of  a 
country  inn,  which  he  believed  to  be  a  great  casde.  Two 
young  females  chanced  to  be  standing  at  the  door,  and  he 
thought  they  were  beautiful  damsels  who  were  taking  the  fresh 
air  at  the  castle  gate.  He  drew  up  his  horse.  The  crazy 
gentleman  expected  a  dwarf  to  appear  on  the  battlements  and 
sound  a  trumpet  announcing  the  arrival  of  a  knight.  As  it 
chanced,  a  swineherd  came  out  to  collect  his  hogs,  and  blew 
a  blast  on  his  horn.     Believing  this  to  be  a  signal  of  welcome. 


DON    QUIXOTE  391 

Don  Quixote  experienced  great  joy,  and  rode  towards  the  inn 
door. 

The  two  girls  were  greatly  alarmed  to  behold  a  man  in 
garments  of  iron,  and  armed  with  shield  and  lance,  and  were 
on  the  point  of  scampering  out  of  sight,  when  Don  Quixote, 
noting  their  alarm,  raised  the  pasteboard  beaver  of  his  helmet, 
saying:  "I  pray  you,  do  not  fly,  fair  ladies.  Have  no  fear 
of  me.  My  order  of  knighthood  forbids  me  to  injure  anyone, 
and  least  of  all  ladies  of  your  high  rank." 

The  women  stared  open-eyed  at  the  stranger,  and  when  they 
heard  themselves  referred  to  as  ladies,  they  laughed  merrily. 
Don  Quixote  was  affronted,  and  chided  them  with  gentle  words. 

As  he  spoke,  the  innkeeper  appeared.  He  was  a  man  whose 
burden  of  fat  inclined  him  to  love  peace  and  quietness.  Yet 
he  could  not  help  laughing  with  the  girls  when  he  saw  Don 
Quixote  in  his  old  armour.  As  he  entertained,  however,  some 
fear  of  the  stranger,  because  of  his  warlike  aspect  and  dig- 
nified bearing,  he  addressed  him  civilly,  saying:  "Sir,  if  it 
is  your  wish  to  dismount,  I  can  give  you  all  you  ask  for  except 
a  bed." 

Believing  this  humble  man  to  be  the  castle  governor,  Don 
Quixote  answered:  "  Seflor  Castellano,  little  satisfies  me. 
Naught  I  value  except  arms,  and  combat  is  my  rest." 

"Sir  Knight,"  answered  the  innkeeper,  "  if  your  bed  is  to 
be  a  pavement,  and  your  rest  will  consist  in  being  kept  awake, 
you  can  safely  dismount.  Here  you  can  hardly  miss  being 
kept  awake  not  for  a  single  night  but  for  a  whole  year." 

Don  Quixote  dismounted  with  difficulty,  for  he  had  not 
broken  his  fast  that  day,  and  charged  the  innkeeper  to  take 
special  care  of  his  steed.  The  girls  helped  him  to  take  off  his 
armour,  while  he  told  them  his  own  name  and  that  of  his  horse, 
and  promised  to  serve  them  with  zeal. 

They  wondered  to  hear  him,  not  being  used  to  rhetorical 
speeches,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  eat.  He  assured  them  he 
could  eat  anything,  but  the  day  being  Friday  he  could  get 
naught  except  a  small  piece  of  salt  fish.  The  table  was  spread 
at  the  door,  and  as  Don  Quixote  was  unable  to  take  off  his 
helmet,  one  of  the  girls  had  to  feed  him,  while  the  innkeeper 


392  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

poured  wine  into  his  mouth  through  a  hollow  cane.  Meanwhile 
the  swineherd  sounded  his  horn  several  times  as  he  returned 
towards  the  inn,  and  Don  Quixote  was  greatly  pleased,  because 
he  concluded  he  was  being  entertained  with  music  while  he 
dined. 

When  his  repast  was  finished,  he  worried  greatly  to  think 
he  had  not  yet  been  dubbed  a  knight.  So  he  asked  his  host 
to  accompany  him  to  the  stable,  and,  shutting  the  door,  he 
knelt  before  him,  and  said  he  would  not  rise  up  until  he  was 
granted  a  boon.  The  innkeeper  was  astonished,  but,  resolving 
to  humour  him,  promised  to  grant  what  he  asked  for. 

''My  wish,"  said  Don  Quixote,  "  is  that  on  the  morrow  you 
will  bestow  upon  me  the  honour  of  knighthood.  To-night  I 
shall  keep  watch  over  my  armour  in  your  castle  chapel,  so  that 
you  may  honour  me  in  the  morning.  Then  I  may  go  forth  in 
quest  of  adventures,  and  relieve  the  distressed,  according  to  the 
laws  of  chivalry  and  the  inclination  of  a  knight-errant." 

The  innkeeper,  being  a  shrewd  man,  perceived  that  the 
mind  of  his  guest  was  somewhat  disordered,  so  he  humoured 
him  by  commending  his  purpose.  He  told  the  Don  that  his 
castle  had  no  chapel  at  present.  It  had  been  pulled  down  so 
that  another  might  be  built.  He  could,  however,  keep  watch 
over  his  arms  in  the  courtyard,  and  in  the  morning  the  honour 
of  knighthood  would  be  conferred  upon  him  as  he  desired. 
Then  he  asked  Don  Quixote  if  he  had  any  money. 

"  I  have  none,"  answered  the  other.  "  I  have  never  read  in 
any  romance  that  a  knight  carried  money." 

The  innkeeper  assured  him  he  was  mistaken  about  the 
customs  of  knights.  Although  the  authors  of  romances  did  not 
mention  such  necessary  things  as  money  and  clean  shirts,  the 
knights  never  went  about  wanting  either.  "You  may  rest 
assured,"  said  he,  "they  had  well-lined  purses,  a  supply  of 
shirts,  and  a  box  of  salves  and  lint  to  heal  their  wounds,  and 
that  they  were  accompanied  by  squires.  I  advise  you,"  he 
added,    "never  to  ride  forth  again  without  these  necessaries." 

Don  Quixote  promised  to  follow  his  advice  in  the  future. 
Then  he  prepared  for  the  night  watch,  darkness  having  come 
on.     He  placed  his  armour  on  the  horse  trough  in  the  yard; 


DON    QUIXOTE  393 

then  bracing  his  shield  on  his  left  arm,  and  seizing  his  lance  in 
his  right  hand,  he  began  to  walk  round  the  trough  in  a  stately 
and  graceful  manner. 

The  innkeeper  amused  his  guests  greatly  by  informing  them 
regarding  the  strange  notions  of  the  Don,  and  they  watched  him 
from  a  distance  for  a  time  as  he  went  gravely  pacing  in  the 
yard,  now  and  again  resting  on  his  lance  and  gazing  at  the 
moon. 

At  length,  after  this  knot  of  spectators  had  drifted  away,  one 
of  the  carriers,  who  was  residing  at  the  inn,  came  out  to  water 
his  mules.  This  he  could  not  do  without  removing  the  armour. 
When  Don  Quixote  saw  him  approach  he  spoke  gravely,  warn- 
ing him  not  to  dare  to  profane  the  armour  with  a  touch  of  his 
hands.  The  carrier  paid  no  heed  to  him,  and  threw  the  armour 
aside.  Invoking  his  lady,  Don  Quixote  struck  the  rude  fellow 
on  the  head  with  his  lance,  and  laid  him  low;  to  that  blow  he 
added  another.  Then  calmly  he  lifted  his  armour,  and  laid  it 
on  the  trough  again. 

As  he  paced  round  about  the  trough,  another  carrier  came 
out  to  water  his  mules.  This  fellow  laid  hands  on  the  armour 
like  the  former,  and  received  like  treatment  for  his  pains. 
When  he  was  struck  heavily,  however,  he  cried  out  with  alarm 
and  pain,  and  all  the  other  guests  came  forth,  with  the  land- 
lord behind  them,  to  ascertain  what  was  wrong.  Don  Quixote, 
beholding  them,  prayed  for  courage  to  engage  in  unequal  con- 
flict against  so  many  enemies. 

Enraged  by  the  attack  on  their  comrades,  the  other  carriers 
threw  stones  at  the  knight;  but  the  innkeeper  scolded  them,  and 
made  them  desist,  lest  they  should  murder  the  stranger.  Mean- 
while Don  Quixote  called  the  lord  of  the  castle  an  inhospitable 
and  discourteous  knight,  and  threatened  him  with  dire  ven- 
geance. 

Thinking  the  joke  had  gone  far  enough,  the  innkeeper 
decided  to  make  pretence  of  conferring  the  order  of  knighthood 
without  further  delay.  He  found  Don  Quixote  willing  to  go  on 
with  the  ceremony,  so  he  procured  an  old  account  book,  called 
the  two  girls  already  mentioned,  and  made  a  boy  hold  a  lighted 
candle.     He  ordered  Don  Quixote  to  kneel,  and  having  repeated 


39-1  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

some  pious  words,  as  if  reading  them  from  his  book,  smote  the 
crazed  gentleman  on  the  back  with  the  flat  of  the  sword,  and 
declared  him  a  knight.  The  girls,  suppressing  their  desire  to 
laugh,  then  girded  on  the  hero's  sword,  wishing  him  the  while 
prosperity  and  good  fortune. 

When  this  strange  ceremony  was  ended,  the  horse  Rozinante 
was  brought  forth.  Don  Quixote  embraced  the  innkeeper,  and 
mounted  to  ride  away,  and  that  worthy,  who  gave  short  answers 
to  his  long  speeches,  was  glad  at  heart  to  let  him  go  without 
paying  his  bill. 


II.   The  Cruel  Master,  and  the  Jocular 
Merchants 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  rise  as  Don  Quixote  took  the 
road.  He  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  heard  moans  of  distress 
coming  from  a  wood.  Thanking  Heaven  for  affording  him  so 
early  an  opportunity  to  succour  the  needy,  he  turned  his  horse 
towards  the  place  whence  the  sound  of  moaning  came.  Soon  he 
caught  sight  of  a  lad,  naked  to  the  waist,  tied  to  an  oak  tree, 
while  a  big  country  fellow  lashed  his  back  with  a  leathern  strap. 

"Oh,  good  master,"  cried  the  boy,  **  never  will  I  do  it 
again!     I  promise  to  take  more  care  of  your  property." 

Don  Quixote  was  wroth,  and  cried  out  angrily:  "O  un- 
worthy knight,  'tis  wrong  to  strike  one  who  is  unable  to  defend 
himself.  Come  now,  mount  your  steed  and  take  your  lance,  so 
that  I  may  make  you  realize  how  you  have  acted  the  part  of  a 
coward." 

Alarmed  to  see  a  man  in  armour  brandishing  a  lance,  the 
country  fellow  answered  politely,  saying:  "Sir  Knight,  this 
boy  whom  I  am  thrashing  is  my  servant.  He  is  employed  to 
look  after  my  sheep,  but  he  is  careless,  and  I  lose  some  every 
day.  He  says  I  thrash  him  so  as  to  defraud  him  of  his  wages, 
but,  I  assure  you,  he  lies." 

"Saucy  clown,  would  you  deceive  me?"  answered  Don 
Quixote.  "  By  the  sun  that  shines  I  have  a  good  mind  to  run 
this  lance  through  your  body.  Unbind  the  boy,  and  pay  him 
his  due,  or  I  shall  annihilate  you  this  instant." 

The  country  fellow  trembled  with  fear.  He  untied  the  boy, 
and  promised  to  pay  him  his  wages  without  further  ado.  "  I 
have  no  money  with  me,"  said  he,  "but  if  Andrew  will  come 
home  with  me  I  shall  pay  him  every  copper." 

"What — go  home  with  you?"  cried  the  youngster.  "  Not 
1.     You  would  skin  me  alive." 

3^ 


396  THK    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

"Be  assured,"  Don  Quixote  said,  addressing  the  boy,  "he 
will  not  dare  to  harm  you,  for  I  have  commanded,  and  he  must 
obey.  If  he  will  not  fulfil  his  promise,  he  will  be  punished 
hereafter  by  me,  for  know  that  I  am  no  other  than  the  valorous 
Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha." 

Having  spoken  thus,  he  rode  away.  Andrew  demanded 
his  wages  on  the  spot,  but  the  country  fellow,  recovering  his 
courage,  seized  him  and  bound  him  again,  and,  having  lashed 
him  more  severely  than  before,  said  angrily:  "Now  call  your 
righter  of  wrongs.  Master  Andrew,  and  see  if  he  can  undo  what 
I  have  done."  He  laughed  as  the  boy  slunk  away  to  look  in 
vain  for  his  protector. 

Greatly  pleased  with  himself,  Don  Quixote  continued  on  his 
way.  In  time  he  reached  a  place  where  four  roads  met,  and, 
not  being  able  to  decide  which  road  to  take,  he  allowed  Rozi- 
nante  to  choose  for  him.  The  horse  promptly  selected  the  road 
that  led  to  its  stable. 

Don  Quixote  rode  on  for  about  two  miles.  Then  he  saw 
approaching  a  company  of  six  Toledo  merchants,  who  were  on 
their  way  to  Murcia  to  buy  silk.  Four  servants  accompanied 
them.  Thinking  he  was  meeting  with  a  new  adventure,  the 
knight  levelled  his  lance  and  cried  out  haughtily:  "Stop!  Let 
no  man  pass  farther  until  he  confesses  that  there  is  not  in  this 
world  a  more  beautiful  damsel  than  the  peerless  Dulcinea  del 
Toboso." 

The  merchants  halted  to  gaze  at  the  remarkable  figure  of 
the  challenger.  They  perceived  he  was  a  poor  gentleman  who 
had  been  bereft  of  his  senses,  and  were  willing  to  agree  with 
anything  he  said.  A  jocular  man  in  their  company  therefore 
answered,  saying:  "Signer  cavalier,  we  do  not  know  the 
worthy  lady  to  whom  you  refer,  but  if  you  will  be  good  enough 
to  let  us  see  her,  and  we  find  her  worthy  of  your  praise,  we  shall 
freely  agree,  I  assure  you,  with  what  you  say." 

Said  Don  Quixote:  "  If  you  were  shown  that  beauty,  what 
wonder  would  it  be  to  acknowledge  the  truth?  The  present 
need  is  that  you  should  confess  it,  swear  it,  and  uphold  it 
without  seeing  her.  Therefore  you  must  acknowledge  the  truth 
of  what  I  declare  without  further  delay,  or  else  join  with  me  in 


DON    QUIXOTE  397 

battle.  Unreasonable  mortals!  come  on,  one  by  one,  according 
to  the  laws  of  chivalry,  or,  if  you  will,  all  together,  according 
to  the  practice  of  men  of  your  stamp.  I  shall  fight  against  you 
alone,  strengthened  by  the  justice  of  my  cause." 

The  wag  then  asked  him  if  he  could  not  show  a  portrait  of 
the  lady,  but  this  request  only  enraged  the  knight,  who  said: 
"  For  this  mockery  against  the  incomparable  beauty  of  my  lady 
you  shall  pay  dearly." 

Having  spoken  thus,  he  charged  at  full  tilt  against  the 
merchant.  Fortunately  Rozinante  stumbled  and  fell.  Had 
this  not  happened,  the  wag  would  have  paid  dearly  for  his 
raillery.  As  the  horse  went  sprawling,  Don  Quixote  dropped 
from  the  saddle  and  rolled  across  the  road.  Encumbered  by 
his  armour,  he  was  unable  to  rise  up,  but  he  found  his  voice 
and  cried  out:  "Ye  poltroons,  do  not  flee!  It  is  not  my  fault 
that  I  lie  here,  my  horse  having  thrown  me." 

An  ill-natured  groom,  hearing  these  insolent  words  addressed 
to  his  master  among  others,  ran  forward,  seized  the  knight's 
lance,  and  broke  it.  Then  with  the  shaft  he  thrashed  Don 
Quixote  as  if  he  were  a  sheaf  of  wheat.  His  master  called  upon 
him  to  desist,  but  the  groom's  anger  had  been  roused,  and  he 
did  not  cease  until  he  had  splintered  every  piece  of  the  lance 
on  the  knight's  ribs. 

Don  Quixote  lay  bellowing  threats  against  those  villainous 
ruffians,  as  he  took  them  to  be. 

When  the  groom  had  wearied  himself,  the  merchants  re- 
sumed their  journey,  making  merry  at  the  expense  of  the  poor 
knight,  while  he,  although  unable  to  rise  up,  comforted  himself 
with  the  thought  that  the  misfortune  he  endured  was,  after  all, 
but  one  of  those  accidents  which  are  common  to  knight-errantry. 

As  he  made  lament,  repeating  the  dolorous  song  of  the 
wounded  Knight  of  the  Wood,  a  ploughman  came  nigh,  and, 
taking  pity  on  him,  stripped  off  the  armour  to  search  for  wounds. 
He  could  not  get  Don  Quixote  to  answer  his  questions;  the 
poor  knight  babbled  on,  quoting  the  speeches  of  the  Knight 
of  the  Wood,  and  vowing  he  would  yet  achieve  great  deeds  for 
the  sake  of  his  lovely  Dulcinea.  The  ploughman  lifted  him  up 
on  his  own  ass,  and  took  him  to  his  native  village.     He  reached 


398  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Don  Quixote's  house  after  darkness  had  come  on.  As  it  chanced, 
the  curate  and  the  barber  were  there  making  enquiries  regarding 
the  missing  gentleman,  of  whom  nothing  had  been  heard  for 
six  days.  They  had  guessed  rightly  that  he  had  been  crazed 
by  reading  romances  of  knight-errantry.  When,  therefore,  he 
arrived  home  so  suddenly,  housekeeper,  niece,  curate,  and  barber 
ran  out  of  doors  as  the  ploughman  shouted  jocular  words  an- 
nouncing that  the  knight  had  been  wounded. 

"I  am  sorely  hurt,"  Don  Quixote  explained  gravely,  "be- 
cause that  my  horse  failed  me.  Carry  me  to  my  bed,  and  send 
for  Urganda,  the  enchantress,  so  that  she  may  give  me  healing." 

"In  the  devil's  name,"  exclaimed  the  housekeeper,  "I 
guessed  right.  Get  you  to  your  bed,  my  master,  and  we  shall 
cure  you  without  sending  for  an  enchantress.  The  curse  of 
curses — say  I  a  hundred  times  over — fall  on  those  books  of 
chivalry,  which  have  placed  you  in  this  pitiful  plight!" 

When  Don  Quixote  was  laid  in  bed,  he  told  that  Rozinante 
had  fallen  while  he  was  engaged  fighting  against  ten  giants. 

"  Ha!  so  there  are  giants  in  the  game,"  the  curate  said. 

This  worthy  man  questioned  Don  Quixote  regarding  his 
doings,  and  the  answers  he  got  made  him  resolve  to  burn  the 
books  that  had  caused  all  the  trouble.  Next  evening  he  helped 
the  barber  and  housekeeper  to  toss  every  volume  into  the  yard, 
where  they  were  set  on  fire  in  a  heap.  After  this  had  been  done, 
they  had  the  door  of  the  library  built  up,  and  it  was  decided  that 
Don  Quixote  should  be  told  that  an  enchanter  had  carried  away 
the  room  and  all  the  books. 

When  the  knight  had  recovered  he  searched  in  vain  for  the 
door.  He  then  called  his  housekeeper,  and  asked  her  to  show 
him  the  way  to  his  library,  and  she  answered  him,  saying: 
"The  devil  has  run  off  with  your  books."  Said  the  niece:  "  It 
was  not  the  devil,  but  an  enchanter  who  came  as  a  fiery  dragon. 
After  he  departed  in  smoke  we  searched  in  vain  for  the  library." 

"It  was  Freston,"  remarked  the  knight  gravely.  "The 
time  will  come  when  I  shall  meet  in  combat  a  knight  whose 
cause  he  espouses.  That  is  why  he  endeavours  to  do  me  all 
manner  of  evil.  But  he  strives  against  the  stream,  for  he  cannot 
reverse  the  decrees  of  Fate." 


III.   The  Story  of  the  Windmills 

Don  Quixote,  who  recovered  speedily,  remained  at  home 
quietly  for  about  a  fortnight,  holding  pleasant  discourses  with 
the  curate  and  barber  regarding  knight-errantry.  In  his  secret 
heart,  however,  he  planned  to  go  forth  once  again  clad  in  armour 
in  quest  of  adventures.  Remembering  the  innkeeper's  advice, 
he  decided  first  to  obtain  a  squire  and  provide  himself  with 
money. 

There  lived  near  him  a  country  labourer,  a  good  honest 
fellow,  named  Sancho  Panza.  The  knight  had  long  conversa- 
tions with  him,  and  in  the  end  prevailed  upon  the  simple  clown 
to  consent  to  accompany  him  as  his  squire,  promising  him  as 
reward  an  island  of  which  he  should  be  made  the  governor. 
Allured  by  Don  Quixote's  promises,  Sancho  consented  to  for- 
sake his  wife  and  children  for  a  time  and  act  as  a  squire.  Then 
the  knight  raised  money  by  selling  one  house  and  mortgaging 
another. 

One  morning  the  pair  stole  away  together,  Don  Quixote  clad 
in  armour  riding  Rozinante,  and  Sancho  mounted  on  an  ass. 

"I  pray  you.  Sir  Knight-errant,"  said  the  squire,  as  they 
went  on  together  while  day  was  beginning  to  break,  "that  you 
will  not  forget  your  promise  about  an  island.  I  am  assured  that 
I  shall  manage  to  govern  it,  no  matter  how  big  it  may  be." 

"  Friend  Sancho,"  the  other  made  answer,  "you  must  under- 
stand it  has  ever  been  the  practice  of  knights-errant  to  make 
their  squires  governors  of  islands  or  kingdoms  they  have  con- 
quered. I  am  resolved  to  keep  up  this  praiseworthy  custom. 
It  may  happen,  if  you  and  I  survive,  that  before  six  days  have 
gone  past  I  may  conquer  some  kingdom.  This  would  be  lucky 
for  you.  I  may  crown  you  a  king.  But  do  not  think  this  a 
great  matter.     Many  strange  accidents  and   revolutions  attend 

399 


400  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

the  profession  of  chivalry,  and  it  may  be  I  shall  easily  confer 
upon  you  much  more  than  I  have  promised." 

Said  Sancho:  "  If  it  should  come  to  pass  by  some  accident, 
as  you  say,  that  I  should  become  a  king,  then  my  old  woman, 
Mary  Gutierrez,  would  be  a  queen,  and  my  children  princes 
and  princesses." 

"  Who  doubts  that?"  asked  the  knight. 

*'  I  do,"  answered  Sancho,  "  because  I  am  convinced  that  if 
it  should  rain  kingdoms  not  one  of  them  would  fit  the  head  of 
Mary  Gutierrez.  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  seiior,  she  is  not  worth 
two  farthings  to  make  a  queen  of.  I  think  countess  would  suit 
her  better.  That,  with  God's  help,  is  about  enough  for  her  to 
manage." 

"Leave  the  matter  to  Providence,  Sancho,"  Don  Quixote 
advised.  "  He  will  give  what  will  best  suit  her.  Do  not, 
however,  be  too  humble,  and  think  you  are  worthy  of  less  than 
the  governorship  of  a  province." 

"Very  well,  seiior,  I  shall  not  be  too  humble,  seeing  I  have 
such  a  master  who  has  power  to  give  me  what  suits  me  best, 
and  what  I  can  best  manage." 

While  they  were  conversing  in  this  manner,  they  came  in 
sight  of  a  plain  on  which  stood  thirty  or  forty  windmills.  No 
sooner  did  the  knight  behold  them  than  he  exclaimed :  "  Fortune 
is  shaping  matters  for  us  better  than  if  we  had  undertaken  the 
task  for  ourselves.  Look  yonder,  my  friend ;  more  than  thirty 
great  giants  appear.  Know  now  that  I  intend  to  encounter  and 
slav  all  of  them,  so  that  we  may  enrich  ourselves  with  the  spoils 
of  battle.  This  is  holy  warfare.  It  is  doing  God's  will  to  rid 
the  earth  of  that  evil  breed  of  giants." 

"  What  giants?"  asked  Sancho. 

"Those  you  behold  yonder,"  Don  Quixote  said,  "  with  their 
great  long  arms.  Some  of  this  hateful  race  have  arms  that  are 
two  leagues  in  length." 

"Look  again,  your  worship,"  said  Sancho.  "These  are 
not  giants  but  windmills,  and  what  you  take  to  be  arms  are 
sails,  which  the  wind  whirls  round  to  make  the  millstones  grind." 

"Hal"  Don  Quixote  said;  "it  is  plain  to  see  you  have  no 
experience  in  the  matter  of  adventures.     I   tell  you  these  are 


DON    QUIXOTE,    SANCHO    PANZA,    AND    THE    FAIR    DULCINEA 


DON   QUIXOTE  401 

giants.     If  you  are  afraid,  remain  here  and  say  your  prayers, 
while  I  engage  myself  in  unequal  combat  with  the  entire  host." 

Without  further  ado  the  knight  spurred  Rozinante,  ignoring 
the  shouts  of  his  squire  Sancho,  who  protested  that  what  he  saw 
were  simply  windmills  and  not  giants.  But  Don  Quixote  was 
so  convinced  to  the  contrary  that  he  did  not  hear  Sancho's 
words  with  understanding.  Nor  did  he  realize  what  he  was 
attacking  even  when  he  was  near  the  mills,  for  he  charged  at 
them  shouting:  "Flee  not,  ye  cowards!  stand  your  ground,  for 
but  a  single  knight  now  dares  to  attack  you!" 

As  he  spoke  the  wind  rose,  and  the  mill-sails  began  to  spin 
round.  Observing  this,  Don  Quixote  cried  out:  "Base  evil- 
doers, although  you  display  more  arms  than  the  giant  Briareus, 
you  have  got  to  reckon  with  me!" 

Devoutly  commending  himself  to  his  lady  Dulcinea,  implor- 
ing her  support  in  his  perilous  adventure,  he  raised  his  shield, 
and  couched  his  lance,  as  he  charged  at  full  tilt  at  the  enemy. 
He  thrust  his  lance  into  a  sail  of  the  first  windmill  he  reached, 
and,  as  he  did  so,  the  wind  whirled  it  round  swiftly.  The  lance 
was  shivered,  and  horse  and  knight  being  hurled  aside,  both 
were  sent  rolling  over  the  plain  in  miserable  plight. 

Sancho  hastened  to  his  master's  aid  as  speedily  as  his  ass 
could  carry  him,  and  found,  on  reaching  him,  that  the  knight 
could  not  stir,  being  stunned  by  the  violent  shock  he  and  the 
horse  had  received. 

"Mercy  on  us!"  exclaimed  Sancho;  "did  I  not  warn  your 
worship  to  be  careful,  these  being  only  windmills?  No  one  could 
have  thought  otherwise  unless  he  had  windmills  on  the  brain." 

"  Peace,  Sancho,  my  friend,"  Don  Quixote  moaned.  "The 
fortunes  of  war  are  liable  to  change.  I  am  fully  convinced  that 
the  cursed  enchanter  Freston,  who  carried  off  my  library,  has 
turned  these  giants  into  windmills,  so  as  to  deprive  me  of  the 
glory  of  having  vanquished  them.  Great  is  his  majice  against 
me;  but,  nevertheless,  in  the  end  all  his  tricks  and  stratagems 
will  prove  unavailing  against  my  goodly  sword." 

"  May  God  so  will  it!"  answered  Sancho,  as  he  assisted  his 

master  to  get  on  his  feet  and  mount  Rozinante,  whose  shoulder 

was  nearly  out  with  the  fall. 

Vol.  II.  55 


IV.   Combat  with  the   Brave   Biscayan 

The  knight  and  his  squire  proceeded  on  their  way  talking 
over  the  adventure,  and  went  towards  the  pass  of  Lapice.  As 
the  thoroughfare  is  a  much-frequented  one,  Don  Quixote  was 
convinced  he  could  not  miss  many  and  varied  adventures.  He 
mourned  the  loss  of  his  lance.  "  I  have  read,"  said  he,  "that 
a  Spanish  knight,  named  Diego  Perez  de  \'argas,  once  broke 
his  sword  in  the  heat  of  battle,  and  got  himself  another  weapon 
by  tearing  up  by  the  roots  a  great  oak  tree,  or,  at  any  rate, 
breaking  off  a  big  branch,  with  which  he  afterwards  performed 
great  feats,  smiting  down  so  many  Moors  that  he  was  called 
Machua,  the  Pounder  or  Bruiser.  The  surname  still  clings  to 
his  descendants.  I  make  mention  of  this  circumstance  because 
it  is  my  intention  to  arm  myself  in  like  manner  from  the  next 
oak  tree  we  come  across.  Ah,  Sancho,  you  will  regard  yourself 
particularly  fortunate  in  having  been  privileged  to  behold  what 
I  shall  do,  and  to  be  the  eyewitness  of  deeds  that  posterity  will 
find  difficult  to  credit!" 

"God  grant  that  may  be  so!"  Sancho  said.  "  I  believe  what 
your  worship  says.  But  be  pleased  to  sit  upright  in  your  saddle, 
for  you  seem  to  list — a  result,  I  suppose,  of  your  fall." 

"Truly  I  do,"  Don  Quixote  granted.  "I  suffer  pain,  but 
make  no  moan,  because  a  knight-errant  never  complains  of  his 
wounds." 

"Then  I  have  nothing  else  to  say,"  remarked  Sancho, 
"although,  God  knows,  I  should  prefer  to  hear  you  lament 
when  you  are  in  suffering.  I  know  I  shall  complain  when  I 
feel  the  smallest  hurt,  unless  it  should  happen  to  be  the  custom 
that  squires,  like  knights,  must  observe  the  same  rule  you  tell 
me  of." 

Don  Quixote  could  not  help  smiling  at  these  simple  words. 
Ho  told   Sancho  he  had   leave  to  complain,   not  only  when    it 


DON    QUIXOTE  403 

pleased  him  to,  but  as  much  indeed  as  he  desired.  So  far  as 
the  knight  remembered,  he  had  never  read  anything  to  the 
contrary  in  books  of  knight-errantry. 

That  night  they  rested  in  a  wood.  Sancho  slept  soundly, 
but  Don  Quixote  pondered  on  his  dear  lady  in  imitation  of  the 
knights  of  romance.  He  also  provided  himself  with  a  dry 
branch  from  a  tree,  of  which  he  made  a  new  shaft  for  his  lance. 

Next  morning  Sancho  drank  from  his  wine  bottle,  but  Don 
Quixote  did  not  break  his  fast.  All  night  long  he  had  been 
feasting  on  savoury  thoughts  of  his  fair  lady. 

They  resumed  their  journey  towards  the  pass  of  Lapice, 
which  they  entered  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Don 
Quixote  promised  Sancho  that  they  would  soon  have  many 
adventures,  and  the  faithful  squire  promised  to  obey  the  knight's 
commands,  but  took  occasion,  at  the  same  time,  to  remind  him 
that  he  was  a  lover  of  peace  and  quietness. 

As  they  conversed  together  on  this  and  other  topics  they  saw 
riding  towards  them  two  friars,  of  the  Order  of  St.  Benedict, 
mounted  on  dromedaries,  for  so  seemed  the  tall  mules  on  which 
they  rode.  They  wore  eyeglasses  to  protect  their  eyes  from  the 
dust,  and  carried  umbrellas  to  shade  them  from  the  sun.  Behind 
the  friars  came  a  coach  in  which  was  a  Biscayan  lady.  She 
was  on  her  way  to  Seville  to  meet  her  husband,  who  was 
about  to  depart  on  a  voyage  to  the  Indies,  having  been  appointed 
to  an  important  post.  Now,  no  sooner  did  Don  Quixote  set 
eyes  on  these  friars,  who  were  not,  be  it  understood,  accompany- 
ing the  lady,  although  they  were  on  the  same  road,  than  he 
declared  to  Sancho:  '*  If  I  am  not  deceived,  this  is  going  to  be 
the  most  famous  adventure  ever  heard  of,  for  these  two  dark 
fellows  riding  towards  us  must  be,  and  no  doubt  are,  enchanters, 
who  are  carrying  away  by  force  some  princess  in  that  coach. 
It  is  my  duty  to  prevent  such  a  wrong." 

Said  Sancho:  **I  fear,  your  worship,  this  will  be  a  more 
sorry  business  than  the  windmills.  By  my  life!  sir,  do  you 
not  perceive  that  these  are  friars  of  St.  Benedict?  It  is  possible 
the  coach  belongs  to  the  travellers  who  are  in  it.  I  pray  you  to 
take  warning,  and  do  not  let  the  devil  mislead  you." 

"Sancho,"  Don  Quixote  said,  "  I  have  already  told  you  that 


404  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

you  know  nothing  regarding  adventures.  What  I  say  is  true, 
as  you  shall  ascertain,  I  am  assured,  before  long." 

So  saying,  the  knight  rode  forward  and  posted  himself  in 
the  middle  of  the  road,  right  in  front  of  the  friars,  to  whom, 
when  they  came  within  hearing,  he  addressed  these  words: 
"Devilish  and  monstrous  race!  set  free  at  once  the  high-born 
princess  you  are  carrying  aw^ay  by  force  in  that  coach,  or  else 
prepare  to  die  instantly  as  punishment  for  your  wicked  deeds." 

The  friars  reined  up  their  mules,  as  greatly  surprised  at 
the  words  as  at  the  appearance  of  that  strange  fellow.  "Sir 
Knight,"  said  one,  "  neither  devilish  nor  monstrous  are  we,  but 
two  religious  men  of  the  Order  of  St.  Benedict,  following  our 
way  and  attending  to  our  duties,  and  we  know  not  whether  or 
not  a  princess  is  being  carried  away  captive  in  a  coach." 

"Your  fair  words  will  not  deceive  me,"  answered  Don 
Quixote.     "I  know  you  too  well,  ye  lying  rogues." 

Without  pausing  for  an  answer,  the  gallant  knight  levelled 
his  lance  and  ran  full  tilt  against  the  first  friar,  who  escaped 
suffering  injury  by  throwing  himself  off  his  mule.  The  other 
friar,  seeing  how  his  brother  was  being  treated,  spurred  his 
mule  and  took  flight  across  the  plain  as  fast  as  the  wind. 

No  sooner  did  Sancho  see  the  friar  on  the  ground  than  he 
dismounted  and  began  to  strip  off  his  gown.  Two  muleteers 
w^ho  were  in  attendance  came  up  hurriedly,  and  asked  him  what 
he  meant  by  so  doing.  Sancho  said  the  spoils  of  battle  w^on 
by  his  master  belonged  to  him  as  lawful  plunder.  Not  under- 
standing w^hat  he  meant,  and  being  in  no  mood  for  jesting, 
these  fellows  fell  upon  the  squire,  threw  him  down,  tore  his 
beard,  and  thrashed  him  on  every  part  of  his  body  until  he  was 
rendered  breathless  and  half  unconscious.  Don  Quixote  had  by 
this  time  ridden  towards  the  coach.  Meanwhile  the  friar,  who 
was  greatly  scared  and  white  as  a  ghost,  remounted  his  mule 
and  rode  away  swiftly  after  his  friend,  who  was  waiting  for  him 
and  watching  what  was  taking  place.  But  they  did  not  tarry 
long,  so  greatly  were  they  scared.  They  turned  away,  making 
as  many  signs  of  the  cross  as  if  the  devil  w^ere  at  their  heels. 

Don  Quixote  was  meanwhile  addressing  himself  to  the  lady 
in  the  coach.     "  You  are  now  at  liberty,"  he  said,  "to  go  wher- 


DON    QUIXOTE  405 

ever  you  please.  The  might  of  your  ravishers  lies  on  the  ground, 
overthrown  by  my  mighty  arm.  Know  that  I,  your  deliverer, 
am  Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha,  knight-errant  and  adventurer, 
and  the  slave  of  that  peerless  lady,  Donna  Dulcinea  del  Toboso. 
I  ask  for  no  reward  for  my  service  except  that  you  should  now 
return  to  Toboso,  there  to  present  yourself  to  my  lady,  so  that 
you  may  inform  her  what  I  have  done  to  set  you  at  liberty." 

One  of  the  lady's  squires,  a  Biscayan,  who  rode  as  an  atten- 
dant beside  the  coach,  hearing  these  strange  words,  addressed 
Don  Quixote  in  broken  Spanish,  saying:  "Be  gone,  you 
knight!  Evil  be  with  you!  By  He  who  did  me  make,  if  you 
do  not  the  coach  leave,  me  will  kill  you  now,  as  sure  as  me  be 
a  Biscayan." 

Don  Quixote  understood  him,  and  answered  softly,  saying: 
'*  If  you  were  a  gentleman,^  as  you  are  not,  I  should  punish  you 
for  your  folly  and  rudeness,  miserable  mortal!" 

"What?"  exclaimed  the  Biscayan;  "me  no  gentleman?  I 
swear,  as  me  a  Christian  am,  that  you  lie.  If  you  throw  away 
your  lance  and  draw  sword,  me  will  treat  you  as  a  cat  does  a 
mouse.  Me  will  show  you  me  be  a  Biscayan,  a  gentleman  on 
land,  a  gentleman  on  sea,  a  gentleman  against  the  devil,  and 
if  you  deny  it,  you  be  a  liar,  say  me." 

"You  shall  see  what  I  can  do,  as  a  knight  once  said,"  an- 
swered Don  Quixote.  As  he  spoke  he  threw  his  lance  on  the 
ground,  drew  his  sword,  raised  his  shield,  and  made  fierce 
attack  on  the  fellow. 

The  Biscayan  would  have  preferred  to  fight  on  the  ground, 
for  he  was  mounted  on  a  miserable  mule  he  had  hired.  He 
found  it  necessary,  however,  to  draw  his  sword  without  delay. 
Luckily  for  him,  he  was  near  enough  to  the  coach  to  be  able  to 
snatch  from  it  a  cushion,  which  he  used  as  a  shield.  The  pair 
set  at  once  to  fighting  as  furiously  as  if  they  were  sworn  foemen, 
while  the  others  endeavoured  in  vain  to  make  them  both  desist. 
The  Biscayan  was  angry,  and  swore  he  would  kill  his  friends, 
including  the  lady  herself,  if  they  would  try  to  prevent  him 
fighting. 

Greatly  alarmed,  the  lady  ordered  her  coachman   to  drive 

'  Caballero,  which  means  "gentleman  "  as  well  as  "  knight  ". 


4o6  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

away  a  little  distance.  This  was  done,  and  she  became  an  un- 
willing eyew'itness  of  the  fierce  struggle. 

The  Biscayan  struck  Don  Quixote  a  great  blow  on  the 
shoulder  right  above  his  shield,  and  had  not  the  knight's 
armour  been  sword-proof  he  w^ould  have  been  cleft  to  the  waist. 
His  ear  was  injured  and  bled  freely. 

Feeling  the  weight  of  the  blow,  Don  Quixote  invoked  his 
fair  one  in  a  loud  voice,  saying:  "Dulcinea,  lady  of  my  soul! 
O  flower  of  all  beauty!  be  pleased  now  to  help  me,  your  cham- 
pion, in  this  fierce  combat  which  I  have  undertaken  to  prove 
your  worth." 

Having  prayed  thus,  he  grasped  his  sword  firmly,  raised  his 
shield,  and  charged  at  his  foe.  This  took  but  a  moment,  Don 
Quixote  being  resolved  to  end  the  combat  with  a  single  great 
blow. 

The  Biscayan,  seeing  his  opponent  coming  on  fiercely,  read 
the  knight's  thought  in  his  face,  and  resolved  to  display  equal 
courage.  He  waited  where  he  was,  shielded  by  the  cushion, 
being  unable  to  get  his  mule  to  answer  his  spurs,  for  the  animal 
was  as  weary  as  it  was  stubborn.  Neither  to  right  nor  to  left 
would  it  budge. 

All  the  spectators  trembled  as  Don  Quixote,  with  uplifted 
sword,  rushed  at  the  Biscayan,  resolved  to  cleave  him  in  twain, 
while  the  lady  in  the  coach  vowed  to  make  many  offerings  and 
prayers  at  holy  places  if  the  squire's  life  were  spared. 

The  knight's  sword  smote  the  Biscayan's  cushion  and  head, 
and  it  seemed  to  that  worthy  as  if  a  whole  mountain  had  fallen 
on  him.  Blood  gushed  from  his  mouth,  nose,  and  ears,  and  he 
reeled  as  if  he  would  fall  backwards,  so  he  flung  his  arms  round 
the  mule's  neck,  while  his  feet  slipped  from  the  stirrups.  The 
mule  took  fright  at  the  blow,  which  roused  it  so  greatly  that  it 
raced  across  the  plain  and  threw  the  Biscayan,  who  fell  on  the 
ground  and  lay  stunned. 

Don  Quixote  looked  on  very  calmly.  As  soon  as  he  per- 
ceived his  enemy  lying  prostrate  he  dismounted,  ran  towards 
him,  and,  setting  the  point  of  his  sword  close  to  the  Biscayan's 
throat,  bade  him  yield,  threatening  if  he  did  not  do  so  instantly 
his  head  would  be  cut  off. 


DOX    QUIXOTE  407 

The  Biscayan  was  so  confused  that  he  could  not  answer  a 
single  word,  and  Don  Quixote  would  certainly  have  made  good 
his  threat,  had  not  the  ladies  in  the  coach  run  forward,  beseech- 
ing him  to  spare  the  unfortunate  squire's  life. 

Loftily  and  gravely  Don  Quixote  answered  them,  saying: 
"  In  truth,  beauteous  ladies,  I  am  willing  to  do  as  you  ask,  but 
on  condition  that  this  knight  will  promise  to  go  without  delay 
to  Tomboso,  and  there  present  himself  before  the  peerless  lady 
Dulcinea,  who  will  dispose  of  him  as  is  pleasing  to  her." 

Without  asking  who  this  Dulcinea  was,  the  affrighted  ladies 
promised  that  the  Biscayan  should  do  all  the  knight  commanded 
him. 

"  I  give  him  his  life  on  the  faith  of  that  promise,"  said  Don 
Quixote.  "  No  further  hurt  shall  I  do  him,  although  he  deserves 
more  than  he  has  already  received." 

Sancho  Panza  had  recovered  sufficiently  from  the  kicks  and 
blows  he  had  received  from  the  grooms  to  be  able  to  watch  his 
master  winning  victory.  Then  he  ran  forward,  fell  on  his  knees 
before  Don  Quixote,  and,  kissing  his  hand,  said:  "Now  may 
it  please  your  worship  to  make  me  governor  of  that  island." 

Said  Don  Quixote:  "  Brother  Sancho,  you  must  understand 
that  this  adventure,  and  other  adventures  of  like  character,  are 
not  island  adventures,  but  cross-roads  adventures,  in  which  one 
gets  little  but  a  broken  head  or  an  injured  ear.  Be  patient, 
therefore,  and  adventures  may  yet  be  had  which  will  make  you 
a  governor  or  something  even  better." 

Sancho  gave  profuse  thanks,  kissed  the  knight's  hand  once 
again,  and  even  kissed  the  skirts  of  his  coat  of  armour  as  he 
helped  him  to  mount  Rozinante.  Then  he  got  on  the  back  of 
his  ass  and  followed  Don  Quixote,  who  rode  away  without 
taking  leave  of  the  occupants  of  the  coach,  and  entered  a  wood 
that  was  near  at  hand. 

vSancho  advised  his  master  to  take  refuge  in  a  church,  lest 
the  Biscayan  should  cause  him  to  be  arrested. 

"Silence!"  Don  Quixote  protested.  "Where  have  you 
ever  read  that  a  knight-errant  could  be  brought  before  a  judge, 
no  matter  how  many  homicides  he  may  chance  to  have  com- 
mitted?" 


V.   Adventures  in  a   Wood  and  at  an  Inn 

Don  Quixote  had  the  misfortune  soon  afterwards  to  fall  in 
with  a  number  of  wicked  Yanguesian  carriers  who  chanced  to 
be  in  the  wood.  Rozinante  was  the  cause  of  the  trouble  that 
befell  him  on  this  occasion.  The  faithful  steed  had  strayed 
among  the  carriers'  mares  as  they  cropped  grass  during  the 
noondav  rest,  and  began  to  bite  and  kick  them.  Perceiving 
this,  the  carriers  belaboured  Rozinante  with  staves. 

''Friend  Sancho,"  exclaimed  Don  Quixote,  "these  men  are 
no  knights,  but  scoundrels  of  the  lowest  rank.  Come  and  help 
me  to  revenge  the  wrong  they  have  done  Rozinante  before  our 
very  eyes." 

"There  are  twenty  of  them,  my  master,"  Sancho  said,  "and 
we  are  but  two. " 

"  I  alone,"  answered  the  knight,  "am  worth  a  hundred." 

As  he  spoke  thus  he  ran  at  the  carriers  with  drawn  sword, 
and  Sancho  followed  him.  Don  Quixote  wounded  on  the 
shoulder  the  first  carrier  he  reached,  whereupon  the  others 
turned  upon  him  and  his  squire  with  their  pack-staves  and 
levers.  Soon  they  had  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  on  the 
ground,  and  having  beaten  them  soundly  they  hastened  away, 
fearing  the  consequences  that  might  follow  the  attack. 

For  a  long  time  the  knight  and  his  squire  lay  in  pain,  but  at 
length  Sancho  was  able  to  get  up  and  lay  Don  Quixote  on  the 
ass,  to  whose  tail  he  attached  Rozinante.  Then  he  led  the  way 
towards  the  highway.  Having  reached  the  road,  the  squire 
limped  forward  for  a  league  until  he  came  to  an  inn. 

Seeing  the  knight  in  suffering,  the  innkeeper  asked  what 
ailed  him,  and  Sancho  told  that  his  master  had  fallen  from  a 
rock  and  suffered  bruises.  Don  Quixote  was  at  once  carried  to 
a  bed  in  the  upper  story  of  the  inn,  and  the  innkeeper's  wife 


DON    QUIXOTE  409 

and  her  daughter  dressed  his  wounds  with  ointment  and  band- 
ages. They  were  astonished  to  hear  from  Sancho  what  a  great 
man  the  knight  was,  and  also  to  hear  the  rhetorical  speeches  of 
Don  Quixote  himself. 

Next  morning,  finding  himself  much  recovered,  Don  Quixote 
resolved  to  take  his  departure.  Having  mounted  his  steed,  he 
called  the  innkeeper,  whom  he  took  to  be  the  governor  of  a 
castle,  and  addressed  him  before  a  crowd  of  about  twenty 
persons,  saying:  "My  lord  governor,  my  soul  is  grateful  for 
the  favours  I  have  received  in  your  castle.  It  is  my  desire 
to  discharge  part  of  the  obligation.  Therefore  think  of  any 
affront  or  injury  you  have  received,  and  I  shall  take  care  that 
you  will  receive  satisfaction." 

"Sir  Knight,"  answered  the  innkeeper,  "  I  have  no  need  of 
your  assistance,  for  I  am  able  to  take  my  own  part  against  any 
man  who  tries  to  wrong  me.  All  the  satisfaction  I  ask  for  is 
that  you  now  pay  your  bill." 

"  What  mean  you?"  asked  Don  Quixote.    "  Is  this  an  inn?" 

**  It  is,"  the  other  assured  him,  "and  it  is  one  of  the  most 
noted  on  the  road,  having  an  excellent  reputation." 

"Alas!  I  have  been  mistaken,  then,"  sighed  the  knight. 
"Upon  my  honour  I  took  it  for  a  castle.  But  if  it  is  an  inn, 
and  not  a  castle,  you  must  excuse  me  paying  your  bill.  I  can- 
not break  the  rules  that  knights-errant  are  bound  to  observe.  It 
is  well  known  that  they  have  never  had  to  pay  in  any  inn  what- 
soever. After  all,  this  recompense  of  free  board  and  lodging  is 
a  small  one  for  the  sufferings  knights  must  endure." 

"  Your  sufferings  have  naught  to  do  with  me,"  the  innkeeper 
said.  "  Pay  your  bill,  and  do  not  trouble  me  any  more  with 
your  cock-and-bull  stories.  I  cannot  afford  to  keep  an  inn  for 
guests  who  do  not  pay." 

"I  call  you  a  fool  and  a  knave,"  exclaimed  Don  Quixote 
angrily,  as  he  spurred  Rozinante  and  flourished  a  javelin  he 
had  taken  possession  of  in  the  inn.  He  rode  away  without 
opposition,  but  the  innkeeper  turned  to  Sancho  Panza  and 
demanded  payment  from  him.  The  squire  swore  he  was  bound 
by  the  same  law  as  his  master,  and  refused  to  settle  the  bill.  At 
this  the  innkeeper  flew  into  a  passion  and   threatened  to  lay 


4IO  THE    WORLDS    HERITAGE 

hands  on  the  fellow.  Sancho  swore  by  Don  Quixote's  knight- 
hood he  would  sooner  give  up  his  life  than  his  money. 

Some  of  the  guests,  who  were  jovial  and  jocular  fellows,  took 
up  the  innkeeper's  cause.  They  pulled  Sancho  ofi"  his  ass,  and, 
dragging  him  to  the  backyard,  began  to  toss  him  in  a  blanket, 
as  they  do  to  dogs  on  Shrove  Tuesday. 

Sancho  yelled  in  his  distress,  and  Don  Quixote  turned  back 
to  see  what  was  wrong.  On  reaching  the  wall  of  the  backyard, 
he  beheld  Sancho  rising  and  falling  in  the  air.  It  is  probable 
he  would  have  laughed  like  the  others  had  he  not  felt  so  angry. 
He  tried  to  get  over  the  wall,  but  was  too  stiff  with  his  bruises 
to  leave  his  saddle,  and  could  only  fume  and  shout  and  threat. 
The  more  he  stormed,  looking  over  the  wall,  the  more  the  others 
laughed.  Sancho's  tormentors  did  not  stop  until  they  were 
utterly  wearied  out.  Then  they  set  their  victim  on  his  ass, 
while  the  innkeeper  kept  the  squire's  wallet  for  his  bill. 


VI.   The   Battle  with  an  Enchanted  Army 

As  knight  and  squire  rode  away,  Don  Quixote  declared 
that  the  castle,  or  inn,  whichever  it  might  be,  was  enchanted. 
"Otherwise,"  said  he,  "why  did  they  make  such  barbarous 
sport  of  you,  and  why  was  I  unable  to  get  over  the  wall?  Had 
I  got  at  these  sorry  knaves,  Sancho,  I  should  have  revenged 
you,  and  they  should  never  forget  such  punishment  as  I  should 
have  inflicted  on  them  for  infringing  the  laws  of  chivalry." 

Sancho  refused  to  believe  in  the  idea  of  enchantment,  and 
said:  "  It  is  plain  as  the  nose  on  a  man's  face  that  these  adven- 
tures we  are  searching  for  are  bringing  us  naught  but  a  peck  of 
troubles.  In  the  end  we  shall  suffer  so  much  that  we  shall  be 
unable  to  set  one  foot  before  another.  The  short  and  the  long 
of  it  is,  I  think  the  best  thing  we  can  do  now  is  to  jog  home- 
ward and  look  after  our  harvest,  instead  of  rambling  about  in 
this  manner  from  Ceca  to  Mecca,  and  leaping  out  of  the  frying- 
pan  into  the  fire." 

"Alas,  poor  Sancho!"  lamented  Don  Quixote;  "how  igno- 
rant you  are  regarding  matters  of  chivalry!  Let  us  go  on  and 
say  no  more.  A  day  will  come  when  you  will  think  otherwise. 
Tell  me,  if  you  can,  what  greater  joy  can  be  had  in  this  world 
than  in  triumphing  over  one's  enemies?     None,  say  I." 

In  this  manner  they  went  on  talking  until  they  reached  the 
summit  of  a  small  hill,  where  they  caught  sight  of  flocks  of 
sheep  on  the  dusty  road,  and  men  mounted  on  mules  driving 
them  on.  Don  Quixote  declared  he  beheld  great  armies,  and 
named  the  kings  who  led  them.  "  Do  you  not  hear  the  horses 
neighing,  and  the  sounds  of  trumpets  and  drums?"  he  exclaimed, 
addressing  his  squire. 

"Not  I,"  Sancho  answered,  "I  hear  naught  through  the 
dust  but  the  bleating  of  sheep." 


412  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

*'  Your  senses  have  been  disturbed  by  fear,"  said  Don 
Quixote,  "and  you  cannot  see  or  hear  aright.  Withdraw  to 
a  place  of  safety  since  you  are  afraid.  I  alone  am  able  to  win 
victory  for  the  side  which  I  am  to  favour  with  my  assistance." 

As  he  spoke  he  couched  his  lance,  and  charged  towards  the 
plain. 

"  Stay,  sir,  stay,  for  Heaven's  sake!"  shouted  Sancho;  "stay 
and  come  back.  What  mean  you?  As  I  am  a  sinner,  you  are 
going  to  maul  nothing  but  poor,  inoffensive  sheep.  Come  back, 
I  say!  Are  you  mad,  sir?  There  are  no  giants,  knights,  or 
cats,  or  what-d'ye-call  thems,  to  be  seen.  .  .  .  Alas,  that  I  should 
have  lived  to  see  this  day!" 

Don  Quixote  heeded  him  not.  "Courage,  brave  knights!" 
he  shouted  as  he  rode  forward.  "  March  up,  fall  on,  follow  me, 
and  you  shall  see  how  I  can  revenge  the  valiant  Pentapolin  on 
the  infidel  Alifanfaron  of  Taprobana." 

Thus  shouting,  he  charged  the  flock  of  sheep  with  great 
gallantry  and  resolution.  He  rode  through  them,  putting 
many  to  flight,  and  leaving  some  prostrate  and  wallowing  in 
their  blood. 

The  astonished  shepherds  shouted  to  the  knight  to  desist, 
but  finding  he  did  not  heed  them,  they  set  stones  in  their  slings 
and  began  to  pound  him  vigorously.  But  Don  Quixote  scorned 
to  take  notice  of  their  attack,  and  continued  to  charge  the  sheep, 
so  that  Rozinante  trampled  on  the  living  and  the  dead.  The 
knight  was  anxious  to  meet  the  enemy  general,  so  that  the  war 
might  be  brought  to  a  speedy  conclusion.  "  Proud  Alifanfaron, 
where  are  you?"  he  shouted.  "Reveal  yourself,  for  behold! 
but  a  single  knight  is  searching  for  you,  anxious  to  fight  with 
you  in  single  combat,  and  deprive  you  of  life  as  meet  reward  for 
waging  this  unjust  war  against  the  noble  Pentapolin." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  a  stone  from  one  of  the  slings  hit  him  on 
the  small  ribs  so  severe  a  blow  that  he  thought  he  was  severely 
wounded.  He  at  once  seized  the  earthen  jug  containing  his 
healing  draught  and  raised  it  to  his  mouth.  But  just  as  he 
began  to  drink,  another  stone  smashed  the  vessel,  injured  his 
hand,  and  struck  out  three  or  four  of  his  teeth.  So  violent  was 
the  blow  that  the  gallant  knight  tumbled  from  his  saddle,  falling 


DON   QUIXOTE  413 

on  the  ground,  where  he  lay  prone  like  one  who  had  been  slain. 
The  shepherds  were  alarmed,  and,  fearing  they  had  killed  the 
stranger,  drove  away  their  sheep  speedily,  carrying  with  them 
seven  that  had  been  slain. 

Sancho,  standing  on  the  hill,  saw  all  that  had  taken  place. 
As  he  looked  on,  he  tore  his  beard,  stamped  his  feet,  and  cursed 
the  day  he  had  first  set  eyes  on  his  master.  When,  however, 
he  saw  Don  Quixote  falling,  and  the  shepherds  hastening  away, 
he  ran  down  to  the  plain.  He  found  that  his  master  was  stunned 
but  not  unconscious. 

"Alas!"  Sancho  exclaimed;  ''this  comes  from  not  following 
my  advice.  Did  I  not  warn  you  it  was  a  flock  of  sheep  and  not 
an  army?" 

"Sancho,  my  friend,"  moaned  the  knight,  "you  must 
understand  that  it  is  an  easy  matter  for  enchanters  to  change 
the  shape  of  things  at  their  pleasure.  The  notorious  magician, 
who  is  mine  enemy,  seeks  to  rob  me  of  the  renown  he  perceived 
I  was  so  anxious  to  acquire,  and  in  a  single  moment  changed 
into  sheep  the  armies  I  had  routed.  If  you  do  not  believe  this, 
friend  Sancho,  I  pray  you  to  do  one  thing  for  me — mount  your 
ass  and  follow  these  supposed  sheep,  watching  from  a  distance, 
and  I  am  convinced  that  you  will  ere  long  see  them  resuming 
their  wonted  shapes." 

Don  Quixote  rose  from  the  ground  with  his  left  hand  pressed 
against  his  injured  mouth,  and,  grasping  in  his  right  the 
bridle  of  Rozinante,  w^alked  towards  his  squire,  who  had  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  being  in  a  most  melancholy  and  dis- 
consolate mood.  "Friend  Sancho,"  said  the  knight,  "these 
misfortunes  foretell  a  coming  calm.  Our  calamities  will  cer- 
tainly be  followed  by  success.  Well  has  it  been  said  that 
nothing  violent  can  endure  for  long.  Do  not  permit  yourself 
to  be  overcome  by  the  misfortunes  you  have  not  shared — mis- 
fortunes that  are  but  the  due  of  friendship  and  humanity." 

"How  can  I  help  sharing  in  them?"  Sancho  made  answer. 
"Was  not  the  son  of  my  father  tossed  this  morning  in  a 
blanket,  and  has  not  the  son  of  my  mother  lost  the  wallet  and 
all  that  was  in  it?" 

"And  have  you  lost  your  wallet?"  asked  the  knight. 


414  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

"  Whether  or  not  I  lost  it,"  Sancho  moaned,  "  I  cannot  say. 
All  I  know  is  that  I  am  unable  to  say  what  has  become  of  it." 

"Then  must  we  fast  to-day,"  Don  Quixote  remarked. 

"That  is  certain,"  moaned  the  squire,  "unless  you  search 
for  the  roots  and  herbs  I  have  heard  you  speak  of — those  that 
did  help  those  unlucky  knights  who  had  reached  a  dead  end." 

"  Rather  would  I  have  some  bread  or  cake,  and  two  pil- 
chards' heads,"  Don  Quixote  said,  "than  all  the  roots  and 
herbs  that  ever  were  known.  Mount  your  ass,  Sancho,  and 
come  with  me,  for  I  am  assured  that  Providence,  who  protects 
all,  will  not  fail  us,  seeing  that  we  are  in  His  service.  Behold! 
God  provides  for  the  very  insects  of  the  air,  for  the  worms  of 
the  earth,  and  for  the  smallest  fish  in  the  water,  and  in  His 
good  mercy  he  causes  the  sun  to  shine  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust,  and  the  rain  to  fall  on  the  good  and  on  the  bad." 

"  Your  worship,"  Sancho  Panza  said,  "  would  make  a  better 
preacher  than  a  knight-errant." 

"Knights-errant  should  know  everything,"  said  Don 
Quixote.  "In  former  ages  some  have  preached  as  ably  as  if 
they  had  taken  degrees  in  the  University  of  Paris.  We  may 
conclude,  therefore,  that  the  lance  never  blunted  the  pen  nor 
the  pen  the  lance." 

"So  be  it,"  Sancho  sighed.  "  Let  us  get  out  of  this  unlucky 
place,  and  find  a  lodging  where  there  are  no  blanket-tossers  or 
Moorish  enchanters." 

"  Trust  to  Providence,"  said  Don  Quixote.  "  For  this  once 
you  may  follow  the  road  that  pleases  you.  But  first  come 
hither,  I  pray  you,  and  ascertain  how  many  teeth  I  have  lost 
from  the  right  side  of  my  upper  jaw." 

They  were  fortunate  that  evening  in  falling  among  friends, 
with  whom  they  fared  well. 


VII.   A   Night  of  Terror 

Some  days  later  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  Panza  had  entered 
a  valley  which  twisted  between  two  hills,  and  there  partook  of 
some  food,  but  they  had  neither  wine  nor  water  to  quench  their 
thirst.  "The  grass  is  so  fresh,"  remarked  the  squire,  "that  I 
am  certain  there  is  a  spring  or  a  stream  not  far  from  here. 
Come,  I  pray  you,  and  let  us  make  search  for  water,  for  my 
throat  is  plagued  with  drought." 

It  had  grown  dark,  and  knight  and  squire  led  their  animals 
by  their  bridles,  going  forward  cautiously.  They  could  hardly 
see  their  own  hands,  so  dense  became  the  night.  For  about  two 
hundred  yards  they  plodded  on  together  with  difficulty.  Then 
they  heard  the  sound  of  falling  water,  and  paused  to  listen,  so 
that  they  might  locate  it.  As  they  stood  there  another  clamour 
reached  their  ears  which  made  Sancho  extremely  nervous,  for 
he  was  prone  to  be  afraid.  It  seemed  as  if  heavy  blows  were 
being  struck  regularly,  while  the  rattling  of  chains  mingled 
with  the  roaring  of  the  waters.  Any  other  man  but  Don 
Quixote  might  well  have  been  stricken  with  terror.  It  was  a 
solitary,  unknown  spot,  and  the  mysterious  and  awesome  sounds 
mingled  with  the  loud  rustling  of  the  tall  trees.  But  the  Don 
was  not  dismayed.  He  leapt  on  the  back  of  Rozinante,  braced 
his  shield  and  levelled  his  lance,  displaying  valour  which  was  a 
stranger  to  fear. 

"Now  know,  friend  Sancho,"  said  he,  "that  I  was  born  in 
this  Iron  Age  to  restore  the  Age  of  Gold.  Fate  has  chosen  me 
to  make  formidable  attempts,  and  to  perform  great  and  daring 
adventures  and  glorious  feats  of  arms.  I  am  the  man  who  shall 
restore  the  Order  of  the  Table  Round,  the  twelve  peers  ot 
France,  and  the  nine  worthies.  It  is  I  who  shall  deface  from 
memory  your  Platyrs,  your  Tablantes,  your  Olifants,  and  your 


4i6  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Tirantes.  All  the  knights  and  heroes  of  former  ages  will  behold 
their  dazzling  achievements  eclipsed  by  me.  Take  note,  my 
squire,  what  terrors  compass  us  about.  Dark  is  the  night,  and 
doleful  the  solitude.  Hear  the  confused  rustling  of  leaves,  the 
rattling  of  chains,  the  howling  of  winds,  the  roaring  of  falling 
waters,  and  the  awesome  clamour  of  redoubled  blows  loud  as 
peals  of  thunder.  Those  familiar  sounds  that  invariably  arouse 
the  courage  of  frail  humanity  are  all  silent.  In  this  perilous 
situation  Mars  himself  might  well  tremble  with  fear,  but  I 
remain  unshaken  and  undaunted  in  the  midst  of  wild  alarms. 
What  causes  men  to  fear  but  stimulates  my  valour  and 
strengthens  my  heart,  which  now  leaps  up  at  the  prospect  of 
new  adventures,  no  matter  how  great  the  odds  against  me  may 
be.  Come,  prepare  my  steed  by  tightening  the  girths.  You 
may  tarry  here  if  you  w-ill,  and  await  my  return.  If,  when  three 
days  have  gone  past,  I  do  not  come  back,  you  may  get  you 
homewards,  and  inform  my  peerless  lady  that  her  knight  has 
fallen  for  the  sake  of  her  love  and  honour,  attempting  things 
that  made  him  worthy  of  being  her  adorer." 

Sancho  began  to  shed  tears  of  despair.  "O  my  master," 
said  he,  "why  will  you  run  yourself  into  trouble?  There  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  go  on  with  this  adventure.  It  is  very 
dark.  No  one  sees  us  now,  and  we  can  slink  away  out  of 
harm's  way,  although  we  may  not  get  a  drop  of  water  to  drink 
for  the  next  three  days.  I  have  heard  our  parson  say  that  he 
who  looks  for  danger  perishes  in  it,  and  that  we  should  not 
tempt  Providence  by  attempting  to  do  what  we  cannot  accom- 
plish. If  you  will  not  be  warned,  think  of  poor  me,  I  pray  you. 
Once  you  have  gone,  poor  Sancho  will  be  ready  to  give  up  the 
ghost  with  fear.  I  left  my  house  and  wife  and  children  to 
follow  you,  hoping  to  benefit  by  so  doing.  You  promised  me 
an  unlucky  island,  and  now  you  are  going  to  drop  me  in  this 
strange  place.  Dear  master,  do  not  be  hard-hearted.  If  you 
insist  on  going  on  with  this  adventure,  why  not  wait  until  day- 
break?" 

"  Let  day  come  or  not,  it  makes  no  difference  to  me,"  said 
Don  Quixote.  "  It  shall  never  be  recorded  that  either  tears  or 
entreaties  made  me  neglect  the  duty  of  a  knight.     Heaven,  who 


DON    QUIXOTE  417 

has  inspired  me  with  courage,  will  watcii  over  you,  Sancho, 
and  keep  you  safe." 

Finding  Don  Quixote  so  obstinate,  Sancho,  unknown  to 
him,  tied  the  hind  legs  of  Rozinante  with  his  ass's  halter. 
Then  he  fastened  the  girths  securely  as  he  was  ordered  to  do. 

Don  Quixote  at  once  spurred  his  horse,  desiring  to  move 
forward,  but  found  the  animal  would  not  budge,  although  it 
seemed  restiv^e. 

"Now  Heaven  is  on  my  side,"  exclaimed  Sancho  Panza, 
''for  He  will  not  let  Rozinante  move  an  inch.  It  is  useless  for 
you  to  go  on  spurring  the  poor  animal." 

Don  Quixote  was  furious,  but,  finding  all  his  efforts  to  make 
Rozinante  go  forward  were  in  vain,  he  said:  "Then  must  I 
tarry  here  until  dawn,  although  the  delay  will  cost  me  much 
grief." 

"  I  will  tell  you  stories  until  day  comes,"  said  Sancho  Panza, 
"and  you  need  not  therefore  grieve.  It  would  be  better  to  dis- 
mount. Perhaps  your  worship  would  prefer  to  take  a  nap  on 
the  grass,  as  knights-errant  have  ever  been  wont  to  do,  so  that 
you  may  be  fresher  and  fitter  for  the  adventure  that  awaits  you." 

"What  mean  you?"  asked  Don  Quixote.  "Think  you  I 
am  one  of  those  carpet  knights  who  seek  sleep  and  ease  when 
danger  is  at  hand?  Sleep  if  you  wish  to.  You  were  born  to 
sleep.     Please  yourself.     As  for  me,  I  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

"  Good  sir,  do  not  grow  angry,"  Sancho  pleaded.  "  I  meant 
not  to  offend  you."  He  embraced  the  knight's  left  thigh,  not 
daring  to  budge  an  inch,  for  the  sound  of  rattling  chains  and 
heavy  blows  that  came  through  the  darkness  terrified  him 
greatly. 

Don  Quixote  took  pity  on  Sancho,  and  bade  him  relate  his 
stories.  "  I  am  frightened  to  death,"  moaned  the  squire,  "and 
have  no  heart  to  tell  stories." 

Don  Quixote,  however,  prevailed  upon  him  to  go  on,  and 
Sancho  told  a  confused  and  wandering  tale,  which  his  master 
interrupted  frequently,  saying  of  it  in  the  end:  " 'Tis  a  most 
extraordinary  story,  told  in  an  extraordinary  manner.  Alas, 
poor  Sancho!  I  fear  that  the  terrors  of  the  night  have  affected 
your  brain." 

Vol.  TI.  56 


4i8  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

When  dawn  began  to  break,  the  squire  untied  Rozinante's 
legs,  and  the  animal  at  once  became  lively  and  set  to  prancing 
about.  This  the  knight  regarded  as  a  good  omen,  and  he  re- 
solved to  undertake  his  adventure  without  further  delay.  As 
he  rode  towards  the  ominous  sounds  that  were  still  heard  clearly 
Sancho  followed  him,  leading  by  the  halter  his  ass,  which  v^as 
his  faithful  companion  in  good  fortune  and  bad. 

They  left  the  clump  of  chestnut  trees  in  which  they  had 
passed  the  night,  and  reached  an  open  meadow.  Before  them 
towered  a  rocky  eminence,  over  the  face  of  which  fell  a  foaming 
cascade.  Beneath  the  cliff  were  old  buildings  that  resembled 
ruined  houses,  and  knight  and  squire  discovered  that  the  alarm- 
ing clamour  of  unceasing  blows  came  from  this  place.  Rozi- 
nante  grew  restless,  but  its  master  was  not  daunted,  and  he 
spoke  gentle  and  encouraging  words  to  the  steed.  He  then 
commended  himself  to  his  peerless  lady,  Dulcinea,  and  to 
Heav^en,  and  prepared  his  heart  for  what  was  to  come. 

Sancho,  still  terrified,  kept  behind  the  knight,  and  peered 
between  Rozinante's  legs  to  see  what  could  be  seen.  Ere  long 
his  eyes  fell  on  six  huge  full-milling  hammers,  which  the  stream 
kept  revolving  and  thumping  several  pieces  of  cloth,  causing 
the  awesome  noise  that  had  stirred  Don  Quixote  so  deeply  and 
terrified  himself  in  the  darkness. 

The  knight  was  greatly  astounded  by  his  discovery,  and 
seemed  about  to  tumble  from  his  horse  with  confusion.  He 
hung  his  head  and  cursed  his  ill  fortune.  Then  he  glanced  at 
Sancho,  whose  eyes  bulged  and  sparkled,  and  whose  cheeks 
swelled  wath  suppressed  laughter.  Don  Quixote  could  not  help 
laughing  himself,  and  Sancho  thereupon  let  loose  his  mirth, 
which  so  took  possession  of  him  that  he  had  to  press  his  sides 
to  prevent  his  body  splitting  open.  So  long  and  heartily  did 
he  laugh  that  Don  Quixote  grew  indignant  first  and  then  very 
angry,  and  when  Sancho  began  to  jeer  he  struck  him  two  sound 
blows  with  his  lance. 

**Oh,  mercy,  my  good  master!"  cried  the  squire.  ''Spare 
my  bones,  I  pray  you.     I  did  but  joke,  and  meant  no  offence." 

"  Come  hither,"  Don  Quixote  said,  "  and  tell  nie  if  this  had 
been  a  perilous  adventure,  which  only  proves  to  be  a  false  alarm, 


DON   QUIXOTE  419 

if  I  did  not  show  myself  ready  to  undertake  it?  Is  a  knight 
expected  to  be  able  to  distinguish  between  sounds?  Let  these 
fulling-hammers  be  transformed  into  giants,  and  if  I  do  not 
overcome  them,  I  will  permit  you  to  jeer  at  me  as  much  as  you 
please." 

Sancho  was  chastened  by  these  and  further  words,  and  in  the 
end  he  said:  *'  Be  assured  that  in  time  to  come  I  shall  not  jeer 
at  anything  you  do,  but  will  always  wonder  at  you  and  honour 
you  as  my  lord  and  master." 

*'  'Tis  well,"  answered  the  knight,  "  for  then  your  days  shall 
be  long  in  this  world.  Next  to  our  parents,  we  should  respect 
our  masters  as  though  they  were  our  own  fathers." 


VIII.   Sancho  gets  his  Island  and 
governs   It 

Don  Quixote's  second  series  of  adventures  ended  when  the 
officers  of  justice  arrested  him,  and  he  was  brought  home  in  a 
cage  which  had  been  mounted  on  an  ox-wagon.  His  friends 
did  their  utmost  to  detain  him  lest  he  might  again  sally  forth, 
but  one  night  when  the  curate  and  the  barber  held  converse 
with  him  mention  was  made  of  the  Turkish  invasions  which 
threatened  Christendom.  At  this  Don  Quixote's  madness  flared 
forth  again,  and  he  declared  that  the  only  remedy  was  for  the 
King  of  Spain  to  summon  to  his  aid  all  the  knights-errant 
wandering  through  his  kingdom,  for  one  knight  could  defeat  an 
army  of  two  hundred  thousand.  "A  knight-errant  am  I,  and 
shall  continue  to  be,"  he  declared.  '*  Let  the  Turk  do  his 
worst." 

Don  Quixote's  friends  schemed  to  detain  him,  but  their 
efforts  were  in  vain.  He  plotted  in  secret  with  Sancho  Panza, 
and  one  night  they  set  out  together  towards  Toboso,  there  to 
receive  the  blessing  and  permission  of  Dulcinea,  the  peerless 
one.  Sancho  went  in  search  of  the  lady,  and  found  she  was  but 
a  plain  country  girl.  He  brought  her  to  the  knight,  who  de- 
clared that  she  had  been  enchanted.  Much  did  Don  Quixote 
lament  the  disgrace  and  misfortune  that  had  thus  become  his 
lot. 

They  went  on  together,  and  met  with  several  adventures, 
until  they  reached  a  green  meadow  on  which  was  a  hunting- 
party.  Don  Quixote  observed  that  the  chief  member  of  it  was 
a  richly-attired  lady  with  a  hawk  on  her  left  hand,  and  he  bade 
his  squire  to  hasten  towards  her  and  announce  his  arrival. 

Sancho  did  so,  and  the  lady,  who  was  a  duchess,  said  to 


DON    QUIXOTE  421 

him  as  he  knelt  before  her:  "  I  pray  you  to  rise  up,  for  it  is  not 
seemly  that  the  squire  of  so  great  a  knight,  of  whom  we  have 
heard  so  much,  should  remain  on  his  knees.  Say  to  your 
master  that  I  beg  of  him  to  honour  our  company  with  his 
presence.  My  lord  the  duke  and  I  will  pay  him  our  respects 
in  a  castle  hard  by." 

The  renowned  Don  Quixote  was  indeed  made  welcome  by 
the  duke  and  duchess,  who  had  resolved  to  make  merry  at  his 
expense  and  that  of  his  squire.  He  was  ushered  into  the  castle 
with  much  mock  ceremony,  and  six  young  damsels,  who  had 
been  instructed  how  to  conduct  themselves,  took  off  his  armour, 
and  then  proposed  to  change  his  underclothing.  But  his  natural 
modesty  made  him  decline  their  offer,  and  he  retired  to  a  bed- 
room, where  Sancho  performed  that  duty  for  him,  listening  the 
while  to  the  knight's  instructions  how  to  behave  himself  aright. 

The  duke  and  duchess  made  merry  over  a  meal  with  Don 
Quixote,  whom  they  persuaded  to  talk  freely  of  knight-errantry, 
of  his  various  adventures,  of  his  peerless  lady  Dulcinea  who  had 
been  enchanted,  and  sundry  other  matters.  Sancho  Panza  stood 
meanwhile  near  by  and  frequently  interjected  remarks,  and  the 
duchess  took  a  great  liking  to  him,  considering  that  he  was 
more  amusing  than  even  his  master. 

Among  the  diversions  engaged  in  next  day  was  a  mock  pro- 
cession, in  which  appeared  a  figure  dressed  up  as  Merlin  the 
enchanter.  Don  Quixote  was  mightily  impressed,  and  consulted 
Merlin  regarding  the  enchantment  of  Dulcinea  del  Toboso.  The 
Arthurian  sage  informed  him  that  she  could  be  restored  to  her 
former  state  if  his  squire,  Sancho,  would  suffer  the  self-infliction 
of  three  thousand  three  hundred  lashes.  Poor  Sancho  protested 
against  this,  but,  in  the  end,  was  persuaded  to  consent  to  per- 
form the  necessary  duty  for  his  master's  sake. 

As  a  reward  for  his  services  to  the  knight,  the  duke  an- 
nounced to  Sancho  that  he  would  have  an  island  to  look  after. 
"Very  well,  then,"  said  Sancho,  "let  me  have  this  island  and 
I  shall  do  my  best  to  govern  it.  But  understand  it  is  not  for 
covetousness  that  I  leave  my  little  cottage  to  become  a  person 
of  importance,  but  just  to  find  out  how  it  feels  to  be  a  gover- 
nor." 


422  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGH 

"Once  you  experience  the  taste  of  office,"  the  duke  said, 
"you  will  like  it,  for  it  is  a  bewitching  thing  to  command  and 
be  obeyed." 

"Truly,  I  agree  with  you,"  smiled  Sancho;  "it  is  a  rare 
thing  to  command,   if  it  were  only  a  flock  of  sheep." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  as  good  a  governor  as  you  promise  to 
be,"  the  duke  said.  "To-morrow  you  will  set  out  for  your 
island.  Meanwhile  you  will  be  provided  with  the  necessary 
garments  suitable  for  your  post." 

"They  may  dress  me  up  as  they  please,"  said  the  squire; 
"but  I  shall  be  the  same  Sancho  still." 

Don  Quixote  had  entered  the  apartment  in  which  this  con- 
versation took  place,  and  when  he  heard  that  Sancho  was  to 
enter  upon  his  duties  at  once,  he  addressed  to  him  some  words 
of  advice.  "  Fear  God  and  you  will  never  go  astray,"  said  he. 
"  Never  forget  what  you  were.  Know  yourself,  although  that 
is  the  hardest  lesson  in  the  world.  Yet  from  it  you  will  avoid 
the  foolish  ambition  of  the  frog  which  tried  to  puff  itself  out  so 
as  to  rival  the  ox  in  bulk.  Remember  you  were  once  a  swine- 
herd." 

"That  was  when  I  was  a  boy,"  protested  Sancho.  "When 
I  became  a  lad  I  drove  geese.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the 
matter?     All  governors  cannot  be  of  high  birth." 

"True,"  Don  Quixote  assented.  "The  point  is  that  those 
who  are  not  of  noble  descent  should  in  office  temper  severity 
with  civility,  and  exercise  mildness  swayed  by  wisdom,  so  that 
they  may  be  saved  from  the  whisperings  of  malice.  But  do  not 
think  it  a  disgrace  to  have  been  born  a  labouring  man,  for  if 
you  are  not  ashamed  of  yourself,  no  one  else  will  try  to  make 
you  so.  Strive  to  be  humble  and  honourable  rather  than  proud 
and  cruel.  Although  nobility  is  inherited,  yet  it  was  originally 
an  acquired  virtue,  and  virtue  is  of  more  value  than  mere  no- 
bility of  birth.  If  a  poor  relative  should  visit  you,  do  not  shun 
or  revile  him.  Send  for  your  wife,  and  do  your  best  to  make 
her  refined.  Never  be  guided  by  self-conceit,  which  is  a  vice 
of  the  ignorant  who  overestimate  their  understanding.  Be 
just  to  the  poor  as  well  as  to  the  rich,  and  strive  to  find  out 
the  truth.      Revile  not  those  whom   you   must  punish.      God 


DON    QUIXOTK  423 

judges  fairly,  yet  His  mercy  is  more  pleasing"  to  us  than  His 
justice." 

Tiien  Don  Quixote  dealt  with  lesser  matters  of  importance. 
'*  Cleanliness  of  person  is  a  virtue,"  said  he.  "  Pare  your  nails, 
do  not  be  slovenly  in  dress.  Do  not  eat  onions  and  garlic,  lest 
your  breath  betray  your  humble  origin.  Never  overeat  at 
meals,  and  drink  moderately,  for  drunkenness  keeps  no  secret 
or  promise." 

Having  listened  long  to  the  knight,  Sancho  said:  "What 
you  have  told  me  is  good  and  to  the  point,  but  how  can  I  be 
the  better  of  it  if  I  cannot  keep  it  all  in  mind?  If  you  think  I 
am  not  fit  to  be  a  governor,  I  can  remain  plain  Sancho  and  live 
contentedly  on  humble  fare.  But  do  not  forget  you  were  the 
first  to  put  this  idea  of  the  government  of  an  island  into  my 
head,  for  I  knew  no  more  than  a  blind  buzzard  what  pertained 
to  islands  and  governors." 

"  Your  words  prove  your  worth,"  said  Don  Quixote.  "You 
are  fit  to  govern  a  thousand  islands,  having  naturally  a  good 
disposition,  which  is  of  more  account  than  great  knowledge. 
Commend  yourself  to  Divine  Providence,  and  ever  be  upright 
of  intention.     Now  let  us  get  to  dinner." 

When  Sancho  set  out  for  his  island,  he  was  suitably  attired 
and  given  a  numerous  following.  At  parting  he  kissed  the 
hands  of  duke  and  duchess,  and  received  the  blessing  of  Don 
Quixote,  who  shed  tears,  which  caused  Sancho  to  blubber. 

The  journey  was  not  a  long  one.  Sancho  was  taken  to  a 
town  of  about  a  thousand  inhabitants,  and  informed  it  was  called 
the  Island  of  Barataria.  He  was  received  by  the  chief  officers 
and  inhabitants  with  much  formality  and  respect;  the  keys  of 
the  gates  were  presented  to  him,  and  the  bells  were  rung;  and  he 
was  addressed  as  Don  Sancho  Panza,  although  he  protested  to 
the  duke's  steward  that  he  was  just  plain  Sancho  Panza,  and 
that  he  thought  there  were  too  many  dons.  "If  I  clear  the 
town  of  them,"  said  he,  "I  shall  see  whether  the  people  will  not 
be  well  pleased." 

In  the  court  he  heard  cases  and  gave  judgment.  Among 
others  there  came  before  him  two  men.  The  plaintiff  held  he 
had  lent  ten   gold  crowns  to  the  defendant,   but  had  no  wit- 


424  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

nesses  of  the  transaction.  The  defendant  said  he  had  repaid  the 
money.  *'  If  he  will  swear  on  oath  that  he  has  repaid  me,"  the 
petitioner  declared,  "I  will  accept  his  word  before  God  and 
man." 

Sincho  ordered  the  oath  to  be  administered,  whereupon  the 
debtor  asked  the  lender  to  take  and  hold  his  cane  while  he  swore. 
Then  the  debtor  stated  on  oath  that  he  had  given  the  money  to 
the  other  with  his  own  hands.  At  this  the  petitioner  declared 
himself  satisfied. 

Sancho  took  note  of  the  passage  of  the  cane  and  pondered  a 
little  with  his  finger  on  his  nose.  "Give  me  that  cane  a  minute," 
said  he. 

It  was  given  to  him>  and  Sancho  handed  it  at  once  to  the 
petitioner,  saying,  "Now,  begone,  and  Heaven  be  with  you, 
for  you  have  been  repaid." 

"  What  mean  you,  my  lord?"  asked  the  petitioner;  "do  you 
think  this  cane  is  worth  ten  gold  crowns?" 

"  I  do,"  Sancho  said,  "or  else  I  am  a  thickhead.  Now  you 
shall  see  whether  or  not  I  have  a  head  to  govern  a  whole  king- 
dom at  a  push." 

He  ordered  the  cane  to  be  broken.  When  this  was  done 
ten  gold  crowns  dropped  out  of  it.  Everyone  was  astonished 
and  began  to  regard  the  new  governor  as  a  second  Solomon. 
The  officials  asked  Sancho  how  he  found  out  the  trick,  and 
he  explained  that  when  he  saw  the  debtor  handing  the  cane  to 
the  other,  and  then  heard  him  swearing  he  had  returned  the 
money,  he  suspected  that  the  crowns  were  inside  the  cane.  He 
had  heard  of  a  similar  trick  once  before  from  the  curate  of  his 
parish.  It  was  fortunate  he  had  remembered  of  this.  Then 
Sancho  declared  that  although  governors  were  occasionally 
found  to  be  devoid  of  knowledge,  it  sometimes  pleased  God 
to  direct  their  judgment. 

After  Sancho  had  heard  several  cases  in  court,  he  was  con- 
ducted to  a  sumptuous  palace,  in  a  spacious  chamber  of  which 
a  table  was  set  for  dinner.  Clarions  were  blown  as  he  entered, 
and  four  pages  presented  him  with  water  for  his  hands,  which 
he  washed  very  gravely.  Then  Sancho  sat  down  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  finding  it  had  been  laid  for  himself  alone.     Attend- 


DON   QUIXOTE  425 

ants  surrounded  him.  First  a  dish  of  fruit  was  placed  before 
him,  but  he  had  hardly  begun  to  eat  when  it  was  taken  away. 
Another  dish  was,  however,  laid  down,  and  he  proceeded  to 
sample  its  contents;  but,  before  he  had  hardly  tasted  it,  a  page 
whipped  it  off  with  celerity.  Sancho  was  sorely  puzzled.  He 
looked  at  one  attendant  after  the  other,  enquiring  if  it  was 
customary  for  them  to  tempt  people  in  this  manner  by  feeding 
their  eyes  and  starving  their  stomachs. 

An  elderly  man,  who  stood  at  his  elbow  with  a  wand  in  his 
hand,  and  gave  a  signal  when  he  wished  a  dish  to  be  removed, 
said  he  was  the  governor's  physician.  "It  is  my  duty,"  said 
he,  "to  see  that  he  will  eat  naught  but  what  will  agree  with 
him." 

At  this  Sancho  requested  the  doctor  to  select  a  dish  which 
would  do  him  most  good  and  least  harm.  "I  must  eat,"  he 
said,   "for  I  am  ready  to  die  with  hunger." 

The  doctor  went  over  all  the  dishes,  and  condemned  one 
after  the  other,  and  then  recommended  a  few  wafer  cakes  and 
some  thin  slices  of  quinces  to  strengthen  his  stomach  and  help 
his  digestion. 

Sancho  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and,  gazing  solemnly  at 
the  doctor,  asked  him  what  was  his  name  and  where  he  had 
studied. 

"My  lord,"  answered  the  other,  "I  am  called  Dr.  Pedro 
Rezio  de  Aguero.  I  took  my  degree  of  doctor  in  the  University 
of  Ossuna. " 

To  him  Sancho,  who  was  inwardly  very  angry,  then  spoke, 
saying:  "Master  Doctor  Pedro  Rezio  de  Aguero,  who  took 
your  degree  in  the  University  of  Ossuna,  get  out  of  my  sight 
at  once!  or,  I  swear  by  the  sun,  I'll  take  a  cudgel  and  drive 
not  only  you,  but  every  other  physic-monger  from  this  island. 
You  and  your  like  are  but  ignorant  cranks.  As  for  learned 
and  wise  physicians,  I  shall  honour  them  as  if  they  were  angels. 
Once  more  I  say,  Pedro  Rezio,  get  out  of  my  sight!  Begone! 
or  I  shall  take  the  chair  I  sit  on  and  comb  your  hair  with  it  to 
some  purpose.  If  I  am  called  to  account  for  such  a  deed,  I'll 
clear  myself  by  saying  I  served  God  by  killing  a  bad  doctor, 
who   is   but  a  plague   in  a  community.     And   now,"  he  said, 


426  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

"give  me  something  to  eat,  or  else  take  your  governorship  as 
a  free  gift  from  me.  An  office  which  will  not  allow  a  man 
sufficient  rations  is  not  worth  two  horse  beans,  say  I." 

The  doctor  was  greatly  alarmed  to  see  the  governor  in  such 
a  rage,  and  would  have  hastened  from  the  room  had  not  a  post- 
horn  been  suddenly  sounded  in  the  street.  Running  to  tiie 
window,  the  steward  looked  forth  and  said:  "A  special  courier 
has  come  from  my  lord,  the  duke,  with  some  important 
message." 

In  another  minute  the  courier  entered,  and  in  a  fussy  manner 
placed  a  letter  in  the  governor's  hands. 

"Who  is  my  secretary?"  asked  Sancho,  who  could  neither 
read  nor  write. 

"I  am,  my  lord,"  answered  one  who  stood  near,  "for  I  can 
read  and  write,  and  am  a  Biscayan." 

"The  fact  that  you  are  a  Biscayan,"  Sancho  said,  "  qualifies 
you  to  be  private  secretary  to  the  emperor  himself.  Open  the 
letter  and  see  what  it  says." 

The  self-appointed  secretary  glanced  through  the  letter  and 
said  it  was  of  very  private  nature.  Sancho  promptly  cleared 
the  room  of  all  his  attendants  except  the  major-domo  and  the 
carver.  Then  the  secretary  read  out  the  letter,  which  gave  the 
governor  solemn  warning  that  enemies  had  entered  the  island 
and  intended  to  attack  him  by  night.  In  addition,  four  men, 
it  was  stated,  had  concealed  themselves  in  the  town  with  inten- 
tion to  kill  him.  "  Keep  your  eyes  open,"  counselled  the  duke, 
"and  take  heed  who  pushes  himself  forward  to  address  you,  and 
be  sure  and  eat  nothing  that  is  given  to  you  as  a  present." 

Sancho  was  much  astonished  at  the  news.  "I  think  the 
first  thing  to  do,"  said  he  to  the  steward,  "is  to  clap  Doctor 
Rezio  in  prison.  If  anybody  wants  to  kill  me,  it  must  be  him, 
and  by  a  slow  death  too;  the  very  worst  of  deaths,  namely, 
hunger  starving." 

"In  my  opinion,"  remarked  the  <  arver,  "you  should  not 
eat  anything  provided  for  this  repast.  All  the  food  has  been 
sent  in  from  one  of  the  convents,  and  you  know  the  common 
saying,   'There's  a  devil  behind  the  cross'." 

"  \o  one  can   deny  that,"  Sancho  answered.     "Just  give 


DON    QUIXOTE  427 

me  a  junk  of  bread  and  a  few  pounds  of  grapes  into  which 
no  poison  can  be  put,  for  I  cannot  get  on  without  eating." 

But  ere  he  could  partake  of  this  simple  fare,  a  page 
announced  that  a  farmer  had  called  to  see  the  governor  on 
most  important  business. 

Sancho  was  annoyed,  and,  saying  that  the  hour  was  not 
a  suitable  one  for  business,  vowed  if  his  governorship  would 
last,  which  he  doubted,  he  would  bring  business  men  to  order. 

The  farmer,  who  was  admitted,  talked  long  and  volubly 
without  coming  to  the  point.  In  the  end  he  asked  for  a  few 
hundred  ducats  to  assist  his  son  to  marry,  and  to  help  him 
to  get  the  consent  of  the  father  of  the  prospective  bride. 

Sancho  flew  into  a  passion,  abused  the  fellow,  and  threatened 
to  fell  him  with  his  chair.  So  was  his  dining-hour  wasted. 
The  farmer,  be  it  known,  had  been  prompted  by  the  major- 
domo,  and  the  major-domo  by  the  duke,  to  play  this  prank 
on  the  governor. 

"It's  as  plain  as  can  be,"  Sancho  said,  "that  governors  must 
be  made  of  brass  to  resist  those  beggars  who  insist  on  calling 
when  business  has  to  be  done.  Nature  makes  demands  that 
all  must  attend  to,  and  I  have  given  her  nothing  to  eat." 

Sancho  was  kept  hungry  till  night-time.  Then,  with  the 
doctor's  permission,  he  was  allowed  some  food.  Thereafter 
he  set  out  with  the  major-domo  and  others,  including  the  man 
appointed  by  the  duke  to  record  Sancho's  sayings  and  doings, 
to  go  the  round  of  his  "island"  before  retiring  for  the  night. 

They  had  traversed  only  a  few  streets  when  they  heard  the 
clashing  of  swords,  while  a  man  called  for  help.  Sancho  and 
his  train  went  forward  and  ascertained  that  the  combatants  had 
come  from  a  gambling-house,  and  that  one  accused  the  other 
of  having  won  much  money  by  unfair  means.  The  governoi 
heard  what  they  had  to  say,  and  then  ordered  the  winner  to 
pay  back  a  portion  of  his  gains,  and  also  to  distribute  a  portion 
between  poor  prisoners.  "To-morrow,"  he  added,  "you  shall 
leave  the  island  under  sentence  of  banishment  for  ten  years." 

The  winner  paid  over  the  money,  and  when  he  went  away 
Sancho  said:  "If  lam  to  have  my  way,  I'll  shut  up  these 
gambling-houses,  for  they  only  lead  to  mischief." 


428  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

Sancho's  governorship  lasted  for  a  week.  He  was  kept  busy 
delivering  judgments  and  giving  opinions,  but  he  got  little  to 
eat  and  scarcely  sufficient  steep,  for  so  it  had  been  arranged  to 
play  with  him.  On  the  seventh  night  a  band  of  twenty  men 
with  naked  swords  and  lighted  torches  entered  his  bedroom 
shouting  excitedly.  They  declared  that  the  island  had  been 
invaded  by  large  numbers  of  the  enemy,  and  made  the  governor 
rise,  and,  on  the  pretence  of  arming  him,  fastened  a  large  shield 
on  his  back  and  another  in  front,  and  gave  him  a  lance.  Pooi 
Sancho  was  so  tightly  trussed  that  he  could  scarcely  move. 
Then  the  torches  were  put  out,  and  he  was  thrown  down,  and, 
pretending  that  the  enemy  were  in  the  palace,  the  merry-makers 
kept  up  a  loud  tumult,  and,  running  to  and  fro,  trampled  on 
Sancho  as  he  lay  like  a  tortoise  in  its  shell  quite  unable  to  stir. 
In  the  end  the  merry-makers  shouted  ** Victory!"  relit  the 
torches,  and  raised  and  released  the  wTetched  governor,  who 
was  found  to  be  suffering  from  several  bruises. 

Next  morning,  when  Sancho  arose  and  dressed  himself,  he 
went  to  the  stable,  and,  embracing  his  faithful  ass.  Dapple, 
kissed  his  forehead,  shedding  tears,  and  said:  "Come  away, 
my  friend  and  sharer  of  my  travels  and  sorrows.  When  you 
and  I  were  together,  and  I  had  few  cares  except  in  the  way  of 
mending  your  harness  and  stuffing  your  carcass,  we  knew 
happy  days  and  months  and  years.  But  since  I  deserted  you, 
and  scrambled  up  the  towers  of  ambition  and  pride,  a  thousand 
sorrows  and  a  thousand  worries  have  haunted  and  perplexed 
my  soul." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  harnessed  the  ass,  which,  on  account 
of  his  bruises,  he  mounted  with  some  difficulty. 

The  steward,  the  major-domo,  the  carver,  the  doctor,  and 
some  others  looked  on.  "  Make  way,  gentlemen,"  said  Sancho, 
addressing  them,  '*  I  am  going  back  to  my  old  course  of  life. 
Let  me  return  to  my  former  state  of  freedom.  Let  me  go  alive. 
I  was  not  born  to  be  a  governor,  nor  to  defend  islands  or  cities 
against  fierce  enemies.  I  am  more  familiar  with  ploughing, 
delving,  pruning  vines,  and  planting  them.  As  the  saying  has 
it,  *  St.  Peter  is  all  right  at  Rome ',  which  means  that  each  one 
should  stick  to  the  job  for  which  he  is  best  suited.     I'd  rather 


DON    QUIXOTE  429 

sleep  under  a  tree  in  summer  and  wrap  myself  in  a  double 
sheepskin  in  winter,  so  that  I  might  enjoy  liberty,  than  go  to 
bed  between  fine  Holland  sheets  and  dress  in  furs  under  the 
slavery  of  a  government.  God  be  with  you,  gentle  folks!  and 
pray  inform  my  lord  the  duke  that  naked  I  was  born  and  naked 
I  find  myself  now,  which  means  that  I  leave  my  post  without 
a  farthing,  quite  contrary  to  the  rule  with  governors.  Stand 
aside,  because  I  don't  believe  I  have  a  whole  rib  left." 

They  tried  to  detain  Sancho,  but  without  avail.  Then  they 
offered  to  supply  him  with  whatever  he  asked  for,  but  he  would 
only  take  a  little  barley  for  the  ass  and  some  bread  and  cheese 
for  himself.  A  little  sad  and  a  little  glad,  Sancho  then  rode 
away  to  join  his  master,  in  whose  company  he  was  happier  than 
if  he  were  governor  of  all  the  islands  in  the  universe. 


IX.   Don  Quixote  overcome  by  a  Strange 

Knight 

Don  Quixote  had  many  experiences  that  were  exciting  to 
himself  and  amusing  to  others  during  his  residence  at  the  duke's 
castle,  but  after  Sancho's  return  he  thought  his  life  of  entertain- 
ments and  amusements  too  idle  for  his  taste,  and  one  day  he 
asked  permission  to  take  his  leave  and  go  in  quest  of  adventures 
on  the  road.  Permission  was  granted,  and  next  day  he  set  out 
on  his  way  to  Barcelona,  and  after  he  had  experienced  an  ex- 
citing conflict  with  a  herd  of  wild  cattle  driven  by  ruffians,  he 
was  welcomed  to  the  city  by  Don  Antonio  Moreno,  a  rich  gentle- 
man who  was  fond  of  mirth.  A  public  reception  of  the  knight 
was  arranged,  and  a  ball  was  given  in  his  honour. 

It  chanced  that  one  morning,  as  Don  Quixote  rode  towards 
the  shore  to  take  the  air,  he  saw  coming  towards  him  a  strange 
knight,  fully  armed,  on  whose  shield  was  painted  a  white  moon. 
When  he  was  within  hearing,  this  knight  addressed  Don 
Quixote,  saying:  "Illustrious  and  never-sufficiently-praised 
Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha,  I  am  the  Knight  of  the  White 
Moon,  whose  incredible  exploits  have  no  doubt  reached  your 
ears.  Know  now  that  I  have  come  to  fight  you  in  single  combat, 
and  compel  you  by  the  strength  of  my  sword  to  acknowledge 
and  confess  that  my  lady  is  beyond  compare  and  more  beautiful 
than  your  Dulcinea  del  Toboso.  If  you  will  now  acknowledge 
this,  you  will  escape  death,  and  I  shall  be  freed  from  the  trouble 
of  overcoming  you.  If,  however,  you  prefer  to  fight,  and  I 
prove  to  be  the  victor,  you  must  promise  to  forsake  your  arms 
and  the  quest  of  adventures,  and  return  home  for  a  full  year, 
where  you  will  live  quietly  and  peaceably  without  touching  a 
sword.  Should  you,  on  the  other  hand,  prove  to  be  the  victor, 
my  life  will  be  at  your  mercy,  and  you  shall  have  my  horse  and 

430 


DON    QUIXOTt  431 

arms  as  spoils  of  battle.     Consider  now  what  you  will  do,  and 
answer  without  delay,  for  this  business  must  be  settled  to-day." 

Don  Quixote  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  arrogance  of  the 
Knight  of  the  White  Moon,  and  answered  him  promptly, 
accepting  combat.  "Choose  your  ground,"  said  he,  "and 
begin  as  soon  as  you  desire,  and  may  Heaven  defend  the  right!" 

The  viceroy,  who  was  greatly  amused  by  Don  Quixote, 
hearing  of  the  arrival  of  the  strange  knight,  hastened  to  the 
scene  of  battle,  thinking  that  the  combat  had  been  arranged  by 
Don  Antonio  Moreno,  or  somebody  else.  He  found  both 
knights  ready  to  begin,  and  heard  from  the  Knight  of  the  White 
Moon  that  there  was  a  lady  in  the  case.  Don  Antonio  arrived 
also,  and,  in  answer  to  the  viceroy's  question,  declared  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  strange  knight.  Thinking,  however,  the  whole 
matter  was  a  pleasant  jest,  the  viceroy  allowed  the  combat  to 
take  place. 

Both  knights  paid  their  compliments  to  the  viceroy.  Then 
Don  Quixote  commended  himself  to  his  lady,  and  spurred 
forward  to  the  attack.  His  adversary  was  no  less  ready,  and 
came  on  fiercely.  He  met  Don  Quixote  half-way,  and,  without 
using  his  lance,  overthrew  him  and  Rozinante,  so  that  both 
received  a  heavy  fall. 

In  an  instant  the  Knight  of  the  White  Moon  was  upon  Don 
Quixote,  and,  clapping  the  point  of  his  lance  to  his  visor,  said: 
"  Knight,  you  are  vanquished  unless  you  immediately  acknow- 
ledge the  conditions  of  the  combat." 

Don  Quixote,  as  he  lay  stunned  and  bruised,  answered 
faintly:  **  Dulcinea  del  Tobosa  is  the  fairest  woman  in  the 
world,  and  I  am  the  most  unfortunate  knight  that  lives.  It  is 
not  seemly  that  such  perfection  should  suffer  on  account  of  my 
weakness.     Therefore  take  my  life  and  let  me  die  with  honour." 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  the  conquering  knight;  "may 
the  fame  of  Dulcinea  del  Toboso  remain  unblemished!  All 
that  I  ask  is  that  you  should  return  home  for  a  year  in  accord- 
ance with  our  agreement." 

Don  Quixote  promised  to  fulfil  his  promise,  like  a  true 
knight,  the  fame  of  his  lady  not  having  been  prejudiced,  and 
the  strange  knight  then  rode  speedily  away.     The  viceroy  gave 


432  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

orders  that  he  should  be  followed,  while  Sancho  Panza,  much 
cast  down  by  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  his  master, 
hastened  to  attend  to  him,  fearing  he  had  been  disjointed,  and 
that  Rozinante  had  broken  bones.  Don  Quixote  was  carried 
back  to  the  city  in  a  chair  that  the  viceroy  sent  for. 

Meanwhile  Don  Antonio  Moreno  had  followed  the  Knight 
of  the  White  Moon  to  his  inn,  and  found  he  was  Sampson 
Carrasco,  bachelor  of  arts,  from  La  Mancha,  who  had  masquer- 
aded as  a  knight,  so  that  he  might  contrive  the  return  home  of 
Don  Quixote.  "  Do  not  tell  him  of  this,"  said  he,  "or  say  who 
I  am.  He  is  a  very  good  man,  and  if  he  will  give  up  his  follies 
about  knight-errantry  his  sanity  will  be  restored." 

Having  accomplished  his  purpose  Carrasco  mounted  a  mule 
and  set  off  for  home. 


X.   Sancho's  Profitable  Penance 

For  six  days  Don  Quixote  had  to  keep  his  bed.  He  was 
much  dejected  and  very  peevish,  and  Sancho  Panza  did  his 
utmost  to  comfort  him.  As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  travel,  he 
departed  from  Barcelona  unarmed;  his  armour  was  carried  on 
the  back  of  Dapple,  Sancho's  ass. 

On  the  following  night,  as  knight  and  squire  rested  in  a 
wood,  a  strange  adventure  befell  them.  A  number  of  horsemen, 
armed  with  lances,  rode  up,  and,  without  speaking  a  word,  led 
them  away  to  the  castle  of  the  duke,  where  Sancho  was  dressed 
up  in  grotesque  raiment,  and  put  through  a  painful  ceremony, 
so  that  a  lady,  who  pretended  to  be  dead,  might  be  restored  to 
life.  Thereafter  they  were  lodged  in  the  castle  by  order  of  the 
duke. 

Next  day  squire  and  knight  rode  away,  and  Don  Quixote, 
remembering  the  previous  night's  ceremony,  was  convinced 
that  the  power  apparently  inherent  in  Sancho,  which  had  re- 
stored the  lady  to  life,  would  effect  the  disenchantment  of 
Dulcinea  if  he  would  but  inflict  upon  himself  the  lashes  accord- 
ing to  Merlin's  advice. 

Sancho  protested  vigorously  against  the  proposal,  until  Don 
Quixote  said :  "  Set  about  whipping  yourself  without  delay,  and 
take  payment  for  yourself  out  of  the  money  of  mine  you  have 
in  your  possession." 

Sancho  jumped  at  the  proposal.  "  Now  you  are  saying 
something,"  he  declared.  "  How  much  will  you  give  me  for 
each  lash?" 

"Were  you  to  be  paid  in  proportion  to  the  greatness  and 
quality  of  the  cure,"  said  Don  Quixote,  "  all  the  wealth  of  Venice 
and  the  mines  of  Potosi  would  be  insufficient  to  recompense 
you." 

Vol.  II.  433  67  a 


434  THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

"There  are  three  thousand  three  hundred  lashes,"  Sancho 
reminded  him.  "  I  have  so  far  inflicted  only  five,  but  let  these 
pass.  At  three  halfpence  each — I  shall  not  take  less — the  pay- 
ment for  the  whole  three  thousand  three  hundred  lashes  would 
come  to  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty-three  pence,  or 
eight  hundred  and  twenty-five  sixpences.  This  sum  I  can 
deduct  from  your  money  in  my  possession,  and  then  go  home 
well  pleased  for  my  whipping." 

Don  Quixote  was  delighted  and  said:  "  Now  blessings  be  on 
your  heart,  Sancho!     When  will  you  begin?" 

**This  very  night,  of  course,"  the  squire  promised.  "You 
must  lie  in  a  field  and  count  as  I  lay  on." 

Sancho  set  to  making  a  whip,  and  his  master  warned  him 
not  to  lash  himself  unmercifully. 

"  I  intend  to  make  myself  smart,"  the  squire  said,  "without 
killing  myself." 

When  it  grew  dusk  the  squire  stripped  himself  to  the  waist, 
cracked  his  whip,  and  began  to  lash  his  back.  He  suffered  from 
six  to  eight  lashes,  and  finding  the  experience  no  joke,  declared 
to  his  master  that  "every  lash  was  really  worth  threepence 
instead  of  three  halfpence". 

"Go  on,  friend  Sancho,"  answered  Don  Quixote,  "take 
courage,  and  I  will  double  the  rate  of  payment." 

"  Say  you  so?"  Sancho  exclaimed.  "  Then  let  it  rain  lashes. 
Do  but  listen." 

Slap  went  the  whip,  but  the  cunning  knave  did  not  strike  his 
own  skin  but  a  tree  behind  him.  In  this  manner  he  continued 
to  lay  on,  and  now  and  again  he  groaned  heavily,  pretending 
that  he  suffered  pain.  Don  Quixote  became  alarmed,  and, 
being  naturally  tender-hearted,  cried  to  Sancho  to  desist  for 
the  time  being,  and  inflict  more  lashes  when  he  was  able  to 
bear  them. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Sancho,  who  was  determined  to  go  on,  "stand 
back  out  of  the  reach  of  my  whip,  so  that  I  may  lay  on  another 
thousand." 

In  the  darkness  Sancho  lashed  much  of  the  bark  off  several 
trees,  until  at  length  he  uttered  a  yell  that  made  his  master  run 
forward  and  bid  him  stay  the  fury  of  his  arm. 


DON   QUIXOTE  435 

Sancho  was  tired  out  and  consented  to  postpone  the  infliction 
of  the  remainder  of  his  penance.  He  slept  soundly  that  night, 
being  very  weary. 

They  rode  away  in  the  morning,  and  on  the  next  night  they 
rested  in  a  wood,  and  Sancho  proceeded  to  inflict  his  whip,  not 
on  himself,  but  as  before  on  trees,  and  the  bark  of  several  beeches 
suffered  much.  The  lashes  that  fell  on  his  own  skin  would  not 
have  killed  a  fly.  Don  Quixote  kept  count  of  the  strokes, 
and  reckoned  that,  adding  those  previously  administered,  they 
amounted  to  three  thousand  and  twenty-nine. 

When  daylight  came  they  resumed  their  journey,  and  on  the 
night  that  followed  Sancho  completed  his  whipping  work,  much 
to  the  joy  of  the  knight,  who  could  not  sleep  for  excitement, 
believing  that  his  lady  had  been  disenchanted.  When  they 
continued  their  journey  next  morning,  he  hastened  towards  each 
lady  that  appeared,  believing  she  was  Dulcinea  del  Toboso. 
He  fully  trusted  Merlin's  promises,  and  was  assured  that  the 
performance  of  his  squire's  penance  would  have  the  desired 
effect. 

Don  Quixote's  mind  was  fully  occupied  with  this  idea  when 
he  and  his  squire  reached  the  summit  of  a  small  hill  that  over- 
looked their  native  village.  No  sooner  did  Sancho  catch  sight 
of  it  than  he  dismounted  and  fell  on  his  knees.  "O  my  dear 
and  longed-for  home,"  cried  he  with  delight,  "open  wide  your 
eyes  and  behold  your  son,  Sancho  Panza,  who  has  returned  to 
you  once  again.  If  he  is  not  very  rich,  he  has  got  many  lashes. 
Open  your  arms  and  receive  likewise  your  son  Don  Quixote, 
who,  although  he  has  been  conquered  by  another,  has  since 
conquered  himself,  and  that,  as  he  has  himself  ofttimes  said, 
is  the  greatest  victory  of  all.  Although  I  have  been  well  flogged 
I  have  made  a  good  bargain,  for  I  have  managed  to  whip  some 
money  into  my  pockets." 

"A  truce  to  your  fooleries,"  Don  Quixote  said.  **Let  us 
now  make  dignified  entry  into  our  native  place,  where  we  shall 
consider  about  the  future  at  our  leisure.  For  a  full  year  we 
must  live  as  shepherds." 

They  descended  towards  the  village,  and,  on  entering  it, 
saw  two  boys  engaging  in  combat  in  a  field,   and   heard  one 

Vol.  II.  57  a  2 


436  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

cry  out:  "  Don't  fret  yourself  about  the  matter.  You  will  nev^er 
set  eyes  on  her  while  there  is  breath  in  your  body." 

**  Do  you  hear  the  boy's  words?"  asked  Don  Quixote  of  his 
squire. 

"  What  does  it  matter  what  the  boy  says?"  Sancho  answered 
him. 

"Alas,"  moaned  Don  Quixote,  "evil  is  the  omen!  If  you 
apply  his  words  to  my  affairs,  they  mean  that  I  shall  never 
behold  my  Dulcinea." 

Other  omens  of  an  unfavourable  character  greatly  depressed 
the  knight.  Sancho  parted  with  him  on  the  street,  for  he  saw 
his  wife,  Teresa  Panza,  hastening  towards  him.  She  cast  dis- 
appointed eyes  on  his  disorderly  attire,  and  said:  "Why  come 
you  home  in  this  manner?  Mercy  on  me!  you  look  as  if  you 
had  travelled  on  foot  and  wearied  yourself  greatly.  You 
resemble  a  beggar  rather  than  a  governor." 

"Come  to  our  house  and  you  shall  hear  great  things," 
Sancho  answered.  "  I  bring  you  money,  old  girl,  and  that's 
more  important  than  anything  else.  I  have  come  honestly  by 
it,  too,  without  doing  harm  to  anybody." 

"Have  you  money,  old  boy?"  said  she.  "That  is  good 
news,  no  matter  how  you  have  managed  to  get  it.  Let  money 
come  by  hook  or  by  crook,  it  is  but  what  your  betters  have 
contrived  before  you." 


XI.   Don  Quixote  makes  his  Will 
and  Dies 

Soon  after  Don  Quixote  had  returned  home  he  was  stricken 
with  sickness.  A  doctor  was  sent  for,  and  he  declared  that 
the  condition  of  his  patient  was  serious.  This  caused  deep 
sorrow  to  all,  but  the  brave  Don  Quixote  remained  calm.  He 
slept  for  six  hours,  and  when  he  awoke  his  mind  was  cleared, 
and  he  realized  he  had  been  deluded  by  his  imaginings  regard- 
ing knight-errantry,  and  that  his  judgment  had  been  clouded. 
Having  confessed  his  folly  to  his  niece,  he  asked  that  a  priest 
and  a  scrivener  might  be  sent  for.  When  the  scrivener  came, 
he  dictated  his  will  in  presence  of  his  friends,  including  Sancho 
Panza.  He  made  his  niece  his  heiress,  and  of  his  squire  spoke 
as  follows: 

"  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Sancho  Panza,  whom  I,  in  my 
madness,  made  my  squire,  whatever  money  of  mine  he  has 
in  his  possession.  There  are  reckonings  and  accounts  to  be 
adjusted  between  him  and  me,  but  my  desire  and  pleasure  is 
that  the  balance  due  to  me,  which  must  be  small,  shall  be 
enjoyed  by  him  as  a  free  gift  without  any  disturbance.  May 
he  get  much  good  from  the  money.  When  I  was  mad  I  gave 
him  the  governorship  of  an  island.  If  it  were  in  my  power 
now,  I  should  give  him  the  governorship  of  a  kingdom  in 
grateful  recognition  of  his  integrity  and  faithfulness." 

He  then  turned  to  Sancho  and  said:  "  Forgive  me  for  what 
I  have  brought  upon  you  as  well  as  upon  myself,  the  reputation 
of  madness.  I  drew  you  into  my  own  follies,  and  made  you 
believe  that  there  have  been  and  still  are  knights-errant  in  this 
world." 

"Alas,  alas,  woe  is  me,  my  dear  master!"  moaned  Sancho, 
shedding  tears.     "Please  do  not  die  this  time,  but  follow  my 


438  THE    WORLD'S    HERITAGE 

advice  and  live  many  years.  A  man  cannot  play  a  sorrier  trick 
than  to  let  his  breath  sneak  out  of  his  body,  and  then  die  in  the 
dumps.  For  shame,  sir!  do  not  give  in  to  melancholy,  but  get 
up.  Take  heart,  I  say,  and  we  will  go  forth  and  find  the  lady 
Dulcinea  stripped  of  enchanted  rags,  and  beautiful  as  any 
queen.  Don't  so  take  it  to  heart  that  you  were  unhorsed  the 
other  day  by  a  little  whipper-snapper.  Blame  me  for  not 
harnessing  Rozinante  properly.  This  world  is  full  of  ups  and 
downs,  but  if  we  are  down  to-day  we  may  be  up  to-morrow." 

"I  was  mad,"  Quixote  said,  "but  now  I  am  in  my  right 
senses.  May  my  remorse  and  sincerity  restore  me  to  the  esteem 
in  which  I  was  formerly  held." 

When  he  had  finished  dictating  his  will,  Don  Quixote 
swooned,  and  everyone  became  greatly  alarmed,  and  strove  to 
do  something  to  help  him  to  recover.  Three  days  later  he  died, 
and  all  who  were  in  the  death-chamber  declared  that  they  had 
never  read  of  any  knight-errant  who  passed  away  in  so  composed 
a  manner,  and  so  like  a  good  Christian,  as  did  this  same  Don 
Quixote.  He  died  amidst  the  tears  and  lamentations  of  his 
friends. 

After  Homer  died,  seven  Greek  cities  contended  for  the 
honour  of  having  given  him  birth.  All  the  towns  and  villages 
in  La  Mancha  now  make  a  similar  claim  on  behalf  of  Don 
Quixote. 

**0  thou  my  slender  pen,"  concludes  the  wise  Cid  Hamet, 
who  relates  this  story,  "  your  point  may  be  well  or  badly  shaped, 
but  you  cannot  express  my  thoughts.  I  put  you  on  the  rack, 
and  you  can  proclaim  to  anyone  who  seeks  to  profane  you  in 
the  future:  ^For  tne  alofie  ivas  the  great  Quixote  born,  and  I  was 
made  for  him.  His  purpose  ivas  to  perform  great  deeds,  and  my 
purpose  was  to  record  tJietJi.'  " 


INDEX 


Achilles,  birth  of,  i  26;  quarrel  of,  with 
Agamemnon,  i  30  et  seq. ;  Zeus  espouses 
cause  of,  i  T)},;  refusal  to  aid  Achjeans, 
i  48  et  seq.',  lends  armour  to  Patroclus, 
i  61;  laments  death  of  Patroclus,  i  65, 
66;  Hephaestus  makes  new  armour  for, 
i  66;  reconciliation  of,  with  Agamem- 
non, i  67,  68;  horse  foretells  fate  of, 
i  68,  69;  Hector  attacked  and  slain  by, 
i  69  et  seq. ;  ghost  of  Patroclus  foretells 
fate  of,  i  76 ;  ghost  of  Patroclus  appeals 
to,  i  76;  the  burning  of  Patroclus,  i  77; 
Amazon  slain  by,  i  80;  slain  by  Paris, 
i  80;  seen  by  Odysseus  in  Hades,  i  113; 
"hero's  light"  on  head  of,  as  on  heads 
of  Arjuna,  Cuchullin,  Krishna,  and  Mar- 
duk,  i  276;  Lancelot  and,  ii  73. 

Adonis,  Lancelot  and,  ii  71. 

/Eneas,  Virgil's  conception  of,  i  130,  131. 
See  Mneid. 

^neid,  The,  introductory  notes  on,  i  125 
et  seq. ;  story  of  /Eneas's  voyage  to  Car- 
thage, i  133  «/  seq. ;  story  of  sack  of  Troy, 
i  1^9  et  seq.;  story  of  Dido's  love  and 
death,  i  146  et  seq.;  story  of  ^neas  in 
Hades,  i  1 55  «^  seq. ;  story  of  settlement 
in  Latium  and  war  with  Turnus,  i  160  et 
seq. 

Agamemnon,  quarrel  with  Achilles,  i  30  et 
seq. ;  reconciliation  of,  with  Achilles,  i  67, 
68;  murder  of,  at  Mycenae,  i  85;  seen  by 
Odysseus  in  Hades,  i  113. 

Alexander  the  Great,  Gilgamesh  legends 
and,  i  4. 

Amazons,  Penthesilea  slain  by  Achilles, 
i  80,  81;  the  Irish  Hag-mother,  i  292; 
the  Scottish  Scathacli,  i  294;  the  Scottish 
Aife,  i  205;  English,  Irish,  and  Scottish. 
ii6. 


Ambrosius  Aurelianus,  King  Arthur  and, 
ii  77  et  seq. 

Andromache,  sees  Hector's  body  dis- 
honoured by  Achilles,  i  75;  taken  pri- 
soner at  Troy,  i  85. 

Angels,  the  Green,  in  Dante's  Divina  Corn- 
media,  i  358. 

Aphrodite,  Paris  and,  i  21,  37;  shell-lore 
and,  i  155;  the  Indian,  i  230. 

Arjuna,  Lancelot,  Hercules,  Achilles  and, 
ii  73;  in  Mahdbhdrata,  i  173  ^^  seq. 

Arthur,  King,  character  of,  ii  62,  63;  in 
Romances,  ii  63  et  seq. ;  Chaucer  on,  it 
65 ;  Tudor  royalty  and,  ii  65  et  seq. ; 
in  Faerie  Qiceette,  ii  66,  67;  Elizabethans 
and,  ii  67,  68,  69;  Milton  on,  ii  68,  69; 
Dryden,  Wordsworth,  &c.,  on,  ii  69, 
70;  Scottish  Prince  Arthur  and,  ii  75, 
76;  the  British  Arthur,  ii  76,  79,  80; 
not  mentioned  by  Bede  or  Gildas  or 
in  Saxon  Chronicle,  ii  76;  Celtic  lore 
regarding,  ii  81 ;  slaying  of  children, 
ordered  by,  ii  96. 

Arthur,  Prince  of  Scotland,  brother,  and 
son  of  King  Aidan,  ii  79,  80,  81. 

Arthur  legends,  sources  of,  ii  71. 

Arthurian  battles,  locations  of,  ii  76  et  seq. 

Arthurian  literature,  purpose  in,  ii  61  et 
seq.;  historical  elements  in,  ii  71  et  seq. 

Arthurian  place-names,  ii  78,  79>  80,  81. 

Arthurian  romances,  Tennyson  revived  in 
modern  literature,  ii  62;  Tennyson's 
methods  criticized,  ii  62,  63 ;  Malory's 
digest  of,  ii  65  el  seq. ;  political  rise  of,  ii 
65  et  seq. ;  Lancelot  and  ancient  gods  and 
heroes,  ii  71,  72;  Lancelot,  Gawain,  and 
Modred  links,  ii  73  ;  blending  of  Gaelic 
and  British  legends  in,  ii  73;  Shalott  as 
Dumbarton,  ii  7y,  how  fame  of  Arthur 


440 


THK    WORI.DS    HERITAGE 


spread,  ii  8i  82;  story  of  Coming  of  Ar- 
thur, ii  83  et  siq. ;  story  of  Merlin,  ii  84 
et  seq.,  1 16  et  seq.',  story  of  Balen  and 
Balan,  ii  97  et  seq.;  story  of  Arthur's 
marriage,  ii  109  et  seq.;  story  of  Morgan 
le  Fay,  ii  122  et  seq. ;  story  of  Pelleas 
and  Etarre,  ii  131  et  seq.;  story  of 
Lancelot  du  Lac,  ii  1^0  et  seq.;  story  of 
Lancelot  and  Elaine,  ii  148  et  seq.;  story 
of  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  ii  152  et  seq.; 
story  of  Tristram  of  Lyonesse,  ii  160  et 
seq.;  story  of  Tristram  and  the  Iseults, 
ii  169  et  seq. ;  story  of  Quest  of  the  Holy 
Grail,  ii  181  et  seq.;  story  of  the  Passing 
of  Arthur,  ii  203  et  seq. 

Aryans,  the,  i  167,  168,  169;  "Easterners" 
and,  i  231,  232. 

Athene,  intervenes  for  Odysseus,  i  92,  93. 

Attis,  Lancelot  and,  ii  71. 

Babylonia,  Epic  of.     See  Gilgamesh. 

Babylonian,  cultural  influence  of,  in  India, 
i  229. 

Balen  and  Balan,  story  of,  ii  97  et  seq. 

Barbour,  the  Scottish  poet,  ii  235  et  seq. 

Beatrice,  Dante  and,  i  330  et  seq. ;  as 
Dante's  guide,  i  365  et  seq. 

Beowulf,  nature  myth  theory,  i  235;  manu- 
script of,  ii  2,  3;  Danish  hero  of,  ii  2; 
British  lore  in  story  of,  ii  2  et  seq. ;  mili- 
tary retainers  in,  ii  4;  Cuchullin  and 
hero  of,  ii  5 ;  compared  with  Gaelic 
poetry,  ii  5,  6;  British  shipping  and,  ii  6; 
women  in,  ii  6;  style  of,  ii  7;  storj'  of, 
ii  9  et  seq. ;  Grendel  mortally  wounded, 
ii  13;  Grendel 's  mother  overcome  and 
slain,  ii  14  et  seq.  ;  hero  fights  with 
Dragon  and  dies,  ii  17  <;/  seq.;  heroes' 
ethical  standard,  ii  20. 

Bow  test,  in  Odyssey,  i  iig  et  seq.;  in 
Mahdbhirata,  i  183;  in  Ramdyana,  i  241. 

British  shipping,  antiquity  of,  ii  5,  6. 

Browning,  as  a  mystic,  i  334. 

Bruce,  The,  Barbour's  poem,  ii  235  et  seq. ; 
pen  portraits  in,  ii  242  et  seq.;  extracts 
and  modern  renderings  of,  ii  247  et  seq. ; 
story  of  Bruce's  wanderings,  ii  257  et 
seq.;  story  of  Battle  of  Bannock  burn,  ii 
261  et  seq. 

Brut,  the,  Layamon's,  ii  21 1  et  seq.; 
Diana's  promise  of  New  Troy  (London), 


ii  219  «/  seq.;  story  of  first  men  in  Eng- 
land, ii  222  et  seq. ;  story  of  Bladud,  the 
royal  airman,  ii  224  et  seq. ;  story  of  King 
Leir,  ii  227  et  seq.;  story  of  Saxon  In- 
vasions, ii  231  et  seq. 

Brute.     See  Brutus. 

Brutus  of  Britain,  legends  of,  ii  211  et  seq.; 
as  Trojan  leader  and  liberator,  ii  217  et 
seq.;  Diana's  promise  to,  ii  219  et  seq.; 
England  settled  by,  organized  by,  ii  222 
et  seq. 

Cresar,  on  Celtic  ships,  ii  6. 

Cain,  in  Dante's  Inferno,  i  351. 

Calypso,  i  91;  Odysseus  and,  i  89;  how 
Odysseus  reached  isle  of,  i  115. 

Camoens,  the  Portuguese  poet,  ii  341;  life 
of,  ii  345  et  seq. 

Celtic  mythology,  not  copied  from  Greek, 
i  276. 

Celts,  the,  a  fair  people,  i  281,  282;  early 
relations  of  with  Saxons,  ii  3,  4,  5 ;  war- 
ships of  in  Roman  period,  ii  6;  influence 
of  in  English  literature,  ii  7,  65;  Lance- 
lot and  the,  ii  71,  72. 

Cervantes,  life  and  works  of,  ii  380  et  seq. , 
Don  Quixote,  masterpiece  of,  ii  379,  383 
et  seq. 

Chansons  de  Geste,  Roland  and  Oliver,  ii 
317  et  seq.;  story  of  the  poem,  ii  323  et 
seq. ;  story  of  Roncevaux,  ii  329  et  seq. 

Charlemagne,  King.  See  Chansons  de 
Geste. 

Charybdis,  i  88,  89. 

Cid,  the,  Spanish  cycle  of,  ii  361  et  seq.; 
historical  elements  in,  ii  361  et  seq.;  story 
of  Cid  and  the  Pope,  ii  365;  story  of  Cid 
and  the  Leper,  ii  365,  366;  story  of  Cid's 
adventures,  ii  367  et  seq. 

Circe,  Odysseus  and,  i  88. 

Coleridge,  on  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  i 

384- 
Colour  symbolism.  Black  and  Hades,  i  156; 
Golden  Bough,  i  156;  the  white  sow,  i 
161;  River  Tiber's  green  god,  i  161;  Blue 
Vishnu  and  Blue-haired  Poseidon,  i  229, 
230;  dark  blue  is  Krishna's  colour,  i  230; 
Balarama's  white  serpent  -  soul,  i  230; 
Egyptian  god  Ra,  i  230;  Blue  Rama,  i 
230,  242;  the  Magic  Deer,  i  255;  Fergus's 
ghost,  i  278;  attributes  of  deities  and,  i 


INDEX 


441 


280,  281;  Cuchullin's  colours,  i  281,  285, 
286;  Fairycolours,i  280,297, 304;  the  col- 
oured worm  in  Cuchullin  literature,  i  303; 
the  coloured  Chinese  dragon,  i  303«;  the 
coloured  Morrigu,  i,  305;  the  colours  of 
the  god  Lu'  (Lugh),  i  307;  in  Dante's 
Divina  Comtnedia,  i  353,  358,  359,  365, 
366,  378,  380. 

Copernicus,  Milton  and,  i  398,  399. 

Crete,  pre-Homeric  civilization  of,  i  18; 
King  of,  in  Trojan  War,  i  85,  86 ;  Island 
of  Scheria  as,  i  89,  90. 

Cuchullin,  god  Lugh  the  father  of,  i  275, 
277,  278,  284  et  seq.  ;  Achilles  and,  i 
27s,  276;  Hercules  and,  i  275,  276; 
names  of,  i  275,  276;  "  hero's  light " 
on  forehead  of,  i  276;  colours  of,  i  281, 
285,  286;  Scottish  training  of,  i  294, 
295;  transformation  of,  i,  307;  laws  of 
chivalry  observed  by,  i  308  et  seq. ;  vision 
of  ghost  of,  i  323;  Wulfkin  the  Saxon 
and,  ii  4;  compared  with  Beowulf,  ii  5; 
Lancelot  and,  ii  72. 

Cuchullin  Epic,  the,  introductory  notes  to, 
i  275  et  seq.  ;  transmigration  of  souls 
doctrine  in,  i  276,  277;  story  of  recovery 
of,  i  278,  279;  Irish  manuscript  versions 
of,  i  278,  279,  280;  story  of  Cuchullin's 
divine  origin,  i  284  et  seq. ;  story  of 
Cuchullin  taking  arms,  i  289  et  seq.; 
story  of  the  wooing  of  Emer,  i  293  et 
seq. ;  story  of  Cuchullin  and  fairy  lover, 
i  297  et  seq. ;  story  of  the  Kine  Raid  of 
Cooley,  i  301  et  seq.;  story  of  the  death 
of  Cuchullin,  i  314  et  seq. 

Dante,  characteristics  of,  i  325  et  seq. ;  life 
of,  i  327  et  seq. ;  Beatrice  and,  i  330  et 
seq. ;  as  a  mystic,  i  333  et  seq. ;  Virgil  as 
guide  of,  i  338  et  seq. ;  parting  of,  with 
Virgil,  i  365;  in  Paradise,  i  368  et  seq.; 
cosmology  of,  i  402. 

Deirdre,  in  modern  literature,  ii  23  et  seq. ; 
an  ancient  Gaelic  heroine,  ii  23  et  seq., 
ii  31;  traditions  regarding,  ii  23  et  seq.; 
variations  of  name  of,  ii  24,  25;  place- 
names  connected  with,  ii  31,  32;  story 
of,  ii  33  et  seq. 

Diarmid,   the   Ossianic,    Lancelot   and,   ii 

71,  72,  73- 
Dido,  ^neas  meets,  ii  136;  hears  story  of 


/Eneas's  wanderings,  i  138  <r/  seq.;  love 
and  death  of,  i  146  <?/  seq. ;  seen  in  Hades 
by  iEneas,  i  157,  158. 

Divina  Commedia,  the,  introductory  notes 
to,  i  325  et  seq.;  conceptions  of  Inferno, 
Purgatory,  and  Paradise,  i  335,  336; 
story  of  the  /n/er»o,  i  337  et  seq. ;  story 
of  the  Purgatoria,  i  354  et  seq. ;  Beatrice 
guides  Dante,  i  365  et  seq. ;  story  of  the 
Paradise,  i  368  et  seq. ;  Dante  in  Paradise, 
i  368  et  seq.;  moon  as  "Eternal  Pearl", 
i  369  and  note. 

Don  Quixote,  The  History  oj,  story  of 
knighting  of,  ii  389  et  seq. ;  story  of  the 
cruel  master  and  jocular  merchants,  ii 
395  et  seq.;  story  of  the  windmills,  ii 
399  et  seq. ;  story  of  combat  with  the 
Biscayan,  ii  402  et  seq.;  story  of  adven- 
tures in  wood  and  inn,  ii  408  et  seq.; 
story  of  battle  with  enchanted  army,  ii 
411  et  seq.;  story  of  the  night  of  terror, 
ii  415  et  seq.;  story  of  Sancho's  gover- 
norship, ii  420  et  seq. ;  story  of  the  knight 
of  the  white  moon,  ii  430  et  seq. ;  story 
of  Sancho's  profitable  penance,  ii  433  et 
seq.;  story  of  Don  Quixote's  death,  ii 
437  et  seq. 

Dragon,  the  Indian,  i  174M;  the  Chinese,  i 
303M;  in  Beowulf,  ii  1 7  <?/  seq. 

Ea-bani,  in  Gilgamesh  epic,  i  3,  y  et  seq. ; 
Ishtar  causes  death  of,  i  ii;  Gilgamesh 
converses  with  ghost  of,  i  15,  16. 

Egypt,  siege  of  Troy  and,  i  18;  transmigra- 
tion of  souls  in,  i  277. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  as  queen  of  Faerieland, 
ii66. 

England,  the  great  poets  of,  ii  7. 

Enone,  Paris  and,  i  22,  23. 

Fair  races,  not  necessarily  Teutonic,  i  281, 

282. 
Fire,    on  heads   of  warriors,  i   276.     See 

Hero's  Light. 
Fish  gods,  Vishnu  and  Ea,  i  232. 

Galileo,  visited  by  Milton,  i  3H9. 

Gilgamesh,  epic  of,  i  l  et  seq.,  7  et  seq.; 
Nimrod,  Cyrus,  Alexander  the  Great  and, 
i  4:  legends  of,  i  4;  loved  and  cursed 
by  goddess  Ishtar,  i  10,  11;  journey  of, 


442 


THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 


to   Otherworld,   i    il  ^/  seq.;   converses 
with  ghost  of  Ea-bani,  i  15,  16. 

Green  gods,  i  358«. 

Guinivere,  the  Gaelic  Grainne  and,  ii  73. 

Hades,  visits  of  heroes  to,  Gilgamesh's 
journey,  i  ll  et  seg.;  visit  of  Odysseus 
to,  i  III  «/  seq.',  ^neas's  visit  to,  i  155 
et  seg. ;  Indian  heroes  in,  i  220  et  seq. ; 
Cuchullin's  visit  to,  i  297-300;  Dante's 
conception  of,  i  335,  336.     See  Hell. 

Hector,  Paris  censured  by,  i  40;  parting  of, 
with  wife  and  child,  i  40-42;  assault  on 
Achaean  camp,  i  56  et  seq.',  Achilles  at- 
tacks and  slays,  i  71  ^/  seq.;  body  of, 
recovered  by  Priam,  i  77 ;  funeral  of, 
i  78. 

Helen,  Paris  and,  i  22,  23;  husband  re- 
covers, from  Troy,  i  85. 

Hell,  Milton's  vision  of,  i,  395  et  seq.,  400. 

Hephaestus  (Vulcan),  makes  armour  for 
Achilles,  i  66,  67. 

Hera,  Zeus  beguiled  by,  i  58;  plots  against 
Zeus,  i  59,  60. 

Hercules,  seen  by  Odysseus  in  Hades,  i  113; 
Lancelot  and,  ii  73. 

Herodotus,  on  Homer,  i  17,  iS. 

"  Hero's  Light",  the,  on  heads  of  Achilles, 
Arjuna,  Cuchullin,  Krishna,  and  Mar- 
duk  (Merodacb),  i  276. 

Homer,  age  of,  i  17,  1 8,  19;  Virgil  and,  i 
128,  130. 

Horace,  Virgil  and,  i  126,  129. 

Iliadf  the,  historical  elements  in,  i  18,  1 9, 

20;   story  of,  i  29  et  seq. ;  the  Mahd- 

bkdrata  and,  i  167,  172. 
India,  epics  of,  i   167  et  seq.;   invasion  of. 

by  Aryans,  i  1 68,  169. 
Iphigenia,  legend  of,  i  24. 
Ishtar,  the  goddess,  Gilgamcsh  loved  and 

cursed  by,  i  10,  ii;  slays  Ea-bani,  i  11. 

Lancelot,  Celtic  and  other  heroes  and,  ii 
7I1  72,  73;  Paris  and,  ii  72,  73. 

Laodameia,  legend  of,  i  24,  25. 

Layamon's  Brut,  ii  2 1 1  «/  seq. 

"Light  of  Valour",  i  276.  See  Hero's 
Light. 

Lucifer,  in  Dante's  Inferno,  i  352,  353;  in 
Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  i  ^f)T,  39b. 


Lugh,  the  Celtic  god,  i  275,  277,  278;  as 

father  of  Cuchullin,  i  284  et  seq. 
Lusiads,   the,  epic  of  Portugal,   ii  341  et 

seq.  ;   hero  of.  Da  Gama,  ii  343  ef  seq. ; 

translators  of,  ii  341,   342;  story  of  Da 

Gama's  voyage,  ii  351  et  seq. 

Mahdbhdrata,  the,  introductory  notes  to, 
i  167  et  seq.',  a  sacred  book,  i  172;  story 
of  the  rival  princes,  i  iTi  et  seq.',  story 
of  burning  of  the  "  House  of  Lac  ",  i  179 
et  seq. ;  story  of  winning  of  Princess 
Draupadi,  i  181  et  seq.',  story  of  the  dice 
match,  i  188  ^^  seq.',  story  of  exile  of 
Pandavas,  i  197  ^/  seq.',  story  of  Duryo- 
dhana's  plotting  for  war,  i  206  et  seq.; 
story  of  battle  of  Kuru-kshetra,  i  210  et 
seq. ;  story  of  the  vision  of  dead  warriors, 
i  2 1 5  (?/  seq. ;  story  of  heroes  in  Hades,  i 
220,  et  seq. 

Mahomet,  in  Dante's  Itiferno,  i  351,  352. 

Marduk  (Merodach),  the  Babylonian  god, 
Achilles,  Arjuna,  Cuchullin,  Khrishna 
and,  i  276. 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  as  sorceress  in  Faerie 
Queene,  ii  66. 

Merlin,  enchantment  of,  ii  116  et  seq. 

Milton,  Coleridge  on,  i  384;  pen  portraits 
of,  i  384,  385,  386;  at  Cambridge,  i  384, 
388;  born  near  Mermaid  Tavern,  i  386; 
Shakespeare's  activities  during  childhood 
of,  i  386,  387 ;  dictation  of  Paradise 
Lost  by,  i  386,  392;  father  of,  i  387; 
early  promise  shown  by,  i  387,  388;  at 
Horton,  i  389;  Galileo  visited  by,  i 
389,  399;  visit  to  France  and  Italy, 
i  389 ;  first  marriage  of,  i  389  ef  seq. ; 
pamphlets  of,  i  390;  blindness  of,  i  390, 
39I)  392;  in  prison,  i  391 ;  daughters  of, 
i  392,  393;  second  marriage  of,  i  393; 
Paradise  /^ej^-aimd and  Samson  Agonistes, 
i  393;  drawings  from  poems,  i  393;  dur- 
ing Plague  and  Great  Fire,  i  393;  art  of, 
i  394  et  seq.;  Ruskin  on,  i  395,  396, 
398;  Hell  and  Satan  of,  i  393  et  seq. ; 
cosmology  of,  i  39S  et  seq.;  story  of 
Paradise  Lost,  i  403  et  seq. 

Minos,  seen  by  Odysseus  in  Hades,  i  113: 
in  Dante's  Inferno,  i  343. 

.Modred,  his  escape  in  childhcMxI,  ii  96. 
See  Arthurian  Romances. 


INDEX 


443 


Moon  lore,  in  Divina   Comviedia,  i  369, 

370. 
Mysticism,  in  literature,  i  333  et  seq. 

Nagas,  the  Indian  serpent  deities,  three 
forms  of,  i  I74«. 

Nature  myths,  romances  and,  i  235. 

Neesha  (Naoise),  Cuchullin  trained  in 
Scotland  with,  i  295;  in  Deirdre  story, 
ii  24  et  seq. 

Nibelungetilied,  the,  historical  notes  and 
criticism  of,  ii  269  et  seq. ;  Carlyle  on,  ii 
271-3;  story  of  wooing  of  Kriemhild, 
ii  277  et  seq.',  story  of  wooing  of  Brun- 
hild, ii  282  et  seq.;  story  of  slaying  of 
Siegfried,  ii  286  et  seq. ;  story  of  ven- 
geance of  Kriemhild,  ii  290  et  seq. 

Nineveh,  Gilgamesh  epic  in  royal  library 
at,  i  I,  2. 

Odin,  as  "Old  Harry",  i  23l«. 

Odysseus,  as  King  of  Ithaca,  i  T^;  wooing 
of  Penelope,  i  80;  doom  and  wanderings 
of,  i  86  et  seq. ;  cause  of  Poseidon's 
wrath,  i  87;  story  of,  in  Odyssey,  \()i  et 
seq. ;  Scheria  reached  by,  i  98  et  seq. ;  in 
palace  of  Alcinous,  i  loi  et  seq.;  parting 
with  Princess  Nausicaa,  i  102;  relates 
story  of  his  wanderings,  i  104  et  seq.; 
return  of,  to  Ithaca,  i  116  et  seq.;  slaying 
of  Penelope's  wooers  by,  i  120  et  seq.; 
welcome  of  Penelope,  i  122;  in  Dante's 
Inferno,  i  351 ;  Dante's  story  of  death  of, 

1351- 

Odyssey,  the,  story  of,  i  79  ei  seq..,  i  91  et 
seq.;  lotus-eaters  in,  i  86,  87;  story  of 
lotus-eaters,  i  104;  story  of  Cyclops,  i 
104  et  seq.;  story  of  ^olus,  king  of 
winds,  i  109;  story  of  visit  to  land  of  the 
Laestrygonians,  i  109,  1 10;  story  of  Circe 
and  her  spells,  i  no,  in,  114;  story  of 
Odysseus's  visit  to  Hades,  i  ill  et  seq. ; 
story  of  the  Sirens,  i  1 14;  story  of  Scylla 
and  Charybdis,  i  04;  Calypso's  isle, 
i  115;  story  of  slaying  cattle  of  the  sun, 
i  115;  Odysseus's  return  to  Ithaca,  i  116 
et  seq. ;  the  RaniAyana  and,  i  167. 

Orion,  in  Hades,  i  113. 

Orlando.     See  Roland. 

Osiris,  colour  symbolism  and,  i  358;/;  Para- 
dise and  Hell  of,  i  398. 


Paradise  Lost,  Milton's  personality  in,  i 
384;  Milton's  views  of  women  in,  i  389, 
390;  first  planned  as  a  drama,  i  391; 
when  poem  was  finished,  i  392;  dictated 
when  blind,  i  392;  Milton's  drawings  for, 
i  393;  cosmology  of,  i  398  et  seq.;  Satan 
and  Hell  in,  i  395  et  seq.;  vision  of  Hell 
in,  i  403  et  seq. ;  Satan's  flight  from  Hell 
to  Earth,  i  413  et  seq. ;  Adam  and  Eve  in 
Eden,  i  419  et  seq.;  story  of  the  war  in 
Heaven,  i  428  et  seq. ;  Raphael's  warning 
to  Adam  and  Eve,  i  436  et  seq. ;  story  of 
the  Fall,  i  439,  et  seq. ;  the  loss  of  Eden, 
i  446  et  seq. 

Paradise  Regained,  i  393. 

Paris,  judgment  of,  i  21;  Enone  and  Helen 
and,  i  22,  23;  rescued  by  Aphrodite,  i  37; 
censured  by  Hector,  i  40;  slays  Achilles, 
i  80,  81;  wounding  of,  i  82;  Enone  re- 
fuses to  heal,  i  82,  83;  Lancelot  and, 
ii  72,  73- 

Patroclus,  attacks  Trojans  in  Achilles's 
armour,  i  61  et  seq.;  death  of,  i  63,  64; 
ghost  of,  appeals  to  Achilles,  i  76;  funeral 
of,  i  77- 

Penelope,  famous  Homeric  lady,  i  79,  80; 
wooers  of,  i  91,  93  et  seq. 

Plant  of  Life,  in  Gilgamesh  epic,  i  14,  15. 

Poets  as  mystics — Dante,  Browning,  Words- 
worth, and  Tennyson,  i  333-5. 

Poseidon,  leads  attack  on  Trojans,  i  58; 
release  of  Odysseus,  i  92,  93,  98;  punish- 
ment of  Phseacians  by,  i  116. 

Priam,  obtains  Hector's  body  from  Achilles, 
i  77;  slaying  of,  i  139. 

Ptolemaic  cosmology,  i  398,  399. 

Races,  the  fair,  i  281,  282. 

Rama,  an  avatara  of  Vishnu,  i  229  et  seq. 

Ramdyana,  the,  i  167 ;  introductory  notes 
to,  i  229  et  seq.;  high  moral  tone  per- 
vades, i  233;  story  of  Rama's  youth  and 
marriage,  i  237  et  seq.;  story  of  Rama's 
banishment,  i  243  et  seq. ;  story  of  Rama's 
faithful  brother,  i  250  et  seq. ;  story  of 
the  rape  of  Sita,  i  254  et  seq. ;  story  of 
the  war  in  Lanka,  i  264  et  seq. ;  story  of 
banishment  and  passing  of  Sita,  i  271  et 
seq. 

Ramesis  III  of  Egj'pt,  the  Trojan  war,  i  18. 

Roland  and  Oliver,  France's  finest  chanson 


444 


THE   WORLD'S    HERITAGE 


de  geste^  ii  317  et  seq.;  historical  elements 

in   legend  of,  ii  320;    last  stand  of,  at 

Roncevaux,  ii  329  et  seq, 
Romances,  nature  myths  and,  i  235. 
Ruskin,  John,  on  Dante  and  Milton,  i  329, 

330,  395.  396,  398- 

Sagas,  the,  historical  matter  in,  ii  295  et 
seq.',  story  of  slave  woman's  son,  ii  305 
et  seq. 

Samson  Agonistes,  i  393. 

Satan,  in  Dante's  Inferno,  i  352,  353;  in 
Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  i  397,  398. 

Saxons,  in  Ireland,  i  281;  early  relations 
of,  with  Celts,  ii  3,  4,  5 ;  influence  of  in 
English  literature,  ii  7,  65;  Elizabethan 
attitude  towards,  ii  67 ;  lowland  Scots 
and,  1168;  King  Arthur  and,  ii  76  et  seq. 

Scheria,  Island  of,  Crete  as,  i  89,  90; 
Odysseus  in,  i  98  et  seq. 

Scots,  the,  legend  of  descent  from  Egyp- 
tians, nzil  et  seq. 

Scott,  Michael,  in  Dante's  Inferno,  i  350. 

Scylla,  i  88,  89. 

Setanta,  Cuchullin  as,  i  275,  276,  284. 

Shakespeare,  Virgil  and,  i  130;  contrasted 
with  Milton,  i  384;  Milton  born  during 
lifetime  of,  i  386. 

Shalott,  Dumbarton  as,  ii  73;  story  of  the 
Lady  of,  ii  152  et  seq. 

Sordello,  in  Dante's  Divina  Commedia, 
i  357.  358. 

Telemachus,  son  of  Odysseus,  i  89;  wooers 
of  Penelope  and,  i  93  et  seq. ;  escape  of, 
from  Ithaca,  i  96,  97. 

Tennyson,  as  a  mystic,  i  335. 

Thetis,  persuades  Ztus  to  avenge  Achilles, 


i  33;  obtains  new  armour  for  Achilles, 
i  65,  66,  67. 

Transmigration  of  souls,  in  Cuchullin  litera- 
ture, i  276,  277,  302,  303;  in  Egyptian 
literature,  i  277. 

Trinity,  the  Indian,  i  230,  231. 

Trojans,  legend  of  British  descent  from,  ii 
2.\l  et  seq.  See  Iliad,  Odyssey,  ./Uneid, 
and  Troy. 

Troy,  historical  siege  of,  i  18,  19;  com- 
mercial importance  of,  i  20;  conditions 
regarding  fall  of,  i  81,  84;  story  of  sack 
of,  i  85 ;  Virgil's  account  of  sack  of, 
i  139  ^/  seq. 

Tudor  royalty,  attitude  of,  towards  King 
Arthur,  ii  65  et  seq. 

Ulysses,  i  79.     See  Odysseus. 

Varuna,  the  god,  Vishnu  and,  i  230. 

Virgil,  life  and  times  of,  i  12b  et  seq.; 
Homer's  influence  on,  i  128;  early 
Christians  and,  i  330;  in  Dante's  Divina 
Commedia,  i  338  et  seq. ;  parting  of,  with 
Dante,  i  365. 

Vishnu,  the  Indian  god,  Rama  an  avatara 
of,  i  229;  as  controller  of  waters,  i  230; 
Hari  and  "Old  Harry",  i  231;  links 
with  Babylonian  and  Egyptian  deities, 
i  232. 

Vyasa,  the  Indian  Homer,  i  169. 

Wordsworth,  as  a  mystic,  i  334, 

Zeus,  espouses  cause  of  Achilles,  i  33,  45 
et  seq.;  how  Hero  beguiled,  i  58;  Hector 
succoured  by,  i  60;  orders  liberation  of 
Odysseus,  i  89.     See  Iliad  and  Odyssey. 


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