CHAPTER VIII.
THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT.- THE LADY OF SHALOTT.
KING ARTHUR proclaimed a solemn tournament to be held
at Winchester.
The king, not less impatient than his knights for this
festival, set
off some days before to superintend the preparations,
leaving the
queen with her court at Camelot. Sir Launcelot, under
pretence of
indisposition, remained behind also. His intention was
to attend the
tournament in disguise; and having communicated his project
to
Guenever, he mounted his horse, set off without any attendant,
and,
counterfeiting the feebleness of age, took the most unfrequented
road to Winchester, and passed unnoticed as an old knight
who was
going to be a spectator of the sports. Even Arthur and
Gawain, who
happened to behold him from the windows of a castle under
which he
passed, were the dupes of his disguise. But an accident
betrayed
him. His horse happened to stumble, and the hero, forgetting
for a
moment his assumed character, recovered the animal with
a strength and
agility so peculiar to himself, that they instantly recognized
the
inimitable Launcelot. They suffered him, however, to proceed
on his
journey without interruption, convinced that his extraordinary
feats
of arms must discover him at the approaching festival.
In the evening Launcelot was magnificently entertained
as a stranger
knight at the neighboring castle of Shalott. The lord
of this castle
had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and two sons lately
received
into the order of knighthood, one of whom was at that
time ill in bed,
and thereby prevented from attending the tournament, for
which both
brothers had long made preparations. Launcelot offered
to attend the
other, if he were permitted to borrow the armor of the
invalid, and
the lord of Shalott, without knowing the name of his guest,
being
satisfied from his appearance that his son could not have
a better
assistant in arms, most thankfully accepted the offer.
In the meantime
the young lady, who had been much struck by the first
appearance of
the stranger knight, continued to survey him with increased
attention,
and before the conclusion of supper, became so deeply
enamored of him,
that, after frequent changes of color, and other symptoms
which Sir
Launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged
to retire to her
chamber, and seek relief in tears. Sir Launcelot hastened
to convey to
her, by means of her brother, the information that his
heart was
already disposed of, but that it would be his pride and
pleasure to
act as her knight at the approaching tournament. The lady,
obliged
to be satisfied with that courtesy, presented him her
scarf to be worn
at the tournament.
Launcelot set off in the morning with the young knight,
who, on
their approaching Winchester, carried him to the castle
of a lady,
sister to the lord of Shalott, by whom they were hospitably
entertained. The next day they put on their armor, which
was perfectly
plain, and without any device, as was usual to youths
during the first
year of knighthood, their shields being only painted red,
as some
color was necessary to enable them to be recognized by
their
attendants. Launcelot wore on his crest the scarf of the
maid of
Shalott, and, thus equipped, proceeded to the tournament,
where the
knights were divided into two companies, the one commanded
by Sir
Galehaut, the other by King Arthur. Having surveyed the
combat for a
short time from without the lists, and observed that Sir
Galehaut's
party began to give way, they joined the press and attacked
the
royal knights, the young man choosing such adversaries
as were
suited to his strength, while his companion selected the
principal
champions of the Round Table, and successively overthrew
Gawain,
Bohort, and Lionel. The astonishment of the spectators
was extreme,
for it was thought that no one but Launcelot could possess
such
invincible force; yet the favor on his crest seemed to
preclude the
possibility of his being thus disguised, for Launcelot
had never
been known to wear the badge of any but his sovereign
lady. At
length Sir Hector, Launcelot's brother, engaged him, and,
after a
dreadful combat, wounded him dangerously in the head,
but was
himself completely stunned by a blow on the helmet, and
felled to
the ground; after which the conqueror rode off at full
speed, attended
by his companion.
They returned to the castle of Shalott, where Launcelot
was attended
with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two sons,
and, above
all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill probably
much
hastened the period of his recovery. His health was almost
completely restored, when Sir Hector, Sir Bohort, and
Sir Lionel, who,
after the return of the court to Camelot, had undertaken
the quest
of their relation, discovered him walking on the walls
of the
castle. Their meeting was very joyful; they passed three
days in the
castle amidst constant festivities, and bantered each
other on the
events of the tournament. Launcelot, though he began by
vowing
vengeance against the author of his wound, yet ended by
declaring that
he felt rewarded for the pain by the pride he took in
witnessing his
brother's extraordinary prowess. He then dismissed them
with a message
to the queen, promising to follow immediately, it being
necessary that
he should first take a formal leave of his kind hosts,
as well as of
the fair maid of Shalott.
The young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him
by her tears
and solicitations, saw him depart without leaving her
any ground for
hope.
It was early summer when the tournament took place;
but some
months had passed since Launcelot's departure, and winter
was now near
at hand. The health and strength of the Lady of Shalott
had
gradually sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart
from the
object of her affections. She left the castle, and, descending
to
the river's brink, placed herself in a boat, which she
loosed from its
moorings, and suffered to bear her down the current toward
Camelot.
One morning, as Arthur and Sir Lionel looked from the
window of
the tower, the walls of which were washed by a river,
they descried
a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an awning of
cloth of gold,
which appeared to be floating down the stream without
any human
guidance. It struck the shore while they watched it, and
they hastened
down to examine it. Beneath the awning they discovered
the dead body
of a beautiful woman, in whose features Sir Lionel easily
recognized
the lovely maid of Shalott, Pursuing their search, they
discovered a
purse richly embroidered with gold and jewels, and within
the purse
a letter, which Arthur opened, and found addressed to
himself and
all the knights of the Round Table, stating that Launcelot
of the
Lake, the most accomplished of knights and most beautiful
of men,
but at the same time the most cruel and inflexible, had
by his rigor
produced the death of the wretched maiden, whose love
was no less
invincible than his cruelty.
The king immediately gave orders for the interment of
the lady, with
all the honors suited to her rank, at the same time explaining
to
the knights the history of her affection for Launcelot,
which moved
the compassion and regret of all.
Tennyson has chosen the story of the Lady of Shalott
for the subject
of a poem:-
"There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colors gay.
She has heard a whisper say
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
"And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.
"Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad
Goes by to towered Camelot.
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She has no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
"But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
'I am half sick of shadows,' said
The Lady of Shalott."
The poem goes on as the story: the lady sees Launcelot,
he rides
away, and she afterward dies and floats down the river
in a boat to
Camelot. The poem ends as follows:-
"Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent unto Camelot.
Out upon the wharves 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 crossed themselves for fear
All the knights at Camelot:
But Launcelot mused a little space;
He said 'She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."'
The story of "Elaine, the fair, Elaine, the lovable,
Elaine, the
lily-maid of Astolat," one of the earliest of the
"Idylls of the
King," is of course the same tale as the Lady of
Shalott.
CHAPTER X.
THE STORY OF TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE.
MELIADUS was king of Leonois, or Lyonesse, a country
famous in the
annals of romance, which adjoined the kingdom of Cornwall,
but has now
disappeared from the map, having been, it is said, overwhelmed
by
the ocean. Meliadus was married to Isabella, sister of
Mark, king of
Cornwall. A fairy fell in love with him, and drew him
away by
enchantment while he was engaged in hunting. His queen
set out in
quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died,
leaving an
infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances of
his birth,
she called Tristram.
Gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied
her, took charge
of the child, and restored him to his father, who had
at length
burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned home.
Meliadus, after seven years, married again, and the
new queen, being
jealous of the influence of Tristram with his father,
laid plots for
his life, which were discovered by Gouvernail, who, in
consequence,
fled with the boy to the court of the king of France,
where Tristram
was kindly received, and grew up improving in every gallant
and
knightly accomplishment, adding to his skill in arms the
arts of music
and of chess. In particular, he devoted himself to the
chase and to
all woodland sports, so that he became distinguished above
all other
chevaliers of the court for his knowledge of all that
relates to
hunting. No wonder that Belinda, the king's daughter,
fell in love
with him; but as he did not return her passion, she, in
a sudden
impulse of anger, excited her father against him, and
he was
banished the kingdom. The princess soon repented of her
act, and in
despair destroyed herself, having first written a most
tender letter
to Tristram, sending him at the same time a beautiful
and sagacious
dog, of which she was very fond, desiring him to keep
it as a memorial
of her. Meliadus was now dead, and as his queen, Tristram's
stepmother, held the throne, Gouvernail was afraid to
carry his
pupil to his native country, and took him to Cornwall,
to his uncle
Mark, who gave him a kind reception.
King Mark resided at the castle of Tintadel, already
mentioned in
the history of Uther and Iguerne. In this court Tristram
became
distinguished in all the exercises incumbent on a knight;
nor was it
long before he had an opportunity of practically employing
his valor
and skill. Moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to
the queen of
Ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute of King
Mark. The
knights of Cornwall are in ill repute, in romance, for
their cowardice
and they exhibited it on this occasion. King Mark could
find no
champion who dared to encounter the Irish knight, till
his nephew
Tristram, who had not yet received the honors of knighthood,
craved to
be admitted to the order, offering at the same time to
fight the
battle of Cornwall against the Irish champion. King Mark
assented with
reluctance; Tristram received the accolade, which conferred
knighthood
upon him; and the place and time were assigned for the
encounter.
Without attempting to give the details of this famous
combat, the
first and one of the most glorious of Tristram's exploits,
we shall
only say that the young knight, though severely wounded,
cleft the
head of Moraunt, leaving a portion of his sword in the
wound. Moraunt,
half dead with his wound and the disgrace of his defeat,
hastened to
hide himself in his ship, sailed away with all speed for
Ireland,
and died soon after arriving in his own country.
The kingdom of Cornwall was thus delivered from its
tribute.
Tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. His
friends
flew to his assistance. They dressed his wounds, which
in general
healed readily; but the lance of Moraunt was poisoned,
and one wound
which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew worse day
by day. The
surgeons could do no more. Tristram asked permission of
his uncle to
depart, and seek for aid in the kingdom of Loegria (England).
With his
consent he embarked, and, after tossing for many days
on the sea,
was driven by the winds to the coast of Ireland. He landed,
full of
joy and gratitude that he had escaped the peril of the
sea; took his
rote,* and began to play. It was a summer evening, and
the king of
Ireland and his daughter, the beautiful Isoude, were at
a window which
overlooked the sea. The strange harper was sent for, and
conveyed to
the palace, where, finding that he was in Ireland, whose
champion he
had lately slain, he concealed his name, and called himself
Tramtris. The queen undertook his cure, and by a medicated
bath
gradually restored him to health. His skill in music and
in games
occasioned his being frequently called to court, and he
became
instructor of the Princess Isoude in minstrelsy and poetry,
who
profited so well under his care, that she soon had no
equal in the
kingdom, except her instructor.
* A musical instrument.
At this time a tournament was held, at which many knights
of the
Round Table, and others, were present. On the first day
a Saracen
prince, named Palamedes, obtained the advantage over all.
They brought
him to the court, and gave him a feast, at which Tristram,
just
recovering from his wound, was present. The fair Isoude
appeared on
this occasion in all her charms. Palamedes could not behold
them
without emotion, and made no effort to conceal his love.
Tristram
perceived it, and the pain he felt from jealousy taught
him how dear
the fair Isoude had already become to him.
Next day the tournament was renewed. Tristram, still
feeble from his
wound, rose during the night, took his arms, and concealed
them in a
forest near the place of the contest, and, after it had
begun, mingled
with the combatants. He overthrew all that encountered
him, in
particular Palamedes, whom he brought to the ground with
a stroke of
his lance, and then fought him hand to hand, bearing off
the prize
of the tourney. But his exertions caused his wound to
reopen; he
bled fast, and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they
bore him to the
palace. The fair Isoude devoted herself to his relief
with an interest
which grew more vivid day by day; and her skilful care
soon restored
him to health.
It happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering
the
closet where Tristram's arms were deposited, perceived
that a part
of the sword had been broken off. It occurred to her that
the
missing portion was like that which was left in the skull
of
Moraunt, the Irish champion. She imparted her thought
to the queen,
who compared the fragment taken from her brother's wound
with the
sword of Tristram, and was satisfied that it was part
of the same, and
that the weapon of Tristram was that which reft her brother's
life.
She laid her griefs and resentment before the king, who
satisfied
himself with his own eyes of the truth of her suspicions.
Tristram was
cited before the whole court, and reproached with having
dared to
present himself before them after having slain their kinsman.
He
acknowledged that he had fought with Moraunt to settle
the claim for
tribute, and said that it was by force of winds and waves
alone that
he was thrown on their coast. The queen demanded vengeance
for the
death of her brother; the fair Isoude trembled and grew
pale, but a
murmur rose from all the assembly that the life of one
so handsome and
so brave should not be taken for such a cause, and generosity
finally triumphed over resentment in the mind of the king.
Tristram
was dismissed in safety, but commanded to leave the kingdom
without
delay, and never to return thither under pain of death.
Tristram
went back, with restored health, to Cornwall.
King Mark made his nephew give him a minute recital
of his
adventures. Tristram told him all minutely; but when he
came to
speak of the fair Isoude, he described her charms with
a warmth and
energy such as none but a lover could display. King Mark
was
fascinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable
time,
demanded a boon* of his nephew, who readily granted it.
The king
made him swear upon the holy reliques that he would fulfil
his
commands. Then Mark directed him to go to Ireland, and
obtain for
him the fair Isoude to be queen of Cornwall.
* "Good faith was the very corner-stone of chivalry.
Whenever a
knight's word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly),
it was to be
redeemed at any price. Hence the sacred obligation of
the boon granted
by a knight to his suppliant. Instances without number
occur in
romance, in which a knight, by rashly granting an indefinite
boon, was
obliged to do or suffer something extremely to his prejudice.
But it
is not in romance alone that we find such singular instances
of
adherence to an indefinite promise. The history of the
times
presents authentic transactions equally embarrassing and
absurd."-
SCOTT, note of Sir Tristram.
Tristram believed it was certain death for him to return
to Ireland;
and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in such
a cause? Yet,
bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an instant. He
only took the
precaution to change his armor. He embarked for Ireland;
but a tempest
drove him to the coast of England, near Camelot, where
King Arthur was
holding his court, attended by the knights of the Round
Table, and
many others, the most illustrious in the world.
Tristram kept himself unknown. He took part in many
jousts; he
fought many combats, in which he covered himself with
glory. One day
he saw among those recently arrived the king of Ireland,
father of the
fair Isoude. This prince, accused of treason against his
liege
sovereign, Arthur, came to Camelot to free himself of
the charge.
Blaanor, one of the most redoubtable warriors of the Round
Table,
was his accuser, and Argius, the king, had neither youthful
vigor
nor strength to encounter him. He must therefore seek
a champion to
sustain his innocence. But the knights of the Round Table
were not
at liberty to fight against one another, unless in a quarrel
of
their own. Argius heard of the great renown of the unknown
knight;
he also was witness of his exploits. He sought him, and
conjured him
to adopt his defence, and on his oath declared that he
was innocent of
the crime of which he was accused. Tristram readily consented,
and
made himself known to the king, who on his part promised
to reward his
exertions, if successful, with whatever gift he might
ask.
Tristram fought with Blaanor, and overthrew him, and
held his life
in his power. The fallen warrior called on him to use
his right of
conquest, and strike the fatal blow. "God forbid,"
said Tristram,
"that I should take the life of so brave a knight!"
He raised him up
and restored him to his friends. The judges of the field
decided
that the king of Ireland was acquitted of the charge against
him,
and they led Tristram in triumph to his tent. King Argius,
full of
gratitude, conjured Tristram to accompany him to his kingdom.
They
departed together, and arrived in Ireland; and the queen,
forgetting
her resentment for her brother's death, exhibited to the
preserver
of her husband's life nothing but gratitude and good-will.
How happy a moment for Isoude, who knew that her father
had promised
his deliverer whatever boon he might ask. But the unhappy
Tristram
gazed on her with despair, at the thought of the cruel
oath which
bound him. His magnanimous soul subdued the force of his
love. He
revealed the oath which he had taken, and with trembling
voice
demanded the fair Isoude for his uncle.
Argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the
departure of
Isoude. Brengwain, her favorite maid-of-honor, was to
accompany her.
On the day of departure the queen took aside this devoted
attendant,
and told her that she had observed that her daughter and
Tristram were
attached to one another, and that to avert the bad effects
of this
inclination she had procured from a powerful fairy a potent
philter
(love-draught), which she directed Brengwain to administer
to Isoude
and to King Mark on the evening of their marriage.
Isoude and Tristram embarked together. A favorable wind
filled the
sails and promised them a fortunate voyage. The lovers
gazed upon
one another, and could not repress their sighs. Love seemed
to light
up all his fires on their lips, as in their hearts. The
day was
warm; they suffered from thirst. Isoude first complained.
Tristram
descried the bottle containing the love-draught, which
Brengwain had
been so imprudent as to leave in sight. He took it, gave
some of it to
the charming Isoude, and drank the remainder himself.
The dog
Houdain licked the cup. The ship arrived in Cornwall,
and Isoude was
married to King Mark. The old monarch was delighted with
his bride,
and his gratitude to Tristram was unbounded. He loaded
him with
honors, and made him chamberlain of his palace, thus giving
him access
to the queen at all times.
In the midst of the festivities of the court which followed
the
royal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented
himself, bearing
a harp of peculiar construction. He excited the curiosity
of King Mark
by refusing to play upon it till he should grant him a
boon. The
king having promised to grant his request, the minstrel,
who was
none other than the Saracen knight, Sir Palamedes, the
lover of the
fair Isoude, sung to the harp a lay, in which he demanded
Isoude as
the promised gift. King Mark could not by the laws of
knighthood
withhold the boon. The lady was mounted on her horse and
led away by
her triumphant lover. Tristram, it is needless to say,
was absent at
the time, and did not return until their departure. When
he heard what
had taken place, he seized his rote, and hastened to the
shore,
where Isoude and her new master had already embarked.
Tristram
played upon his rote, and the sound reached the ears of
Isoude, who
became so deeply affected that Sir Palamedes was induced
to return
with her to land, that they might see the unknown musician.
Tristram
watched his opportunity, seized the lady's horse by the
bridle, and
plunged with her into the forest, tauntingly informing
his rival
that "what he had got by the harp he had lost by
the rote."
Palamedes pursued, and a combat was about to commence,
the result of
which must have been fatal to one or other of these gallant
knights;
but Isoude stepped between them, and, addressing Palamedes,
said, "You
tell me that you love me; you will not then deny me the
request I am
about to make?" "Lady," he replied, "I
will perform your bidding."
"Leave, then," said she, "this contest,
and repair to King Arthur's
court, and salute Queen Guenever for me; tell her that
there are in
the world but two ladies, herself and I, and two lovers,
hers and
mine; and come thou not in future in any place where I
am."
Palamedes burst into tears. "Ah, lady," said
he, "I will obey you; but
I beseech you that you will not forever steel your heart
against
me." "Palamedes," she replied, "may
I never taste of joy again if I
ever quit my first love." Palamedes then went his
way. The lovers
remained a week in concealment, after which Tristram restored
Isoude
to her husband, advising him in future to reward minstrels
in some
other way.
The king showed much gratitude to Tristram, but in the
bottom of his
heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. One day Tristram
and Isoude
were alone together in her private chamber. A base and
cowardly knight
of the court, named Audret, spied them through a keyhole.
They sat
at a table of chess, but were not attending to the game.
Andret
brought the king, having first raised his suspicions,
and placed him
so as to watch their motions. The king saw enough to confirm
his
suspicions, and he burst into the apartment with his sword
drawn,
and had nearly slain Tristram before he was put on his
guard. But
Tristram avoided the blow, drew his sword, and drove before
him the
cowardly monarch, chasing him through all the apartments
of the
palace, giving him frequent blows with the flat of his
sword, while he
cried in vain to his knights to save him. They were not
inclined, or
did not dare to interpose in his behalf.
A proof of the great popularity of the tale of Sir Tristram
is the
fact that the Italian poets, Boiardo and Ariosto, have
founded upon it
the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which produced
the opposite
effects of love and hatred. Boiardo thus describes the
fountain of
hatred:-
"Fair was that fountain, sculptured all of
gold,
With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;
And in its basin clear thou might'st behold
The flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.
Sage Merlin framed the font,- so legends bear,-
When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,
That the good errant knight, arriving there,
Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave,
And leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless
grave.
"But ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed
His steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain,
Though restless, roving on adventure proud,
He traversed oft the land and oft the main."
. . . . . . . .
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