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Tales of the Enchanted Islands of the Atlantic

T >> Thomas Wentworth Higginson >> Tales of the Enchanted Islands of the Atlantic




One day he was called from the court to an abbey, where three nuns
brought to him a beautiful boy of fifteen, asking that he might be made a
knight. This was Sir Lancelot's own son, Galahad, whom he had never seen,
and did not yet know. That evening Sir Lancelot remained at the abbey with
the boy, that he might keep his vigil there, and on the morrow's dawn he
was made a knight. Sir Lancelot put on one of his spurs, and Bors,
Lancelot's cousin, the other, and then Sir Lancelot said to the boy, "Fair
son, attend me to the court of the king;" but the abbess said, "Sir, not
now, but we will send him when it shall be time."

On Whitsunday, at the time called "underne," which was nine in the
morning, King Arthur and his knights sat at the Round Table, where on
every seat there was written, in letters of gold, the name of a knight
with "here ought to sit he," or "he ought to sit here;" and thus went the
inscriptions until they came to one seat (or _siège_ in French)
called the "Siege Perilous," where they found newly written letters of
gold, saying that this seat could not be occupied until four hundred and
fifty years after the death of Christ; and that was this very day. Then
there came news of a marvellous stone which had been seen above the water,
with a sword sticking in it bearing the letters, "Never shall man take me
hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be the best
knight of the world." Then two of the knights tried to draw the sword and
failed to draw it, and Sir Lancelot, who was thought the best knight in
all the world, refused to attempt it. Then they went back to their seats
around the table.

Then when all the seats but the "Siege Perilous" were full, the hall was
suddenly darkened; and an old man clad in white, whom nobody knew, came
in, with a young knight in red armor, wearing an empty scabbard at his
side, who said, "Peace be with you, fair knights." The old man said, "I
bring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage," and the king
said, "Sir, ye are right heartily welcome." Then the old man bade the
young knight to remove his armor, and he wore a red garment, while the old
man placed on his shoulders a mantle of fine ermine, and said, "Sir,
follow after." Then the old man led him to the "Siege Perilous," next to
Sir Lancelot, and lifted the cloth and read, "Here sits Sir Galahad," and
the youth sat down. Upon this, all the knights of the Round Table
marvelled greatly at Sir Galahad, that he dared to sit in that seat, and
he so tender of age. Then King Arthur took him by the hand and led him
down to the river to see the adventure of the stone. "Sir," said the king
to Sir Galahad, "here is a great marvel, where right good knights have
tried and failed." "Sir," said Sir Galahad, "that is no marvel, for the
adventure was not theirs, but mine; I have brought no sword with me, for
here by my side hangs the scabbard," and he laid his hand on the sword and
lightly drew it from the stone.

It was not until long after, and when they both had had many adventures,
that Sir Lancelot discovered Galahad to be his son. Sir Lancelot once came
to the sea-strand and found a ship without sails or oars, and sailed away
upon it. Once, when he touched at an island, a young knight came on board
to whom Lancelot said, "Sir, you are welcome," and when the young knight
asked his name, told him, "My name is Sir Lancelot du Lac." "Sir," he
said, "then you are welcome, for you are my father." "Ah," said Lancelot,
"are you Sir Galahad?" Then the young knight kneeled down and asked his
blessing, and they embraced each other, and there was great joy between
them, and they told each other all their deeds. So dwelt Sir Lancelot and
Sir Galahad together within that ship for half a year, and often they
arrived at islands far from men where there were but wild beasts, and they
found many adventures strange and perilous which they brought to an end.

When Sir Lancelot at last died, his body was taken to Joyous-Gard, his
home, and there it lay in state in the choir, with a hundred torches
blazing above it; and while it was there, came his brother Sir Ector de
Maris, who had long been seeking Lancelot. When he heard such noise and
saw such lights in the choir, he alighted and came in; and Sir Bors went
towards him and told him that his brother Lancelot was lying dead. Then
Sir Ector threw his shield and sword and helm from him, and when he looked
on Sir Lancelot's face he fell down in a swoon, and when he rose he spoke
thus: "Ah, Sir Lancelot," said he, "thou wert dead of all Christen
knights! And now I dare say, that, Sir Lancelot, there thou liest, thou
wert never matched of none earthly knight's hands; and thou wert the
curtiest knight that ever beare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to
thy lover that ever bestrood horse, and thou wert the truest lover of a
sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou wert the kindest man that ever
strooke with sword; and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came
among presse of knights; and thou wert the meekest man and the gentlest
that ever eate in hall among ladies; and thou wert the sternest knight to
thy mortall foe that ever put speare in the rest."



IX

THE HALF-MAN


King Arthur in his youth was fond of all manly exercises, especially of
wrestling, an art in which he found few equals. The old men who had been
the champions of earlier days, and who still sat, in summer evenings,
watching the youths who tried their skill before them, at last told him
that he had no rival in Cornwall, and that his only remaining competitor
elsewhere was one who had tired out all others.

"Where is he?" said Arthur.

"He dwells," an old man said, "on an island whither you will have to go
and find him. He is of all wrestlers the most formidable. You will think
him at first so insignificant as to be hardly worth a contest; you will
easily throw him at the first trial; but after a while you will find him
growing stronger; he seeks out all your weak points as by magic; he never
gives up; you may throw him again and again, but he will conquer you at
last."

"His name! his name!" said Arthur.

"His name," they answered, "is Hanner Dyn; his home is everywhere, but on
his own island you will be likely to find him sooner or later. Keep clear
of him, or he will get the best of you in the end, and make you his slave
as he makes slaves of others whom he has conquered."

Far and wide over the ocean the young Arthur sought; he touched at island
after island; he saw many weak men who did not dare to wrestle with him,
and many strong ones whom he could always throw, until at last when he was
far out under the western sky, he came one day to an island which he had
never before seen and which seemed uninhabited. Presently there came out
from beneath an arbor of flowers a little miniature man, graceful and
quick-moving as an elf. Arthur, eager in his quest, said to him, "In what
island dwells Hanner Dyn?" "In this island," was the answer. "Where is
he?" said Arthur. "I am he," said the laughing boy, taking hold of his
hand.

"What did they mean by calling you a wrestler?" said Arthur.

"Oh," said the child coaxingly, "I am a wrestler. Try me."

The king took him and tossed him in the air with his strong arms, till
the boy shouted with delight. He then took Arthur by the hand and led him
about the island--showed him his house and where the gardens and fields
were. He showed him the rows of men toiling in the meadows or felling
trees. "They all work for me," he said carelessly. The king thought he had
never seen a more stalwart set of laborers. Then the boy led him to the
house, asked him what his favorite fruits were, or his favorite beverages,
and seemed to have all at hand. He was an unaccountable little creature;
in size and years he seemed a child; but in his activity and agility he
seemed almost a man. When the king told him so, he smiled, as winningly as
ever, and said, "That is what they call me--Hanner Dyn, The Half-Man."
Laughing merrily, he helped Arthur into his boat and bade him farewell,
urging him to come again. The King sailed away, looking back with
something like affection on his winsome little playmate.

It was months before Arthur came that way again. Again the merry child
met him, having grown a good deal since their earlier meeting. "How is my
little wrestler?" said Arthur. "Try me," said the boy; and the king tossed
him again in his arms, finding the delicate limbs firmer, and the slender
body heavier than before, though easily manageable. The island was as
green and more cultivated, there were more men working in the fields, and
Arthur noticed that their look was not cheerful, but rather as of those
who had been discouraged and oppressed.

It was, however, a charming sail to the island, and, as it became more
familiar, the king often bade his steersman guide the pinnace that way. He
was often startled with the rapid growth and increased strength of the
laughing boy, Hanner Dyn, while at other times he seemed much as before
and appeared to have made but little progress. The youth seemed never
tired of wrestling; he always begged the king for a trial of skill, and
the king rejoiced to see how readily the young wrestler caught at the
tricks of the art; so that the time had long passed when even Arthur's
strength could toss him lightly in the air, as at first. Hanner Dyn was
growing with incredible rapidity into a tall young fellow, and instead of
the weakness that often comes with rapid growth, his muscles grew ever
harder and harder. Still merry and smiling, he began to wrestle in
earnest, and one day, in a moment of carelessness, Arthur received a back
fall, perhaps on moist ground, and measured his length. Rising with a
quick motion, he laughed at the angry faces of his attendants and bade the
boy farewell. The men at work in the fields glanced up, attracted by the
sound of voices, and he saw them exchange looks with one another.

Yet he felt his kingly dignity a little impaired, and hastened ere long
to revisit the island and teach the saucy boy another lesson. Months had
passed, and the youth had expanded into a man of princely promise, but
with the same sunny look. His shoulders were now broad, his limbs of the
firmest mould, his eye clear, keen, penetrating. "Of all the wrestlers I
have ever yet met," said the king, "this younker promises to be the most
formidable. I can easily throw him now, but what will he be a few years
hence?" The youth greeted him joyously, and they began their usual match.
The sullen serfs in the fields stopped to watch them, and an aged Druid
priest, whom Arthur had brought with him, to give the old man air and
exercise in the boat, opened his weak eyes and closed them again.

As they began to wrestle, the king felt, by the very grasp of the youth's
arms, by the firm set of his foot upon the turf, that this was to be
unlike any previous effort. The wrestlers stood after the old Cornish
fashion, breast to breast, each resting his chin on the other's shoulder.
They grasped each other round the body, each setting his left hand above
the other's right. Each tried to force the other to touch the ground with
both shoulders and one hip, or with both hips and one shoulder; or else to
compel the other to relinquish his hold for an instant--either of these
successes giving the victory. Often as Arthur had tried the art, he never
had been so matched before. The competitors swayed this way and that,
writhed, struggled, half lost their footing and regained it, yet neither
yielded. All the boatmen gathered breathlessly around, King Arthur's men
refusing to believe their eyes, even when they knew their king was in
danger. A stranger group was that of the sullen farm-laborers, who left
their ploughs and spades, and, congregating on a rising ground, watched
without any expression of sympathy the contest that was going on. An old
wrestler from Cornwall, whom Arthur had brought with him, was the judge;
and according to the habit of the time, the contest was for the best two
bouts in three. By the utmost skill and strength, Arthur compelled Hanner
Dyn to lose his hold for one instant in the first trial, and the King was
pronounced the victor.

The second test was far more difficult; the boy, now grown to a man, and
seeming to grow older and stronger before their very eyes, twice forced
Arthur to the ground either with hip or shoulder, but never with both,
while the crowd closed in breathlessly around; and the half-blind old
Druid, who had himself been a wrestler in his youth, and who had been
brought ashore to witness the contest, called warningly aloud, "Save
thyself, O king!" At this Arthur roused his failing strength to one final
effort, and, griping his rival round the waist with a mighty grasp, raised
him bodily from the ground and threw him backward till he fell flat, like
a log, on both shoulders and both hips; while Arthur himself fell fainting
a moment later. Nor did he recover until he found himself in the boat, his
head resting on the knees of the aged Druid, who said to him, "Never
again, O king! must you encounter the danger you have barely escaped. Had
you failed, you would have become subject to your opponent, whose strength
has been maturing for years to overpower you. Had you yielded, you would,
although a king, have become but as are those dark-browed men who till his
fields and do his bidding. For know you not what the name Hanner Dyn
means? It means--Habit; and the force of habit, at first weak, then
growing constantly stronger, ends in conquering even kings!"



X

KING ARTHUR AT AVALON


In the ruined castle at Winchester, England, built by William the
Conqueror, there is a hall called "The Great Hall," where Richard Coeur de
Lion was received by his nobles when rescued from captivity; where Henry
III. was born; where all the Edwards held court; where Henry VIII.
entertained the emperor Charles V.; where Queen Mary was married to Philip
II.; where Parliament met for many years. It is now a public hall for the
county; and at one end of it the visitor sees against the wall a vast
wooden tablet on which the names of King Arthur's knights of the Round
Table are inscribed in a circle. No one knows its date or origin, though
it is known to be more than four hundred years old, but there appear upon
it the names most familiar to those who have read the legends of King
Arthur, whether in Tennyson's poems or elsewhere. There are Lancelot and
Bedivere, Gawaine and Dagonet, Modred and Gareth, and the rest. Many books
have been written of their deeds; but a time came when almost all those
knights were to fall, according to the legend, in one great battle.
Modred, the king's nephew, had been left in charge of the kingdom during
Arthur's absence, and had betrayed him and tried to dethrone him, meaning
to crown himself king. Many people joined with him, saying that under
Arthur they had had only war and fighting, but under Modred they would
have peace and bliss. Yet nothing was farther from Modred's purpose than
bliss or peace, and it was agreed at last that a great battle should be
fought for the kingdom.

On the night of Trinity Sunday, King Arthur had a dream. He thought he
sat in a chair, upon a scaffold, and the chair was fastened to a wheel. He
was dressed in the richest cloth of gold that could be made, but far
beneath him he saw a pit, full of black water, in which were all manner of
serpents and floating beasts. Then the wheel began to turn, and he went
down, down among the floating things, and they wreathed themselves about
him till he cried, "Help! help!"

Then his knights and squires and yeomen aroused him, but he slumbered
again, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking. Then he thought he saw his
nephew, Sir Gawaine, with a number of fair ladies, and when King Arthur
saw him, he said, "O fair nephew, what are these ladies who come with
you?" "Sir," said Sir Gawaine, "these are the ladies for whose protection
I fought while I was a living man, and God has given them grace that they
should bring me thither to you, to warn you of your death. If you fight
with Sir Modred to-morrow, you must be slain, and most of your people on
both sides." So Sir Gawaine and all the ladies vanished, and then the king
called upon his knights and squires and yeomen, and summoned his lords and
bishops. They agreed to propose to Sir Modred that they should have a
month's delay, and meanwhile agreed to meet him with fourteen persons on
each side, besides Arthur and Modred.

Each of these leaders warned his army, when they met, to watch the other,
and not to draw their swords until they saw a drawn sword on the other
side. In that case they were to come on fiercely. So the small party of
chosen men on each side met and drank wine together, and agreed upon a
month's delay before fighting; but while this was going on an adder came
out of a bush and stung a knight on the foot, and he drew his sword to
slay it and thought of nothing farther. At the sight of that sword the two
armies were in motion, trumpets were blown instantly, and the men of each
army thought that the other army had begun the fray. "Alas, this unhappy
day!" cried King Arthur; and, as the old chronicle says, "nothing there
was but rushing and riding, fencing and striking, and many a grim word was
there spoken either to other, and many a deadly stroke."

The following is the oldest account of the battle, translated into quaint
and literal English by Madden from the book called "Layamon's Brut";
"Innumerable folk it came toward the host, riding and on foot, as the rain
down falleth! Arthur marched to Cornwall, with an immense army. Modred
heard that, and advanced against him with innumerable folk,--there were
many fated! Upon the Tambre they came together; the place hight Camelford,
evermore lasted the same word. And at Camelford was assembled sixty
thousand, and more thousands thereto; Modred was their chief. Then
thitherward 'gan ride Arthur the mighty, with innumerable folk,--fated
though it were! Upon the Tambre they encountered together; elevated their
standards; advanced together; drew their long swords; smote on the helms;
fire outsprang; spears splintered; shields 'gan shiver; shafts brake in
pieces. There fought all together innumerable folk! Tambre was in flood
with blood to excess; there might no man in the fight know any warrior,
nor who did worse, nor who better, so was the conflict mingled! For each
slew downright, were he swain, were he knight.

"There was Modred slain, and deprived of life-day, and all his knights
slain in the fight. There were slain all the brave, Arthur's warriors,
high and low, and all the Britons of Arthur's board, and all his
dependents, of many kingdoms. And Arthur wounded with broad
slaughter-spear; fifteen dreadful wounds he had; in the least one might
thrust two gloves! Then was there no more remained in the fight, of two
hundred thousand men that there lay hewed in pieces, except Arthur the
king alone, and two of his knights. Arthur was wounded wondrously much.
There came to him a lad, who was of his kindred; he was Cador's son, the
earl of Cornwall; Constantine the lad hight, he was dear to the king.
Arthur looked on him, where he lay on the ground, and said these words,
with sorrowful heart: 'Constantine, thou art welcome; thou wert Cador's
son. I give thee here my kingdom, and defend thou my Britons ever in thy
life, and maintain them all the laws that have stood in my days, and all
the good laws that in Uther's days stood. And I will fare to Avalon, to
the fairest of all maidens, to Argante the queen, an elf most fair, and
she shall make my wounds all sound, make me all whole with healing
draughts. And afterwards I will come to my kingdom, and dwell with the
Britons with mickle joy.' Even with the words there approached from the
sea that was a short boat, floating with the waves; and two women therein,
wondrously formed; and they took Arthur anon, and bare him quickly, and
laid him softly down, and forth they 'gan depart. Then was it accomplished
that Merlin whilom said, that mickle care should be of Arthur's departure.
The Britons believe yet that he is alive, and dwelleth in Avalon with the
fairest of all elves; and the Britons ever yet expect when Arthur shall
return. Was never the man born, of any lady chosen, that knoweth, of the
sooth, to say more of Arthur. But whilom was a sage hight Merlin; he said
with words,--his sayings were sooth,--that an Arthur should yet come to
help the English."

Another traditional account which Tennyson has mainly followed in a poem,
is this: The king bade Sir Bedivere take his good sword Excalibur and go
with it to the water-side and throw it into the water and return to tell
what he saw. Then Sir Bedivere took the sword, and it was so richly and
preciously adorned that he would not throw it, and came back without it.
When the king asked what had happened, Sir Bedivere said, "I saw nothing
but waves and wind," and when Arthur did not believe him, and sent him
again, he made the same answer, and then, when sent a third time, he threw
the sword into the water, as far as he could. Then an arm and a hand rose
above the water and caught it, and shook and brandished it three times and
vanished.

Then Sir Bedivere came back to the king; he told what he had seen.
"Alas," said Arthur, "help me from hence, for I fear I have tarried over
long." Then Sir Bedivere took King Arthur upon his back, and went with him
to the water's side. And when they had reached there, a barge with many
fair ladies was lying there, with many ladies in it, and among them three
queens, and they all had black hoods, and they wept and shrieked when they
saw King Arthur.

"Now put me in the barge," said Arthur, and the three queens received him
with great tenderness, and King Arthur laid his head in the lap of one,
and she said, "Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long, until your
wound was cold?" And then they rowed away, and King Arthur said to Sir
Bedivere, "I will go unto the valley of Avalon to heal my grievous wound,
and if I never return, pray for my soul." He was rowed away by the weeping
queens, and one of them was Arthur's sister Morgan le Fay; another was the
queen of Northgalis, and the third was the queen of Waste Lands; and it
was the belief for years in many parts of England that Arthur was not
dead, but would come again to reign in England, when he had been nursed
long enough by Morgan le Fay in the island of Avalon.

The tradition was that King Arthur lived upon this island in an enchanted
castle which had the power of a magnet, so that every one who came near it
was drawn thither and could not get away. Morgan le Fay was its ruler
(called more correctly Morgan la fée, or the fairy), and her name Morgan
meant sea-born. By one tradition, the queens who bore away Arthur were
accompanied in the boat by the bard and enchanter, Merlin, who had long
been the king's adviser, and this is the description of the island said to
have been given by Merlin to another bard, Taliessin:--

"'We came to that green and fertile island which each year is blessed
with two autumns, two springs, two summers, two gatherings of fruit,--the
land where pearls are found, where the flowers spring as you gather them--
that isle of orchards called the "Isle of the Blessed." No tillage there,
no coulter to tear the bosom of the earth. Without labor it affords wheat
and the grape. There the lives extend beyond a century. There nine
sisters, whose will is the only law, rule over those who go from us to
them. The eldest excels in the art of healing, and exceeds her sisters in
beauty. She is called Morgana, and knows the virtues of all the herbs of
the meadow. She can change her form, and soar in the air like a bird; she
can be where she pleases in a moment, and in a moment descend on our
coasts from the clouds. Her sister Thiten is renowned for her skill on the
harp.'

"'With the prince we arrived, and Morgana received us with fitting
honour. And in her own chamber she placed the king on a bed of gold, and
with delicate touch, she uncovered the wound. Long she considered it, and
at length said to him that she could heal it if he stayed long with her,
and willed her to attempt her cure. Rejoiced at this news, we intrusted
the king to her care, and soon after set sail.'"

Sir Thomas Malory, who wrote the book called the "Historie of King
Arthur," or more commonly the "Morte d'Arthur," utters these high thoughts
concerning the memory of the great king:--

"Oh, yee mightie and pompeous lords, shining in the glory transitory of
this unstable life, as in raigning over great realmes and mightie great
countries, fortified with strong castles and toures, edified with many a
rich citie; yee also, yee fierce and mightie knights, so valiant in
adventurous deeds of armes; behold, behold, see how this mightie
conquerour king Arthur, whom in his humaine life all the world doubted,
see also the noble queene Guenever, which sometime sat in her chaire
adorned with gold, pearles, and precious stones, now lye full low in
obscure fosse or pit, covered with clods of earth and clay; behold also
this mightie champion Sir Launcelot, pearelesse of all knighthood, see now
how hee lyeth groveling upon the cold mould, now being so feeble and faint
that sometime was so terrible. How and in what manner ought yee to bee so
desirous of worldly honour so dangerous! Therefore mee thinketh this
present booke is right necessary often to be read, for in it shall yee
finde the most gracious, knightly, and vertuous war of the most noble
knights of the world, whereby they gat praysing continually. Also mee
seemeth, by the oft reading thereof, yee shall greatly desire to accustome
your selfe in following of those gracious knightly deedes, that is to say,
to dread God, and to love righteousnesse, faithfully and couragiously to
serve your soveraigne prince; and the more that God hath given you the
triumphall honour, the meeker yee ought to bee, ever feareing the
unstablenesse of this deceitfull world."

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