A History of English Prose Fiction

by Bayard Tuckerman

Thenne Kynge Arthur took Sir Tristram by the hand, and wente to the table round. Thenne came Quene Guenever and many ladyes with her, and alle the ladyes sayden at one voyce, welcome Sir Tristram, welcome, said the damoysels, welcome said knightes, welcome said Arthur, for one of the best knyghts and the gentylst of the world, and the man of moost worship, for all manner of hunting thou berest the pryce, and of all mesures of blowynge thou art the begynninge, and of alle the termes of huntynge and haukinge ye are the begynner, of all Instrumentes of musyke ye are the best, therefor gentyl knyght, said Arthur, ye are welcome to this courte.[16]

The description of the combat between King Arthur and Accolon is perhaps the most interesting of the kind which the "Morte d'Arthur" contains. Accolon of Gaul had by the aid of Morgan le Fay obtained possession of Arthur's enchanted sword and scabbard.[17]

And thenne they dressyd hem on bothe partyes of the felde, & lete their horses renne so fast that eyther smote other in the myddes of the shelde, with their speres hede, that bothe hors and man wente to the erthe. And thenne they sterte up bothe, and pulled oute their swerdys, * * * And so they went egrely to the battaille, and gaf many grete strokes, but alweyes Arthurs swerd bote[18] not like Accolon's swerd. But for the most party euery stroke that Accolon gaf he wounded sore Arthur, that it was merucylle he stode. And alweyes his blood fylle from him fast. When Arthur behelde the ground so sore bebledde he was desmayed, and thenne he demed treason that his swerd was chaunged, for his swerd boote not styl[19] as it was wont to do, therefore he dredde hym sore to be dede, for euer hym seemed that the swerd in Accolons hand was Excalibur, for at euery stroke that Accolon stroke he drewe blood on Arthur. Now knyghte, said Accolon unto Arthur, kepe the wel from me, but Arthur ansuered not ageyne, and gat hym suche a buffet on the helme that he made hym to stoupe nygh fallynge doune to the earthe. Thenne Sir Accolon with drewe hym a lytel, and cam on with Excalibur on hyghe, and smote Syr Arthur suche a buffet that he felle nyhe to the erthe. Thenne were they wroth bothe, and gaf eche other many sore strokes, but alweyes Syr Arthur lost so muche blood that it was merucille he stode on his feet, but he was so ful of knighthode, that knyghtly he endured the payne. And Syr Accolon lost not a dele of blood, therefore he waxed passynge lyghte, and Syr Arthur was passynge feble, and wende veryly to have dyed, but for al that he made countenaunce as though he myghte endure, and helde Accolon as shorte as he myght. But Accolon was bolde by cause of Excalibur that he waxed passynge hardy. * * * And therewith he cam fyersly upon Arthur, and syre Arthur was wrothe for the blood that he had lost, and smote Accolon on hyhe upon the helme soo myztely that he made hym nyhe to falle to the erthe. And therewith Arthurs swerd brast at the crosse and felle in the grasse amonge the blood, and the pommel and the sure handels he helde in his handes. When syr Arthur sawe that, he was in grete fere to dye, but alweyes he helde vp his shelde and lost no ground nor bated no chere. Thenne syre Accolon beganne with wordes of treason, and sayd knyghte thow arte overcome, and mayste not endure, and also thow arte wepenles, and thow hast loste moche of thy blood, and I am ful lothe to slee the, therfor yelde the to me as recreaunt. Nay, saide syre Arthur I maye not so, for I haue promysed to doo the bataille to the vttermost by the feythe of my body whyle me lasteth the lyf, and therfor I had leuer to dye with honour than to lyve with shame. And yf it were possyble for me to dye an C tymes, I had leuer to dye so ofte, than yelde me to the, for though I lacke wepen, I shalle lacke no worship. And yf thou slee me wepenles that shalle be thy shame. Wel, sayd Accolon, as for the shame I wyl not spare. Now kepe the from me, for thow arte but a dede ma. And therwith Accolon gaf hym suche a stroke that he felle nyghe to the erthe, and wolde haue had Arthur to haue cryed hym mercy. But syre Arthur pressed unto Accolon with his sheld and gaf hym with the pomel in his hand suche a buffet that he wente thre strydes abak. * * * And at the next stroke Syr Accolon stroke hym suche a stroke that by the damoysels enchauntement the swerd Excalibur felle oute of Accolons hande to the erthe. And therwith alle syre Arthur lyghtely lepte to hit, and gate hit in his hand, and forwith al he knewe that it was his suerd Excalibur, & sayd thow hast ben from me al to long, & moche dommage hast thow done me. * * * And therwith syr Arthur russhed on hym with hys myghte, and pulled hym to the erthe, and thenne russhed of his helme, and gaf hym suche a buffet on the hede that the blood cam oute at his eres, his nose & his mouthe. Now wyll I slee the said Arthur. Slee me ye may wel, said Accolon, and it please yow, for ye ar the best knyghte that euer I fonde, and I see wel that god is with yow.

The knights of the Round Table had much more difficulty in dealing with one another than in overcoming the most redoubtable giants. Sir Launcelot arrived at a giant's castle,[20] and "he looked aboute, and sawe moche peple in dores and wyndowes that sayd fayre knyghte thow art unhappy. Anone with al cam there vpon hym two grete gyaunts wel armed al sauf the hedes, with two horryble clubbes in theyr handes. Syre Launcelot put his sheld afore hym and put the stroke aweye of the one gyaunt, and with his swerd he clafe his hede a sondre. Whan his felaw sawe that, he ran awey as he were wood, for fere of the horryble strokes, & laucelot after hym with al his myzt & smote hym on the sholder, and clafe hym to the nauel. Thenne Syre Launcelot went in to the halle, and there came afore hym thre score ladyes and damoysels, and all kneled unto hym, and thanked God and hym of their delyveraunce." The horrors of battle as recounted by the romancers lose much of their painfulness by the enjoyment which the combatants take in them, and by the facility with which the most terrible wounds are healed. The mediæval passion for conflict and violence could hardly be more strikingly illustrated than by the words of the mother of Tristram, who had just given birth to her son in the midst of a forest, and being far from human aid, sees that her end is near. "Now lete me see my lytel child for whome I haue had alle this sorowe. And whan she sawe hym she said thus, A my lytel sone, thou hast murthered thy moder, and therfore I suppose, thou that art a murtherer soo yong, thou arte ful lykely to be a manly man in thyn age."[21]

From the recital of combats we turn to tales of love. The most interesting of these relate to Launcelot and Guenever, and to Tristram and Isould. They differ in many respects, and yet share the noteworthy feature that both the women are already married, and their lovers are connected by ties of relationship or of great intimacy with the husbands whom they wrong. Arthur, however, is made to preserve, throughout the story of his deception, the same dignity and the same respect which he had always possessed, and in the loyalty of his character never admits a doubt of his wife's virtue; while King Mark, the husband of Isould, loses the sympathy of the reader by his treachery and cowardice, and is always conscious of Isould's infidelity. Guenever and Launcelot feel the deeper and the nobler passion, as theirs is inspired solely by each other's merit, while that of Isould and Tristram is inflamed by an amorous potion. The immorality of these love stories was not in the Middle Ages the same immorality which it would be considered at present. The conditions of life were all opposed to self restraint. The standard of morals was set by the church, and according to her interpretation of Christianity, continence was so subsidiary to orthodoxy, that what would now be considered a crime, was in the Middle Ages an irregularity which need not weigh on the conscience. Evidence of this is amply supplied by the social history of the time, and the fact is fully illustrated by the romances. The authors of these compositions, from their tendency to idealization, held up to their readers a higher view of virtue in every respect than was practised in actual life, and in their writings, conjugal infidelity is of constant occurrence. The fictitious personages who indulge in licence are but dimly conscious of wrong-doing, and almost the only evidence of a realization of their fault is in the Quest of the Saint Gréal, when Launcelot and other noble knights acknowledge that the attainment of the sacred prize is not for them as being "sinful men," and the quest is achieved by the spotless Sir Galahad, who, impersonating the purifying influence of Christianity, forms the most striking character conceived by the fertile imagination of the Middle Ages. The virtue of constancy was far more admired than that of chastity, and it is said of Guenever, whose sin had brought such calamity upon the Round Table, that "as she was a true lover, so she had a good end."

Launcelot and Tristram vie with one another in the deeds of chivalry which they accomplish in honor of their ladies, and the intimacy which exists between the two knights and their mistresses adds much to the interest of the story. A fine touch in the loves of Tristram and Isould is the introduction of Sir Palomides, a valiant knight, almost the equal of Tristram in prowess, who loves Isould as passionately as his successful rival, but finds no favor to reward a long career of devotion. The passions of jealousy and hatred on the one hand, and knightly courtesy and honor on the other, which alternately sway the two warriors, and struggle for the mastery in their relations with each other, form a touching picture, and show that the romancers could occasionally rise above the description of conflicts to a study of the heart and character of men.

That our lovers felt a deep and absorbing passion, there can be no doubt. Sir Dynas, the Seneschal, tells the Queen la Belle Isould that Sir Tristram is near: "Thenne for very pure joye la Beale Isould swouned, & whan she myghte speke, she said, gentyl knyghte Seneschall help that I myghte speke with him, outher my herte will braste." They meet, and then "to telle the joyes that were between la Beale Isoud and sire Tristram, there is no tongue can telle it, nor herte thinke it, nor pen wryte it." When Tristram thought Isoud unfaithful, he "made grete sorowe in so much that he fell downe of his hors in a swoune, and in suche sorowe he was in thre dayes and thre nyghtes." When he left her, Isoud was found "seke in here bedde, makynge the grettest dole that ever ony erthly woman made." "Sire Alysander beheld his lady Alys on horsbak as he stood in her pauelione. And thenne was he soo enamoured upon her that he wyst not whether he were on horsbak or on foote." Sir Gareth falls in love at first sight: "and euer the more syr Gareth behelde that lady, the more he loued her, and soo he burned in loue that he was past himself in his reason, and forth toward nyghte they wente unto supper, and sire Gareth myghte not ete for his loue was soo hot that he wyst not wher he was."

The Roman war introduced into the "Morte d'Arthur" is a curious illustration of the vagueness of the historical groundwork of the romances of chivalry. The memory of Roman power was still too great to permit a warrior to achieve greatness without having matched his strength against that of Rome, and thus we have the singular spectacle of King Arthur with his adventurous knights, clad in mail, passing easily through "Almayne" into Italy, conquering giants by the way, and reducing the Emperor Lucius to dependence.

The story of the Saint Gréal originally formed a distinct romance, but it was the dull production of some ascetic monk, who thought that the knights of the Round Table were too much occupied with secular pursuits, and who found no greater encomium to pass upon Sir Galahad, than to call him a "maid." But the idea of the Christian knighthood setting out to seek the Holy Cup was "marvellous and adventurous," and so well suited to please the mediæval mind that we find this quest introduced into several of the romances of chivalry, and it appears, though in an incomplete form, in the "Morte d'Arthur." The adventures met with by the knighthood are much the same as when they were pursuing a less lofty object. Sir Galahad occupies the intervals between his serious occupations with rolling his father Sir Launcelot and other noble knights into the dust in the usual unsaintly fashion. The supernatural element is stronger perhaps in the story of the Saint Gréal than in any other romance, and the monkish inspiration of the work is everywhere manifest. When Sir Galahad rescues the inmates of the Castle of Maidens by overthrowing their oppressors, the romancer points out that the Castle of Maidens "betokeneth the good souls that were in prison before the incarnation of Jesu Christ." It is here also that we learn that "Sir Launcelot is come but of the eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir Galahad is of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ; therefore I dare say that they may be the greatest gentlemen of the world."

When we have read of the "byrth, lyf and actes of Kyng Arthur, of his noble knyghtes of the rounde table, theyr mervayllous enquests and aduentures, th' achyeuyng of the sangréal," we come to the "dolorous deth and departyng out of this world of them." It is indeed a "pytous hystory." Long drawn out as the romance is, serious tax though it sometimes be on the reader's patience, the author succeeds in making us so familiar with all his heroes, in inspiring us with so deep and active a sympathy with them, that it is with a real sadness that we read of the dissensions brought about by the loves of Launcelot and Guenever, the deserted Round Table, the separation of life-long companions, and the fraternal war between Sir Launcelot, Sir Gawaine, and King Arthur. Their love for each other was so strong that it is not wholly quenched even in the sanguinary struggles which follow, and it bursts forth in full vigor when death comes upon them in the midst of their fury. Sir Gawaine is the first to go, using his last strength to write to Sir Launcelot begging his forgiveness: "I byseche the, Sir Launcelot, to retorne ageyne vnto this realme, and see my tombe, & praye some prayer more or lesse for my soule."