Chapter I: The Romance of Chivalry (2)

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 mediaeval 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 Greal, 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 Greal 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 mediaeval 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 Greal 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 sangreal," 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."

Whan syr Arthur wyst that syre Gawayne was layd so lowe he went
vnto hym, and there the kyng made sorowe oute of mesure, and took
sire Gawayne in his armes, and thryes[22] he there swouned. And
thenne whan he awaked, he sayd, allas Sir Gawayne my sisters sone,
here now thou lyggest[23], the man in the world that I loued moost,
and now is my joye gone, for now my neuewe syre Gawayne I will
discouer me vnto your persone, in syr Launcelot & you I had moost
my joye and myn affyaunce, & now haue I lost my joye of you bothe,
wherefor all myn erthely joye is gone from me.[24]

We turn from the death of Sir Gawaine only to witness the mortal blow dealt to King Arthur; to see his famous sword Excalibur, which he had borne so nobly and so long, returned to the Lady of the Lake; and the almost lifeless body of the great king carried away over the water by the fairy queens, disappearing at last beneath the horizon. Guenever would seen to have deserved a harder fate than simply to retire to a nunnery of which she is made the abbess. Sir Launcelot dies a holy man and a monk, saying masses for the souls of his old companions in arms. With his death the old glory of the Round Table passes away forever.

And whan syr Ector herd suche noyse & lyghte in the quyre of joyous
Garde, he alyghted and put his hors from hym, and came in to the
quyre, & there he sawe men synge the seruyse full lamentably. And
alle they knewe syre Ector, but he knewe not them. Thenne went syr
Bors to syr Ector, & tolde him how there laye hys broder syr
Launcelot dede, and then syr Ector threwe his shelde, hys swerde &
helme from hym. And whan he behelde syr Launcelot's vysage, he
felle donne in a sowne. And when he awakyd it were harde for any
tonge to telle the doleful complayntes that he made for his broder.
A, syr Launcelot, he sayd, thou were head of all Crysten knyztes,
and now I dare saye, sayd syr Ector, thou syr Launcelot, ther thou
lyest, that thou were neuer matched of none erthely knyghtes
handes. And thou were the curtoyste knyghte that ever bare shelde.
And thou were the truest frend to thy louer that euer bestradde
hors, & thou were the truest louer of a synfull man that euer loued
woman. And thou were the kyndest man that euer stroke wyth swerde.
And thou were the goodelyest persone that euer came among prees of
knyghtes. And thou were the mekest man & the gentylest that euer
ete in halle amonge ladyes. And thou were the sternest knyghte to
thy mortall foo that euer put spere in the reyst. Thenne there was
wepyng & dolour oute of mesure.[25]

The literary form of the "Morte d'Arthur" admits of description rather than of criticism. A noble and forcible simplicity of expression pervades the old Norman French in which the romances of chivalry were first written, which is well reflected in the English of Sir Thomas Malory. Of plot there is none. The same vagueness pervades the course of the narrative, which is characteristic of the historical groundwork, the geography, and the time of action. Most of the incidents depend on chance. Life in the Middle Ages was a very serious affair, and in the romances there was almost no attempt at wit or humor. In the "Morte d'Arthur," perhaps the only passage which might have raised a laugh among the early readers of the romance, is that in which King Arthur's fool Dagonet is clad in Sir Mordred's armor, and in that disguise is made to chase before him the coward King Mark. The authors of the romances of chivalry never attempted delineation of character. Their heroes are good knights or bad knights, and in either case possess only the particular qualities which would place them in one of these categories. The female characters are still more slightly drawn, and show no distinct attributes except beauty and a capacity to love.

In laying down the "Morte d'Arthur," and bidding farewell to the Middle Ages with their heroes of chivalry, we come to the end of a most picturesque period of English history,--a period marked by lights and shadows, rather than by distinct forms. There was ferocity, and there was courtesy; there was brilliant show and rude coarseness; there were scenes of blood and scenes of noble chivalry. In the next chapter we shall notice the tendencies which were at work to replace this state of society by a better. But to the Middle Ages will always be traced much that is distinctive of English character, and in the history of fiction we may fairly allow to the knights of romance the legendary charm and fascination which hang about their bright helmets in the long vista of departed years.

[Footnote 13: Hair.]

[Footnote 14: "Morte d'Arthur." Southey's reprint from Caxton's ed., 1485, chaps. xix and xx. book 4.]

[Footnote 15: "Morte d'Arthur," book 10, chap. xxxix.]

[Footnote 16: Southey's "Morte d'Arthur," vol. 2, p. 11.]

[Footnote 17: "Morte d'Arthur," book 4, chap. ix.]

[Footnote 18: Hit, cut.]

[Footnote 19: Cut not steel.]

[Footnote 20: "Morte d'Arthur," book 6, ch. x.]

[Footnote 21: "Morte d'Arthur," book 8, ch. i.]

[Footnote 22: Thrice.]

[Footnote 23: Liest.]

[Footnote 24: "Morte d'Arthur," book 22, chap. ii.]

[Footnote 25: "Morte d'Arthur," book 22, chap. xiii.]