Columbia Sani&crsita Hectares MEDIEVAL STORY THE HEWITT LECTURES 1911 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS SALES AGENTS NEW YORK: LEMCKE & BUECHNER 30-32 WEST 27ra STREET LONDON I HENRY FROWDE AMEN CORNER, E.G. TORONTO I HENRY FROWDE 25 EICHMOND ST., W. COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LECTURES MEDIEVAL STORY AND THE BEGINNINGS OF THE SOCIAL IDEALS OF ENGLISH-SPEAKING PEOPLE BY WILLIAM WITHERLE LAWRENCE, PH.D. ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY -it;' JStia gotfe THE COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS 1911 All rights reserved COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY THE COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS. Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 191 1. Norton oti J. 8. Cashing Co. Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. TO BKANDEB, MATTHEWS INTERPRETER OF THE LITERATURE AND LIFE OF MODERN TIMES 242366 PREFACE IN accordance with the terms of the Hewitt Founda- tion, the following lectures, delivered during the months of February and March, 1911, at Cooper Union in New York City, are herewith issued in book form. It seems desirable to remind the reader who is un- familiar with the conditions under which the Hewitt Lectures are given that they are designed, in part at least, for a less academic audience than that usually in attend- ance upon lectures given under the auspices of Columbia University. In the present instance, no acquaintance with medieval literature, nor, indeed, any interest in it on the part of the audience could be taken for granted. The course was therefore designed primarily to reveal the charm of this literature, and its significance for modern times. With this end in view, such narrative poetry was selected for analysis as would best illustrate a single theme, the development of social ideals in the history of the English people. The successive lectures were, however, mainly devoted to discussing this early poetry as literature, in the belief that an understanding of its subject-matter, its origins, and its spirit would best lead to a comprehension of its significance as an index of social progress. It should perhaps be stated that while the general outline of each lecture was strictly adhered to in actual delivery before the audience, the manuscript was not closely followed, much of the speaking being extemporaneous. vii viii PREFACE In preparing the lectures for the press, few changes have been made. The writer feels that the published volume ought to represent the aims of the Foundation, which was not to appeal to a restricted audience of scholars. Consequently this book is designed for the general reader rather than for the specialist. Whenever it has seemed best to emphasize a point familiar to every student, this has been done without hesitation. Illustra- tive material from other medieval sources than those dis- cussed here has been sparingly introduced, since the unfamiliar is seldom truly illuminating. No space has been devoted to the discussion of disputed questions ; the position which appears to the author most reasonable has been adopted without comment. Since the aim of the book is to make medieval literature seem real and vital, the apparatus of scholarship has been discarded ; footnotes have been dispensed with so far as possible, and learned citations avoided. The reader who desires further information will find in the appendix directions for more detailed study. Although the volume is not primarily designed for those who are familiar with the Middle Ages, the writer hopes that they may not find it without interest, as pre- senting familiar material from a point of view which should make it as significant for the historian and the sociologist as for the student of literature. It is well, too, even for those whose knowledge is most profound, to forget learning occasionally, and to view these old poems as human documents, as the records of the imagina- tion and of the aspiration of our remoter ancestors. Finally, the writer would express his gratitude for the generous assistance of his colleagues, Professor Harry Morgan Ayres and Professor George Philip Krapp, in PREFACE IX reading manuscript and proof. His greatest debt, how- ever, is to Professor Brander Matthews, to whose friendly interest and aid is due more than can easily be stated. WILLIAM WITHERLE LAWRENCE. MAY 29, 1911. CONTENTS LECTURE I INTRODUCTION PAGES General acceptance of the theory of popular government at the present time, but lack of complete success in practice The social problems of democracy Awakening of na- tional conscience in the United States to-day; not an indi- cation of changed conditions so much as an assertion of national idealism Formation of the character of the Eng- lish-speaking peoples; Anglo-Saxon, French, Celtic, and Scandinavian elements. The same added to the " melting- pot" of nineteenth-century America Distinctive contri- bution of each of these elements to English character, and process of fusion into a single people considered in following lectures Basis of discussion stories illustrating early conceptions of heroism, patriotism, religion, courtesy, the position of woman, etc. Why such stories are a better index to social conditions than modern literature is In what sense they are "popular" Differences between me- dieval and modern story-telling Illustration of the earlier method by reference to the poetry of Kipling Significance of early literature for an understanding of modern times . . 1-26 LECTURE II BEOWULF An epic of the Anglo-Saxon settlers in Britain, yet deal- ing with foreign subject-matter, and in no sense patriotic Reasons for this Outline of the poem Three main ad- ventures : fight with the demon Grendel, with the mother of Grendel, and with the Dragon How these fairy-tale episodes are transformed and given dignity by background of history and legend, chiefly Scandinavian Inconsisten- cies in the story explained by the conditions of its growth Beowulf as ideal king and ideal hero Is he a divinity become mortal? Pagan and Christian elements in the xi xii CONTENTS PAGE8 poem The place of woman Social conditions; the aris- tocratic spirit of the poem The ideals of this epic and of modern times . . . . ... . 27-53 LECTURE III THE SONG OF ROLAND The epic of the Norman conquerors of England Its wide and lasting popularity Its patriotism, and lack of interest in other nations Political condition sin the eighth and eleventh centuries Outline of story : Roland's be- trayal; Roland's death; Roland avenged How a national epic was made out of French treachery and defeat Possi- ble extenuating circumstances in the treason of Ganelon Character of Roland, of Charlemagne, and of Oliver Re- ligious elements; position of woman Summary: advance of this poem over the ideals of Beowulf . ... 55-84 LECTURE IV THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES Mark Twain's attack on the social ideals of chivalry in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court Why his book is misleading Social advances marked by system of chivalry Origins of the story of King Arthur in Celtic history and Celtic imagination Crudities of early forms of story Later elaborations ; Arthur becomes ideal monarch of feudal period Geoffrey of Monmouth Influence of the French in shaping the story The contribution of Pro- vence; Aucassin and Nicolete The new importance of woman Duties of Arthurian knights towards ladies in general Magic and mystery of Arthurian romance; its absurdities and how they are redeemed Humanitarian elements The Arthurian legends as illustrations of social ideals in modern times Tennyson's Idylls of the King. 85-112 LECTURE V THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL The Crusades ; the Knights Templars ; relations between chivalry and religion Idealism and unpractical character of expeditions to the Holy Land reflected in stories of Quest of Holy Grail Outline of earlier form of the legend ; Per- ceval the hero The work of Wolfram von Eschenbach Probable pagan origin of the legend Its transformation CONTENTS xiii PAGES through Christian symbolism Later form of the story ; Galahad the hero Sir Thomas Malory ; Tennyson ; Lowell's Sir Launfal Asceticism and narrowness of later forms of the legend, yet always embodiment of highest chivalric ideal . 113-141 LECTURE VI THE HISTORY OF REYNARD THE Fox Antiquity and wide distribution of stories in which ani- mals speak and act as men Their popular character ; how they reflect the age and the society which produces them Modern examples : Joel Chandler Harris's Tales of Uncle Remus, Kipling's Jungle Books and Just-So Stories The Romance of Reynard; a satire on medieval life The hero and some of the principal figures Typical scene : Reynard at the court of King Noble the Lion Significance of this story for social conditions in the Middle Ages A protest against aristocratic abuses 143-168 LECTURE VII THE BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD Differences between ballads and poetry hitherto consid- ered The songs of the Western cowboys Influence of ballads on modern poetry Relation between popular bal- lads and the epic Robin Hood almost an epic hero ; the origin of his figure His life and deeds His character The Gest of Robin Hood The outlaw " and official authority Conflicting conceptions of justice Robin Hood's relations with the Sheriff of Nottingham ; with the clergy ; with the king Robin Hood's Death This group of ballads the expression of the feeling of the common people in regard to social conditions; how different from Reynard the Fox 169-194 LECTURE VIII THE CANTERBURY TALES Description of the Canterbury Pilgrimage A complete picture of the society of the fourteenth century Its com- plexity as compared with the society of earlier times Aristocratic and democratic tendencies in stories told by different characters The Wife of Bath's Tale; the stories xiv CONTENTS PAGES of the common folk Social satire The life of Chaucer; his special fitness to paint such a picture as this How far medieval and how far modern in his attitude Importance of the Canterbury Tales as a social document Transition to modern literary methods beginning ; emergence of the author Retrospect and conclusion .... 195-223 APPENDIX SUGGESTIONS FOR SUPPLEMENTARY READ- ING 225-232 INDEX 233-236 I INTRODUCTION " Let me make the ballads of a nation, and who will may make its laws." INTRODUCTION EARLY in the month of March, 1910, the daily papers of New York City reported that there had just been unusual excitement in the little principality of Monaco. The home of the most famous gambling establishment in the world has always known excitement enough; the sunny skies of Monte Carlo have looked down on many a tragedy of blighted hopes and ruined for- tunes. This particular disturbance, however, was of quite another sort, arousing no interest among the hectic figures hanging about the gambling tables in the casino, but affecting the residents of the principality itself. The streets of the capital had been filled with a hurrying crowd, and noisy with the sound of many voices raised in eager discussion. Nearly half of the male population of this little country had marched to the palace, and demanded a constitution ! They had declared, so the account runs, "that Monaco was the only absolute monarchy remaining on the face of the globe/ 7 and that the time for a change had come. Then- protest was heeded ; the prince of Monaco received a deputation from the crowd, and promised to consider its wishes. This episode, though unimportant in itself, is not without a certain significance. It illustrates the triumph 3 MEDIEVAL STORY of the democratic theory of government, the conviction of the people that their right to have a voice in the making of the laws may now be considered established, and the recognition of the ruling powers that such a right cannot be denied them. The acceptance of this prin- ciple has come about within a comparatively short time. Scarcely more than a century ago, the Empress Cath- erine the Great of Russia is said to have expressed the belief that kings and queens should be as little dis- turbed by the cries of the people as the moon is by the baying of dogs. But not much is heard of such views nowadays. Occasionally, it is true, an echo of bygone despotism disturbs the Continent, but the popular an- swer to such doctrine leaves little doubt as to whence the sovereign's power is really derived. The present Czar of Russia is perhaps the most autocratic monarch in Europe, but he is obliged to mask his absolutism be- hind a show of constitutional government. He may act in accord with the sentiments of his illustrious prede- cessor the Empress Catherine, but he would never dream of avowing them himself. The very fact that it is felt necessary in Russia to maintain this pretense is significant of better times and of a changed order of things. The Oriental countries, too, have been deeply affected by liberal ideals in recent years. Persia has for some time been struggling to make constitutional government effective. The recent deposition of Abdul Hamid from the throne of Turkey may well be a warn- ing to Oriental sovereigns who fail to note the dangers of acknowledged despotism. It is a wise ruler who heeds the signs of the times, and this sign is indeed plain for all to see. "The most striking and impressive of all INTRODUCTION 5 movements of the century ," says President Butler, after reminding us how crowded this time has been with epoch-making events, "is the political development to- ward the form of government known as democracy." Yet this practically universal acceptance of liberal institutions really settles nothing definitively; it is the victory of an ideal rather than of a practical system. We are everywhere reminded that it is only a phase of the great struggle between aristocracy and democracy, which has been going on for hundreds of years. The sequel to the uprising in Monaco affords an amusing illustration of this ; a constitution was indeed granted to the principality, but so ingeniously was this devised that little real benefit was secured to the people. As Dr. Dillon humorously remarks, " Prince Albert dis- cerned with joy that he would have to perform a kind of constitutional egg-dance, to give with one hand and take away with the other. " But Monaco is not the only locality in which egg-dances are in vogue. Here in America it has taken us a long time to see that a republic may be as oligarchic as a monarchy, to recog- nize, as Lowell once said, "that popular government is not in itself a panacea, is no better than any other except as the virtue and wisdom of the people make it so." We live in a country which affords the most conspicuous example of materially successful popular government on the globe, yet democracy is in one sense as much an issue now as it was when the embattled farmers made a stand at the bridge at Concord, and fired the shot heard round the world. Our concern at present is to make the principles for which those men fought effective in the spirit as well as in the letter; 6 MEDIEVAL STORY to be sure that we are not forgetting that in a republic every man should have a fair chance, and that no class should enjoy privileges to which it is not justly entitled. We hear this statement on every hand, both from the popular writer and the philosophic thinker. A recent periodical sums up the paramount issues now facing the great political parties as " between Oligarchy and De- mocracy; between rule by the few and rule by the many/' giving as illustrations the management of our colonial possessions, the election of officials through direct primaries, the labor question, the regulation of railways, and the conservation of natural resources. A close student of American politics, Mr. William Garrott Brown, has defined the situation in a similar way. "We are confronted, " he says, "with the problem of adapting the democratic principle to conditions that did not exist when our American democracy arose in the world : that is to say, to a field no longer unlimited, to opportunities no longer boundless, and to an indus- trial order in which competition is no longer the control- ling principle, an industrial order which is, therefore, no longer democratic, but increasingly oligarchical, which may even become, in a way, monarchical, dynastic." There must inevitably be many honest differences of opinion as to how far popular government may be ad- ministered effectively without putting great power into the hands of a small number of men. Lord Cromer has called attention to the weakness of the Athenian Com- monwealth, especially after the death of Pericles, "the only example the history of the world can show of an absolute democracy that is to say /of a govern- ment in which power was exercised by the people INTRODUCTION 7 directly, and not through the intermediary of their rep- resentatives. The fact that the experiment has never been repeated is in itself an almost sufficient proof that the system, in spite of the very intense and ennobling spirit of patriotism which it certainly engendered, was a complete failure. 77 Making a democracy effective in practice as well as in theory is of course quite as much a social as a political problem, and of late this broader point of view has been receiving constantly increasing attention. Issues which were formerly considered purely as a part of govern- mental administration are now frequently examined as ethical problems. The right of the state to exercise control over private business for the good of the public is -an admirable illustration of that democracy which is founded upon social sympathy, which insists upon a generous cooperation among the different members of a free state. In this sense the problems of democracy are manifold, and they are occupying the attention of the public now as never before in years. Abuses of privilege are pilloried on every hand; magazines and newspapers are full of exposures of the misuse of power ; current novels and dramas exhibit the conflicts between generosity and selfishness, between uprightness and knavery, which arise in such a complex social order as ours. Dr. Washington Gladden has recently urged the necessity of a more democratic church, asserting that too small a proportion of the public ministry is devoted to true social service. The issue is clothed in a multi- tude of forms, but its underlying spirit remains the same. This awakening of the national conscience is a new thing, the growth of the past few years. Although it 8 MEDIEVAL STORY has been used to further political ends, it is not the result of agitation ; it is an expression of popular senti- ment. In times of prosperity a country is likely to lapse into complacency, which makes our present desire to set our house in order all the more striking. Such an awakening is comprehensible enough when it precedes a great struggle ; the War of the Rebellion was fought for an ideal of democracy as well as for more material issues, and the Revolution might have been avoided if sentiment could have been sacrificed to expediency. There are those, indeed, who see analogies to such times of upheaval at the present day. A well-known magazine, which is not given to exploiting sensations, publishes an article which aims to show "that the causes of the political and industrial crises through which we are passing to-day are the same as the causes of the most momentous episode of our history, the Civil War." But whatever we may think of the resemblances be- tween the conditions of fifty years ago and those of the present day, we must recognize that the differences are equally striking. Historical parallels are likely to be misleading, not because the events of one age do not find their counterpart in a later time, but because these events are complicated by many other issues, which may apparently be unimportant, but which may really exert a profound and even determining influence upon the ultimate outcome. Decision in regard to such matters is difficult. Modern civilization is too complex a mech- anism to yield readily to analysis, and we are too near to our own times to see them in true perspective. Of this much, however, we may feel certain ; that the view that present conditions give rise for alarm will INTRODUCTION 9 hardly command the assent of the thoughtful majority. Indeed, these very conditions may perhaps be a sign of better times to come, of new hope for the future. Is it not that we have suddenly become sensitive to problems of social ethics rather than that such problems are assuming darker aspects than in the past thirty or forty years ? The exposure of the Tweed ring in New York City indicated political corruption more shame- less than any existing to-day, but it was followed by no such demands for sweeping reform as modern revela- tions of a less flagrant sort have called forth. We have really been meeting difficulties akin to those of the pres- ent day for many years, and the fact that we are now unusually conscious of these difficulties may not mean that they are more serious to-day than they were at times when the conscience of the country was com- fortably at rest. It is characteristic of the English- speaking people to be jealous of their rights and privi- leges, and to stand out against oppression. It is characteristic of them, too, to preserve a sense of justice toward their fellows, and not to tolerate continued abuses of this justice. With a keen interest in prac- tical affairs, they have always preserved an idealism of their own, which may sometimes seem to be slumbering, but which now and again breaks forth and manifests itself in unmistakable fashion. May it not be, then, that this finer side of our national character is now asserting itself, that all this restlessness of the present day is an outward and visible sign of the enduring power of civic ideals ? If we would truly understand the spirit of modern America, we must look across the water to Great Britain, 10 MEDIEVAL STORY the country which Hawthorne felicitously called "Our Old Home/ 7 Blood is still thicker than water, and we still share with our British cousins much the same polit- ical ideals, in spite of their sharper division into classes, and their monarchical form of government. Our kin- ship with them and our debt to them must not be lightly forgotten. The United States are often called a ' i melting- pot, " into which are poured emigrants from many foreign nations, and out of which they emerge as the hardened metal of American citizens. Such foreigners have some- times retained their national characteristics so strik- ingly that we think of so distinguished an American as Carl Schurz, who has often spoken in Cooper Union, as a German, of Petrosino as an Italian, or of Jacob Riis as a Dane, while we should all style the typi- cally American Mr. Dooley "an Irishman.'' So we consider our democracy as the product of many such races rather than as the achievement of any one of them. This is true, but it ought not to make us forget that the beginnings of this national independence, which these men have done so much to strengthen, were due to English traditions and to English stock. In the words of Count Apponyi, we "combine audacity of progress with tenacity of tradition/ 7 We are fond of saying that the true spirit of modern America is the same which animated the men who wrote the Consti- tution. But the principles of the Revolutionary heroes were not the product of distinctively American con- ditions; they were fundamentally the same principles which had been brought over by the Pilgrims and the Puritans when they sailed to the New World. Con- temporary European thought no doubt affected the INTRODUCTION 11 phraseology of the Revolutionary watchwords, but even the germinating restlessness which culminated in the French Revolution was of secondary importance. The colonists had the courage to resist British oppres- sion because they were of the same liberty-loving race as their adversaries, and it was because they were the direct inheritors of the spirit of Cromwell and Hamp- den that they had the vigor to make this resistance ef- fective against overwhelming odds. The foundations of our republic rest on the sterling virtues of English character. It is a curious fact that the foreigners who have done most to influence American democracy in the last hun- dred years have been, to a great extent, men of those very peoples which went to make up the parent English stock in the beginning. No one needs to be told that the English are a composite of Germanic and Scandi- navian and French and Celtic elements, and that when Columbus discovered America these elements had only just been fused in the melting-pot of Britain, but we do not always remember that the Germans and the Scandinavians and the French and the Celts who come over to America nowadays add no really foreign ele- ments to our blood, but strengthen it by the addition of the very elements of which it is partly composed already. They are mixed in the melting-pot of America, just as their forefathers were in the melting-pot of the British Isles. And they bring similar characteristics with them, the persistence of racial distinctions is most surprising. The solidity of the Scandinavian, the enterprise of the German, the gayety of the French, the enthusiasm of the Celt, were the same a dozen 12 MEDIEVAL STORY centuries ago as they are to-day. These similarities must not, of course, be over-emphasized. National characteristics are now less easy to seize and to define ; we are all such complex beings nowadays that it is difficult to distinguish these characteristics clearly. The bark is easily mistaken for the timber. But the contributions of foreign peoples to the American de- mocracy of the nineteenth century are in many ways like the contributions of their ancestors to the making of the English stock many hundreds of years ago. In the lectures to follow I propose that we look closely at these different races in the beginning, at the time when they were first combining to form the English people, that we observe their characteristics, and com- pare them with their descendants, who are now coming over to America and merging with a nation which was really made up of their own ancestors in the beginning. The very unlikeness of these races perhaps explains why the English-speaking group descended from them shows such a strange mixture of strength and weakness, and is less easily classified than are most European peoples. At the same time we may observe their early social progress, their advance from a simple and primi- tive community to a social system ruled by caste and governed for the sole interest of the upper classes, and finally to the beginnings of modern democracy, the recognition of the rights of the people, and the demand on the part of the people themselves that their rights be considered. There is, I believe, no better way for our purposes in which to do this than to review the great stories which sprang up among these different races in their formative INTRODUCTION 13 period, stories which were handed down from genera- tion to generation until the recital of them and the perpetuation of them became an inseparable part of national life. These old tales are interesting in them- selves, they have triumphantly survived the test of time, they charm us to-day if we surrender ourselves to their spell, and they will charm our descendants after us. But more than this, such narratives are records of the thoughts and feelings of bygone peoples, they set forth the ideals for which those peoples strove, the vices they hated, the ambitions by which they were animated, more faithfully than historical documents can do. The stories themselves may be simple enough, but the details of the adventures, and the way in which the whole is told, show clearly what sort of a people has created an Arthur or a Roland or a Beowulf or a Reynard the Fox. Unconsciously, too, they voice the aristo- cratic or the democratic spirit as soon as class distinctions begin to prevail in these early communities. Through them we can follow the progress of the peoples who have made the English-speaking race, Saxon and Nor- man and Dane and Celt. In the limited time at our command we cannot, of course, undertake the difficult and complicated task of tracing the social history of the English people. What we are rather to do is to get a series of impressions, as vividly as may be, of certain significant periods, in which the very age and body of the time is, through these old tales, shown its own form and pressure. First of all, we may look at the characteristics of that Germanic people, who, settling in Britain in the fifth century, laid the foundations of England as a nation. 14 MEDIEVAL STORY In their great heroic poem 'Beowulf appear those con- ceptions of honor, bravery, and self-sacrifice which still mark what we call the Anglo-Saxon temperament. Next, in the story of Roland and the knights of Charle- magne, the distinctive contribution of the French to the development of English character will appear. In many ways the conquering Normans cherished higher ideals than those whom they subdued, and the old tradition that they marched into battle at Senlac to the sound of the ' Song of Roland ' may typify fitly enough the victory of a folk whose hero was distinguished as much for patriotism and piety as for prowess. Still another great advance is marked by the legends of Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. These reveal a complete break with the institutions of earlier times, a complete readjustment of social conventions, not always for the better, but nevertheless making clear to us why the word " chivalry " still stands to-day for whatever is gentle and generous in the relations of men and women. They illustrate in great measure, too, the characteristics of the Celtic temperament, the magic and mystery, the soaring imagination and " revolt against the tyranny of fact " which marks such modern work as the poetry of Mr. Yeats, with all its overlaid modern romanticism. The romances which relate the quest of Arthur's knights for the Holy Grail form particularly striking illustrations of the religious exalta- tion of the Middle Ages in its various manifestations. No branch of the story of King Arthur has exercised greater fascination upon men in all times than the legends of the Grail. But at this point we must observe another side of the picture. Despite their high ideals of courtesy INTRODUCTION 15 toward all men, the Arthurian romances are thoroughly aristocratic; the democratic spirit of the commons manifests itself in the ' History of Reynard the Fox/ that picturesque villain dear to the hearts of the Middle Ages, and in the story of Robin Hood, as told in the old Eng- lish ballads. Both these worthies were loved for the enemies they made among the aristocracy; but while the rascally Reynard ignored law and defied justice, Robin Hood attempted to set things straight after his own fashion, by taking justice into his own hands. Reynard belongs rather to the imagination of the Con- tinental peoples ; but Robin Hood is a distinctively English creation, and in no way more so than that his actions reflect the English love of fair play, that they are not a glorification of clever and unscrupulous villainy. Finally, in the ' Canterbury Tales ' of Chaucer, we shall see all classes meeting on common ground for the first time since the Norman Conquest, their friendly rela- tionship typifying the better social consciousness which ushers in modern history, the recognition of the rights of the people by the ruling aristocracy, the beginning of a democratic spirit for the English life of later times. This will give merely a series of suggestions of the social ideals of certain significant periods ; in the time at our disposal we cannot hope to carry the discussion farther than this. Our study will take no account of the thousand subtle and conflicting influences which so complicate the social history of any nation. It will call for no elaborate background of historical fact. There are the stories ; it is for us to gather the meaning , which lies beneath the surface, to see how it is that they are really the expression of national character. Their 16 MEDIEVAL STORY message is not less important because it has to be in- ferred. Historical documents state facts; whenever these stories present historic events, they distort them. What can be expected of a narrative which asserts that Charlemagne was two hundred years old, or which makes Arthur, originally a half-savage Celt skulking among the Welsh mountains, the peerless monarch of medieval chivalry ? But it is the very deviations from history that are significant in these tales ; not the events themselves, as historic facts. When the French make a new story out of the deeds of a Roland or an Arthur their very additions and alterations show what sort of a hero they considered most admirable, what qualities they cherished in a great national figure. All this is what gives life to history, if you admit that his- tory should be the record of aspiration as well as of achievement. You will observe that we are to deal wholly with early stories, not taking into account those of later times. The main reason for this limitation, as I have already said, is that we are concerned with the English people in the days when they were being welded into a nation, not with their subsequent development. But there is another reason, too. Modern literature is a far less trustworthy guide to the real sentiments of a people than is that of early times because it is full of the personal opinions and emotions of individual writers. When we read a modern novel, we are likely to think of the author as well as of the story. If we take up ' David Copperfield/ we are conscious of the presence of Dickens, and from every page of 'Vanity Fair' speaks the voice of Thackeray. Early story-telling, on the INTRODUCTION 17 other hand, shows little of all this. The teller of the tale was of little account, the telling was the important thing. The relation between narrator and audience was completely different from the modern relation be- tween novelist and reader. In order to understand this difference, we must think of a social and intellectual life very unlike our own. In such a society as that of the Germanic tribes who invaded Britain and displaced the Celtic inhabitants of the island, a society which was in effect democratic, though organized on an aristocratic basis, all men, save the slaves, had a common share in traditions and privi- leges. A story was thus a part of the heritage of every man. He knew it well, and even if he could not repeat it as effectively as more gifted members of his tribe, he could tell it to his children, and they to their little ones in turn in the years to come. When stories were thus handed down by word of mouth, and when they might be told by anyone, every man was in a sense an author, since, if he chose, he might contribute his share toward the shaping of such a tale. He must not alter it too much, although he could hardly help introducing some slight variations of his own. But these variations must be such as to be accepted by his hearers, and even when the poet by profession gave a tale the final touches and the better-rounded form in which it may have ulti- mately been written down, there was nothing in his work which might not be understood and welcomed by everybody. This was the condition of affairs which brought 'Beowulf into being, the 'Song of Roland' also, and in a far earlier time the Homeric poems. Such poetry represents, despite certain modernizations, the 18 MEDIEVAL STORY collective taste of the people as a whole, in a society thoroughly democratic in spirit. The poet himself, it will be observed, though he may have been admired as having a good voice and delivery, was not the inventor of the incidents, and he did not get his re- nown for treating such incidents in an individual or novel way. Men knew the tale, and wished it told as they knew it. They did not care about the poet's feelings; what they desired was the story itself. After the feudal system was well established in Europe, when men felt themselves separated into more dis- tinctly marked divisions, poets came to speak rather for a particular class than for the people as a whole. The century of the Norman Conquest marks a great change in this respect, not only in England, but all over Western Europe. The same story might please the lord in the hall, or his dependents, but it soon took on a different coloring as it was meant to appeal to the one class or the other. If the incidents were alike, the manner of telling them was different. But the poet, even when address- ing the aristocracy, was frequently but little more con- cerned to emphasize his own thoughts and feelings than his brother of some centuries back had been, he was anxious only that men should think that he was telling his tale aright, as it had been handed down by the earlier masters of his craft. Generally speaking, he cared little to have his name remembered. What he was especially likely to emphasize was his source, as a proof of the veracity of his statements however colored by imagination these might be. Sometimes he referred to historical documents as his authority. Thus one Old French poem, 'The Song of the Saxons/ begins, INTRODUCTION 19 Whoever has the time and the desire to listen to my words and to remember them, let him be quiet, and he will learn a brave and noble song, for which books of history are witness and guarantee. This medieval tradition of anonymity was not, of course, universal. Various authors might be cited who were desirous of securing personal approbation through the individuality of their tales, and whose chief interest lay in reshaping the story rather than in retelling it as they found it. We feel in the strongest way the personality of such men as Dante, Boccaccio, Chretien de Troyes, Wolfram von Eschen- bach. And Marie de France, the gifted lady who has left us such charming versions of the Breton lays, has told us her name, in order that, as she quaintly says, "it may be remembered." But these are the ex- ceptions which prove the rule ; the rank and file of the makers of medieval narrative aimed to be thought the mouthpieces of tradition. It must be borne in mind that we are here discussing only story-telling, and that such a type as the lyric, which by its very nature is sub- jective, lies outside our province. Naturally, as we approach modern times, the author becomes more important, and as artistry of a conscious sort develops, the individual note becomes increasingly prominent. The poet begins to desire recognition for his work as well as for his skill as a performer ; he wishes to have men observe his inventiveness or his character- drawing or the advance which he has made in some other way over known masters of authority. But not until the end of the Middle Ages, close to the time of the in- vention of printing, did the majority of writers have the courage to avow this, or did their work become rather 20 MEDIEVAL STORY the expression of their own personality than of the feelings 61 the audience for which they were working. This is true of only one of the poets here considered, the author of the ' Canterbury Tales/ who even appears in his own person, and, though he lets his characters speak for themselves, tells us plainly enough what he thinks about them. But even Chaucer depended often upon a show of sources as authorities, without troubling himself unduly about accuracy. Indeed, he seems on occasion to have put his tongue in his cheek, and slyly set down some sources which never existed ! How different the general attitude of the modern story-teller! Individuality, the creation of something distinctive and original, this is his chief aim. He writes to impress his own convictions or feelings upon his audience, not to reflect for them their own. He is the last man to tell you he is imitating some one who has gone before him, or to assure you that he is telling things as he found them set down. Unless he can make such things different, he does not care to write of them, and it is most evident that he wishes you to perceive these excellent differences. So it comes about that much modern narrative poetry is written chiefly to give the poet a chance to reveal himself, or to bring a personal message, or to point a moral, or to dress up an old tale in such a way that it seems new because of its setting or its treatment. Think of Tennyson and the ' Idylls of the King/ with their Victorian morality so strangely plastered over them, of Byron's long poems, which dis- play his own figure on every page, of Wordsworth's narrative verse, saturated with "my granddaddy's " INTRODUCTION 21 philosophy, or of Swinburne's work, in which the story is almost hidden under superb and sensuous imagery. Scott had far more the medieval attitude than any of these men, for his long narrative poems make their effect primarily as good stories, simply and directly told, with little of the personal element intruding. Thus the reflection of any great social movement is far more impersonal in medieval than in modern litera- ture. It may be equally vivid in each, but the issue in modern times is likely to be deeply colored by the poet's own personal convictions and prejudices. An illustra- tion will make this still clearer. The Crusades stirred Europe to the depths, but the reflection of this religious exaltation in narrative poetry was far more a reflection of the times in general than of the feelings of individuals. On the other hand, the influence of the French Revolu- tion upon contemporary imaginative literature merely indicates how that great struggle reacted upon men of different temperaments. Consider the English poets, for example. Wordsworth and Byron and Shelley and Coleridge were all profoundly affected by the Revolu- tion, but they uttered rather their own convictions than those of the English people as a whole. Though they may have thought themselves voicing the spirit of the times, they were really quite as much proclaiming their own views. No one of them was as impersonal in his utterances as was his brother of centuries before. It sometimes happens that a modern poet succeeds completely in expressing the feelings of a great ma- jority of the people on some social question, and utters these sentiments not so much for himself alone as for all his countrymen. His work thus becomes truly 22 MEDIEVAL STORY universal. Perhaps the one man who has come nearest to striking the note of national idealism to-day is Rud- yard Kipling. He has for years been the real laureate of the British Empire, and his poetry has appealed to almost every class of readers in the United States. He is " popular " in the best sense, because his verse strikes a responsive chord in all hearts. His 'Recessional 7 owed its extraordinary vogue, not so much to its ma- jestic rhythm and to its verbal felicity, as to the univer- sal feeling it expressed, the same feeling which prompts reform in the United States to-day, the danger of losing our souls in the quest for material things. It made a most profound appeal to that public conscience which we have agreed is characteristic of the English- speaking people. God of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget lest we forget ! The tumult and the shouting dies ; The captains and the kings depart: Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget lest we forget ! Far-called, our navies melt away ; On dune and headland sinks the fire : Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget lest we forget ! INTRODUCTION 23 In this lyric, with its complete freedom from the per- sonal note, and its expression of a universal sentiment, Kipling comes very close to the manner of medieval literature. But he can be, in the next breath, intensely subjective, even while professing to phrase in verse the characteristic qualities of a great people. In one of his less-known poems, 'An American/ he essays to de- scribe our national type. Calm-eyed he scoffs at sword and crown, Or panic-blinded, stabs and slays : Blatant he bids the world bow down, Or cringing begs a crust of praise ; Or, somber-drunk, at mine and mart, He dubs his dreary brethren Kings. His hands are black with blood: his heart Leaps, as a babe's, at little things. ****** Enslaved, illogical, elate, He greets th' embarrassed Gods, nor fears To shake the iron hand of Fate Or match with Destiny for beers. We all know that this is unfair, and that there is more than half a chance that Kipling would himself now acknowledge it to be so. It is almost a pity to quote it ; the lapses of poets are generally better passed over in silence. But it illustrates well enough the intrusion of the personal element into the work of a poet who can, on occasion, speak for a whole race. In these days of much scribbling, when we are so overwhelmed with books on every side, it is difficult to put ourselves into the right frame of mind to appre- ciate stories which did not spring from the desire of 24 MEDIEVAL STORY some author to be famous, or to make money, or to air his own convictions about life and art, but which arose from the hearts of the people themselves, which were told because they were interesting, and because by their example brave men and their children might be in- spired to noble deeds. A "bold sincerity/' to quote a phrase from Edmund Gosse, is the striking thing about all of them, a novel quality for a public ac- customed to the "six best sellers " ! It is hard for us nowadays to escape from the tyranny of print ; we are far indeed from the time when men got their tales by listening to them instead of reading them "printed an' bound in little books." To appreciate these properly, we must divest ourselves, so far as possible, of modern sophistication. Men of the Middle Ages were, in a sense, grown-up children, fond of a good story, not caring whence it came provided it were vouched for as an ap- proved success, believing it religiously, with all its dragons and fairies, and resenting, just as children do to-day, any radical changes. Modern children are, in- deed, the direct inheritors of these old tales. Many a boy can tell about Robin Hood as well as about Robin- son Crusoe, and in his fairy-books he makes the ac- quaintance of old heroic stories of the past in lowlier estate. The legend of Brunhild and Sigurd or Siegfried, made familiar by Wagner in his 'Ring of the Nibelun- gen' music-dramas, is really the same story as 'The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood/ only with such differ- ences as that in the fairy-tale the prince penetrates a hedge of sharp thorns instead of a wall of fire, and makes his way into a castle, instead of scaling a rocky height. If we would really understand these old tales, INTRODUCTION 25 then, we must bring to them something of the sim- plicity in the heart of a child. Otherwise the magic will lose its potency, the valor of the knights will not stir our pulses, the beautiful maidens will seem lay- figures, and the giants and dragons clumsy inventions. It is not the marvels, however, but the human qual- ity of these tales which I would emphasize, the many touches of nature which make that world akin to ours. "Humanity," says Rene Doumic, "is ever the same. Society is ever different. " This is the whole point of the lectures to follow, to see how the aspirations common to people in all ages manifested themselves among our own ancestors ten centuries and more ago, to see how much valor and love and patriotism and ambition and avarice meant to them, and what they thought about their own social relations to their fellow- men. A study of these old stories is no antiquarian pastime, no rummaging among dust, no quest for stiff and soulless figures. It is the opening of the door upon a life as exuberant as our own, full of richness and color, stirred by adventure and by passion, with the sun shin- ing bright in the heavens, and the joy of life strong in the hearts of men. The phrase "medieval" sometimes carries with it certain false notions, due largely to the ignorance of our grandfathers, who knew little about the period intervening between ancient and modern times, and brushed it aside as unworthy of attention, seeing in it only the ruin of the serener civilization of classical antiquity and the supremacy of a ruder people in Europe. They did not realize that this ruder people were far more virile, and that they developed, in the ten centuries from the fall of the Roman Empire to 26 MEDIEVAL STORY the Discovery of America, a more vigorous civilization than the one they had supplanted. They did not realize, either, that in this period, which we call the Middle Ages, are to be sought, to a large extent, the founda- tions of the great social and political institutions of modern times, that so far from being an era of universal decay, it was then that the seeds of a new spring were germinating, which have since burst into the full flower of a glorious summer. So th^se^ tales of long ago will, if we take them aright, bring a message to our own times from the age which produced them. The idealism which we may believe we see manifesting itself in our national life to-day may be only a modern version of the idealism of our ancestors, as they have recorded it for us in the words and deeds of their great heroes. The achievements of our present-day democ- racy may be only a reapplication to modern times of the best social impulses of the English-speaking people, in the days when they were still in the process of fusion into a single nation. II BEOWULF The man who slew the dragon-brood A thousand years ago, Is brother still to him who will Prevail against his foe. The Saxon blood still warms at flood The veins of living men, And Celt and Gaul are still at call To give the strength of ten. A thousand leagues across the seas There comes their far-sent cry, "We gave you life, in sweat and strife ; Be men, ere yet ye die ! " II BEOWULF THE English-speaking peoples have always taken particular pride in being considered intensely patriotic. Both British and Americans have manifested, even in the midst of grave national crises, a sturdy loyalty to their own country, a determination to stand by it through thick and thin, to silence its detractors, and to punish its enemies. They have indeed often carried their enthusiasm too far. In proclaiming the superiority of their native land over all others on the globe, they have now and again irritated their neighbors, so that the jingoism of John Bull and the self-sufficiency of Uncle Sam have become proverbial. This is no new development of English character during the past few centuries ; English literature is full of patriotic pride in the great events of national history, and of visions of glories to come in the future. Shakspere, to cite only one magnificent example, well illustrates both the devotion and the bluster of the English temper. His play of ' Henry the Fifth ' is a full-throated glorification of English valor and virtue, the spirit of Agincourt quickened by the political successes of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But he is unfair to the French; they were brave warriors, yet he represents them as 29 30 MEDIEVAL STORY cowards ; they had much justice on their side, but he sets forth the English cause as altogether right and holy. The whole play is designed to exhibit the great- ness of England, a " little body with a mighty heart. " This intensity of patriotism, which concedes nothing to others and arrogates everything to itself, is, it must be acknowledged, fairly typical of English character. It is very surprising, then, in turning to the oldest English epic, to find that there is nothing patriotic about it at all. We call it an English poem, and rightly. It was written on English soil, for Englishmen, and in the English tongue. It was known in various parts of the country, as is shown by the traces of different dialects in which it was successively told. In temper and spirit it is thoroughly in accord with all we can learn about our Anglo-Saxon ancestors during the two or three centuries following their invasion of Britain. We know, too, that it had been in their possession for some time before it assumed its present shape ; that it was not a mere translation from another tongue. Yet the epic deals neither with English people nor with English heroes. Some of the tribes which had settled in Britain are mentioned, but in an altogether unimpor- tant way. The peoples whom it celebrates are foreign- ers, Scandinavians. The home of the hero is apparently in the Scandinavian peninsula, although we cannot be sure, and the scene of the poem is laid partly in that land of gloomy fjords and long, dark winters, and partly in Denmark. The Danish people are very prominent ; the poem opens with a glorification of their power, and loses no opportunity to sing their praises. This race BEOWULF 31 was in later times actively hostile to the English ; we all remember how the Vikings, those savage sea-robbers, swept down on the coast of Britain, pillaging and burn- ing, until they were finally strong enough to seize the very government of the country, and to place a Danish king on the English throne. It was resistance to these Scandinavian invaders which developed much of the national spirit that arose in the reign of King Alfred, yet even then this epic, which exalted England's ene- mies, continued to be popular. The unique manuscript in which the poem is preserved dates from the tenth century, when struggles between the Danes and the Anglo-Saxons were constant and bitter. In short, ' Beowulf ' is a story dealing with foreign subject-matter, borrowed from an alien and even hostile people, with no trace of English patriotism about it. How is this strange situation to be explained? The answer is simple. At the time when ' Beowulf ' was composed in the form in which we now have it, the English were unable to produce any truly national literature because they had as yet developed no politi- cal solidarity. They had not yet come to think of themselves as a single people, united by common in- terests and ideals ; they were still in an unsettled con- dition, governed by various petty kings, and continually warring against each other. They were all so much occupied by these internal contests that they had little opportunity to feel the ties of blood or of governmental organization. These conditions are reflected in their poetry; patriotic literature can hardly develop in a constantly divided state. True national unity was rare in Europe in those days; the English were not 32 MEDIEVAL STORY alone in this respect. The Continent was still most unsettled, the various peoples were wandering rest- lessly about, constantly forsaking their old homes and seeking new habitations. Even when stationary for a time, they led a troubled existence, in which defense of their own possessions was varied chiefly by efforts to seize the possessions of others. Fighting was the main business of life, the conquest of treasure and territory its goal, and a settled and peaceful existence almost unknown. The whole era in which this epic grew up is fitly called the Migration Period. Some few peoples, as for example the Danes, were able to develop further toward what we should call a national consciousness, but they were more fortunate than most of their neigh- bors. Out of all this confusion there came, in the full- ness of time, the beginnings of the orderly governments of modern Europe. The process was slow, however, and for the evolution of great heroic tales like ' Beo- wulf ' we have to think of an age when the sentiment of the people was tribal rather than national, heroic rather than patriotic. The achievements of a warrior of that day were likely not to be closely associated with his native country. The typical champion was a wanderer on the face of the earth, going wherever glory called him. He was, of course, devoted to his lord and to his comrades, and bound to defend them and the hearths and homes of his people whenever occasion arose. But if he gained merely personal renown, if he uttered mighty boasts over the evening ale-cups, and afterwards performed heroic actions, he was accounted quite as admirable as if he helped to sustain the integrity of a larger politi- BEOWULF 33 cal organization. It was a common thing for a war- rior to seek service under a foreign prince, leaving his own folk to fight their battles alone. In a time of con- tinual warfare, such additions to the military efficiency of a tribe were sure to be welcome, and any stranger of proved bravery was given a cordial reception. There must have been a certain fascination, too, in those days of restricted horizons, about a man who had journeyed from afar, especially if he were crowned with the glory of successful achievement. And foreign heroes who came in song and story were as warmly welcomed as those who came in the flesh. It is hardly too much to say that the most popular figures of heroic story were those adopted from foreign peoples. The Scandina- vians celebrated Sigurd or Siegfried, for example, though he was a German hero, closely associated with the river Rhine. From these Scandinavian sources Richard Wagner took, in the main, the material for his great ' Rheingold ' tetralogy, because he found them more deeply poetic than the German versions. Both Scandinavians and Germans in the old days sang of the exploits of Dietrich of Bern, who was Theodoric, king of the Goths. People were generally more inter- ested in a hero fighting for his own glory than in a hero battling for his own country. They wanted to hear of his deeds ; it did not greatly matter whether these were patriotic or not. It is worth noting that the popularity of heroes from foreign lands continued even into the time when a truly national spirit had developed among the peoples of Western Europe. If a champion had gained great renown among his own people through patriotic defense 34 MEDIEVAL STORY of his country against its enemies, his brilliant exploits were sufficient to insure his fame, not only at home, but abroad as well. We shall see, in a later lecture, how the valor of Roland, who died for France in the passes of the Pyrenees, was celebrated all over Europe. And the French people themselves, despite these native tradi- tions, were greatly interested in heroes from other peoples. Along with such stories as those centering about Charlemagne and his knights, they adopted those of the British hero Arthur, raising him to an eminence which he had never gained among men of his own race, and finally making him a more splendid and imposing figure than Charlemagne himself. All this explains why it was easy for the Anglo-Saxons to adopt the foreign hero Beowulf. The main theme of the story, it will be noted, is the valor of one man, a man fighting, in the main, not for his country, but for his own renown. There is much high-sounding praise of the Danes and of the Geats, but the real interest centers in neither people, but in the champion who en- gages in desperate fights against demons and dragons. The note which is struck at the beginning of the poem Lo, we have heard of the glory of the Spear-Danes ! must not mislead us, for it becomes evident when we turn to the story itself that this enthusiasm for the Danish people is only incidental. The Danes are ruled by a great king named Hrothgar, successful in war and wise in peace. As a symbol of his power and glory he builds a great hall in which his warriors may feast through the long winter nights, and in which he himself may sit in state, presiding over their revels, and dispens- BEOWULF 35 ing treasure. But a great misfortune befalls him and his people. A demon called Grendel, half demon, half like a gigantic bear in shape, angered at the revelry in the hall, comes creeping from his lair in a haunted pool in the forest, stealthily advancing through the low-hanging mists of the evening, and attacks the war- riors as they lie asleep after their feasting. Night after night he comes, until no one dares sleep in the hall, and "the best of buildings " stands empty and useless. He devours his victims, crushing their bones and drinking their blood. Often some Danish warrior plans vengeance, vowing over the wine-cups that he will abide the coming of the demon in the hall, and slay him. But when morning breaks, the benches are all be- spattered with blood, and the daring warrior is missing. Twelve long winters this continues; the pride of the great king is turned into sorrow, and his counselors can devise no means of redress from the foe. Then Beowulf, a stranger from the land of the Geats, in the north, comes to the aid of the suffering Danish people, meets the monster in the haunted hall, wounds him to the death by tearing off his arm, and afterwards pur- sues his ogress-mother, who comes to avenge her son, into the depths of her lair in the fens, and kills her. In spite of all the glowing rhetoric about the glory of the Spear-Danes, then, they have to be helped out of a tight place because they have no champion valiant enough at home. Surely this is not the best of ways to exalt them ! As a matter of fact, the poet, in such a line as that just quoted, merely desires to assure his hearers that they are to be told of the fortunes of a noble race. The people of Beowulf are duly celebrated, 36 MEDIEVAL STORY which enhances his glory as their king, but the poem is no expression of the patriotism of the Geats. Such poetry as this disdains characters who are not exalted ; it gains double impressiveness by narrating the ex- periences of mighty peoples. It deals with the heroic deeds of heroic men, who these men are does not greatly matter, but they should not come of inferior stock. The poet is interested in contemporary history, but with as impartial a point of view as a New York newspaper discussing European politics. The various nations which are mentioned from time to time are never belittled ; the spirit of the whole poem is much like that of the Iliad, in which enthusiasm for the Greeks does not prevent an equal sympathy for the Trojans. The heroic epic is almost always sportsmanlike; it delights in a fair fight between well-matched adversaries, and recognizes that the more valiant the adversary, the greater is the glory of the hero. The epic of ' Beowulf ' really consists of two elements; first, old tales about champions who killed supernatural creatures hostile to mankind, and second, Germanic history and legend, which serves as a background. In the course of time, fairy-tales and history have become so fused as to appear like one ; the old stories have been applied to a Germanic hero and placed in a realistic setting. Men in Scandinavian lands on the Continent sang of the exploits of this hero in short lays, or epic songs, which were later brought to England by min- strels, and there molded into epic form. The present shape of the poem is probably due largely to one man, about two hundred years before the death of King Al- fred. Grateful as we must be for his work, we must BEOWULF 37 not forget that he is only in a small degree the author. The real name of the author, as Gilbert Murray says of the Greek epic, is Legion, the many men who sang of these deeds before there was any developed epic at all. In some such way as this we may conceive the present poem to have taken shape. Let us now look more closely at each of the two main elements, fairy-tale and history, which have gone to the making of the whole. The three great contests with supernatural beings, Grendel, his mother, and the fiery dragon, en- gage the chief interest in the poem; everything else is merely secondary. And what good stories they are ! How impressive is the picture of Beowulf, keeping watch alone in the haunted hall, waiting for the coming of the monster Grendel, who presently approaches, plucks open the door of the hall, and glares ferociously into the darkness within ! Out of his eyes starts a loathsome light, like a lambent flame. Quickly he seizes one of the sleeping warriors, and tears him to pieces, swallowing him alive in great mouthfuls, and exulting in his horrid feast. But on a sudden Beowulf stands up, and grapples with him. No weapon is used ; the prodigious strength of the hero is pitted against the supernatural power of the demon. Fiercely they struggle, the great hall reechoes, the benches are over- turned, it is a contest such as men have never seen. At last Grendel realizes that he has met his match, and strives to escape, but not until Beowulf has torn off his arm at the shoulder is he able to flee to his lair, wounded unto death. As morning breaks there is great rejoicing, the hall is magnificently adorned, and a great 38 MEDIEVAL STORY feast is held. Rich gifts are bestowed on the hero, and many men come to look at the gigantic arm and shoulder of the demon, which are hung up as a trophy. But all rejoicing is turned into grief on the ensuing night, when the mother of Grendel, a ferocious she- demon, and only less terrible than her son as a woman is less powerful than a man, breaks into the hall, and in the absence of the hero, carries off a valiant Danish warrior to her haunt in the forest lake. Beowulf straightway resolves to search out this abode, which King Hrothgar describes in graphic words : They dwell in a region unvisited by men, wolf-cliffs and windy headlands and dangerous pathways through the fens, where the water-fall 1 descendeth, shrouded in the mists of the heights, a flood under the overhanging rocks. It is not far hence in measure of miles that the mere lieth. Over it hang trees covered with hoar-frost, with roots firm fixed they overshadow the waters. There at night may a ghostly wonder be seen, a fire on the flood ! So wise is none of the children of men as to know what lieth in those depths. Although the heath-rover, the stag with mighty horns, may seek out this grove, driven thither from afar, he will sooner yield up his life upon the bank than plunge in and hide his head beneath the waters. Un- canny is the place. There the weltering of waters mounteth up, pale unto the heavens, when the wind waketh evil weathers, until the air darkles and the heavens weep. Nothing daunted, Beowulf journeys to the haunted mere, dives into its depths, slays the ogress, cuts off the head of the dead Grendel, as a trophy, or to keep his spirit from troubling men, and returns in triumph 1 I have ventured to introduce a rendering of my own for the lines describing the mountain stream. This translation seems to me at once more picturesque and more plausible than the usual inter- pretation, and fully in accord with Anglo-Saxon idiom. BEOWULF 39 to the hall, now forever delivered from its terrors. Richly laden with gifts, he sails back again to his own country in the north, where he ultimately becomes king, rules gloriously for fifty years, and dies in slaying a dragon which has attacked his people. These adventures of Beowulf at the Danish court are, it will be observed, pure fantasy, arising not from the stern realities of a nation's existence, but from universal popular imagination. It is all indeed a fairy-tale, which happens to have been localized in a definite country and given a historical background, but is none the less essentially imaginary. This particular story of a man who slays demons which menace a hall or house is very widespread. Men of many different countries have told it with bated breath, when the raging weather of a tempestuous winter made all nature seem alive with uncanny monsters unfriendly to mankind. In spite of the changes which such a story suffers in many tellings, we can trace it all over Europe, and even in other continents. There is no particular reason, apparently, why it should have been localized in Den- mark ; every country was in early times troubled by such spooks as Grendel and his dam. Nowadays we never see them; they have all been killed off by the valor of heroes and by the skepticism of an unbelieving age. But they were very real and dangerous in the good old times, the natural foes to everything joyous and winsome, and their ugly natures were stirred to the depths by the revelry of heroes in the night-time. The poet reflects, with a touch of compassion, that they got no pleasure out of life. These joyless incarnations of evil are a most interesting manifestation of the popular 40 MEDIEVAL STORY imagination. They have little foundation in reality; they are merely phantoms of the brain, like the mon- sters of classical times, the Minotaur slain by Theseus, the Chimera destroyed by Bellerophon, or Medusa, whose snaky head was severed from her body by Per- seus. It is with such stories as these that 'Beowulf belongs, a very different type from such heroic ad- ventures as that of Horatius at the bridge, or of Leoni- das holding the pass at Thermopylae. There the pa- triotic note is the controlling element, and the whole is founded upon a historical fact or upon a legend ac- cepted as true; here history has no place, save as a means of making the story seem real. The fight with the dragon, the third great adventure of the poem, is another creation of fantasy. Dragons were an even commoner affliction than monsters such as Grendel. They were a strange but well-accepted species in natural history, no more unfamiliar to people in those days than the kangaroo or the hyena is to us. It was their nature to seek out extorted treasure in the womb of earth, and to guard it with their glittering folds. From this they derived no particular pleasure ; it was instinct which drove them to do it. But the real reason why most dragons existed seems to have been to provide heroes with something to kill. When- ever a dragon appears in .these old stories, a champion can almost always be discerned on the horizon, on his way to slay it. In our epic, the monster watches over a priceless treasure in a rocky cavern, but he is irritated by an unwelcome visitor, and revenges him- self by laying waste the country with his fiery breath. So the hero Beowulf, now grown old and gray, seeks BEOWULF 41 him out with a small band of followers. The dragon, brooding over the treasure in his lair under a hoary rock, hears the clear voice of the warrior bidding him come forth, and in anger he writhes out of his cavern, curving like a bow in sinuous folds, and spewing forth fire and flame. The struggle between the dragon and the old hero is terrible; the monster almost prevails, but in Beowulf's hour of need a young warrior comes to his assistance. After .a frightful combat the veno- mous serpent is slain, but not before Beowulf has re- ceived a severe wound. The poison proves too mighty for the aged hero to resist, and so he dies, even in the hour of victory. His body is burnt on a great funeral pyre, with solemn ceremonial. The dead dragon is flung from the top of the lofty cliff into the sea break- ing on the rocks beneath. The whole framework of the story is imaginary, then, and even absurd. Such fairy-tale incidents as these seem indeed rather childish for the supporting structure of a great heroic tale. But this is not at all the impres- sion which the epic itself makes. No such thought occurs to us when we read it. The setting in which the whole is placed is so realistic, the courts and domains of the Scandinavian kings are so graphically described, that even the killing of spooks and dragons seems realistic too. The constant references to historical and traditional events, represented as contemporary, help still more to make the main action seem plausible. Fiction^ may almost be elevated into the realm of fact if it is mingled with veracious history. King Hrothgar, who built the great hall, is a historical character, he actually held his court in Denmark, as the poem states. 42 MEDIEVAL STORY Of Hygelac, too, there are definite and trustworthy records in history. He lost his life in an unsuccessful expedition into the Low Countries in the early sixth century, against a combined army of Franks and Frisians. It is easier to believe a ghost story if the ghost appears in the house of a man whom we know, and when we remember that there is a certain amount of sober fact in this tale it becomes easier to accept Grendel. Moreover, this setting adds dignity to the action, it raises the whole tone of the story in such a way that whatever triviality there may be about it disappears. Among such surroundings as those of King Hrothgar's court, it is no longer a Jack the Giant- killer yarn. It is serious and tragic ; it has all the dig- nity of epic poetry. Early literature is full of such achievements as this, full of the transformation of fairy-tales into narratives which seem true through the realism of their setting, the dignity of their treatment, and the individualiza- tion of their characters. In the lectures to follow we shall see abundant illustrations of this, but modern literature as well affords plenty of examples. Shak- spere's tragedy of 'King Lear' is built up about an old popular tale of a king and his three daughters, which is still told to-day by the peasants of Europe, a tale quite as trivial as the one which underlies the first two adventures of 'Beowulf/ But so wonderful is the delineation of character in 'King Lear 7 that we forget the essential absurdity of the plot. The same is true of the 'Merchant of Venice.' But Shakspere has placed the story of Portia and the caskets another old tale and the episode of the bond exacted by Shylock in BEOWULF 43 so veracious a background that the improbability of a lady's choosing a husband by mere chance, or of a man's forfeiting his life to lend money for his friend's wooing, is entirely forgotten. The stock of plots in literature, medieval as well as modern, is limited ; the transforma- tions of these plots in the hands of succeeding genera- tions are endless. Sometimes we do not recognize these old motives when they are applied to scenes with which we are ourselves familiar. One of the most popular plays produced in New York in recent years presented in its opening scene the interior of a flat in Harlem, but the plot was a modification of that used by Shak- spere in ' Measure for Measure.' As a plot, it was not new in Shakspere's play; he borrowed it from a con- temporary drama, which in its turn was based upon a short story in Italian. The same situation has been used by modern dramatists, now in a Japanese setting, and again thrown against the vivid background of life in Italy a hundred years ago. So the men who took this old tale about the slaying of monsters and gave it to a Scandinavian hero were merely doing what has been done in all ages, they were bringing a good story up to date. The danger in such a proceeding as this is that the story may not quite fit into its setting, that the hero or the heroine may not act quite naturally in new sur- roundings. So when this fairy-tale champion, the slayer of dragons and monsters, is set down in the midst of a very different society from that to which he has been accustomed, he sometimes shows traces of his earlier character. He is made a king, but he is only a king for the purposes of the story, because a hero as 44 MEDIEVAL STORY great as he ought to have that dignity. He is hardly as real a monarch as the lesser rulers of neighboring states ; the poem has little to say of the political events of his long reign of fifty years, while it is full of the events in other nations. Almost all the poem says about his reign is, "Then unto Beowulf did the broad king- dom fall, and well did he rule it for fifty winters. He was a wise king, the aged guardian of the land. And so time passed, until a dragon began to reveal his power in the darkness of the night, " and with the dragon we get once more into the realm of fantasy. When he slays this monster, the poem represents his act, in the main, not as a piece of self-sacrifice, on behalf of his people, but as the crowning achievement of a heroic career, a defense of his title as the mightiest of war- riors, which will bring him, if he wins, a substantial reward in the hoard of gold and jewels. In order to show his strength and valor, he attacks the monster single-handed. He would even like to fight him with bare hands, unaided by weapons, as he did Grendel, if it were feasible. He feels that no hero less valiant than himself ought to attempt to slay the dragon ; he says to his warriors, "It is no adventure for you, nor is it meet for any man, save for me alone, to measure might with the monster and achieve glory in fighting him. By my prowess will I win the gold, or else battle, a perilous risking of life, shall take away your lord." He thinks more of his own renown than about the sufferings of his people, apparently, and in his dying hour he wishes the gold and jewels brought to him so that he may feast his eyes upon them, "and thus, having seen the store of treasure, the easier yield up life and the lordship BEOWULF 45 which I long have held." If such a comparison may be ventured, it might be said that Beowulf engages in the contest with the dragon in about the spirit of the modern prize-fighter who faces a challenging opponent in the ring, who is eager to win for the sake of winning, but who thinks also of the purse which awaits the victor at the end. Beowulf sometimes betrays his plebeian origin, showing us that before he was made an illustrious prince and a king in a stately epic, he was once a crude demon-killing champion, desiring nothing more lofty than to be rich and famous. All this accords ill with the conception of Beowulf as the ideal Germanic king, a conception clearly in the mind of the poet of the epic. Indeed, Beowulf is him- self conscious of his responsibilities. At the very end, as his death draws near, he remembers with satisfaction that he has done his duty as a sovereign. " Fifty years have I ruled this people; yet never has there been a king of all the neighboring tribes who has dared make war against me, sought to terrify me. In my home I awaited what time might bring me, held well mine own, sought no treacherous feuds, swore no false oaths. In all this can I rejoice, though sick unto death with my wounds." And at his funeral, when the warriors, the sons of athelings, rode about the burial mound and lamented the death of their lord, they not only "praised his heroism and fittingly commended his deeds of valor," but they also said that he was "a mighty king, the mildest and most gracious, the gentlest to his people, and the most eager for praise." In aiming to show that Beowulf was distinguished as a sovereign, the epic often mentions his royal virtues, but it only 46 MEDIEVAL STORY partially succeeds in suppressing the earlier conception of his character as a hero of mere brute force. We see, then, how necessary it is to observe the way in which these great stories developed, if we are to judge of them as reflections of social ideals. Such a poem as this becomes doubly significant when we perceive that it reveals two different stages in human culture; while if we try to reconcile these conflicting conceptions, we are led to nothing but confusion and error. As it is, we can see that the ideals of earlier times would no longer serve for those who gave the poem its present shape, that men had come to demand in a hero some- thing more than a mere display of physical strength, although that may still be the controlling interest. I can scarcely insist too strongly, then, that we must study most carefully the origin and development of the stories which we are to consider in the lectures to follow. Only by such procedure is sound criticism possible. How many men have been misled, in striving to pluck out the heart of the mystery in the play of 'Hamlet/ by failing to make allowances for the influence of the crude old story of blood and revenge on which it is based ! When the reflective and scholarly Hamlet, "the glass of fashion and the mold of form/ 7 startles us by such words as "now could I drink hot blood/ J we get an echo of the earlier and cruder conception of his character, just as when Beowulf appears to think only of his own glory in performing a deed which is to deliver his people from a terrible affliction. It has even been thought that we may trace a still earlier stage of development in the story, that the hero was once not a mortal at all but a divinity, a god of BEOWULF 47 summer or of light, perhaps, whose victory over Gren- del is merely a symbol of the conquest of winter or of darkness by the bright and beneficent forces of nature. It has also been suggested that Grendel may stand for the malarial mists of the Low Countries, which rack the bones of men with fever, just as Grendel crunched them in his teeth, and that the hero was once a wind-god who blew all such pestilential vapors far away. Such theories as these are misleading; there is no way of proving them, nor indeed, of disproving them. The vivid imagination of early peoples undoubtedly personi- fies the forces of nature, but that does not mean that every spook or dragon in early story is merely a symbol for some one of these forces. A giant was probably a giant to most men ; a dragon was a dragon. There is no indication in this poem that the case was different. And so if we take the poem as it stands, and think of Beowulf as a mortal, and of his adversaries only as particularly ugly bugaboos, we shall not be leaning upon shaky interpretations to which the text gives no support. It is part of Beowulf s glory that while his exploits are chiefly against supernatural creatures, he is himself only a human being. He is very strong ; his strength, like Sir Galahad's, is as the strength of many men, not because his heart is pure, however, but because his biceps is hard. This is all, except his ability to exist under water, when he dives into the haunted pool to kill the ogress. This was a power often vouchsafed to mortals in early story; it 'is indeed familiar enough in modern tales of the supernatural. Matthew Arnold's touching little poem of the 'Forsaken Merman' tells of a mortal maiden who went to dwell under the waters, 48 MEDIEVAL STORY but was so much a mortal that she was unhappy until she could get back to earth once more. Beowulf has no advantages but his strength and courage ; by these alone he wins. Had he at his command the magic which protects Grendel, or the fiery defense of the dragon, or the supernatural powers of a demigod, the credit for his victories would be so much the less. He is aided by no divinities from above, although he piously gives the Lord thanks for his victory. The epic is very different in this respect from the ' Iliad,' in which the struggles of men are constantly decided by the gods, who descend to earth in person, turn the tide of battle, bicker over their favorites, and are altogether human in their partiality. The final outcome of the struggles about windy Troy is mainly due to their intervention, not to the superior valor of certain of the contestants. It hardly seems fair to the Homeric heroes to have their best efforts go for naught by the operation of forces over which they have no control. There is nothing of all this in 'Beowulf.' If pagan deities ever played an important part, they have vanished from the story. The Christian Lord of Hosts is the God of Battles, but though He directs the universe, He does not interfere in the fighting. Beowulf knows the issue is in the hands of the Lord, but depends on his own strength. In the contest with the mother of Grendel he makes a successful resistance, so the poet reminds us piously, because the Lord is on his side, but mainly be- cause his corselet is thick. He puts his trust in Heaven, but he keeps his powder dry. The hand of God is manifested in Beowulf's struggles in about the same way that it was in the battle of Waterloo. BEOWULF 49 The poem is, of course, fundamentally pagan in spirit. It has acquired a veneer of Christianity, but this is in places so thin that the older material underneath may be clearly discerned. For this alteration the poet who put the story into the form in which we read it to-day was probably responsible. He tried to make it over into a good religious tale, introducing many references to the Lord, and making GrendePs black soul still blacker by deriving him from Cain, the progenitor of so many evil monsters. But the change was only partly successful. Although Beowulf has been trans- formed into a good devout Christian, with his mouth full of pious phrases, he is still a good deal of a heathen at heart. He forgets his new religion frequently, after the manner of other newly converted savages, some- times attributing death and destruction to Wyrd, the heathen goddess, and neglecting God completely in his reflections as to the way in which the universe is ruled. Unfortunately, this new and incongruous material has been inlaid into the main substance of the story in such a way that it cannot be taken out without destroying the beauty of the whole. Portions of the original have undoubtedly been sacrificed to make room for it. It cannot be removed without leaving ugly holes and gaps ; the whole effect, however incongruous, is better if it be allowed to stand. One of the mourners at Beowulf s funeral pyre is his aged wife, who utters a mournful lament for the de- parted hero, and foresees evil days to come. Nothing at all has been said of her earlier in the poem ; we are completely ignorant of her lineage and her character, and of the circumstances which led to her coming as 50 MEDIEVAL STORY a bride to the court of the king of the Geats. Striking indeed is the contrast to later poetry, in which the love- affairs of the hero are often of equal interest with his warlike exploits. In this epic as a whole, woman occupies a decidedly minor place. Kings are appro- priately provided with queens, who are properly deco- rative, but who arouse little interest. Royal marriages in the surrounding nations are often mentioned, but for the sake of politics rather than of sentiment. There is little suggestion of the love of youth and maiden, of husband and wife. The affection of parents for children is occasionally recalled ; when Beowulf goes to Denmark to slay the monster Grendel, the Danish queen, in a pretty passage, attempts to enlist the sympathies of the great foreign hero in the fortunes of her sons, should they ever stand in need of assistance. But love of any sort has little place in this poem ; it is sup- planted by the sterner emotions. The heroes care much more for their proud names as warriors than they do for love or life or religion. Hence the whole seems a little cold and hard, a little lacking in human sym- pathy. It may arouse admiration; it seldom touches the heart. Moreover, this epic is in many ways aristocratic, with something of the aristocrat's pride and coldness. It was obviously intended for refined and educated circles, not for ruder listeners or readers. These old popular fairy-tale adventures have acquired a prodigious amount of dignity in being transferred to the courts of the Scandinavian kings. At these courts there is a deal of elaborate etiquet, no rude barbarian manners. A foreign ambassador at Versailles in the time of BEOWULF 51 Louis XIV can hardly have been received with more ceremony than was Beowulf when he arrived at the palace of King Hrothgar, upon his landing in Denmark. The hero was not allowed to walk straight into the royal presence and state his errand ; he and his warriors were obliged to wait outside until they had been summoned by the herald, and given permission to enter. This functionary did not abate one jot of the usual formalities; "he knew the custom of the court ," and did not permit even so distinguished a stranger as Beowulf to enter the hall until he had first been announced. And Beowulf, on his part, went through all the formalities in the proper way, as a prince, one well versed in all matters of eti- quet, ought to do. In all this ceremony the epic poet takes manifest pleasure. He has none of the free and easy attitude of the popular story-teller towards royal personages; he treats them with the greatest seriousness, even telling us, first and last, a great deal about the proper sort of conduct for kings and queens. Yet a king was in this society not much superior to the ruling warrior class which surrounded him, save by virtue of the rank which they had themselves conferred upon him. If the ruler of the Danes maintained the ceremony of a Louis XIV, he did not enjoy so much power. He could not have said "I am the State ;" he was its head only by consent of those who would otherwise be his peers. He had very definite duties towards his followers, he took the lead in war and in government, and he was obliged to dispense treasure liberally to those about him. Stinginess was universally condemned as one of the worst possible faults for a king to have. Social relations at this period are not wholly clear, but it is 52 MEDIEVAL STORY evident that the society, though aristocratic, was com- paratively simple. There were few elaborate distinc- tions of rank, and service as a warrior was in itself a title to honor. With the slave and the freedman such poetry as this refuses to deal. It is not snobbish, but it does not hold the actions of meaner men to be fit themes for heroic song. We may call the social body represented in 'Beowulf a democratic aristocracy. It is ruled by the king and by the powerful nobles, but those who do not occupy exalted positions are not despised. There is a certain large simplicity about the intercourse of men with each other, as there is in the performance of their deeds of valor. The situation is much like that in the Old French ' Song of Roland/ which we are presently to con- sider. This poem and ' Beowulf ' have often been called heroic, in contradistinction to those of the epoch which followed, the era of feudalism and chivalry, the age of medieval romance. In the later or romantic period there is always a certain condescension in the relation of lord to commoner. Distinctions of caste affect all the relationships of life ; the man of gentler birth feels him- self in every way the superior being. But Beowulf and his warriors, or Hrothgar and the men gathered in his hall, or Roland and the Twelve Peers of France, think far less about their exalted rank; they are content to assume the responsibilities of leadership, without affect- ing to ignore those for whom these duties have been undertaken. They are no less noble, but they are less haughtily conscious of their nobility. The epic of 'Beowulf/ then, proclaims the glory of the most incomparable of heroes, placed in the highest BEOWULF rf position in the ruling class of a warlike and democratic, yet cultivated and highly conventionalized society. It portrays the marvelous valor of such a champion, who is obliged to contend against adversaries of super- human powers, and it exalts before all things else his courage and physical strength. Yet it conceives him as a human being, with no relish of divinity about him, no advantages not vouchsafed to mortals. It further emphasizes the ideal virtues of the hero as king, generosity, ambition, moderation, wisdom. By im- plication and by precept it sets forth the beauty of devoted service and the baseness of treachery. It is the epic of the smaller state, of the tribe rather than of the nation, hence it is lacking in patriotic fervor. It is the epic of converted paganism, in which the heathen belief is not wholly dead, and the Christianity not wholly spontaneous, hence it is lacking in religious emotion. It is the epic of brute force, hence it is lacking in the softer feelings of mankind, in the love of wife and of child. Perhaps it is not too much to assert, however, that in its lofty spirit, its vigor, and its sincerity, it truly represents the foundations of the modern Anglo- Saxon character, that it reflects traits which unite British and Americans at the present day, traits which are distinctive of English-speaking people throughout the world. Ill THE SONG OF ROLAND J'aime le son du cor, le soir, au fond des bois, Soit qu'il chante les pleurs de la biche aux abois, Ou F adieu du chasseur que l'e*cho faible accueille, Et que le vent du nord porte de feuille en feuille. Que de fois, seul, dans T ombre & minuit demeure*, J'ai souri de F entendre, et plus souvent pleure* ! Car je croyais ouir de ces bruits prophe*tiques Qui pre*cedaient la mort des Paladins antiques. O montagne d'azur ! 6 pays adore" ! Rocs de la Frazona, cirque de Marbore*, Cascades qui tombez des neiges entraine*es, Sources, gaves, ruisseaux, torrents des Pyre*ne*es ; Monts gele*s et fleuris, trone des deux saisons, Dont le front est de glace et le pied de gazons ! C'est la qu'il faut s'asseoir, c'est la qu'il faut entendre Les airs lointains d'un cor melancolique et tendre. ******* Ames des Chevaliers, revenez-vous encor ? Est-ce vous qui parlez avec la voix du cor ? Roncevaux ! Roncevaux ! dans ta sombre valle*e L'ombre du grand Roland n'est done pas console ! ALFRED DE VIGNY. Ill THE SONG OF ROLAND ANYONE who walks through the Italian quarter of New York City in the evening may notice over a door- way an illuminated sign, THEATER OF MARIONETTES. If his curiosity tempts him inside, into the low room crowded with enthusiastic spectators, he will see, on a rude stage, a group of puppets almost as large as life, representing knights and ladies, acting out a little drama in response to the jerking of strings fastened to their arms and iron rods firmly fixed in their heads. The warriors are gorgeously attired in shining armor and plumed helmets, and the ladies have wonderful costumes of bright colors, with a great deal of em- broidery and decoration. An Italian in his shirt-sleeves, half-concealed in the " wings" at the side of the stage, speaks their lines for them, with all the elocutionary flourishes which he can command. Fiercely immobile as to expression, but most active as to arms and legs, these manikins march about, soliloquize, make love, and debate in council. But it is their battles which arouse the greatest enthusiasm among the audience, and indeed these are fought in a way that is a joy to see. Then it is that heroic deeds are done, tin swords resound upon tin armor, helmets are bat- tered about and knocked off, dust rises from the field, 57 58 MEDIEVAL STORY the valiant dead fall in staring heaps. At such mo- ments the spectators can hardly restrain themselves for emotion, yet the story itself is well known to them, perhaps some one sitting near by will volunteer to explain it, asserting that he has known it ever since he was a boy, and that he has read it all in a book which he has at home called the 'Reali di Francia.' It is a version of the old tale of Charlemagne and his knights, which, after traveling far from its native home in France, was taken up by the Italian people many centuries ago, and made so much their own that few heroes have been closer to their hearts than Roland, or as they call him, Orlando. Even in their homes in the New World they still celebrate him, so that the very newsboys in the streets of modern America are 'keeping alive the heroic traditions of the age of Charlemagne. No story illustrates better than this the popularity of heroes of the Middle Ages in other countries than their own. We have already observed, in considering ' Beowulf/ how Germanic worthies were welcomed, irrespective of their nationality, wherever the fame of their exploits had spread. And so it was in later days ; Charlemagne and Roland conquered the hearts of the people of Germany, Italy, Spain, Scandinavia, and England, just as the victorious armies of the French were fabled to have left little of Western Europe un- subdued. The accounts of their prowess were much altered, it is true, in foreign countries. The Italians provided Roland with many new and strange adven- tures, and took care that he should have plenty of experience in love-making. The Germans conceived him differently, sometimes emphasizing his devotion to THE SONG OF ROLAND 59 religion, sometimes seeing in his burly figure an em- bodiment of civic virtue. In some of the older towns of Germany, as for example the old free city of Bremen, there may be seen in the market-place or in some public square a rude stone statue, fierce of expression, and armed with a huge club. The name of this giant is Roland, and he stands as a protector of the liberties of the citizens, as a symbol of municipal justice. Still more altered is the hero of the marionette shows in America to-day. But we cannot be surprised at these changes ; the marvelous thing is that these old stories have survived so long, and that the champion whom they celebrate is, in a sense, as much alive to-day as he ever was in legend. Neglected in his native France at the present time, Roland seems assured of immortality by his popularity in foreign lands. This is all the more striking, since the tale of Roland and Charlemagne was in the beginning a glorification of the French, a triumphant outburst of French patriot- ism. No medieval story is more completely the expres- sion of the ideals of a single nation. From beginning to end, the 'Song of Roland 7 throbs with enthusiasm for " sweet France," with ardent desire to advance her fortunes, and to protect her from disgrace. It is patriotism incarnate in verse. In a larger sense, the ideals which the poem sets forth are not only those of medieval times, but of the France of later centuries as well, ideals to which the nation owes much of its glory. Even if the stirring old epic is no longer familiar to the people of France as a whole, it breathes much the same spirit which has animated them in great crises of modern times. During the gloomy days of the 60 MEDIEVAL STORY Franco-Prussian war which followed the disaster of Sedan, the great French scholar Gaston Paris saw hope for the future of his country in the persistence of its national idealism a vision which was destined to brilliant fulfilment and he illustrated his meaning by referring to this poem. "Two things are left us," he said, "of which, let us hope, nothing can deprive us, two of the three elements of the national idea in the 'Song of Roland/ the love of the soil, of 'sweet France/ and the sentiment of national honor, in which we are all united." And it may be noted that one of the first great theatrical successes in Paris after the close of the war was Henri de Bornier's poetic drama, 'La Fille de Roland/ In order fully to understand the spirit of the poem, we must remember that it is at once the epic of the eighth century and of the eleventh century. Its historical basis lies in the age of Charlemagne; its final develop- ment in the age of William the Conqueror. Under the sovereignty of Charlemagne, the Frankish people be- came the center of a truly imposing empire, extending on the north into what is now modern Germany, and on the south far into the Italian peninsula. They were successful not only in conquest, but also in gaining the support of the Church in maintaining and extending their power ; the Pope himself crowned their king with solemn ceremonial as head of the Western Roman Empire, afterwards that "Holy Roman Empire" which was to have such a strange history. This soli- darity of the Franks in their own territories at home created among them a truly patriotic sentiment, while the magnificence of their domains abroad aroused among THE SONG OF ROLAND 61 them a national pride, such as had never developed among the Germanic peoples who had sung of the deeds of Beowulf. Even after the disruption of the vast empire of Charlemagne, this proud consciousness of national glory still persisted ; the State as such did not go out of existence completely, nor was there lack of reverence for the kingly power, sanctioned and con- firmed as it was by Divine authority. The accidents of political change could not wholly destroy a heroic tradition. The persistence of this feeling of national unity is well illustrated in the 'Song of Roland/ which was mainly developed, not during the glorious days of the Carolingian empire, but in the time of its disruption, when the power of the king was small, and that of the nobles was great. Although it rests upon the historical traditions of the former age, and is informed with much of its spirit, the earliest and best version of it extant dates from the end of the eleventh century, and the political and social ideals which it sets forth are in large measure those of that period. Tradition has it that the French marched into battle at Hastings listening to the recital of the deeds of Charlemagne and his knights from the lips of a minstrel named Taillefer. As the old chronicler puts it: Taillefer spoke well indeed, Mounted on a coursing steed, Singing in the ducal train Of Roland and of Charlemagne, Of Oliver and many a brave vassal Who lost his life at Roncesvalles. And Taillefer begged Duke William of Normandy, as the chronicler goes on to relate, that he might have the 62 MEDIEVAL STORY privilege of striking the first blow in the ensuing battle. The 'Song of Roland/ then, which rang out in the very forefront of the advancing Norman host, may well stand for the new French element added to the English people by the Conquest, just as i Beowulf 7 may represent the older Germanic elements, Anglo-Saxon and Scandina- vian, which had formerly dominated the island. Later, in the legends of Arthur and his knights, we shall see the influence of a still more brilliant and imposing France, giving to the surrounding nations the refinements of the developed system of chivalry, and the culture of a gentler age. But we must not be unduly dazzled by the magnificence of the later period. The contribution of earlier days was less ornamental, but more enduring. It is often said that it was most fortunate for the English that the Normans were victorious in the battle of Hastings. The vigor and enterprise of the French, who were then just coming into prominence in Western Europe, were just the qualities of which the island race stood most in need. The glory of the Saxons was over; they had for years been distracted by internal dissen- sions, and disheartened by the rule of a Scandinavian people, who had long been their enemies. Had William the Conqueror never crossed the Channel, and set up his standard on British soil, the future of the English would indeed have been far different. But the new ideals which were brought in by William and his fol- lowers, ideals of a young and ardent nation, combining with the sterling qualities of the native Saxon stock, produced, in the fullness of time, a race second in distinction to none in Europe. The union of the two peoples was like the marriage of a medieval monarch THE SONG OF ROLAND 63 and a captive princess of a stranger folk. Subdued in the beginning completely to the power of the conqueror, the mother-race asserted herself in later times by trans- mitting her own characteristics to the children born of this union. We sometimes think of the Norman Conquest as the invasion of an alien people. The new-comers spoke a different tongue from the English, they were unlike them in manners and in social organization, and they made war after a different fashion. Yet it must not be forgot- ten that they were really of the same Germanic stock, that the Normans who invaded England were so named because they were descendants of the Northmen, the Scandinavians, men of the same race who had in the beginning celebrated the valor of Beowulf, before the Anglo-Saxons perpetuated his fame in their epic. These Northmen came to settle in what is now modern France only about a century and a half before Duke William sailed for the shores of England on his voyage of con- quest. Other Frenchmen, some of whom went over with him, or followed later, were likewise of German extraction, the Burgundians, for example, who had once lived on the banks of the Rhine. It is there that they dwell in the 'Nibelungenlied' and in the great 'Ring of the Nibelungen' music-dramas of Richard Wagner. We realize the singular fact that the French people are partly of German origin when we remember that the very name " France " is derived from a Ger- man people, the Franks, who had once lived far north of the present boundary between the two countries. Ultimately these various tribes were fused with the older Gallo-Romanic population, and thus modern 64 MEDIEVAL STORY France came into being. The incoming peoples adopted the language of their new homes, just as their descend- ants were later to do in the British Isles. This dualism of national origin produced no effect upon the sentiment of unity which permeates the ' Song of Roland/ The fusion of the different elements in the French people brought with it, indeed, a patriotism so intense as to seem too self-centered. In ' Beowulf ' the interest is confined to no one people, and the folk of various lands are duly praised; in the ' Roland/ on the other hand, the French are the undisputed heroes, and no other Christian peoples are worth mentioning. If we hear a good deal about the Saracens, it is not be- cause the exploits of the Saracens are in themselves re- markable, but because the French warriors must have worthy adversaries in order to exhibit their own valor. In this lack of interest in other nations the l Roland' stands in sharp contrast to 'Beowulf/ and yet there is much to suggest the fundamental kinship of the two poems, and to remind us that the ideals of the French epic are rooted in Germanic as well as in Romanic customs. The opening scenes of 'Beowulf ' reveal the magnifi- cence of a royal court of the earlier period, in a great mead-hall filled with feasting warriors and echoing to the strains of the harp and the clear voice of the min- strel. The 'Song of Roland/ too, shows us a great monarch surrounded by his nobles and retainers, but the picture is far different. Here there is no murky northern twilight, with the sinister mists of the even- ing hanging over the haunted dunes by the seashore ; Charlemagne holds his court in the brilliant sunshine THE SONG OF ROLAND 65 of Southern Europe, out of doors, for he is absent from home on a campaign in Spain. The royal throne, made all of beaten gold, is placed beneath a pine tree; the knights sit about the grass on cloths of white silk. Some amuse themselves by playing games, others by exercising with swords. In this bright and pleasant scene there is little suggestion of the tragedy to come. The Emperor is glad at heart, for he has been successful in his long campaign of seven years against the " Sara- cens' 7 ; he has subdued all Spain, save only Saragossa, in which King Marsilie is intrenched. And now the pagan monarch, driven to desperation by continued reverses, has sent a treacherous embassy to Charlemagne, promising many things if the French will consent to abandon their campaign in Spain. With olive branches in their hands, the emissaries arrive at the Christian camp, and deliver their message to the venerable king as he sits beneath the pine. "No need have they to ask which is the Emperor." On the following day, the barons are summoned to a council to consider the Saracen overtures. Count Roland advises against the acceptance of these offers, reminding the assembly of the tragic fate of two French envoys who were sent on a previous occasion when the pagans had sued for peace. His advice is that the war shall be waged to the bitter end, and past injuries be avenged. But Ganelon, his stepfather, urges the contrary, pointing out that pride should not decide the issue, and that boastful speech should have no weight. And his counsel is adopted; the Saracen proposals are accepted. But who shall carry this message back to the pagan king? No safe or pleasant errand will this be, for, as Roland has said, 66 MEDIEVAL STORY the men who had undertaken a similar errand were bru- tally murdered. Roland offers to go, and so does his friend and comrade Oliver, but Charlemagne will not listen to their proposals. Then on a sudden Roland says, "Let it be Ganelon, my stepfather." The French say, "He will do this service well; if ye leave him out of account, ye will send no wiser man." Then said the King, " Ganelon, come thou forward, and receive the staff and the glove. Thou hast heard, the French have chosen thee." " Lord," said Ganelon, "it is Roland who has done all this; never again in my life shall I love him, nor Oliver, since he is his companion, nor the Twelve Peers, because they are devoted to him. In thy sight, Lord, I defy them all ! " Here we have the beginning of the tragic complica- tions. Roland and his stepfather hate each other, it is clear. Step-relations have never agreed any better in story than in real life. Moreover, Roland increases Ganelon's anger to white heat by scornful jesting. And so Ganelon rides down into the paynim city in a towering rage, and on the way promises the ambassador of King Marsilie to betray his country for the satisfaction of his revenge and for riches. Arrived at the Saracen court, he advises the king to feign submission to Charlemagne, and then fall on his army as he retreats from Spain, and so to destroy the rear-guard, when it is divided from the main host. In this section of the army he plans to arrange that Roland shall be placed. So indeed it turns out. Ganelon returns to the French, announces that peace has been concluded, and completes his traitor- ous schemes. The Emperor is troubled with bad dreams, omens of disaster, but he withdraws from Spain, leaving behind only the rear-guard, containing THE SONG OF ROLAND 67 the flower of his chivalry. Meanwhile the pagans gather for the attack. The next scene is a battle-piece, a long and elaborate description of the bloody conflict in the defiles of the Pyrenees. "High are the hills and dark the valleys/' but Oliver, the friend of Roland, ascending a mountain, sees in the distance the glitter of armor, and knows it is the heathen advancing against the French. He urges his comrade to sound his horn, and summon the Em- peror to their assistance. But Roland refuses ; he will not ask for help. Oliver climbs a high mountain, and looks off to the right into a grassy valley, and he sees the army of the pagans advancing. He calls to Roland his companion, " From Spain I see a great mass of armed men, of glittering hauberks and flaming helmets. Great in- jury will they do to our band of Frenchmen. Ganelon the traitor hath betrayed us; it was he who assigned us to the rear-guard, in the presence of the Emperor." " Be silent, Oliver/ 7 answers Count Roland, " he is the husband of my mother, I would have you speak no word against him." . . . Says Oliver, " The pagans have a mighty host, and small indeed seems the number of our French soldiers. Comrade Roland, sound thy horn! Charles will hear it and the French will return." Roland answers, " Folly would that be; all honor should I lose in sweet France. Great blows will I strike with Durendal; the blade of the sword shall be covered with blood even unto the golden hilt. In an evil hour for them have the pagans come into these mountain passes. I warrant thee, they shall soon be dead men!" Then the conflict begins, and the French and the Sara- cens fight a series of fearful hand-to-hand combats, but the overwhelming pagan force, four hundred thousand strong, is too much for the twenty thousand French warriors. Finally, after appalling slaughter, Roland at last resolves to blow the horn and summon assistance, 68 MEDIEVAL STORY and with a mighty effort sounds a long peal, so loud and clear that the Emperor hears it in the distance, and turns back. But he comes too late ; while he hastens south- ward, the French of the rear-guard are all slain, Roland only remaining alive. He too is near death, for the ef- fort of sounding the horn has burst his temples. So he lies down beneath a pine tree and he dies, first vainly endeavoring to break his sword Durendal, that no pagan may bear it after his death. Count Roland has laid him down beneath a pine tree, towards Spain has he turned his face. Many things he calls to memory, all the lands which he has conquered as a warrior, and sweet France, the men of his kindred and Charlemagne his lord, who fostered him as a youth. He cannot restrain his sighs and his tears. But of himself he would not be forgetful, he confesses his sins and prays unto God for mercy, "Our Father, who never hast deceived mankind, who hast raised up Lazarus from the dead and protected Daniel from the lions, save and defend thou my soul against all perils to which the sins I have done in my past life have exposed it ! " In his right hand he lifts up his glove to heaven, and St. Gabriel receives it. Then the head of Roland sinks upon his arm, and with clasped hands he dies. God sends down his cherubim, and St. Michael of the Peril of the Seas, and together with them comes St. Gabriel. And they carry the soul of the count into Paradise. The main theme of all this is plainly Valor, and not so much the valor of one man alone, as in 'Beowulf/ al- though Roland engages the chief interest, but of the whole French army. In the terrible hours in the pass of Roncesvalles, Roland is no more distinguished for his courage than are any of the rest ; he is only a more for- midable champion. The achievements of his compan- ions are always treated with the greatest respect, and THE SONG OF ROLAND 69 they are severally described in detail. Every one is a fighter, even the Archbishop Turpin, with his fair white hands, who girds himself up like the medieval Popes, and swinges mightily the enemies of God. The poet of the Anglo-Saxon epic seldom assigns any prominent part to those surrounding the hero. Beowulf, like the Turk, bears no brother near the throne. We do not think of the band of picked warriors who accompanied him to Denmark when he slew Grendel as his equals ; his im- posing figure hides them from view, and little is said of their exploits. Not so with the comrades of Roland. The Twelve Peers of France are the equals of the greater hero in everything but the possession of surpassing might ; their courage is as high as his, and they are fully worthy to share his glory. In this drama there are many important characters, who play their parts nobly; the principal figure has no monopoly of the stage. The whole evolution of the story, too, is different from that of 'Beowulf.' The Anglo-Saxon epic grew up by the addition of history to fairy-tales. The French story has developed from actual historical events. These have, it is true, been almost completely transformed, but they are, nevertheless, in the last analysis, real occurrences. In short, ' Beowulf represents imagina- tion modified by history; ' Roland' represents history modified by imagination. It must always be remem- bered that each epic has passed through many transmu- tations, in oral transmission, and that these are not merely matters of external decoration, but of plot and structure as well. When all elaborations have been removed, when due allowance has been made for all changes, and when the bare skeleton of historical fact 70 MEDIEVAL STORY which supports the whole stands revealed, we cannot but be astonished at the transformation of such a tiny acorn of truth into such a mighty oak of epic. There was once a combat in the Pyrenees, in which the rear- guard of Charlemagne's army, which was guarding the baggage-train, was attacked and routed with great slaughter. One of the officers who was killed was " Hruodlandus, " governor of the March of Brittany. With the exception of a few details, and the remark that it was impossible to take immediate vengeance upon the enemy, this is practically all that history has to say about the main incident of the epic. Roland does not seem to have been more distinguished than other offi- cers ; in one early account he is not mentioned at all, and in the chief authority, the 'Life of Charlemagne 7 by Eginhard, he is only one of the leaders of the French, and he is mentioned last of the three. The whole affair was an episode, not a great national calamity, but it took such a hold upon the imagination of the people that it was magnified entirely out of its true proportions, and altered in whatever ways appeared to increase its inter- est and significance. Historically there was no treason, no Ganelon as stepfather and traitor, Roland was not the nephew of Charlemagne, and the combat was not with the Spanish Mohammedans, or " Saracens/ 7 as the poem styles them, but with the Basque mountaineers. It was, in all probability, much like a sharp guerilla attack. The marauding Basques of the Pyrenees were chiefly intent upon robbing the baggage of Charle- magne's army, hence they fell upon the French army in the rear, when it was forced to advance in dispersed formation, on account of the difficulties of the journey. THE SONG OF ROLAND 71 After the engagement was over, they crept back to their hiding-places, where it was impossible to reach them. Historically there was no glorious revenge, as in the epic. All the magnificence of the story as we read it in the Old French, all the pomp and circumstance of war, the burnished armor, the waving pennons, the flashing swords, the jeweled helmets, the golden-bossed shields, the serried ranks of armed men, all this is a growth of later times. It is a part of the same tendency which makes Charlemagne over two hundred years old, whereas as a matter of fact he was probably younger than Roland. The epic loves the contrast between the venerable king, his beard sweeping like a mass of white flowers over his breast, and the sturdy and impetuous young hero, and so it rearranges history for the sake of that effect. These changes, we must remember, are due not to the caprice of an individual author, but to the imagination of many different men, who have altered the story, not in writing, with a view to literary effect, but orally, with the aim of making the whole more heroic, more worthy to celebrate a great hero sprung from a mighty race. The traditions of still earlier times than the reign of Charlemagne may have assisted in this development ; an occurrence in the reign of Dagobert, in which a Frank- ish army appears to have been surprised in the passes of the Pyrenees, may well have been fused in the popular imagination with the recollection of the disaster at Roncesvalles. But more important than such shadowy reminiscences of forgotten days are the elaborations made in the centuries following. The fascination of the wild mountain scenery, the treacherous attack, the des- perate defense against a dangerous foe, the heroism 72 MEDIEVAL STORY of warriors faithful to their trust, have inspired altera- tions which are magnificent, yet seldom grandiose. Everything has been represented as of heroic propor- tions, that it may be in keeping with the heroism of the action. There is a certain large simplicity about it all, which prevents exaggeration from degenerating into grotesqueness. Yet, as in so much popular poetry, the ballads, for example, there is little variety of descrip- tion; the same conventional terms /are repeatedly ap- plied to various persons or situations. There is nothing in the ' Roland ' worthy to stand beside the lines in ' Beo- wulf which portray the horror of the haunted mere in the forest where Grendel and his dam abide. The French epic, though far later in date, is really far more archaic in style, far less touched with romantic imagina- tion. A story such as this could not, of course, end with the defeat of the French ; it would have been intolerable to leave the enemy in full satisfaction of their treasonable victory. So the third and concluding section narrates the swift and terrible vengeance of Charlemagne, who turns back the moment that he hears the horn of Ro- land reechoing in the distant mountain passes. A miracle is wrought for him ; the sun stays its course in the heavens that he may have light to overtake the Saracens. First he annihilates such of them as he can find, and then meets the greater host of the pagans and their allies. This is no unequal combat, the fighting is long-continued, but the pagans are finally routed, and their king, Mar- silie, dies miserably of grief. Saragossa is taken, and the Emperor returns to France. Ganelon the traitor is tried, and after a judicial duel, is condemned to death. THE SONG OF ROLAND 73 Terrible is his end ; wild horses tear him limb from limb, his bright blood flows out over the green grass. A strange contrast is this to the opening scene, the orchard decorated with white silk spread on the grass beneath the trees, and filled with a joyous and noble company, suspecting no evil. Now, at the end of the poem, many a goodly knight has fallen, sorrow and mourning fill the court, and the warriors who remain stand with stern faces and watch the bloody epilog to the tragedy. It is not enough that the defeat of the French in the pass of Roncesvalles should be ascribed to superior numbers ; popular imagination has further explained it as due to treachery. It is easy to see, however, that this must be very carefully managed, or else it will appear that the French are a race who may easily be guilty of treason, a worse reproach than being defeated in battle. Much depends upon the motive which prompts the trai- tor Ganelon to betray the French. As we have seen, this motive is undoubtedly, in the main, hatred of Ro- land. No explanation of this dislike is necessary; it is one of the constantly recurring motives of popular story. We all remember how many crimes were com- mitted in fairy-tales by the stepmother, the wicked stepmother, as she is commonly called. Roland is meant to have the sympathy in this tale, just as step- children always do. But the fault does not seem to be all on Ganelon's side. It is clear that Roland has no love for his stepfather, and he certainly shows his dis- trust in an unmistakable way. In the council he mocks him with stinging words, and he proposes him for the dangerous mission to the Saracen court. It is hard to believe that Roland's motive was to do honor to his 74 MEDIEVAL STORY mother's husband. At all events, Ganelon thinks that Roland desires to get rid of him, and so plans, by de- stroying the rear-guard, to avenge himself on his stepson. It seems likely, however, that in some forms of the story the treason of Ganelon may have been attributed to avarice. He is magnificently rewarded by the pagan king ; each year he is to have ten mules laden with the finest gold of Arabia. On the battlefield Roland ex- claims to Oliver, "Sir comrade, thou didst speak the truth in saying that Ganelon hath betrayed us, and hath received, as a reward for this, gold and silver and mer- chandise." And again he says, "King Marsilie hath bought and sold us." It must be remembered that a story like this, circulating among the people in oral form, told over and over again, was so much altered in the course of time that even the motivation of the events might be altered too. So the treason of Ganelon might now be explained as due to avarice, and now as due to vengeance. Then, when an epic was later made out of such tales, both of these explanations might be pre- served. The poet of the 'Song of Roland 7 seems to have known different forms of the story, and not to have hesitated to utilize both, even though they ap- peared contradictory. Thus in one passage he placed Charlemagne's capital at Aix, and in another at Laon. So he may well have taken something from more than one version of the story in explaining the treason of Ganelon. We have already noted a similar case in ' Beowulf/ where the fight with the dragon was attrib- uted now to the hero's desire to possess the hoard of treasure, and again to his resolve to protect his people from a devastating scourge. The more closely popular THE SONG OF ROLAND 75 stories are examined, the more frequently do such incon- sistencies as these appear. Consequently it is impos- sible to discuss the motivation in the 'Song of Roland' as we should in a modern work of art. If the principal motive of Ganelon's treachery in the poem as we read it to-day is desire for revenge, does this in any way serve to excuse the crime ? Was treason on the part of a Frenchman less dishonorable if prompted by vengeance? Nowadays, in the twentieth century, we should answer that it was not ; but a man of the eleventh century would have thought differently. In early times very great importance was attached to re- venge; it was no mere gratification of spite; it was a sacred duty, one of the most pressing of all social obli- gations. Injuries inflicted upon one's own person or property, or upon the lives or possessions of his kinsmen, could be satisfied only by the infliction of equal or greater damage upon the guilty party. If a man was killed, the murderer might settle the affair with the dead man's relatives by paying them a sum of money, otherwise it was their duty to slay him. We can hardly realize what a stain lay upon family honor until such an affair was settled. The conflict between revenge and other duties or passions is of course one of the commonest motives in early poetry. It forms the theme of the great- est tragedy in ^English literature, which may be read, in crude but unmistakable form, in a Latin history of the Danes written only a little later than the present version of the 'Roland.' The gentle Hamlet and the boorish Amlethus ultimately are really one and the same. It was a peculiarly bitter reproach to the warriors of Hroth- gar, in 'Beowulf,' that they could not be avenged upon 76 MEDIEVAL STORY Grendel for all his injuries, nor could they expect that he would atone for the death of their kinsmen by the payment of money. And so Ganelon feels that he must "get even" with Roland. In the presence of Charle- magne and all the barons he utters his formal defiance; he warns Roland, as it were, that vengeance is to follow. "Lord," said Ganelon, "it is Roland who has done all this; never again in my We shall I love him, nor Oliver, since he is his companion, nor the Twelve Peers, because they are devoted to him. In thy sight, Lord, I defy them all !" This forms Ganelon's defense, when, at the end of the story, he is tried for high treason. " I defied Roland the warrior, and Oliver, and all their comrades ; and Charles and all his noble barons were witnesses of this. I have revenged me, but in that there is no treason." Thus, according to the customs of the time, Ganelon was, in one sense, acting within his rights. At his trial the barons are even disposed to pardon him, but Charle- magne is anxious for his conviction, because Roland is his nephew, his blood-relation, and he must have ven- geance upon his murderer. This desire is at length sat- isfied ; one of the barons points out that Ganelon is a traitor because he has broken his oath of allegiance to the Emperor, a more binding obligation than the duty of compassing personal revenge. "Whatever wrong Roland may have done to 6anelon, he was in thy service, and that should have afforded him protection. Gane- lon is a felon in that he has betrayed him, and hath broken his oath unto thee, and hath done evil. And therefore I vote for his death ; let him be hanged, and let his body be cast out to the dogs as that of a felon and a traitor. If any kinsman he hath who will give me the lie in this, I stand ready to defend my judgment with the sword which I have girded here at my side." THE SONG OF ROLAND 77 And so, in accordance with the medieval fashion of deciding points of law by fighting them out, in the belief that God will make the right side victorious, a judicial duel between one of Ganelon's kinsmen and a cham- pion of Charlemagne takes place. Ganelon's guilt is established by the defeat of his defender, so he is put to death, and his kinsmen with him. Thus, in this epic which exalts the virtue of the French, the treason of Ganelon is partially excused. He is a traitor, but his crime is mitigated by the fact that he has been obliged to choose between conflicting duties, the satisfaction of vengeance and allegiance to the Emperor. The tragedy in the pass of Roncesvalles is thus, in the last analysis, partly the fault of Roland himself. Had he not uttered insulting words to his stepfather, had he not proposed him for a dangerous and possibly fatal mission, Ganelon's dreadful revenge would never have been planned. Even granting that he had no sinister motive in suggesting Ganelon as ambassador to the Saracens, his act points to the same fatal defect in his character which leads him to dismiss all prudence in the face of danger. His reckless impetuosity always carries him away ; his resolution soars so high that he never stops to think of consequences. In the most extreme danger he scorns to sound his horn for aid, preferring to sacrifice many lives to a rather theatrical heroism. Such reckless bravado was, of course, a tradition of the age, as it is more or less of all ages in which military achievement is the controlling ideal. Germanic warriors went to certain death, even when no great end was to be gained thereby, rather than compromise with valor for the sake of safety. The 78 MEDIEVAL STORY Niblungs, though forewarned, faring to the court of Attila, or the kinsmen of Signy accepting the treacherous invitation of King Siggeir, were doing no more than flesh and blood heroes were wont to do. Hamthir and Sorli press alone into the halls of Eormanric, and perish with the words, "What though we die? Glory awaits us !" There is much about Roland that recalls Shak- spere's Hotspur, a figure which has a fascination, in its complete abandon to heroic impulse, which is somewhat lacking in the more cautious Prince Hal. But it is noteworthy that in the ' Song of Roland ' the claims of reason and common-sense are given a chance against splendid and reckless folly. These are repre- sented in the person of Oliver, Roland's friend and com- panion in arms. He is as brave as Roland, but of better balanced character; he stops to think. The poem contrasts the two in a pithy phrase : "Roland is brave, and Oliver is wise." Oliver is only a secondary figure, he is by no means the perfect embodiment of valor which we see in Roland, and he pales before the glory of his more illustrious comrade. But Oliver points out that Roland's blind heroism and reckless striving for honor may result in actual dishonor. When both are far spent on the battlefield, Oliver exclaims: "Comrade, the fault is thine. Wise valor is not rashness, and prudence is better than recklessness. Through thine imprudence the French have met their end ; nevermore can we render service unto Charles the King. Hadst thou hearkened unto me, he would have come, and we should have won this battle, and King Marsilie would have been killed or captured. O Roland, an evil thing hath thy prowess been for us ! Charles the Great shall nevermore have assistance from thee, and never until the day of doom will there be another man such as thou art. Die thou must, and France shall thereby be put to shame" THE SONG OF ROLAND 79 In order fully to appreciate the spirit of the poem, we must look with particular care at Charlemagne. He is, in a sense, an imaginary monarch, he is idealized out of all historical reality, but these very idealizations represent the conception of kingship in the minds of the people. He is first of all majestic, his whole pres- ence breathes authority; he has the dignity of great age, symbolized by the white beard which flows over his breast. He has been a mighty warrior, having subdued most of the kingdoms of earth, so that he represents, in the second place, kingly valor. He is politically supreme, but he does not use his power despotically. In councils he has the deciding voice, but his barons advise rather than legislate; "he wishes to do nothing without those of France." In the greater council or court of justice which tries Ganelon for high treason he is only the presiding officer. He is head of the Church as well as of the State ; not only sovereign but patriarch. He has direct communication with Heaven, and is protected by a special guardian angel. < And yet, despite his imposing personality, there is a pathos about his figure. In his old age he is obliged to lose the bravest of his warriors in the disaster at Roncesvalles, and even after he has avenged the slain, he has little peace. The poem opens with his triumph; it ends with his despair. As soon as the execution of Ganelon is over, he is summoned to aid the Christians in a distant land. The king lies down to sleep in his vaulted chamber. But St. Gabriel comes to him from God and says to him, " Charles, collect the armies of thine empire, and go in full power into the land of Eire, and aid King Vivien at Imphe, at the city which the pagans 80 MEDIEVAL STORY have besieged ; the Christians call unto thee for succor." The Em- peror would fain not have gone. " Ah God ! " he cries, "how full of troubles is my life !" And he weeps, and plucks his white beard. The very sorrows which afflict Charlemagne make him still more impressive. He stands in lonely grandeur, the incarnation of imperial piety, valor, and dominion. The 'Song of Roland ' was shaped by the hands of many men; it was the work of the French people in different parts of the country, not in one district alone; it is truly a national epic. It appears to have been influenced only in a small degree, if at all, by ecclesias- tics, and yet no saint's life, no Bible story, shows greater religious fervor. "For God and sweet France! 77 this is the cry which rings through it all, and even sweet France takes the second place. But it unites very closely both patriotic and religious conceptions. It proclaims not only that all Frenchmen are Christians, but also that all Christians are Frenchmen. As the poet of another old song says: The crown of France must be exalted, For all other kings should be subject to it, All such as believe in God and the law of Christendom. The old Germanic belief was that you ought to fight your neighbors, and if necessary exterminate them, for the glory of arms. The belief of the French in the ' Song of Roland ' is that you ought to exterminate them anyhow, provided they are not Christians, and if they are you ought to annex them. The matter is very simple. " Christians are right, and pagans are wrong/ 7 says the poet. So the wars in the ' Roland' are really religious contests, like the Crusades, and the epic, with its intense and narrow piety, makes us under- . THE SONG OF ROLAND 81 stand the fanatical enthusiasm which inspired expedi- tions to the Holy Land. It points forward to the First Crusade, which took place not long after the poem assumed its present shape. Its religion suggests rather a primitive type of Christianity, God is a kind of heavenly Charlemagne, a being not unlike the Emperor, only still more remote and powerful. Yet the God of Roland is not really so far off as the God of Beowulf. In the Anglo-Saxon epic, as we have seen, the Deity interferes little in the main action, and the issue is decided by the strength of the hero. But the God of Charlemagne is willing to stop the very sun in the heav- ens for the benefit of the French. This Beowulf would have considered an unsportsmanlike advantage; he always fought fair, even against demons. But he was only vaguely pious, whereas the French warriors are completely and sincerely devoted to the service of their God. Women play but a small part in this heroic story. The soldiers returning from the wars think of their wives and sweethearts, but Roland quite forgets the lovely Aude, his affianced bride, the sister of Oliver. She does not forget him, however. The moment that the Emperor returns to his capital, she runs to him to hear news of Roland. The Emperor returns from Spain and comes to Aix, the fairest city of France; he enters the palace and advances into the great hall. Unto him comes Aude, a damsel radiant in beauty, who says to him, " Where is Roland the captain, who hath plighted me his troth to take me as his wife ? " Charles is filled with sorrow and grief, he weeps, and plucks his white beard. " Sister, sweet friend, thou askest me of a dead man. But in exchange for Roland will I give thee Louis, a better know I not in France. My son he is, and will Q 82 MEDIEVAL STORY govern my dominions." Aude answers, " Strange are thy words; may it not please God or his saints or angels that I should live after Roland's death ! " The color fades from her face, she falls at the feet of Charlemagne, she is dead ! May God have mercy on her soul ! Bramimonde, the Saracen queen, is a devoted wife ; not a lovely fragile flower, like Aude, but able to speak her mind vigorously on occasion. Her soul was worth saving; at first she refused to accept Christianity, but " having heard many sermons and examples/ 7 was at length won over. In the chansons de geste ladies gener- ally get more consideration than their lords and masters, and are given a chance to embrace the true faith, and live happily ever after, sometimes as the brides of their conquerors. But in this poem, which was unaffected by the development of romantic conventions, the presence of women arouses little interest, and has little effect on the dramatic action. The love-element has not yet be- come vital in heroic narrative. It has indeed been con- jectured that the whole episode dealing [with Aude is really extraneous, possibly a separate lyric which has been worked into the fabric of the epic, and which reveals its incongruity with the spirit of the poem as a whole. Like ' Beowulf/ the 'Song of Roland' glorifies the ruling aristocracy. Royal and noble personages are again the actors, and little attention is paid to those of inferior rank. The people are vaguely in the back- ground, but their fortunes arouse no interest. Twenty thousand French perish in the defiles of the Pyrenees, but the common soldiers are almost completely disre- garded. The epic avoids whatever is not magnificent, THE SONG OF ROLAND 83 even in describing the four hundred thousand pagans, it mentions only " counts and viscounts, dukes and almagurs and emirs and sons of counts. 7 ' Only rarely do the lower classes make their appearance, as when, in a passage of rough humor, the cooks of Charlemagne's kitchen amuse themselves by tormenting the unhappy Ganelon, who has been given into their charge. But even then there must be no less than a hundred of them ! When we compare the poem carefully with what has gone before, we cannot but feel a change in the relations of men to each other. While there is not yet the in- tense caste-feeling of the later Middle Ages, there is less of the democratic spirit about this society than about that described in ' Beowulf.' Rank has assumed added importance, and pride of birth shows signs of its later transformation into the intolerance of the fully developed system of chivalry. "The chansons de geste are fine specimens of fighting Christianity," says Lowell, "but who after reading them even the best of them, the 'Song of Roland' can re- member much more than a cloud of battle-dust, through which the paladins loom dimly gigantic, and a strong verse flashes here and there like an angry sword?" Do we gain no more definite impression than this from the ' Song of Roland ' ? May we not carry away with us a vision of a people for whom fighting was indeed still the chief business of life, but who had progressed far enough to feel the beauty of devotion to a national ideal and of submission to a beneficent God ? With all his headstrong impetuosity, with all his forgetfulness of consequences, Roland is far more unselfish than the warrior of Germanic times. His very folly springs 84 MEDIEVAL STORY from his own eager desire to advance the interests of his native country and to reflect glory upon his kin, as much as from his own warlike disposition. From the lips of the French hero might well have come the words which Macaulay made Horatius utter : To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his gods ? This broader vision, this consecration to a higher ideal of Church and State, which is the animating force behind all the tumult and carnage at Roncesvalles, and of which the heroism of Roland is the symbol, was not the least of those elements in the French character which, in spite of much that was selfish and sordid, quickened the life of the English into new vigor after the Conquest, and made possible their later achieve- ment in the years to come. IV THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES I was first of all the kings who drew The knighthood-errant of this realm and all The realms together under me, their Head, In that fair Order of my Table Round, A glorious company, the flower of men, To serve as model for the mighty world, And be the fair beginning of a time. I made them lay their hands in mine and swear To reverence the King, as if he were Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, To honor his own word as if his God's, To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, To love one maiden only, cleave to her, And worship her by years of noble deeds. TENNYSON. IV THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES IN one of his most whimsical moments, Mark Twain conceived the idea of placing a Connecticut Yankee at the court of King Arthur, and contrasting New Eng- land shrewdness and common-sense with medieval credulity and superstition. This daring bit of fancy he elaborated with inimitable humor. We all remem- ber how the Yankee appeared at a tournament clad in the lightest of acrobatic attire, and then lassooed the iron-clad knights and pulled them off their horses in clattering heaps, how he discomfited Merlin by a liberal use of gunpowder, and saved himself from the stake by some remarkable astronomical calculations about an eclipse. Most ingenious, too, were his methods of calling attention to the merits of Persimmons's soap and Peterson's prophylactic tooth-brush. But while Mark Twain puts us in the best of humor by his fun, and arouses our interest by vivid and unconventional descriptions of Arthur and Guinevere and Launcelot and Kay and other worthies of the couft, he is really bent on showing quite a different side of the picture. The Yankee looks about in the king's dominions, and sees poverty and squalor and suffering among the common people, cruelty and injustice in the great noble- men and heroes, wretchedness and vice beneath all the glitter of the Round Table fellowship. The domain 87 88 MEDIEVAL STORY of King Arthur is made the symbol of the social short- comings of the Middle Ages. At the very beginning of the story, the author reveals his true purpose. The Yankee goes up to Camelot as the prisoner of Sir Kay the Seneschal : As we approached the town, signs of life began to appear. At intervals we passed a wretched cabin, with a thatched roof, and about it small fields and garden patches in an indifferent state of cultivation. There were people, too ; brawny men, with long, coarse, uncombed hair that hung down over their faces and made them look like animals. They and the women, as a rule, wore a coarse tow- linen robe that came well below the knee, and a rude sort of sandals, and many wore an iron collar. ... In the town were some sub- stantial windowless houses of stone scattered among a wilderness of thatched cabins; the streets were mere crooked alleys, and unpaved; troops of dogs and nude children played in the sun and made life and noise; hogs roamed and rooted contentedly about, and one of them lay in a reeking wallow in the middle of the main thoroughfare and suckled her family. Presently there was a distant blare of military music; it came nearer, still nearer, and soon a noble cavalcade wound into view, glorious with plumed helmets and flashing mail and flaunting banners and rich doublets and horse-cloths and gilded spear-heads ; and through the muck and swine, and naked brats, and joyous dogs, and shabby huts it took its gallant way, and in its wake we followed. Followed through one winding alley and then another, and climbing, always climbing till at last we gained the breezy height where the huge castle stood. There was an exchange of bugle blasts ; then a parley from the walls, where men-at-arms in hauberk and morion marched back and forth with halberd at shoulder under flapping banners with the rude figure of a dragon displayed upon them ; and then the great gates were flung open, the drawbridge was lowered, and the head of the cavalcade swept forward under the frowning arches. The sympathies of Mark Twain were always profoundly stirred by injustice and inhumanity, and he seldom THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 89 dealt with bygone ages without reminding us of the misery of the unfortunate and the oppressed. 'The Prince and the Pauper ' is almost as much an exposure of social conditions under Edward VI as it is a story ; 'Joan of Arc' is full of pity for a noble woman strug- gling against overwhelming odds. Mark Twain was a great humorist, but he was also a great humani- tarian. His picture of medieval society is true, in a sense. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when the Ar- thurian romances reached their greatest glory, the lower classes received little consideration ; they often lived in wretchedness, and trembled under oppression. The pleasures of this world were not for them, but rather its sorrows and its burdens. This is really the era into which the Yankee is transported, this was the Age of Chivalry, although Mark Twain prefers to disguise it transparently as the sixth century, when the Arthur of history actually flourished. It is true, too, that the romances, the amusement and the expression of the upper classes, do not at all reflect the social condition of the people as a whole. They disregard the com- mons, in most cases, even more completely than the 'Song of Roland' does. Their tone is aristocratic throughout. They reveal the brighter side of medieval life, love-affairs and tournaments and brilliant mili- tary expeditions and knightly deeds and romantic adventures, ignoring the peasantry toiling to pay tithes and taxes, falling unwept in battles made glorious by their superiors, dying of pestilence, suffering from the ravages of war, or perishing miserably of famine. Such things as these Mark Twain has chosen to bring 90 MEDIEVAL STORY vividly before us, casting a heavy shadow over the bright- ness and beauty of Arthurian romance. Yet the serious parts of his book are, I believe, pro- foundly misleading, despite the generosity of feeling which has inspired them and the facts which may be advanced to support them. When the humorist lays aside his cap and bells, and becomes the moralist, when he uses the Arthurian romances as illustrations of the defective social consciousness of the later Middle Ages, he mistakes the true character of these romances, and forgets the spirit which really underlies them. They voice the sentiments of a single class of society, indeed, but one which, with all its faults, was slowly progressing towards finer issues, the gentleness, generosity, and reverence for women, which were lacking in the Heroic Age./ It is their idealism which has given the Arthurian legends, in part at least, their wonderful vitality, making the story of the Round Table heroes the most popular of all the romantic narratives of the Middle Ages, and attracting in modern times poets so unlike as Spenser and Tennyson. Even Milton, we remember, seriously considered making King Arthur the bearer of the mes- sage which later came in the pages of 'Paradise Lost/ We cannot afford to underestimate the literature of idealism. It is a trite saying that a period must be judged not alone by literature which depicts things as they are, but also by that which depicts things as men would fain have them. The plays of Shakspere are a truer guide to the spirit of Elizabethan England than is contemporary history; the French Revolution is illu- minated by the works of the poets and novelists of the day as much as by documentary annals ; More's 'Utopia' is THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 91 hardly less history than Bacon's ' Henry the Seventh.' So it is in the Middle Ages ; Arthurian romance is the 'Utopia' of chivalry. It is unreal and fantastic ; but it represents a definite ideal of conduct. It even contains, as we shall observe later, the beginnings of humanita- rianism. Mark Twain failed to see, then, that he was selecting as an illustration of the degradation of the times a story which was really the herald of better con- ditions, and that in reproaching the Arthurian knights for lack of human sympathy he was overlooking those very efforts to establish finer social ideals, which, first manifested by the members of the ruling aristocratic class in their relations with each other, were in time ex- tended to those of lower social station. The adventures of Arthur and his knights were pe- culiarly adapted to become the concrete expression of chivalric ideals, since they were almost wholly the prod- uct of imagination. In this regard they form a strong contrast to the exploits of Roland and Charlemagne. What the " matter of France" shows directly and real- istically, the " matter of Britain" shows indirectly and symbolically. In the representation of a perfect sys- tem of knighthood, Arthurian romance is undisturbed by intruding facts of contemporary politics. Charle- magne, despite all the fantasy and exaggeration with which his figure has been surrounded, is nevertheless always the sovereign of a real empire, the ruler of France. His deeds and those of his knights are to a considerable extent founded on fact, and they are perhaps none the less a part of the history of France because the French people have altered them to suit their own conceptions. Roland and Oliver were born of national struggle and 92 MEDIEVAL STORY exalted by patriotic pride, and they still belonged to the people at the time of their greatest glory in the 'Song of Roland/ Three centuries after his death, Charle- magne could stand as representative of the French crown, even though its struggles were then against baronial power at home rather than against foes abroad. His name and fame were still supreme in spite of changed political conditions. For, in their eagerness to defend his rebellious barons, poets of the later day did not hesi- tate to charge him with oppressions and iniquities. He was frequently humiliated in the chansons de geste in order that such insurgent heroes as Girart of Vienna might be exalted. In short, he was real enough, even after he had long been dead, to be affected by changes in the political situation in France. Not so with Arthur. While his story was, like Ro- land's, founded on stirring events in the history of a na- tion, and fostered in its infancy by patriotic pride, it reached its fullest development among foreigners, who loved it, in a sense, because of its very freedom from disturbing political realities. The national element quickly faded out ; there was little Celtic enthusiasm in the heyday of Arthurian romance. Nor did it achieve a transferred patriotism. One does not imagine such a phrase as " sweet France " on the lips of Launcelot or Bedivere. The great king himself rules an imaginary realm ; he has little to do with the realities of politics, domestic or international. As time goes on, he gets to be more and more a shadowy and passive figure, and the glory of other heroes sitting at the Round Table dims the brightness of his own renown. But they are not essentially different from him ; Tristram and Perceval THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 93 and Gawain and the rest exist not to deliver the people of Britain from their enemies, but to rescue ladies and kill monsters, and to undergo wonderful adventures in love and war. They are warriors of fairy- land, half enveloped in a golden haze of unreality. The ugly things of life occasionally intrude ; but the treason of Mordred or the unfaithfulness of Guinevere spring from no necessity of rationalizing or explaining histori- cal events, as in the case of the treachery of Ganelon, which is made to motivate the slaughter at Roncesvalles. It is unsafe, too, to attribute to such episodes a mytho- logical origin. Arthur, who may fitly stand as represent- ative of his whole court, is king of dreams and monarch of fantasy. His miraculous translation to Avalon is the only end possible for a career more suggestive of the otherworld than of a land of sordid realities. He is an ideal, " Arthur, flower of kings," as Joseph of Exeter called him, and the stories grouped around his name are really as imaginary as fairy-tales. Arthurian romance is like a gorgeous tapestry, woven of many threads, and colored with many dyes. Some of the materials have come from distant countries, here a bit of gold from the Orient, there a homespun strand of popular story, but the warp is Celtic and the woof is French. Much of the embroidery, too, is Celtic, and it is the Celtic coloring which gives the whole much of its charm, but, in vivid contrast to this, French workers have so disposed their own brilliant hues as to give harmony to a design, which, though striking, was in the beginning crude and archaic. The web and the embroidery were long in the making, the longer, because so much was unraveled to make room for newer 94 MEDIEVAL STORY patterns, and because old designs were constantly elabo- rated afresh. We shall be mainly concerned here with the form which the romances assumed during the three centuries following the 'Song of Roland '; that is to say, from the Norman Conquest to the age of Chaucer. Even within this period changes are many, consistency is often lacking, absurdities and exaggerations creep in. Chaucer ridiculed the artificiality of the romances, and their straining of probabilities, as in . the book of Launcelot de Lake, That wommen holde in ful gret reverence. Some heroes grow more illustrious; some, like Galahad, appear for the first time; and some are thrust completely into the background by the prestige of their newer rivals. Prose romances run to wearisome length; artis- tic form is neglected, or lost in a mass of detail. Vulgar story-tellers drag Arthur down into the dust of the high- way, or make him the amusement of coarse wits in the ale-house. Monkish piety makes romance a vehicle for religion, or allegorizes a thumping moral into it. Never- theless, in spite of its blemishes, Arthurian romance at the height of its chivalric period presents many striking characteristics which distinguish it from earlier and later conceptions. We shall best understand these characteristics if we first look at the origins -of the legend as a whole, and then at some of the chief influences which have molded it. At the beginning of the sixth century, the Celtic peoples in Britain, who had earlier welcomed the assist- ance of the Germanic tribes against their enemies, the Picts and Scots, were engaged in a series of desperate THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 95 struggles to check the encroachments of their former allies. This was the era of the historical events re- corded in 'Beowulf ' ; Hygelac was still king of the Geats, and his disastrous expedition into the Low Countries was yet to be undertaken. The task of the Celtic peoples in attempting to preserve their liberties and to retain their dominions was not easy. But in one engagement, the Battle of Mons Badonis, or Mount Badon, they were temporarily successful, under the leadership of a certain Arthur, not their king, but the commander of their forces. This victory, though it really signified little for the ultimate outcome of the struggle, gave a tremendous impetus to the formation of heroic legends about the figure of Arthur. It was perhaps inevitable that these legends should soon be- come a lament for a forlorn cause and a sigh for a lost leader. The Celtic temperament is not primarily suited to political achievement. Enthusiasm and imagination do not make up for the lack of certain sterner virtues which lead to success in establishing and governing a state. Mommsen's characterization of the Celts at the time of their early contact with the Romans holds for the medieval period as well. ' ' Nature, ' ' he says, l ' though she lavished upon the Celts her most brilliant gifts, had denied them those more solid and enduring qualities which lead to the highest human development, alike in morality and politics." So it is easy to understand the reverence of the Celts for such of their leaders as have excelled in practical affairs. To this reverence is due the genesis of the legend of Arthur. He achieved renown as the leader of his people in their hour of need, and his successes instantly magnified his position. From being 96 MEDIEVAL STORY so little distinguished that one of the early chroniclers does not even mention his name, he is presently invested with the dignity of a great epic hero, and his victories grow in number and in significance. In the Latin his- tory of Nennius, a compilation of uncertain authorship and date, the traces of popular imagination are plainly to be seen. Arthur is said to have been successful in twelve battles, and to have slain nine hundred and forty of the enemy in the contest at Mount Badon. But his growing fame soon took other forms, some idea of which may be gained from the celebrated compilation of Welsh stories called the 'Mabinogion.' The narratives in this collection differ widely in provenience and date, but from those of more primitive form we may gain some idea of the Arthur of song and story while he was still a half- savage Celtic ruler. The exploits of his heroes, as re- lated here, belong rather to old wives' tales than to the glories of romance. In character and appearance, too, these heroes are indeed different from the " flowers of courtesy " of a later age. Osla Gyllellvawr, one of his champions, bore a short broad dagger with the marvel- ous property that " when Arthur and his hosts came before a torrent, they would seek for a narrow place where they might pass the water, and would lay the sheathed dagger across the torrent, and it would form a bridge sufficient for the armies of the three Islands of Britain, and of the three islands adjacent, with their spoil." "Sgilti Yscawndroed, when he intended to go on a message for his Lord, never sought to find a path, but knowing whither he was to go, if his way lay through a wood he went along the tops of the trees." "Sugyn, the son of Sugnedydd . . . would suck up the THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 97 sea on which were three hundred ships, so as to leave nothing but a dry strand/ 7 The haughty Kay of the later romances appears in this motley company, as out- landish, apparently, as the rest. " So great was the heat of his nature that, when it rained hardest, whatever he carried remained dry for a handbreadth above and a handbreadth below his hand ; and when his compan- ions were coldest, it was to them as fuel with which to light their fire." Some of these curious characteristics may be seen even in the pages of Sir Thomas Malory ; Gawain's strength waxed and waned with the course of the day. These more primitive tales in the 'Mabinogion' are not merely fantastic ; they often prefigure the beauty and richness of the later romances. Kilhwch, the young warrior who, with the aid of Arthur, performs seemingly impossible feats in order to win his bride, ap- pears before us in all the radiance of Celtic poetry. The youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled grey, of four winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a saddle of costly gold. And in the youth's hand were two spears of silver, sharp, well- tempered, headed with steel, three ells in length, of an edge to wound the wind, and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew- drop from the blade of reed-grass upon the earth when the dew of June is at the heaviest. A gold-hilted sword was upon his thigh, the blade of which was of gold, bearing a cross of inlaid gold of the hue of the lightning of heaven; his war-horn was of ivory. . . . And his courser cast up four sods with his four hoofs, like four swal- lows in the air, about his head, now above, now below. About him was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner, and every one of the apples was of the value of an hundred kine. And there was precious gold of the value of three hundred kine upon his shoes, and upon his stirrups, from his knee to the tip of 98 MEDIEVAL STORY his toe. And the blade of grass bent not beneath him, so light was his courser's tread as he journeyed towards the gate of Arthur's palace. About the middle of the twelfth century, Arthur first emerged definitely from his semi-barbaric Celtic sur- roundings, and, after a proper introduction to the world, entered the most fashionable society of Western Eu- rope, and reorganized his court according to the most approved models. In those days, as for many centu- ries to come, France was the arbiter of taste in manners, dress, and fashions generally. Under the hands of the French, Arthur and his knights became accomplished courtiers, with all the graces of the age, clad in fair rai- ment, and with new refinements of thought and feeling. The Conquest was one means of bringing this about ; the Anglo-French were fond of a good story, and saw in Arthur a champion not less interesting than their own heroes. Again, the peoples of Celtic stock in France itself, especially in Brittany or Armorica, had perpetu- ated the name and fame of Arthur among themselves, and they now added their contribution to French ro- mance. Which of these two sources is mainly respon- sible for the astonishing spread of the story among the French is still a matter of dispute among scholars ; but if we consider that each source had in all likelihood its due share, we need not trouble ourselves about the precise details. A Welsh priest, Geoffrey of Monmouth, did much to make the material popular among the French on English soil, by embodying it in his so-called " his- tory/' A historical novel we may better call it, or per- haps merely a novel, since imaginative and legendary incidents so far outweigh real facts. The important THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 99 thing to note is that here Arthur is first drawn out of the Celtic twilight, invested with the magnificence of a medieval monarch, and introduced to the world at large. He is no longer served by "a red, rough, ill-favored man, having red whiskers with bristly hairs/ ' as in the ' Dream of Rhonabwy' in the 'Mabinogion.' Such uncouth servitors are banished, and some of the " thousand young noblemen, all clothed in ermine," who attended him at his coronation are doubtless retained. In Geoffrey's pages Arthur and his court come up in the world mightily, with much of the elegance which was later to surround them as the ideal representatives of the system of chivalry. As Geoffrey says, "At that time Britain had arrived at such a pitch of grandeur, that in abun- dance of riches, luxury of ornaments, and politeness of inhabitants, it far surpassed all other kingdoms. The knights in it that were famous for feats of chivalry wore their clothes and arms all of the same color and fashion ; and the women also no less celebrated for their wit, wore all the same kind of apparel, and esteemed none worthy of their love but such as had given proof of their valor in three several battles. Thus was the valor of the men an encouragement for the women's chastity, and the love of the women a spur to the soldiers' brav- ery." We may compare with the cruder tales in the 'Mab- inogion/ from which illustrations of the more primitive forms of the story have been cited, others in the same collection which have passed through the hands of the French and thus gained new elegance. The fact that the Welsh welcomed their own stories back again in a new dress, and gave them a place in one of the most 100 MEDIEVAL STORY famous of all their collections of native narratives well illustrates the influence exerted by France upon sur- rounding nations. Practically all the Arthurian ro- mances in English are either translated from French originals or imitated from French models, and the same is true, with some reservations, of the tales of the knights of the Round Table in Germany and Italy and the Scandinavian countries. The greatest period of Ger- man poetry, aside from the era of Goethe and Schiller, the period of Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Hartmann von Aue, and Gottfried von Strassburg, would have been impossible had it not been for French poets. And so, while we shall look to Germany for the most pro- foundly religious and symbolical version of the Legend of the Holy Grail, and for the noblest conception of the love of Tristram and Iseult, and to England for the most refined conception of the courtesy of Gawain, we must never forget that the fountain-head of the inspiration which produced these masterpieces was French poetry. It is interesting to imagine what Roland and Gawain would have thought of each other had they met by chance in their wanderings. It seems probable that while each would have paid due respect to the courage of the other, Roland would have thought Gawain finicky and sentimental, too much worried over detail, too elabo- rate in his manners, while Gawain would have felt Ro- land too rude and boastful, too lacking in consideration for women and somewhat deficient in knightly courtesy. Roland, we feel, would have more sympathy with Beo- wulf than with Gawain. By birth and breeding Roland belongs in the Heroic Period, albeit at its very close. But when Gawain rides forth into the fields of European THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES .101" romance, a new set of social laws has come into existence, without observance of which no manners at all are pos- sible. We must now see just how these laws arose, and how they affected those aristocratic circles with which the Arthurian story is primarily concerned-X^ For the genesis of chivalry, which grew up coinci- dently with the fullest development of the feudal sys- tem, we must look rather to the south than to the north of France. The ' Song of Roland/ as we have seen, repre- sents to a large extent the Germanic elements of the northern part of the country, those sterner virtues which led to success in war and made politics a matter of force. In the south, the Gallo-Latin element in the population produced a softer and more sensuous temperament, a greater devotion to the fragile and joyous and beautiful things of life. .The very name Provence suggests the music of Troubadours and the smiles of women. The north was a region of deeds, the south of dreams ; the one celebrated action, the other feeling ; the one culti- vated epic, the other lyric. There is no sharp geographi- cal division possible in literature, of course ; the heroes of the 'Song of Roland/ as of the other chansons de geste, came from all over the country, but their spirit is essen- tially Germanic. Lyric poets sang in the north, but the makers of Provence showed them the secrets of their art. The Arthurian romances represent the union of these two elements, forming a more national product, in one sense, than the chansons de geste, since, in mirroring the system of chivalry, they represent more truly the con- tribution of the whole country ; a far less national prod- uct in another sense, since they deal largely with foreign material which makes no appeal to French patriotism. 102 ,<*';',,,,' MEDIEVAL STORY It hardly need be said that the most striking change introduced by Provence into the literature of the age concerns the position of woman. We have noted that in stories of the Heroic Age love is generally, though not always, treated as secondary in interest to warlike ad- venture. The power of love was not ignored in the earlier period, but it was frequently made the moti- vation for more absorbing tales of combat, rather than celebrated for its own sake. A queen is chosen from a foreign people, war arises between her native and her adopted country, and the tragic alternative is presented her of choosing between her husband and children, and her father and brothers. Or a bride is gained without the consent of her father, who pursues and fights the abductor, while the distracted maiden is again torn by the claims of love and duty. Such are the typical mo- tives of earlier story. Woman is a comrade if not an in- ferior, the object of animal passion or of manly love, but she is seldom sentimentalized over, and frequently quite forgotten. Heroes do not spend their time sighing for a lady ; they carry her off, or find another, if they think one necessary to their happiness. Chivalry tolerates nothing like this ; it raises woman to a new eminence, and makes her an altogether superior being, to be arti- ficially wooed and won ; and it replaces normal love by conventional and even immoral sexual relations. The chivalric hero weeps and wails, he loses his appetite, and sometimes his reason. Or he may pine in solitude, or perhaps quiet the throbbing of his wounded heart by impossible adventures in foreign lands. Frequently he takes to his bed, and refuses all comfort. The hero of Chaucer's ' Franklin's Tale ' is a flower of chivalry ; he THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 103 falls in love with a married woman (the fashionable thing to do) ; she repulses him, and then In langour and in torment furious Two yeer and more lay wrecche Aurelius, Er any foot he mighte on erthe goon. But for all such sickness there was always a cure, a single favoring glance from the bright eyes of the lady ! The distinctive contribution of Provence to the ro- mantic literature of the day is well illustrated by the charming story of Aucassin and Nicolete. It is hardly representative of a class, for no other tale told with the same peculiar blending of prose and verse has been pre- served from this period, whatever may once have existed, and in delicacy of conception and execution it is far above the medieval average. Nor is it in any way con- nected with King Arthur. It is almost too familiar to bear quotation, especially since Andrew Lang has made it familiar to many who cannot read it in the original; yet hardly anything else serves so perfectly as an illus- tration of the Provengal spirit, or bears repetition so well. It was probably written only some sixty or sev- enty years later than the ' Song of Roland ' in its pres- ent form, but a very few lines will show the striking changes in contemporary social ideals which it reflects. The description of the hero might stand well enough for one of Charlemagne's knights. Aucassin was the name of the damoiseau; fair was he, goodly, and great, and featly fashioned of his body and limbs. His hair was yellow, in little curls, his eyes blue and laughing, his face beautiful and shapely, his nose high and well-set, and so richly seen was he in all things good that in him was none evil at all. 104 MEDIEVAL STORY But the resemblance soon ends ; he loves a pagan maiden, captive among the Christians, and not at all as the heroes of the chansons de geste loved a sultan's daughter on occasion. But so suddenly was he overtaken of Love, who is a great master, that he would not, of his will, be dubbed a knight, nor take arms, nor follow tourneys, nor do whatsoever him beseemed. Therefore his father and mother said to him: " Son, go take thine arms, mount thy horse, and hold thy land, and keep thy men, for if they see thee among them more stoutly will they keep in battle their lives, and lands, and thine, and mine." " Father," said Aucassin, " I marvel that you will be speaking. Never may God give me aught of my desire if I be made knight, or mount my horse, or face stour and battle wherein knights smite and are smitten again, un- less thou give me Nicolete, my true love, that I love so well." Imagine Roland's answer if asked to choose between Paradise and the fair Aude, and then listen to Aucassin, when warned that a love like his will bar to him the en- trance to Heaven. "In Paradise what have I to win? Therein I seek not to enter, but only to have Nicolete, my sweet lady that I love so well." The story is exceptional for its unaffected delicacy and straightforwardness, but not for the prominence which it gives to the element of love. From the time of the Con- quest until the Renaissance and even later, this was the controlling interest of narrative poetry. The golden thread which guides one through the complicated mazes of many a romance is likely to be provided by some medieval Ariadne, waiting at the end of the skein for the return of her champion. Their love is often spon- taneous in feeling and genuine in expression ; the tales of Erec and Enid, and of Tristram and Iseult, are full of sincere and mutual devotion. Iseult is no less straight- THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 105 forward than Brunhild. The curious artificiality in matters of the heart which we have noted is particularly characteristic of the more developed chivalric system ; when lovers are more concerned with rules of conduct than with passion they naturally fail to act spontaneously. The singular idea that woman should be a passive idol, a mutely aloof creature playing with the tortured feelings of the hero, and finally yielding through pity rather than through passion, reaches its climax about a hun- dred years after 'Aucassin and Nicolete.' The 'Ro- mance of the Rose ' illustrates this well enough; the lady, the Rosebud in the garden of Mirth, has nothing to do throughout the thousands of lines in the poem, while the lover is assailed by all conceivable emotions, and reaches his goal at last only through long tribulation. Yet this tendency is foreshadowed even in the words with which Aucassin replies to the protestations of Nicolete. "Ah, fair sweet friend," said Aucassin, " it may not be that thou shouldst love me even as I love thee. Woman may not love man as man loves woman, for a woman's love lies in the glance of her eye, and the bud of her breast, and her foot's tip-toe, but the love of man is in his heart planted, whence it can never issue forth and pass away." The medieval knight had well-known duties towards woman in general as well as towards the bright particu- lar star whom he had chosen to servey' It was proper for him to be tormented by love in the abstract if no ap- propriate object had presented herself for his devotion, or to assist any lady who claimed his protection. The ideal hero was the champion of all distressed ladies in a world of oppression, and the court of Arthur was a 106 MEDIEVAL STORY refuge for all such damsels. Often, in the romances, some beautiful and unfortunate heroine interrupts the great king, while he and his knights are sitting at meat, by advancing boldly into the hall, attended by other ladies or by an ugly dwarf, and begging a boon of him. Or a hero, riding through a leafy forest, meets a lady whom he has never seen before, and at her request abandons his business, turns about to escort her on her way, kills a giant and leaves him in his blood, or over- comes a champion hostile to her. This comes close to our modern conception of the word "chivalry/ 1 with a little exaggeration. But the Middle Ages extended this to man's relations with his fellow-men, as well as with women. "Courtoisie" meant much more than " courtesy" does to us. Complete self-forgetfulness in the desire to be of assistance to others was as much a part of it as external fine manners. All knights under affliction, oppressed by those more powerful than them- selves, or laboring under magic spells, could look to the Round Table for redress. Gawain rather than Arthur was the most perfect example of knightly generosity. With him, indeed, it becomes a kind of desmesure, or heroic recklessness. He marries a loathly lady out of hand to help Arthur out of a tight place ; he cuts off the head of his host on request without the slightest hesitation, - not because he realizes that this will free his afflicted entertainer from a spell, but because the perfect guest ought to do as he is told. He pledges himself unhesi- tatingly to the most fantastic adventures when his aid has been invoked. Common-sense is the last thing to deter him. Such absurdities in the romances arise partly from THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 107 the peculiar character of the incidents typical of Celtic story. These imaginative elaborations, not the slight historical foundations, constitute the really important Celtic elements in the Arthurian legends. Celtic magic and mystery is of a peculiar sort, easier to distinguish from that of other countries by feeling than by defini- tion. In Germanic stories, when supernatural beings appear, the wind still blows stiffly off the rocky head- lands, and the keen sea-air strikes sharply in the face. Such beings are more gruesome because they are re- vealed in a world of everyday things. The roaring of Fafnir sounds from the sunlit forest, Hilde wakes the dead warriors in the chill clear northern night, and the Rhine daughters need no extraordinary conditions in order to appear bodily before Hagen and the Burgun- dians. The vivid description of the haunted pool in 'Beowulf' is exceptional; we may remember that there are those who think that Celtic elements have gone to the making of the tale. In the Arthurian stories, however, we have the sensation of moving in a world where natural phenomena are not only suspended, but not to be expected ; the whole has something of the un- reality of a dream. Merlin is only one magician in a world of enchanters and enchantment, and his illusions lose a little of their effect in the frequency of other- world mistresses, elfin knights, bespelled ladies, be- witched castles, and the like. Adventures have the inconsequence of dreams ; a hideous Turk changes to a knight when his head is cut off; a serpent kisses Li- beaus Desconus and becomes a beautiful woman ; water is cast from a fountain upon a magic stone, and a storm arises in the enchanted wood, the birds cease to sing, 108 MEDIEVAL STORY and a champion, armed to the teeth, plunges forward ready for battle. It is the logic of fairyland. Matthew Arnold, in seeking to discover the distin- guishing qualities of Celtic literature, quoted with approval Henri Martin's phrase, " sentimental, always ready to act against the despotism of fact." This would be an almost equally happy characterization of the Arthurian romances, with their lack of realism and abundance of fantasy, their glorification of woman and their insistence on the sensuous side of life. Arnold furthermore suggested, though cautiously, the connec- tion between the system of chivalry and the sentimental- ity of the Celtic temperament. "No doubt the sensi- bility of the Celtic nature, its nervous exaltation, have something feminine in them, and the Celt is thus pecul- iarly disposed to feel the spell of the feminine idiosyn- crasy ; he has an affinity to it ; he is not far from its secret. " Moreover, Arnold recognized that the exag- gerations of medieval romantic poetry are such as would naturally arise from characteristics like these. " There is, in truth, a Celtic air about the extravagance of chivalry, its reaction against the despotism of fact, its straining human nature further than it will stand." Yet while much of the absurdity as well as much of the charm of medieval romance arises from the influence which this people has exerted upon it, we may be sure that, apart from the supernatural, it reflects to a large degree the actual habits of thought of those among whom it reached its fullest development, that it is char- acteristic of the spirit of the aristocracy of Western Europe. We may see apt illustrations of this by com- paring the Grail romances with memoirs of the Cru- THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 109 saders, in both of which appear the same exaltation,. the same forgetfulness of fact in the demands of the ideal. Religion, to be sure, produces such exaltation in the highest degree, but religion and knightly behavior were so closely intertwined in the Middle Ages that separation of them is difficult. Chivalry was not only a rule of conduct for man in his relations with men and women, but equally so in his relations with God. It is not to be explained by any simple formula ; it was a complicated growth, in the making of which many elements had their share. Its exaggerations and extravagances are thoroughly characteristic of the medieval temper, which was never content with halfway measures. We see the reflection of such absurdities in the plots of Shak- spere's plays, the 'Merchant of Venice/ for example, in which Antonio's quixotic devotion to the interests of his friend is only paralleled by Portia's ludicrous method of selecting a husband. So Gawain, the model of courtesy, must sacrifice everything in order to satisfy the medi- eval ideal of the perfect gentleman. There is, after all, a pathetic nobility about the very extravagances of chivalry. They reveal a people de- termined to pursue, regardless of consequences, a course of action which they believe to be right. Incongruity never disturbs them. Sir Gawain's adventures with the Green Knight, one of the most beautiful of all the , Arthurian stories, are really no less absurd than much 1 that befalls Don Quixote, and many of the causes which 1 the average knight-errant espoused were really no more \ practical than tilting at windmills. But the under- lying motive redeemed the action, just as Cervantes 7 caricature of chivalry was so far altered by the ideal- 110 MEDIEVAL STORY ism of the hero that Don Quixote has stood for succeed- ing ages not alone as an embodiment of the grotesque features of knighthood, but of its tenderness and its devotion and its enthusiasm. We smile at Dulcinea del Toboso, but not at the spirit which makes fidelity to her a reason for championing the cause of all distressed I ladies. The medieval love-conventions, artificial as / they were, brought a new respect for women and a new / gentleness into the heroic ideal. If chivalry did tend to become oversubtle and extravagant, it exercised a re- fining influence upon character which was sorely needed, and marked a great advance over the lack of the softer emotions in a Beowulf or a Roland. It was impossible, too, that a system of conduct, guided and controlled by Christianity, which proclaims the brotherhood of man, and commands consideration for the poor and unfortunate, should not have had its effect upon the relations between the upper and the lower classes of society. St. Louis, denying magnifi- cence to his household in order to give to the poor, was no isolated figure. His sacrifices may be explained as piety rather than as the generosity which springs from a larger social consciousness, perhaps, but similar tend- encies manifest themselves in the life and literature of the time quite apart from religious motives. We have seen how little religion means to Aucassin, who prefers human love to the salvation of his soul, yet he gives money to help a poor and repulsive peasant whom he meets in the forest. The man has met with sore mis- fortune : "I was hireling to a rich villein, and drove his plough ; four oxen had he. But three days since came on me a great misfortune, THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES 111 whereby I lost the best of mine oxen, Roger, the best of my team. Him go I seeking, and have neither eaten nor drunken these three days, nor may I go to the town, lest they cast me into prison, seeing that I have not wherewithal to pay. Out of all the wealth of the world have I no more than ye see on my body. A poor mother bare me, that had no more but one wretched bed ; this have they taken from under her, and she lies in the very straw." Aucassin gives him enough to replace the lost ox, and sends him on his way with new hope in his heart. The consideration sometimes shown by the knights of Arthur to their inferiors is illustrated by an episode in the 'Morte Darthur' of Malory, which relates how Per- ceval, being in sore need of a horse, meets a yeoman in the forest, riding upon a hackney, and leading by the bridle a magnificent steed. Perceval begs of him the loan of the horse, but the yeoman refuses, realizing, how- ever, that he is powerless to resist if the knight chooses to use force. " Sir," said the yeoman, " I am right heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you well, but I dare not deliver you this horse, but if ye would take him from me." " That will I not do," said Sir Per ce vale. And so they departed, and Sir Per ce vale sat him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of measure. Mark Twain's description of the later Middle Ages, then, is only partly true, because he neglected the finer issues, and emphasized the more brutal features. He relieved the gloom of his picture by glimpses of brilliant pageantry, but he forgot that the truer contrast would have been the ideality of the times, and that in deli- cacy of feeling, in reverence for women, in courtesy to friend and foe, the Arthurian story foreshadowed much that is gentlest and best in modern civilization. Its sentiment sometimes became sentimentality, but the 112 MEDIEVAL STORY rudeness of the age required an excess of romance, just as the age of Richardson, tired of the classical insistence on the superiority of the head over the heart, welcomed the lachrymosities of Clarissa Harlowe. It is a pity to make King Arthur, the incarnation of the ideals of chivalry, responsible for the worst features of medieval society. Tennyson utilized the love of Tristram and Iseult to point a mid- Victorian moral, warping the plot and lowering the tone of the story to suit his purpose. It was a blunder; medieval romance ought not to be butchered to make a modern holiday. Tennyson was, on the whole, just to King Arthur, however ; he repre- sented him, as modern poets generally have done, as a champion of the forces of righteousness. This is the true Arthurian tradition, and has been for many centuries since the Celts first longed for the great hero's return from Avalon. It is, indeed, familiar enough to us to- day. A recent bit of magazine verse, pleading for social reform in America, voices the ideals which he symbolizes as triumphantly as do the romances of the Middle Ages. King Arthur's men have come again. They challenge everywhere The foes of Christ's Eternal Church. Her incense crowns the air. The heathen knighthood cower and curse To hear the bugles ring, But spears are set, the charge is on, Wise Arthur shall be king ! THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL " Comrades in arms ! Mates of the Table Round ! Fair Sirs, my fellows in the bannered ring, Ours is a lofty tryst ! this day we meet, Not under shield, with scarf and knightly gage, To quench our thirst of love in ladies' eyes : We shall not mount to-day that goodly throne, The conscious steed, with thunder in his loins, To launch along the field the arrowy spear : Nay, but a holier theme, a mightier Quest 'Ho ! for the Sangraal, vanished Vase of God ! ' " - HAWKER, ' Quest of the Sangraal.' V THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL ONE of the most interesting religious movements of the nineteenth century was the foundation and develop- ment of the Salvation Army. From small beginnings, from a mere handful of followers, it has become, at the present day, one of the chief influences for good in our great cities. There is scarcely a place of importance in the United States or in the British Empire where its music may not sometimes be heard in the streets at night, and where its exhortations to forsake sin and fol- low after righteousness are not helping hundreds who might otherwise feel themselves outcasts from the Kingdom of God. Every year the ranks of the Army are swelled with enthusiastic recruits. Substantial support has come to its work not only from the poor and unfortunate, but also from those who have the ad- vantages of wealth and prosperity. If we think of it as one great organization, like the Roman Catholic Church or the Protestant Episcopal communion, we may safely reckon it as one of the most important re- ligious bodies of modern times. What has been the secret of its success? First, no doubt, the practical character of its teaching and of its religious activity. The sinner is brought face to face with thp fundamental truths which all Christians 115 116 MEDIEVAL STORY accept, but he is questioned little about theological details. He is given the right hand of fellowship, but he is bothered little with creeds. Moreover, he is helped in immediate and practical ways. If he is hun- gry, he is fed ; if he is naked, he is clothed ; if he is cold and homeless, he gets a warm place to sleep. The lead- ers of the movement were quick to recognize that you cannot save the soul of a man in physical distress. But there is yet another element which has done much to insure the success of the Salvation Army, the imaginative appeal of its militant conception of Chris- tianity. It is a body of soldiers, fighting the battles of Christ and His Church. This spirit of comradeship, of common interest in a cause which all have at heart, is expressed in the outward and visible form of military organization. Music and marching and ordered ranks and discipline appeal to the understanding of the sim- plest, and to the emotions of the most callous and the most degraded. Who can hear a military band pass by, with its stirring music of brass and cymbals, and the sharp rattle of its drums, without feeling a quickening of the pulse ? Add to this the emotion of religious ex- altation, and you have one great secret of the success of the Salvation Army. It is the incarnation, in practical form, of the spirit of the familiar hymn : The Son of God goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain, His blood-red banner streams afar Who follows in His train ? By keeping the Salvation Army in mind we can under- stand something of the tremendous appeal of the great religious upheavals of the Middle Ages known as the THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL 117 Crusades. Beginning in the eleventh century, many mighty armies were gathered together to fight the battles of Christ ; and enthusiasm to join these armies and to take a personal part in these battles swept like wildfire over Europe. The contest was partly sym- bolical and spiritual, as in modern times, but it was also a very real struggle with deadly weapons against a valiant foe ; and it had a definite concrete object. The holy city of Jerusalem was in the hands of infidels, who exalted the Crescent and trampled upon the Cross. Shocking stories doubtless often exaggerated of the ill-treatment of pilgrims and of the profanation of holy places in the East added fuel to the flames of re- sentment. The duty of pious Christians was felt to be to deliver the sacred city from its heathen masters. To a people whose chief interest was war, and before whom the fear of death and of the pains of hell was constantly present, what could be more alluring than a contest the mere participation in which would insure forgiveness of sin and the prospect of salvation ? The pomp and ceremony of armed expeditions, the waving banners, the glittering armor, the serried ranks of en- thusiastic volunteers, must have made a profound appeal, particularly when the banner of the Cross was unfurled, and men felt that minor quarrels were to be forgotten in the defense of the Kingdom of God upon earth. All ranks of society allied themselves with the Crusading armies. It was no aristocrat's pilgrimage merely ; the poor and humble had their share. Even the children caught the general enthusiasm, and in a pathetically ineffective imitation of the expeditions of their elders, actually started for the beleaguered city 118 MEDIEVAL STORY of the East. Landed possessions were forsaken, for- tunes of private individuals were poured into the gen- eral treasury, the ties of home and family were broken. One old Crusader, Jean de Joinville, says of his depar- ture from his home, "And never would I turn my eyes towards Joinville for fear my heart should melt within me at thought of the fair castle I was leaving behind, and my two children/ 7 If anything were needed to exhibit the lofty idealism of the Middle Ages, the Cru- sades, although sometimes smirched with baser motives, would furnish it. As Bishop Stubbs says, "They were the first great effort of medieval life to go beyond the pursuit of selfish and isolated ambitions; they were the trial-feat of the young world, essaying to use, to the glory of God and the benefit of mankind, the arms of its new knighthood/' The story of these expeditions, which set out with such high hopes and such pomp and pageantry, is pitiful, a tale of the ravages of disease, of slaughter and famine, of treachery and cruelty, and of complete failure in the great object at which they aimed. Into the details of this story it is not necessary that we should go. The city of Jerusalem was indeed captured by the Christians, some thirty years after William of Normandy came to the English shores, and a wise and noble man, Godfrey of Bouillon, was placed on the throne of the newly created kingdom of Jerusalem. But it was a tottering king- dom, at best, and less than a century later the holy city fell into the hands of the Saracens. The later expedi- tions to regain it never achieved the measure of success which the earlier one had attained ; ambitions for con- quest, for worldly dominion, and the petty rivalries of THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL 119 those who should have stood shoulder to shoulder darken the glory of the later Crusades. Moreover, they cost a fearful price in blood and suffering. But unsuccessful, fantastic, and unpractical as the whole movement was, there was nevertheless something very fine even in its Quixotic idealism, in the willingness of men to expose themselves, for the sake of a great religious ideal, to every hazard of fortune which life can hold. A prominent part in the Crusades, almost from the beginning, was taken by the Knights Templars, the great military and religious order founded for the de- fense of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, during the occupation of the city by the Christian kings. Its mem- bers were bound by strict vows of poverty and chastity, and subjected to religious observances almost monastic in character. Their chief duty was to strike down the enemies of the Church, never paying ransom nor asking for mercy. Valiant fighters they were, riding with fanatical courage into the ranks of the Saracens, risk- ing everything in a cause which they knew to be holy. Their attack on Ascalon was characteristic ; they forced their way into the heart of the city, with their foes on every hand, fighting desperately, until they were finally overcome by superior numbers, and slain in cold blood. Their courage was equaled by their simplicity, at least in the earlier years of the order. They shunned elaborate ornamentation on their horses and armor, and were distinguished by their mantles of pure white, typical of the stainlessness of their lives. Upon these white mantles they later placed a red cross, in token of the holy cause which they had espoused. By these insignia they are best known, and the Red Cross 120 MEDIEVAL STORY has ever since stood as a symbol of chivalrous devotion to the cause of Christianity. It is to-day the badge of the great society which aims to relieve the sufferings of the sick and wounded, but its true significance is not always realized. Remembering the noble aims and the self-sacrifice of the order of Knights Templars in its earlier career, we may look with sympathy on its misfortunes in the later evil days, when men grew en- vious of its wealth and power, and crushed it with calumniations. We prefer to think of its members as St. Bernard described them: "All their trust is in the Lord of Hosts, and in fighting for His cause they seek a sure victory, or a Christian and an honorable death. 7 ' The devotion of the military life to the service of God, exemplified in the Crusades and in the activities of such organizations as the Templars, is expressed in imaginativ form in the legends of the Holy Grail. The noblest aspirations of medieval chivalry are here set forth symbolically. The story is not an offshoot of the Crusades; its sources lie elsewhere,, but -it is an- other manifestation of the same idealism which made the Crusades possible. It is. vital partly because it was ja, reflectiojL-of-the age. In spite of great variation of incident, it is, in general, marked by an elevation of tone and a reverence of feeling which the romances too ^^_^_^,^^aa^M^^^_ ____^^^*^**,~~mJ5uL^*f^ often lack. Knightly prowess is here inspired by other motives than the smiles of a lady; and the ambition of the warrior to kill as many of his fellow-beings as possible is tempered by the demands of religion and humanity. Much that is fantastic makes its appear- ance in these stories ; the characters often act in pro- vokingly irrational ways, as if they had taken leave of THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL 121 their common-sense. Knight-errantry here appears, at times, more absurd than ever. But this, too, was characteristic of the age; the enthusiasts who took the Cross generally had no clear idea of their precise plan of action; there was too little hard-headed business- like preparation about their expeditions. They were led on by a mighty impulse, and they left the practical side of their affairs to the guidance of chance, or, as they would have expressed it, to the will of God. They did not believe that the Lord would most help those who help themselves, as Beowulf did; they believed that He would give strength to the Right, whether the Right had kept its powder dry or not. Hence much of the sickness and suffering, the famine and wandering, and in fact the ultimate failure of the Crusades. War cannot afford to be unbusinesslike, and the slaughter of thousands of Christians by Mos- lem swords must ultimately have convinced even the most dreamy enthusiast that God will not always give the victory to His chosen people. But if poets often conceived their allegories no more clearly than warriors did their plans of campaign, and if the result, in literature in life, was a certain vagueness and ineffective- ness, the fault is not so serious in poetry. The effect of a \ highly imaginative story may be heightened by mystic J unreality. And a poet of romance can slay a thousand^ heathen by the prowess of a single hero, denying the pagans the consolation of any success whatsoever. We/ are not to look, then, in the legends of the Holy Grail for the more realistic side of chivalry, but rather for its more fantastic manifestations. But we are to remem- ber that this very fantasy, which was in part a heritage 122 MEDIEVAL STORY from the Celtic treasure-house of magic and mystery, was also the expression of exaltation of feeling, of high striving for a noble ideal, which manifested itself in the Crusades. What, then, is the story of the Holy Grail? The question is difficult to answer. Like other great mgdie^l themes, it varies much in the hands of different story-tellers, both in details and in general conception. There is the usual wealth of episodes, following one an- other in bewildering succession. And these episodes are rearranged, in the different romances, with kalei- doscopic variety. Even among the principal incidents there is little consistency, there is no one story which can be called the legend of the Holy Grail. As time C' went on, one version was displaced by another, one hero \ was thrust aside to make way for a rival, the whole tone | and import of the narrative changed. These alterations are interesting because they reflect corresponding changes in the ideal of the spiritual warrior, and they must be carefully considered. First, however, it is best to take one version as a point of departure, to observe the characteristics of one masterly telling of the tale in its earlier form, which may then be contrasted with another version reflecting the spirit of a later age. The finest single conception of the story is that by the German poet, Wolfram von Eschenbach, one of the greatest of all medieval writers, who flourished about the time when Arthurian romance in Western Europe was at its high-water mark. It is also "on the whole the most coherent and complete version of the hero's career which we possess," and according to Alfred Nutt, one of the scholars who has best explained the growth THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL 123 of the legend, "the most interesting individual work of modern European literature prior to the ' Divina Corn- media/^ There can hardly be a better choice for our purposes than this. Let us, then, in the beginning, follow the exploits of Parzif al, or Percival, as we may callTimTTor convenience in English, passing over de- tails almost completely, and looking only at the more striking scenes; in" order that the main outlines of the story as a whole may not be obscured. Percival is brought up as a child by his mother in the depths of the forest, whither she has fled after his father's death. By secluding him from the world, and telling him nothing of the customs of knighthood, she hopes to keep him from the dangers which would other- wise beset him in his manhood. But one day he meets . by chance a band of knights, clad in glittering armor, whom he takes for gods, so magnificent is their ap- pearance. They tell him, if he would be a knight, to seek out the court of King Arthur, and enter his noble company. Reluctantly his mother lets him go, fore- seeing that she will lose him forever. As he disappears in the distance, she falls dead, her heart broken at the loss of her son. But Percival rides on, until he comes to the court of King Arthur, where he is kindly received, in spite of the uncouthness of his appearance. His first exploit is the slaying of a mighty champion known as the Red Knight. Later he receives instruction in chivalric courtesy from a wise and friendly knight named Gurnemanz. He is cautioned to ask no questions, to restrain his curiosity. The true knight, he is told, should not be inquisitive. After various exploits, he weds Queen Conduiramur, 124 MEDIEVAL STORY but ere long he feels a desire to return to his mother, of whose death he knows nothing, and so he leaves his bride. As he rides forth, he comes to a lake, in the waters of which a richly dressed man is fishing. Perci- val begs of him a lodging for the night, and the fisher- man invites him to be his guest. Arrived at the castle, the youth is hospitably received, and everything pos- sible is done to make him comfortable. In the evening he is shown into a magnificent hall, lighted with many candles, and filled with a noble assemblage of knights. But the Fisher King, the lord of the castle, whom Percival had earlier seen on the lake, lies on a couch, suffering sorely from a grievous wound. He is wrapped in furs, and shivers before a great fire. Suddenly a wonderful thing happens ; a squire comes into the hall I carrying a lance, from the point of which there continu- l ally flow drops of blood. As he passes through the company, all break out in loud lamentations. After he has retired, a procession of damsels enters, one of whom bears aloft on a cushion the Holy Grail, a glit- tering stone, by means of which the whole company are miraculously fed. The Fisher King presents Percival with a costly sword. The youth desires to ask the meaning of the things that he has seen, but he remembers the instructions of his master, Gurnemanz, and is silent. On the following morning, when he awakes from a troubled sleep in the magnificent chamber which has been assigned to him, he is surprised to find the castle deserted. So he mounts his steed and rides away. As he leaves, the drawbridge is sharply closed behind him, and a voice reviles him for having failed to ask about the wonders which he saw in the castle. A little THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL 125 farther on he meets a lady who tells him that he has been in the castle of the Grail, and curses him for a false knight because he has not asked about the trouble of his host, and the mystery of the Grail and the Bleed- ing Lance. After various adventures, Percival comes again to the court of King Arthur, where he is received with all honor. But suddenly the hideous woman Kondrie,'; the messenger of the Grail, bursts into the hall, andt shames Percival before them all, since he had asked no ! questions in the enchanted castle of Montsalvatch. But weeping she gazed about her, and she cried as the tear-drops fell, " Ah, woe unto thee ! Montsalvatch, thou dwelling and goal of grief, Since no man hath pity on thee, or bringeth thy woe relief." For five years Percival seeks for the Castle of the Grail, his soul full of revolt and despair. On Good Friday he is rebuked by a pious knight for riding under armor on the day of Christ's death, and sent to a her- mit for confession. He tells the holy man that he is in great trouble because he is parted from his wife, and because he has failed to ask the question in the castle. The hermit replies that they only find the Grail whom God directs thither. He tells Percival more about the Grail itself, that it is a wonderful stone, upon which, every Good Friday, a dove descending from Heaven lays the consecrated Host. It is guarded by a body of chosen knights, who must be of spotless purity of life. Their King, the Fisher, had given himself up to carnal love, and been wounded in consequence by a poisoned spear. It has been his fate to suffer agony until a hero comes to his castle, and asks 126 MEDIEVAL STORY about his trouble. After receiving absolution, Percival returns to Arthur's court once more. The messenger Kondrie comes to him a second time, telling him that he is to be the new Keeper of the Grail. He goes to the castle, asks the question, heals the Fisher King, and becomes guardian of the Grail. He is restored to his wife, and his son is Lohengrin, Knight of the Swan. I All this is truly as irrational and fantastic as a fairy- 1 tale. This Fisher King, suffering from a wouijd which can be healed only by the asking of a question, this spear continually dripping blood, this stone which feeds a whole company of people, this strange castle, filled at night with feasting and revelry, with brave knights and busy servants, and in the morning silent and de- serted save for a spectral voice ringing out over the battlements, all these things are the stuff that dreams are made of. They accord ill with such a religious feature as the descent of the dove, the symbol of the Holy Ghost; and the sanctity of the consecrated Host i seems hardly in keeping with the practical working of Wi automatic food-provider, such as the Grail seems to be. How strange, too, is the verdict of the tale on