TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE (_Continued_)
AFTER this affair Tristram was banished from the kingdom, and Isoude
shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river. Tristram could
not resolve to depart without some further communication with his
beloved; so he concealed himself in the forest, till at last he
contrived to attract her attention, by means of twigs which he curiously
peeled, and sent down the stream under her window. By this means many
secret interviews were obtained. Tristram dwelt in the forest,
sustaining himself by game, which the dog Houdain ran down for him; for
this faithful animal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his
master’s wish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he
never barked. At length Tristram departed, but left Houdain with Isoude,
as a remembrancer of him.
Sir Tristram wandered through various countries, achieving the most
perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yet unhappy at
the separation from his beloved Isoude. At length King Mark’s territory
was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he was forced to summon his
nephew to his aid. Tristram obeyed the call, put himself at the head of
his uncle’s vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. Mark was
full of gratitude, and Tristram, restored to favor and to the society of
his beloved Isoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. But a sad reverse
was at hand.
Tristram had brought with him a friend named Pheredin, son of the king
of Brittany. This young knight saw Queen Isoude, and could not resist
her charms. Knowing the love of his friend for the queen, and that that
love was returned, Pheredin concealed his own, until his health failed,
and he feared he was drawing near his end. He then wrote to the
beautiful queen that he was dying for love of her.
The gentle Isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of Tristram,
returned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restored him to
life. A few days afterwards Tristram found this letter. The most
terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would have slain
Pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. Then Tristram mounted his
horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days he took no rest nor
food. At length he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the brink
of a fountain. She recognized him, and tried in vain to rouse his
attention. At last recollecting his love for music she went and got her
harp, and played thereon. Tristram was roused from his reverie; tears
flowed; he breathed more freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and
sung this lay, with a voice broken with sobs:
“Sweet I sang in former days,
Kind love perfected my lays:
Now my art alone displays
The woe that on my being preys.
“Charming love, delicious power,
Worshipped from my earliest hour,
Thou who life on all dost shower,
Love! my life thou dost devour.
“In death’s hour I beg of thee,
Isoude, dearest enemy,
Thou who erst couldst kinder be,
When I’m gone, forget not me.
“On my gravestone passers-by
Oft will read, as low I lie,
‘Never wight in love could vie
With Tristram, yet she let him die.’”
Tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to the
damsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen.
Meanwhile Queen Isoude was inconsolable at the absence of Tristram. She
discovered that it was caused by the fatal letter which she had written
to Pheredin. Innocent, but in despair at the sad effects of her letter,
she wrote another to Pheredin, charging him never to see her again. The
unhappy lover obeyed this cruel decree. He plunged into the forest, and
died of grief and love in a hermit’s cell.
Isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fate of
Tristram. One day her jealous husband, having entered her chamber
unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay:
“My voice to piteous wail is bent,
My harp to notes of languishment;
Ah, love! delightsome days be meant
For happier wights, with hearts content.
“Ah, Tristram! far away from me,
Art thou from restless anguish free?
Ah! couldst thou so one moment be,
From her who so much loveth thee?”
The king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but Isoude was too
wretched to fear his violence. “You have heard me,” she said; “I confess
it all. I love Tristram, and always shall love him. Without doubt he is
dead, and died for me. I no longer wish to live. The blow that shall
finish my misery will be most welcome.”
The king was moved at the distress of the fair Isoude, and perhaps the
idea of Tristram’s death tended to allay his wrath. He left the queen in
charge of her women, commanding them to take especial care lest her
despair should lead her to do harm to herself.
Tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most important
service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robber named Taullas, who
was in the habit of plundering their flocks and rifling their cottages.
The shepherds, in their gratitude to Tristram, bore him in triumph to
King Mark to have him bestow on him a suitable reward. No wonder Mark
failed to recognize in the half-clad, wild man, before him his nephew
Tristram; but grateful for the service the unknown had rendered he
ordered him to be well taken care of, and gave him in charge to the
queen and her women. Under such care Tristram rapidly recovered his
serenity and his health, so that the romancer tells us he became
handsomer than ever. King Mark’s jealousy revived with Tristram’s health
and good looks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately
increased, he again banished him from the court.
Sir Tristram left Cornwall, and proceeded into the land of Loegria
(England) in quest of adventures. One day he entered a wide forest. The
sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitant was near. He
followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed him that he was in
the forest of Arnantes, belonging to the fairy Viviane, the Lady of the
Lake, who, smitten with love for King Arthur, had found means to entice
him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him a prisoner,
having deprived him of all memory of who and what he was. The hermit
informed him that all the knights of the Round Table were out in search
of the king, and that he (Tristram) was now in the scene of the most
grand and important adventures.
This was enough to animate Tristram in the search. He had not wandered
far before he encountered a knight of Arthur’s court, who proved to be
Sir Kay the Seneschal, who demanded of him whence he came. Tristram
answering, “From Cornwall,” Sir Kay did not let slip the opportunity of
a joke at the expense of the Cornish knight. Tristram chose to leave him
in his error, and even confirmed him in it; for meeting some other
knights Tristram declined to just with them. They spent the night
together at an abbey, where Tristram submitted patiently to all their
jokes. The Seneschal gave the word to his companions that they should
set out early next day, and intercept the Cornish knight on his way, and
enjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insist on
running a tilt with him. Tristram next morning found himself alone; he
put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. He soon saw before
him the Seneschal and the three knights, who barred the way, and
insisted on a just. Tristram excused himself a long time; at last he
reluctantly took his stand. He encountered them, one after the other,
and overthrew them all four, man and horse, and then rode off, bidding
them not to forget their friend, the knight of Cornwall.
Tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out, “Ah, my
lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!” Tristram flew to
her assistance, and soon reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom
three others had borne to the ground, and were unlacing his helmet in
order to cut off his head.
Tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lance one
of the assailants. The knight, recovering his feet, sacrificed another
to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. The rescued knight then
raised the visor of his helmet, and a long white beard fell down upon
his breast. The majesty and venerable air of this knight made Tristram
suspect that it was none other than Arthur himself, and the prince
confirmed his conjecture. Tristram would have knelt before him, but
Arthur received him in his arms, and inquired his name and country; but
Tristram declined to disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a
quest requiring secrecy. At this moment the damsel who had brought
Tristram to the rescue darted forward, and, seizing the king’s hand,
drew from his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act
dissolved the enchantment. Arthur, having recovered his reason and his
memory, offered to Tristram to attach him to his court, and to confer
honors and dignities upon him; but Tristram declined all, and only
consented to accompany him till he should see him safe in the hands of
his knights. Soon after, Hector de Marys rode up, and saluted the king,
who on his part introduced him to Tristram as one of the bravest of his
knights. Tristram took leave of the king and his faithful follower, and
continued his quest.
We cannot follow Tristram through all the adventures which filled this
epoch of his history. Suffice it to say, he fulfilled on all occasions
the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs,
abolishing evil customs, and suppressing injustice, thus by constant
action endeavoring to lighten the pains of absence from her he loved. In
the meantime Isoude, separated from her dear Tristram, passed her days
in languor and regret. At length she could no longer resist the desire
to hear some news of her lover. She wrote a letter, and sent it by one
of her damsels, niece of her faithful Brengwain. One day Tristram, weary
with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down by the side of
a fountain and fallen asleep. The damsel of Queen Isoude arrived at the
same fountain, and recognized Passebreul, the horse of Tristram, and
presently perceived his master asleep. He was thin and pale, showing
evident marks of the pain he suffered in separation from his beloved.
She awakened him, and gave him the letter which she bore, and Tristram
enjoyed the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking
about the object of his affections. He prayed the damsel to postpone her
return till after the magnificent tournament which Arthur had proclaimed
should have taken place, and conducted her to the castle of Persides, a
brave and loyal knight, who received her with great consideration.
Tristram conducted the damsel of Queen Isoude to the tournament, and had
her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen.
“He glanced and saw the stately galleries,
Dame, damsel, each through worship of their Queen
White-robed in honor of the stainless child,
And some with scatter’d jewels, like a bank
Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.
He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.”
—_The Last Tournament._
He then joined the tourney. Nothing could exceed his strength and valor.
Launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentiment declined to dispute
the honor of the day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. Arthur
descended from the balcony to greet the conqueror; but the modest and
devoted Tristram, content with having borne off the prize in the sight
of the messenger of Isoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared.
The next day the tourney recommenced. Tristram assumed different armor,
that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by the terrible
blows that he gave. Arthur and Guenever had no doubt that it was the
same knight who had borne off the prize of the day before. Arthur’s
gallant spirit was roused. After Launcelot of the Lake and Sir Gawain he
was accounted the best knight of the Round Table. He went privately and
armed himself, and came into the tourney in undistinguished armor. He
ran a just with Tristram, whom he shook in his seat; but Tristram, who
did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. Arthur recovered himself,
and content with having made proof of the stranger knight bade Launcelot
finish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the Round Table. Sir
Launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed Tristram, whose lance
was already broken in former encounters. But the law of this sort of
combat was that the knight after having broken his lance must fight with
his sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield the lance of his
antagonist. Tristram met Launcelot’s charge upon his shield, which that
terrible lance could not fail to pierce. It inflicted a wound upon
Tristram’s side, and, breaking, left the iron in the wound. But Tristram
also with his sword smote so vigorously on Launcelot’s casque that he
cleft it, and wounded his head. The wound was not deep, but the blood
flowed into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and Tristram, who
thought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field. Launcelot
declared to the king that he had never received such a blow in his life
before.
Tristram hastened to Gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth the iron,
bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. Tristram after the
tournament kept retired in his tent, but Arthur, with the consent of all
the knights of the Round Table, decreed him the honors of the second
day. But it was no longer a secret that the victor of the two days was
the same individual, and Gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the
suspicions of Launcelot and Arthur that it was no other than Sir
Tristram of Leonais, the nephew of the king of Cornwall.
King Arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, and knew
that his Uncle Mark had ungratefully banished him, would have eagerly
availed himself of the opportunity to attach Tristram to his court,—all
the knights of the Round Table declaring with acclamation that it would
be impossible to find a more worthy companion. But Tristram had already
departed in search of adventures, and the damsel of Queen Isoude
returned to her mistress.
[Illustration: SIR GALAHAD.
From painting by George Frederick Watts.]
[Illustration: KING ARTHUR AND QUEEN GUENEVER.
Original drawing by A. Fredericks.]