THE SANGREAL, OR HOLY GRAAL
THE Sangreal was the cup from which our Saviour drank at his last
supper. He was supposed to have given it to Joseph of Arimathea, who
carried it to Europe, together with the spear with which the soldier
pierced the Saviour’s side. From generation to generation, one of the
descendants of Joseph of Arimathea had been devoted to the guardianship
of these precious relics; but on the sole condition of leading a life of
purity in thought, word, and deed. For a long time the Sangreal was
visible to all pilgrims, and its presence conferred blessings upon the
land in which it was preserved. But at length one of those holy men to
whom its guardianship had descended so far forgot the obligation of his
sacred office as to look with unhallowed eye upon a young female pilgrim
whose robe was accidentally loosened as she knelt before him. The sacred
lance instantly punished his frailty, spontaneously falling upon him,
and inflicting a deep wound. The marvellous wound could by no means be
healed, and the guardian of the Sangreal was ever after called “Le Roi
Pescheur,”—The Sinner King. The Sangreal withdrew its visible presence
from the crowds who came to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the
happiness which its presence had diffused among the tribes of Britain.
“But then the times
Grew to such evil that the Holy cup
Was caught away to heaven and disappear’d.”
—_The Holy Grail._
We have told in the history of Merlin how that great prophet and
enchanter sent a message to King Arthur by Sir Gawain, directing him to
undertake the recovery of the Sangreal, informing him at the same time
that the knight who should accomplish that sacred quest was already
born, and of a suitable age to enter upon it. Sir Gawain delivered his
message, and the king was anxiously revolving in his mind how best to
achieve the enterprise, when, at the vigil of Pentecost, all the
fellowship of the Round Table being met together at Camelot, as they sat
at meat, suddenly there was heard a clap of thunder, and then a bright
light burst forth, and every knight, as he looked on his fellow, saw
him, in seeming, fairer than ever before. All the hall was filled with
sweet odors, and every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved.
Then there entered into the hall the Holy Graal, covered with white
samite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hall
suddenly, and disappeared. During this time no one spoke a word, but
when they had recovered breath to speak King Arthur said, “Certainly we
ought greatly to thank the Lord for what he hath showed us this day.”
Then Sir Gawain rose up, and made a vow that for twelve months and a day
he would seek the Sangreal, and not return till he had seen it, if so he
might speed. When they of the Round Table heard Sir Gawain say so, they
arose, the most part of them, and vowed the same. When King Arthur heard
this, he was greatly displeased, for he knew well that they might not
gainsay their vows. “Alas!” said he to Sir Gawain, “you have nigh slain
me with the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have bereft me of
the fairest fellowship that ever were seen together in any realm of the
world; for when they shall depart hence, I am sure that all shall never
meet more in this world.”
SIR GALAHAD
At that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with him he
brought a young knight, and these words he said: “Peace be with you,
fair lords.” Then the old man said unto King Arthur, “Sir, I bring you
here a young knight that is of kings’ lineage, and of the kindred of
Joseph of Arimathea, being the son of Dame Elaine, the daughter of King
Pelles, king of the foreign country.” Now the name of the young knight
was Sir Galahad, and he was the son of Sir Launcelot du Lac; but he had
dwelt with his mother, at the court of King Pelles, his grandfather,
till now he was old enough to bear arms, and his mother had sent him in
the charge of a holy hermit to King Arthur’s court. Then Sir Launcelot
beheld his son, and had great joy of him. And Sir Bohort told his
fellows, “Upon my life, this young knight shall come to great worship.”
The noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the queen. And
she said, “I would fain see him, for he must needs be a noble knight,
for so is his father.” And the queen and her ladies all said that he
resembled much unto his father; and he was seemly and demure as a dove,
with all manner of good features, that in the whole world men might not
find his match. And King Arthur said, “God make him a good man, for
beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth.”
Then the hermit led the young knight to the Siege Perilous; and he
lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, “This is the
seat of Sir Galahad, the good knight;” and he made him sit in that seat.
And all the knights of the Round Table marvelled greatly at Sir Galahad,
seeing him sit securely in that seat, and said, “This is he by whom the
Sangreal shall be achieved, for there never sat one before in that seat
without being mischieved.”
On the next day the king said, “Now, at this quest of the Sangreal shall
all ye of the Round Table depart, and never shall I see you again
altogether; therefore I will that ye all repair to the meadow of
Camelot, for to just and tourney yet once more before ye depart.” But
all the meaning of the king was to see Sir Galahad proved. So then were
they all assembled in the meadow. Then Sir Galahad, by request of the
king and queen, put on his harness and his helm, but shield would he
take none for any prayer of the king. And the queen was in a tower, with
all her ladies, to behold that tournament. Then Sir Galahad rode into
the midst of the meadow; and there he began to break spears
marvellously, so that all men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all
knights that encountered with him, except two, Sir Launcelot and Sir
Perceval.
“So many knights, that all the people cried,
And almost burst the barriers in their heat,
Shouting ‘Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval!’”
—_Sir Galahad._
Then the king, at the queen’s request, made him to alight, and presented
him to the queen; and she said, “Never two men resembled one another
more than he and Sir Launcelot, and therefore it is no marvel that he is
like him in prowess.”
Then the king and the queen went to the minster, and the knights
followed them. And after the service was done they put on their helms
and departed, and there was great sorrow. They rode through the streets
of Camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and poor; and the king
turned away, and might not speak for weeping. And so they departed, and
every knight took the way that him best liked.
Sir Galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, and found no
adventure. And on the fourth day he came to a white abbey; and there he
was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber. He met there
two knights, King Bagdemagus and Sir Uwaine, and they made of him great
solace. “Sirs,” said Sir Galahad, “what adventure brought you hither?”
“Sir,” said they, “it is told us that within this place is a shield,
which no man may bear unless he be worthy; and if one unworthy should
attempt to bear it, it shall surely do him a mischief.” Then King
Bagdemagus said, “I fear not to bear it, and that shall ye see
to-morrow.”
So on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then King Bagdemagus asked
where the adventurous shield was. Anon a monk led him behind an altar,
where the shield hung, as white as snow; but in the midst there was a
red cross. Then King Bagdemagus took the shield, and bare it out of the
minster; and he said to Sir Galahad, “If it please you, abide here till
ye know how I shall speed.”
Then King Bagdemagus and his squire rode forth; and when they had ridden
a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come towards them, in white
armor, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horse might run, with
his spear in the rest; and King Bagdemagus directed his spear against
him, and broke it upon the white knight, but the other struck him so
hard that he broke the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder,
for the shield covered him not, and so he bare him from his horse. Then
the white knight turned his horse and rode away.
Then the squire went to King Bagdemagus, and asked him whether he were
sore wounded or not. “I am sore wounded,” said he, “and full hardly
shall I escape death.” Then the squire set him on his horse, and brought
him to an abbey; and there he was taken down softly, and unarmed, and
laid in a bed, and his wound was looked to, for he lay there long, and
hardly escaped with his life. And the squire brought the shield back to
the abbey.
The next day Sir Galahad took the shield, and within a while he came to
the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and each saluted the other
courteously. “Sir,” said Sir Galahad, “can you tell me the marvel of the
shield?” “Sir,” said the white knight, “that shield belonged of old to
the gentle knight, Joseph of Arimathea; and when he came to die he said,
‘Never shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it,
unto the time that Sir Galahad the good knight bear it, the last of my
lineage, the which shall do many marvellous deeds.’” And then the white
knight vanished away.
SIR GAWAIN
After Sir Gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward and forward,
and at last he came to the abbey where Sir Galahad took the white
shield. And they told Sir Gawain of the marvellous adventure that Sir
Galahad had done. “Truly,” said Sir Gawain, “I am not happy that I took
not the way that he went, for, if I may meet with him, I will not part
from him lightly, that I may partake with him all the marvellous
adventures which he shall achieve.” “Sir,” said one of the monks, “he
will not be of your fellowship.” “Why?” said Sir Gawain. “Sir,” said he,
“because ye be sinful, and he is blissful.” Then said the monk, “Sir
Gawain, thou must do penance for thy sins.” “Sir, what penance shall I
do?” “Such as I will show,” said the good man. “Nay,” said Sir Gawain,
“I will do no penance, for we knights adventurous often suffer great woe
and pain.” “Well,” said the good man; and he held his peace. And Sir
Gawain departed.
Now it happened, not long after this, that Sir Gawain and Sir Hector
rode together, and they came to a castle where was a great tournament.
And Sir Gawain and Sir Hector joined themselves to the party that seemed
the weaker, and they drove before them the other party. Then suddenly
came into the lists a knight, bearing a white shield with a red cross,
and by adventure he came by Sir Gawain, and he smote him so hard that he
clave his helm and wounded his head, so that Sir Gawain fell to the
earth. When Sir Hector saw that, he knew that the knight with the white
shield was Sir Galahad, and he thought it no wisdom to abide him, and
also for natural love, that he was his uncle. Then Sir Galahad retired
privily, so that none knew where he had gone. And Sir Hector raised up
Sir Gawain, and said, “Sir, me seemeth your quest is done.” “It is
done,” said Sir Gawain; “I shall seek no further.” Then Gawain was borne
into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in a rich bed, and a leech found
to search his wound. And Sir Gawain and Sir Hector abode together, for
Sir Hector would not away till Sir Gawain were whole.
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