The which set of his wit great prise.
Of depe ymaginations
And straunge interpretations,
Problemes and demaundes eke
His wisedom was to finde and seke;
Wherof he wolde in sondry wise
Opposen hem that weren wise.
But none of hem it mighte bere
Upon his word to yive answere;[1]
Out taken one, which was a knight:
To him was every thing so light,
That also sone as he hem herde
The kinges wordes he answerde,
What thing the king him axe wolde,
Whereof anone the trouth he tolde.
The king somdele had an envie,
And thought he wolde his wittes plie
To sete some conclusion,
Which shulde be confusion
Unto this knight, so that the name
And of wisdom the highe fame
Toward him selfe he wolde winne.
And thus of all his wit withinne
This king began to studie and muse
What straunge mater he might use
The knightes wittes to confounde;
And ate last he hath it founde,
And for the knight anon he sente,
That he shall telle what he mente.
Upon three points stood the matere,
Of questions as thou shalte here.
The firste pointe of all thre
Was this: what thing in his degre
Of all this world hath nede lest,
And yet men helpe it allthermest.
The second is: what moste is worth
And of costage is lest put forth.
The thrid is: which is of most cost,
And lest is worth, and goth to lost.
The king these thre demaundes axeth.
To the knight this law he taxeth:
That he shall gone, and comen ayein
The thridde weke, and tell him pleine
To every point, what it amounteth.
And if so be that he miscounteth
To make in his answere a faile,
There shall none other thinge availe,
The king saith, but he shall be dede
And lese his goodes and his hede.
This knight was sory of this thinge,
And wolde excuse him to the kinge;
But he ne wolde him nought forbere,
And thus the knight of his answere
Goth home to take avisement.
But after his entendement
The more he cast his wit about,
The more he stant thereof in doubte.
Tho[2] wist he well the kinges herte,
That he the deth ne shulde asterte,[3]
And suche a sorroe to him hath take
That gladship he hath all forsake.
He thought first upon his life,
And after that upon his wife,
Upon his children eke also,
Of whiche he had doughteres two.
The yongest of hem had of age
Fourtene yere, and of visage
She was right faire, and of stature
Lich to an hevenlich figure,
And of maner and goodly speche,
Though men wolde all landes seche,
They shulden nought have founde her like.
She sigh[4] her fader sorroe and sike,[5]
And wist nought the cause why.
So cam she to him prively,
And that was wher he made his mone
Within a gardin all him one.[6]
Upon her knees she gan down falle
With humble herte, and to him calle
And saide:--"O good fader dere,
Why make ye thus hevy chere,[7]
And I wot nothinge how it is?
And well ye knowe, fader, this,
What adventure that you felle
Ye might it saufly to me telle;
For I have ofte herd you saide,
That ye such truste have on me laide,
That to my suster ne to my brother
In all this worlde ne to none other
Ye durste telle a privete
So well, my fader, as to me.
Forthy,[8] my fader, I you praie
Ne casteth nought that hert[9] awaie,
For I am she that wolde kepe
Your honour." And with that to wepe
Her eye may nought be forbore;[10]
She wisheth for to ben unbore,[11]
Er[12] that her fader so mistriste
To tellen her of that he wiste.
And ever among mercy[13] she cride,
That he ne shulde his counseil hide
From her, that so wolde him good
And was so nigh flesshe and blood.
So that with weping, ate laste
His chere upon his childe he caste,
And sorroefully to that she praide[14]
He tolde his tale, and thus he saide:--
"The sorroe, doughter, which I make
Is nought all only for my sake,
But for the bothe and for you alle.
For suche a chaunce is me befalle,
That I shall er this thridde day
Lese all that ever I lese may,
My life and all my good therto.
Therefore it is I sorroe so."
"What is the cause, alas," quod she,
"My fader, that ye shulden be
Dede and destruied in suche a wise?"
And he began the points devise,
Which as the king tolde him by mouthe,
And said her pleinly, that he couthe
Answeren to no point of this.
And she, that hereth howe it is,
Her counseil yaf[15] and saide tho[16]:--
"My fader, sithen it is so,
That ye can se none other weie,
But that ye must nedes deie,
I wolde pray you of o[17] thinge,--
Let me go with you to the kinge,
And ye shall make him understonde,
How ye, my wittes for to fonde,
Have laid your answere upon me,
And telleth him in such degre
Upon my worde ye wol abide
To life or deth, what so betide.
For yet perchaunce I may purchace
With some good word the kinges grace,
Your life and eke your good to save.
For ofte shall a woman have
Thing, whiche a man may nought areche."
The fader herd his doughters speche,
And thought there was no reson in,
And sigh his owne life to winne
He couthe done himself no cure.[18]
So better him thought in aventure
To put his life and all his good,
Than in the manner as it stood,
His life incertein for to lese.
And thus thenkend he gan to chese
To do the counseil of this maid,
And toke the purpose which she said.
The day was comen, and forth they gone;
Unto the court they come anone,
Where as the kinge in his jugement
Was set and hath this knight assent.
Arraied in her beste wise,
This maiden with her wordes wise
Her fader ledde by the honde
Into the place,[19] where he fonde
The king with other which he wolde;
And to the king knelend he tolde
As he enformed was to-fore,
And praith the king, that he therfore
His doughters wordes wolde take;
And saith, that he woll undertake
Upon her wordes for to stonde.
Tho was ther great merveile on honde,
That he, which was so wise a knight,
His life upon so yonge a wight
Besette wolde in jeopartie,
And many it helden for folie.
But at the laste, netheles,
The king commaundeth ben in pees,
And to this maide he cast his chere,[20]
And saide he wolde her tale here,
And bad her speke; and she began:--
"My lege lord, so as I can,"
Quod she, "the pointes which I herde,
They shull of reson ben answerde.
The first I understonde is this:
What thinge of all the worlde it is,
Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.
My lege lord, this wolde I rede:
The erthe it is, which evermo
With mannes labour is bego
As well in winter as in maie.
The mannes honde doth what he may
To helpe it forth and make it riche,
And forthy men it delve and diche,
And even it with strength of plough,
Wher it hath of him self inough
So that his nede is ate leste.
For every man, birde, and beste
Of flour and gras and roote and rinde
And every thing by way of kinde
Shall sterve, and erthe it shall become
As it was out of erthe nome,[21]
It shall be therthe torne ayein.[22]
And thus I may by reson sein
That erthe is the most nedeles
And most men helpe it netheles;
So that, my lord, touchend of this
I have answerde how that it is.
That other point I understood,
Which most is worth, and most is good,
And costeth lest a man to kepe:
My lorde, if ye woll take kepe,[23]
I say it is humilite,
Through whiche the high Trinite
As for deserte of pure love
Unto Marie from above,
Of that he knewe her humble entente,
His owne Sone adown he sente
Above all other, and her he chese
For that vertu, which bodeth pees.
So that I may by reson calle
Humilite most worthe of alle,
And lest it costeth to mainteine
In all the worlde, as it is seine.
For who that hath humblesse on honde,
He bringeth no werres into londe,
For he desireth for the best
To setten every man in reste.
Thus with your highe reverence
Me thenketh that this evidence
As to this point is suffisaunt.
And touchend of the remenaunt,
Which is the thridde of your axinges,
What lest is worth of alle thinges,
And costeth most, I telle it pride,
Which may nought in the heven abide.
For Lucifer with hem that felle
Bar pride with him into helle.
There was pride of to grete cost
Whan he for pride hath heven lost;
And after that in Paradise
Adam for pride lost his prise
In middel-erth. And eke also
Pride is the cause of alle wo,
That all the world ne may suffice
To staunche of pride the reprise.
Pride is the heved[24] of all sinne,
Which wasteth all and may nought winne;
Pride is of every mis[25] the pricke[26];
Pride is the worste of all wicke,
And costeth most and lest is worth
In place where he hath his forth.
Thus have I said that I woll say
Of min answere, and to you pray,
My lege lorde, of your office,
That ye such grace and suche justice
Ordeigne for my fader here,
That after this, whan men it here,
The world therof may speke good."
The king, which reson understood,
And hath all herde how she hath said,
Was inly glad, and so well paid,
That all his wrath is over go.
And he began to loke tho
Upon this maiden in the face,
In which he found so mochel grace,
That all his prise on her he laide
In audience, and thus he saide:--
"My faire maide, well the[27] be
Of thin answere, and eke of the
Me liketh well, and as thou wilte,
Foryive be thy faders gilte.
And if thou were of such lignage,
That thou to me were of parage,
And that thy fader were a pere,
As he is now a bachelere,
So siker as I have a life,
Thou sholdest thanne be my wife.
But this I saie netheles,
That I woll shape thin encrese;
What worldes good that thou wolt crave
Are of my yift, and thou shalt have."
And she the king with wordes wise,
Knelende, thanketh in this wise:--
"My lege lord, god mot you quite.[28]
My fader here hath but a lite
Of warison,[29] and that he wende
Had all be[30] lost, but now amende
He may well through you noble grace."
With that the king right in his place
Anon forth in that freshe hete
An erldome, which than of eschete
Was late falle into his honde,
Unto this knight with rent and londe
Hath yove, and with his chartre sesed,
And thus was all the noise appesed.
This maiden, which sate on her knees
To-fore the kinges charitees,
Commendeth and saith evermore:--
"My lege lord, right now to-fore
Ye saide, and it is of recorde,
That if my fader were a lorde
And pere unto these other grete,
Ye wolden for nought elles lette,
That I ne sholde be your wife.
And thus wote every worthy life
A kinges worde mot nede be holde.
Forthy my lord, if that ye wolde
So great a charite fulfille,
God wote it were well my wille.
For he which was a bachelere,
My fader, is now made a pere;
So whan as ever that I cam,
An erles doughter nowe I am."
This yonge king, which peised[31] all
Her beaute and her wit withall,
As he, which was with love hente,[32]
Anone therto gaf his assente.
He might nought the place asterte,
That she nis lady of his herte.
So that he toke her to his wife
To holde, while that he hath life.
And thus the king toward his knight
Accordeth him, as it is right.
And over this good is to wite[33]
In the cronique as it is write,
This noble kinge, of whom I tolde,
Of Spaine by tho daies olde
The kingdom had in governaunce,
And as the boke maketh remembraunce,
Alphonse was his propre name.
The knight also, if I shall name,
Danz Petro hight, and as men telle,
His doughter wise Petronelle
Was cleped, which was full of grace.
And that was sene in thilke place,
Where she her fader out of tene[34]
Hath brought and made her selfe a quene,
Of that she hath so well desclosed
The points whereof she was opposed.
[1] No one could solve his puzzles.
[2] For.
[3] Escape.
[4] Saw.
[5] Sigh.
[6] Own.
[7] Care.
[8] Therefore.
[9] Heart.
[10] Cannot endure it.
[11] Unborn.
[12] Ere.
[13] In the midst of pity (for him).
[14] In answer to her prayer.
[15] Gave.
[16] Thus.
[17] One.
[18] Saw that he could do nothing to save his own life.
[19] Palace.
[20] Turned his attention.
[21] Taken.
[22] Shall turn thereto again.
[23] Heed.
[24] Head.
[25] Mischief.
[26] Core.
[27] Thee.
[28] May God requite you.
[29] Has had but little reward.
[30] Been.
[31] Poised--weighed.
[32] Seized.
[33] Know.
[34] Destruction.
[ILLUSTRATION: ULYSSES S. GRANT]
ULYSSES S. GRANT
(1822-1885)
BY HAMLIN GARLAND
Ulysses Grant was born on the 27th of April, 1822, in a small two-room
cabin situated in Point Pleasant, a village in southern Ohio, about
forty miles above Cincinnati. His father, Jesse R. Grant, was a
powerful, alert, and resolute man, ready of speech and of fair education
for the time. His family came from Connecticut, and was of the earliest
settlers in New England. Hannah Simpson, his wife, was of strong
American stock also. The Simpsons had been residents, for several
generations, of southeastern Pennsylvania. The Grants and the Simpsons
had been redoubtable warriors in the early wars of the republic. Hannah
Simpson was a calm, equable, self-contained young woman, as reticent and
forbearing as her husband was disputatious and impetuous.
Their first child was named Hiram Ulysses Grant. Before the child was
two years of age, Jesse Grant, who was superintending a tannery in Point
Pleasant, removed to Georgetown, Brown County, Ohio, and set up in
business for himself. Georgetown was a village in the deep woods, and in
and about this village Ulysses Grant grew to be a sturdy, self-reliant
boy. He loved horses, and became a remarkable rider and teamster at a
very early age. He was not notable as a scholar, but it was soon
apparent that he had inherited the self-poise, the reticence, and the
modest demeanor of his mother. He took part in the games and sports of
the boys, but displayed no military traits whatever. At the age of
seventeen he was a fair scholar for his opportunities, and his ambitious
father procured for him an appointment to the Military Academy at West
Point. He reported at the adjutant's desk in June 1839, where he found
his name on the register "Ulysses S. Grant" through a mistake of his
Congressman, Thomas L. Hamer. Meanwhile, to escape ridicule on the
initials of his name, which spelled "H.U.G." he had transposed his name
to Ulysses H. Grant, and at his request the adjutant changed the S to an
H; but the name on record in Washington was Ulysses S., and so he
remained "U. S. Grant" to the government and U. H. Grant to his friends
and relatives.
His record at West Point was a good one in mathematics and fair in most
of his studies. He graduated at about the middle of his class, which
numbered thirty-nine. He was much beloved and respected as an upright,
honorable, and loyal young fellow. At the time of his graduation he was
president of the only literary society of the academy; W. S. Hancock was
its secretary.
He remained markedly unmilitary throughout his course, and was
remembered mainly as a good comrade, a youth of sound judgment, and the
finest horseman in the academy. He asked to be assigned to cavalry duty,
but was brevetted second lieutenant of the 4th Infantry, and ordered to
Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis. Here he remained till the spring of
1844, when his regiment was ordered to a point on the southwestern
frontier, near the present town of Natchitoches, Louisiana. Here he
remained till May 1845, when the Mexican War opened, and for the next
three years he served with his regiment in every battle except Buena
Vista. He was twice promoted for gallant conduct, and demonstrated his
great coolness, resource, and bravery in the hottest fire. He was
regimental quartermaster much of the time, and might honorably have kept
out of battle, but he contrived to be in the forefront with his command.
In the autumn of 1848 he married Miss Julia Dent of St. Louis, and as
first lieutenant and regimental quartermaster, with a brevet of captain,
he served at Sackett's Harbor and Detroit alternately till June 1852,
when he was ordered to the coast. This was a genuine hardship, for he
was unable to take his wife and child with him; but he concluded to
remain in the army, and went with his command, sailing from New York and
passing by the way of the Isthmus. On the way across the Isthmus the
regiment encountered cholera, and all Grant's coolness, resource, and
bravery were required to get his charge safely across. "He seemed never
to think of himself, and appeared to be a man of iron," his companions
said.
He was regimental quartermaster at Fort Vancouver, near Portland,
Oregon, for one year. In 1853 he was promoted to a captaincy and ordered
to Fort Humboldt, near Eureka in California. In 1854, becoming
disheartened by the never-ending vista of barrack life, and despairing
of being able to have his wife and children with him, he sent in his
resignation, to take effect July 31st, 1854. He had lost money by
unfortunate business ventures, and so returned forlorn and penniless to
New York. Thence he made his way to St. Louis to his wife and children,
and began the world again as a farmer, without a house or tools or
horses.
His father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Dent, who lived about ten miles out of
the city, set aside some sixty or eighty acres of land for his use, and
thereon he built with his own hands a log cabin, which he called
"Hardscrabble." For nearly four years he lived the life of a farmer. He
plowed, hoed, cleared the land, hauled wood and props to the mines, and
endured all the hardships and privations of a small farmer. In 1858 his
health gave way, and he moved to St. Louis in the attempt to get into
some less taxing occupation. He tried for the position of county
engineer, and failed. He went into the real estate business with a
friend, and failed in that. He secured a place in the customs office,
but the collector died and he was thrown out of employment.
In the spring of 1860, despairing of getting a foothold in St. Louis, he
removed to Galena, Illinois, where his father had established a leather
store, a branch of his tannery in Covington, Kentucky. Here he came in
touch again with his two brothers, Simpson and Orvil Grant. He became a
clerk at a salary of six hundred dollars per annum. At this time he was
a quiet man of middle age, and his manner and mode of life attracted
little attention till in 1861, when Sumter was fired upon and Lincoln
called for volunteers. Galena at once held a war meeting to raise a
company. Captain Grant, because of his military experience, was made
president of the meeting, and afterward was offered the captaincy of the
company, which he refused, saying, "I have been a captain in the regular
army. I am fitted to command a regiment."
He wrote at once a patriotic letter to his father-in-law, wherein he
said, "I foresee the doom of slavery." He accompanied the company to
Springfield, where his military experience was needed. Governor Richard
Yates gave him work in the adjutant's office, then made him drill-master
at Camp Yates; and as his efficiency became apparent he was appointed
governor's aide, with rank of colonel. He mustered in several regiments,
among them the 7th Congressional regiment at Mattoon. He made such an
impression on this regiment that they named their camp in his honor, and
about the middle of June sent a delegation of officers to ask that he be
made colonel. Governor Yates reluctantly appointed him, and at the
request of General John C. Fremont, the commander of the Department of
the West, Grant's regiment (known as the 21st Illinois Volunteers) was
ordered to Missouri. Colonel Grant marched his men overland, being the
first commander of the State to decline railway transportation. His
efficiency soon appeared, and he was given the command of all the troops
in and about Mexico, Missouri. At this point he received a dispatch from
E. B. Washburne, Congressman for his district, that President Lincoln
had made him brigadier-general. He was put in command at Ironton,
Missouri, and was proceeding against Colonel Hardee, when he was
relieved from command by B. M. Prentiss and ordered to Jefferson City,
Missouri. He again brought order out of chaos, and was ready for a
campaign, when he was again relieved, and by suggestion of President
Lincoln placed in command of a district with headquarters at Cairo,
Illinois.
This was his first adequate command, and with clear and orderly activity
he organized his command of nearly ten thousand men. On the 6th of
September, learning that the Confederates were advancing on Paducah, he
took the city without firing a gun, and issued an address to the people
of Kentucky which led Lincoln to say, "The man who can write like that
is fitted to command in the West." Early in November, in obedience to a
command from Fremont, he fought the battle of Belmont, thus preventing
General Polk from reinforcing Price in Missouri. This was neither a
victory nor a defeat, as the purpose was not to hold Belmont.
In February 1862, with an army of twenty thousand men and accompanied by
Commander Foote's flotilla, he took Fort Henry and marched on Fort
Donelson. On the 16th of the same month he had invested Donelson and had
beaten the enemy within their works. General Simon Buckner, his old
classmate and comrade, was in command. He wrote to Grant, asking for
commissioners to agree upon terms. Grant replied: "_No terms except an
unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted. I propose to move
immediately upon your works._" Buckner surrendered, and Grant's sturdy
words flamed over the land, making him "Unconditional Surrender Grant."
The whole nation thrilled with the surprise and joy of this capture, and
the obscure brigadier-general became the hero of the day. He was made
major-general, and given the command of the District of Western
Tennessee.
On the 6th and 7th of April he fought the terrible battle of Shiloh, and
won it, though with great loss, owing to the failure of part of his
reinforcements to arrive. Immediately after this battle, General H. W.
Halleck, who had relieved General Fremont as commander in the West, took
command in person, and by a clever military device deprived Grant of all
command; and for six weeks the army timidly advanced on Corinth. Corinth
was evacuated by the enemy before Halleck dared to attack, and Grant had
no hand in any important command until late in the year.
Halleck went to Washington in July, leaving Grant again in command; but
his forces were so depleted that he could do little but defend his lines
and stores. In January 1863 he began to assemble his troops to attack
Vicksburg, but high water kept him inactive till the following April.
His plan, then fully developed, was to run the battery with gunboats and
transports, march his troops across the peninsula before the city, and
flank the enemy from below. This superbly audacious plan involved
cutting loose from his base of supplies and all communications. He was
obliged to whip two armies in detail,--Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi,
and Pemberton in command at Vicksburg. This marvelous campaign was
executed to the letter, and on the third day of July, Pemberton
surrendered the largest body of troops ever captured on this continent
up to that time, and Grant became the "man of destiny" of the army. All
criticism was silenced. The world's markets rose and fell with his daily
doings. Lincoln wrote him a letter of congratulation. The question of
making "the prop-hauler of the Gravois" general-in-chief of all the
armies of the United States was raised, and all the nation turned to him
as the savior of the republic.
He was made commander of all the armies of the Mississippi, and
proceeded to Chattanooga to rescue Rosecrans and his beleaguered army.
In a series of swift and dramatic battles he captured Lookout Mountain
and Missionary Ridge. Wherever he went, victory seemed to follow. His
calm demeanor never changed. He was bent on "whipping out the
Rebellion." He was seen to be a warrior of a new sort. He was never
malignant, or cruel, or ungenerous to his enemies; but he fought battles
to win them, and the country now clamored for him to lead the armies of
the Potomac against Lee, the great Southern general against whom no
Northern general seemed able to prevail.
Early in March of 1864, Hon. E. B. Washburne introduced into Congress a
bill reviving the grade of Lieutenant-General. It was passed by both
houses with some discussion, and Lincoln conferred the title and all it
implied upon Grant. He called him to Washington, and placed the whole
conduct of the war in his hands. "I don't want to know your plans," he
said. Grant became absolutely chief in command, and set forth at once to
direct the Army of the Potomac in person, and to encompass Lee as he had
captured the armies of Buckner and Pemberton. His aim was not to whip
Lee, but to destroy his army and end the war. He began an enormous
encircling movement which never for one moment relaxed. The Army of the
Potomac retreated no more. It had a commander who never knew when he was
beaten.