STORIES OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR
By Charles Henry Hanson
With Illustrations By Gustave Dore
PREFACE.
No other merit or importance is claimed for this book than that of a
compilation; but it is, so far as the writer is aware, the most complete
epitome of the Arthurian Legends that has yet been prepared for the use
of young readers. More than one modernized version of the work of Sir
Thomas Mallory has been published; but every student of the legends will
be aware that there were many of which Mallory, in the compilation of
his narrative, took no account; and the substance of several of these
has been embodied in the present work. For the story of Merlin, recourse
has been had to the version of the old romance given by Ellis in his
“Early English Metrical Romances.” The quaint story of Sir Gawaine and
the Green Knight is adapted from the edition of that legend which is
included among the publications of the Early English Text Society; while
to Lady Charlotte Guest’s “Mabinogion” the writer is indebted for the
story of Geraint and Enid, and also for the romance of Ewaine and the
Lady of the Fountain.
It is obvious that in a single volume of the bulk of the present there
could not be included more than a selection from the great mass of
legends which during several centuries accumulated round the mighty
though shadowy figure of Arthur. The aim of the writer has been to make
choice of such of these stories and traditions as were most likely to
captivate the imagination or excite the attention of the boy-readers of
this generation; to cast them, so far as possible, into the shape of a
connected narrative and regular sequence of events; and to preserve
so much of the quaint style of Mallory as is consistent with perfect
clearness. Whether these objects have been attained, it must be left for
critics and readers to pronounce; but the compiler ventures to believe
that the book will be found a serviceable introduction to the study of
the romances themselves, and of Mallory’s famous prose version of
them; while it will also assist young readers in the comprehension and
appreciation of the Poet Laureate’s noble series of poems on Arthurian
Legends. In the romances, both in their prose and metrical form, there
are occasional allusions and episodes which make them unfit to be placed
in the hands of juvenile readers. It is scarcely necessary to say that
in the present work nothing of this kind has been retained.
The attempt to blend in the same book fragments of the original Cymric
traditions with others which in the course of ages had received from
foreign adapters so many changes and modifications that they seem at
first sight to belong to a totally different stock, is perhaps a bold
one. The reader will not fail to note that in the stories epitomized
from the “Mabinogion,” and in “Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight,”
personages and incidents alike are ruder, simpler, more poetical than
in the other chapters. There is much more liberal employment of
supernatural agencies; there are fewer traces of those ideas and
institutions of chivalry which to the romancers of the Middle Ages were
the very refinement of civilization, the highest development of the
social system. But though this contrast be perceptible, it is not
so much so, perhaps, as to mar the continuity of the book; and it is
instructive, because it enables the reader to view side by side some
legends in a form approximating to that in which they were current among
the people who claimed Arthur as their hero, and others in the shape
they assumed under the hands of Norman, Breton, and French _trouvères_
and romancers.
No schoolboy now-a-days needs to be told that the Arthur of the legends
is to all intents and purposes a fictitious personage. That there was
a great chieftain among the Britons of the name of Arthur, who rose
to preeminence by his military prowess during the sanguinary struggles
which resulted in the English Conquest, may be regarded as certain; but
as to the extent of his dominions, the duration of his reign, and even
the chief scenes of his exploits, all is doubtful. It is partly from
an unwillingness to commit too great a trespass on historical fact, and
partly from a desire to omit tedious and monotonous records of fighting,
that the compiler has dismissed with a brief reference the episode of
Arthur’s Continental invasion and conquest of the Roman Empire, which
occupies considerable space in Mallory’s work, and is the subject of
more than one of the metrical romances. The Quest of the Holy Grail has
been briefly treated because of the mystical nature of the subject.
STORIES OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR.
CHAPTER I. MERLIN THE WIZARD.
SOME hundred years after the authority of the Roman emperors had finally
ceased in Britain, a king reigned there whose name was Constans. Wise
in peace, and skilful and brave in war, this monarch had obliged all the
lesser chiefs and kings of the island to acknowledge his supremacy,
and had occupied the throne for many years to his own glory and to the
benefit of his subjects, when he was attacked by an illness so severe
that he himself at once perceived death to be at hand. He had three
sons. Constantius, the eldest, had from childhood shown a liking for
the cloister, and had for some years been the inmate of a monastery. As,
however, the king’s other sons, whose names were Aurelius Ambrosius and
Uther Pendragon, were yet only children, Constans named Constantius the
monk his successor; and in his dying hour he entreated the sorrowing
nobles who gathered round his bed to render to his son the same loyal
and faithful service as they had given to himself. With this request the
barons, of whom the king’s steward Vortigern was the foremost both
in rank and in ability, promised to comply; and thus Constans, after a
prosperous reign, died peacefully and happily.
After the funeral of the deceased monarch, Constantius was brought from
his monastery and duly crowned King of the Britons. But his disposition,
his abilities, and his previous method of life, all unfitted him for the
performance of duties which could only be properly discharged by a great
statesman and warrior. Of this fact the steward Vortigern was very
well aware. He was an ambitious and unscrupulous man, elated by the
distinction he had won in King Constants wars with the Danes and the
Saxons, and he considered himself, in virtue of his experience as a
general and in matters of government, the only competent successor to
his late master. It was not long before an opportunity arose for the
furtherance of his evil designs. A Danish sea-king named Hengist, who
had frequently harassed the country during the late reign, but had
always been driven off by the redoubtable Constans, no sooner heard
of the death of his old antagonist, and the accession of the pacific
Constantius, than he assembled an army of a hundred thousand men, and
invaded Britain. Constantius, quite unfit to make headway against such
an enemy, entreated Vortigern to conduct the campaign on his behalf. But
the treacherous minister, pretending that he was incapacitated by age
and illness, retired to his castle, and left the unfortunate king to his
own devices. Constantius assembled his forces, and led them against the
invaders; but he was no match for a veteran warrior like Hengist, and in
the first battle he was completely defeated.
The subordinate British princes, and most of the nobles of the land,
had responded to Constantius’s summons, and fought under his banner; but
they were greatly enraged at his defeat, which, with some justice,
they attributed to his incapacity as a general. The forces of the pagan
Hengist now spread like locusts over the country, burning and destroying
in every direction; and the Britons, as Vortigern had calculated, saw
no hope of getting rid of them except under the leadership of King
Constants old lieutenant. They therefore sent a deputation to Vortigern,
urging him to take the command of the army, in order to save the country
from ruin. The steward, however, refused to engage in such an enterprise
merely for the sake of winning honour and authority for the monkish
king. “If Constantius were out of the way,” he said, “I would gladly do
my best for you and the country; but I will not face all the perils of
war to benefit a king who cannot defend his own throne.”
In this dilemma the princes and nobles of Britain forgot the promises
they had made to the dying Constans. When they received the answer
of Vortigern, a number of them proceeded at once in search of the
unfortunate king, and murdered him in his own hall. The two princes,
Aurelius and Uther Pendragon, were too young to reign; and even those
barons who still remained faithful to the family of Constans saw no
alternative, in view of the havoc that was being wrought by the Saxon
invaders, except the election of Vortigern to the vacant throne. He
was accordingly proclaimed king; and his pretended illness at once gave
place to the activity he had been wont to show in earlier days. His
first endeavour, after his coronation, was to get possession of the
persons of the two princes; but in this design he was foiled by the
sagacity of some of their friends, who had hastened, as soon as the
murder of Constantius was made public, to convey them over sea to
the country which was then called Little Britain, and is now known as
Brittany.
If he had not had his hands full at home, Vortigern would have pursued
the princes even to their place of refuge; for he was well aware that
his tenure of the throne must always be uncertain while they were alive.
But he was also conscious that while the victorious Hengist and his
Saxons remained in the country, the dignity to which he had been raised
was but an empty one. He proceeded without delay to reorganize the army
which had been shattered by the defeat of the ill-fated Constantius. He
then led it against the invaders, and, displaying all the military
skill which he had learned in his campaigns under King Constans, gained
victory after victory, and soon reduced Hengist to such straits that
he was glad to retire from the kingdom, giving a solemn pledge that he
would never again invade it.
Vortigern had thus given substantial proof of the prudence of the choice
which had placed him on the throne, and had established a claim to
the gratitude of his subjects. But the Britons were soon to learn that
something more than military skill is needed to make a good king, and
that a man who will only save his country to gratify his own selfish
ambition will not hesitate to bring it to ruin from the same motive.
At a great festival held by Vortigern to celebrate the victories he had
won, the barons who had assassinated Constantius presented themselves,
and demanded some reward for the deed which had given the crown to
Vortigern. The latter, however, was of opinion that to comply with their
request would be to set a premium upon treason; whereas, now that he had
attained the object of his desire, it would be wise in him to discourage
it. So he repudiated all participation in the murder of Constantius; and
to show his abhorrence of the deed, he caused the nobles who had avowed
themselves the perpetrators to be put to death with great cruelty. It
happened, however, that the criminals--who, if they deserved their fate,
certainly ought not to have suffered at the hands of the man who had
instigated and profited by their crime--were men of rank and great
family influence. Their many relatives and friends at once rose in
revolt to avenge their death; and the insurrection very soon became so
widespread that Vortigern was on the point of losing the crown for which
he had so dexterously intrigued and fought. In his extremity he resorted
to the expedient of appealing for help to his old antagonist Hengist,
who gladly acceded to the request, and once more came over to Britain at
the head of a formidable army. With this assistance Vortigern succeeded
in vanquishing the rebels. But he could no longer count on the loyalty
of the Britons; so, to make himself secure, he married the daughter of
Hengist, and maintained his authority by means of a Saxon army.
The cruelty of his rule, and the favour he showed to his pagan friends
and supporters, earned for Vortigern such general and intense hatred
among the Britons, that he determined to erect an impregnable fortress
which might furnish him with a safe refuge against conspirators and
foes. Accordingly, having chosen what seemed to him to be a suitable
site on Salisbury Plain, he gathered together many thousands of workmen
and ordered them forthwith to begin the erection of his castle. As the
tyrant was in the habit of punishing disobedience or dilatoriness with
remorseless severity, while he was also lavish in the rewards he gave
for zealous service, the masons set to work with a will, and at the
close of the first day had made such progress that the ground had been
excavated, the foundation laid, and a wall of immense thickness had
risen to the height of some feet. But what was the astonishment and
awe of the workmen, when on the following morning they assembled at the
scene of their labours, to find that the wall had been levelled with
the ground, and all that remained of it was nothing more than shapeless
piles of stone and mortar! Quite unable to comprehend this extraordinary
phenomenon, the builders made the best of the business by once more
setting to work with such energy that at nightfall the wall had again
risen breast-high. But all their efforts had been expended to no
purpose, for the next day it was found that the wall had once more been
overthrown. In vain did they examine the site to discover the cause of
the mystery. Nothing that could account for it was to be found; so the
masons proceeded to inform the king of the inexplicable difficulty that
had arisen in the carrying out of his design.
Vortigern hurried to the spot, and investigated the circumstances for
himself, but departed no wiser than he had come. The mystery, however,
gave him great anxiety, for he could not help connecting it with the
treachery by which he had obtained the throne, and the many crimes
he had since perpetrated. He therefore summoned his astrologers,
and informed them that they must either discover the reason why his
castle-wall fell down as soon as it was built up, or be put to death.
Incited by this unpleasant alternative, the wise men closely studied the
aspect of the heavens, and then told the king that some few years before
a boy had been bom in England without an earthly father. If this boy
could be found, put to death, and the foundations of the castle
smeared with his blood, there would be no further difficulty about its
subsequent progress.
Vortigern at once sent emissaries to all parts of the country to find
the wonderful boy; but to make sure that the astrologers should not
escape his vengeance if the messengers were unsuccessful in their
search, he threw them all into prison.
Astrology must, however, have been better understood in those days than
it is now, for the wise men had interpreted the planetary revelations
with perfect accuracy. The boy for whom the servants of Vortigern were
searching did in fact exist, and was none other than the afterwards
famous wizard and prophet Merlin, whose mother was a British maiden,
while his father was the Arch-fiend, who had hoped through his agency to
carry out his evil purposes against mankind. This design had, however,
been thwarted by a pious hermit named Blaize, who had taken the boy’s
mother under his protection, and had baptized the infant at the moment
of his birth, so that the supernatural gifts which he inherited from
his demon-father were enlisted on the side of good, instead of being
employed in the service of the evil one. Endowed from his birth with
the power of foretelling the future, and with the knowledge of all
mysteries, Merlin had been thus far content to lead the life of other
children, well knowing that the time was at hand when he must play a
more important part. He now made himself known to one of Vortigern’s
messengers, whom he astonished by informing him of the object of his
search. He added that though the astrologers had rightly interpreted the
portent of the heavens, his death was not necessary for the erection of
Vortigern’s castle; for on this point the wise men had been misled by
the devices of Satan, who, since Merlin was now out of his power,
was anxious for his destruction. The boy gave the king’s emissary to
understand that when brought into Vortigern’s presence he would explain
the whole mystery. The royal officer was naturally well pleased to have
achieved the object of his mission; and any doubts he might still have
entertained about the reality of Merlin’s pretensions to supernatural
powers were dispelled by the extraordinary proofs which the child
furnished during their journey to Winchester, where Vortigern then held
his court. The party were making their way through the busy streets of
a town, when Merlin broke into loud laughter. When asked the reason,
he pointed out a young man who was bargaining for a pair of shoes, and
explained that what had aroused his mirth was the extreme eagerness to
secure substantial foot-gear shown by one who would not live to wear the
shoes he had bought. As the young man was to all appearance in robust
health, Merlin’s companions received this statement with incredulity;
but before they had gone many paces further, they heard an uproar in
the street behind them, and on inquiry they found that it was due to
the fact that the man Merlin had shown to them had suddenly-dropped down
dead. This, and other evidences of the prescience of the young seer,
convinced Vortigern’s messenger, who hastened to conduct the wonderful
boy into the presence of the king.
Vortigern received Merlin with a pomp which in no wise disturbed the
philosophical serenity of the child, and in due course conducted him
to the place selected as the site of the castle, where he described the
extraordinary failure of the attempts that had thus far been made to
build it, and inquired the reason.
“Sir King,” answered Merlin, “the reason is this. Below the place where
your workmen have sought to lay the foundations of the wall there are
two large and deep pools of water. At the bottom of these lie two huge
stones, which cover the lairs of two gigantic serpents, the like of
which none of your subjects have ever before set eyes on. One of these
serpents is milk-white in hue, the other red as blood. They sleep all
through the day; but every night they engage in a furious combat, which
is without result, because they have not sufficient space wherein to
move. The walls built by your masons were overthrown because the very
earth was shaken by the struggles of the serpents. But if you cause the
water to be drained away, and the stones to be raised, the serpents will
be able to settle their dispute, and there will then be no hindrance to
the building of the castle.”
Overjoyed at this information, Vortigern at once gave the necessary
orders. His army of workmen was speedily engaged in digging, and
presently the two pools of water described by Merlin were disclosed.
The water having been removed, the stones were laid bare; and when, with
infinite difficulty, they had been uplifted, there lay the two serpents,
side by side. Both were of enormous size, and covered with shining
scales, while fire flashed from their mouths. They were not only
distinguished by the difference of colour of which the young wizard had
spoken, but the white serpent had two heads. As soon as the light of day
fell upon them, they awoke from the torpor in which they had been sunk,
uncoiled their monstrous folds, and, to the terror of the vast multitude
assembled--amongst whom Merlin was the only unconcerned spectator--they
began a furious conflict, which lasted till night. The fire which they
vomited forth against each other flashed through the air like lightning,
and their huge jaws dripped with their black blood. At first the red
serpent seemed to gain the advantage; but as the day wore on the white
one waxed in strength, and at last he beat his antagonist to the ground,
and then descended upon him with such fury as to crush him into dust.
The white serpent then himself disappeared, and was never again seen by
mortal man.
The literal fulfilment of Merlin’s prediction naturally inspired
Vortigern with the utmost confidence in the wisdom of the prophet, more
especially as the erection of the castle thenceforth proceeded without
let or hindrance. He was at once installed as the chief counsellor of
the king; but this high promotion, which he himself accepted with the
taciturn indifference which was his ordinary demeanour, raised him many
enemies, and one of these represented to Vortigern that, as Merlin knew
everything, he would certainly be able to explain the significance of
the terrific, fight between the two serpents, which must doubtless have
some deep hidden meaning. The king, whose conscience was always stinging
him, eagerly grasped at the idea, and Merlin was forthwith sent for and
questioned on the subject. He remained persistently silent, however,
until Vortigern threatened him with instant death if he did not answer.
“Know, O King,” said the seer, “that what you threaten is as far beyond
your power as it was to discover the reason of the overthrow of your
castle wall. Save by my own will, no man of woman bom can injure me.
Since, however, you are resolved to know the meaning of the combat
between the two serpents, I will reveal it. The red dragon which you saw
overthrown and destroyed represented yourself; the white one symbolized
the two princes Aurelius and Uther Pendragon, the sons of King Constans,
who are the rightful rulers of this realm. They are coming from Little
Britain with a mighty armament; they will utterly defeat you in battle;
and when, with your family and the Saxon Hengist, you take refuge in the
strong castle you have built, you will perish there by fire, even as the
red serpent perished.”
At this appalling forecast of his fate, Vortigern was overcome by
despair. But bethinking him of Merlin’s great craft and wisdom, he
turned fiercely upon him and demanded counsel as to how he should evade
the approaching ruin.
“That which is to be must be,” answered the wizard. “I have no counsel
to give you.”
Full of wrath, Vortigern drew his sword; but when he would have smitten
Merlin with it, the latter had disappeared, and all the king’s efforts
to find him were unavailing. He had indeed, by the exercise of his magic
art, transported himself to the distant hermitage of his first friend,
the holy Blaize, to whom he committed the task of writing his famous
Book of Prophecies, foretelling the future history of Britain; a work
of which, unhappily, only a few sentences remain, and these expressed
in such obscure and figurative language that no man can decipher their
meaning.
The ruin which Merlin had foretold speedily overtook the wicked
Vortigern. He received news of the landing of Aurelius and Uther at the
head of a large army. He mustered his forces, summoned Hengist to his
assistance, and hastened to meet his enemies. But the Britons would not
fight against the sons of their old king. Deserted by all but his
Saxon allies, Vortigern sustained a ruinous defeat. He took refuge with
Hengist in his stronghold on Salisbury Plain. The princes forthwith
besieged it; but finding that they could make no impression on its
mighty walls, they caused wildfire to be cast over the battlements, and
in the conflagration that followed, the usurper and all his kin, with
his heathen ally, were utterly consumed. The remnant of the Saxon
invaders were permitted to leave the country, on giving pledges that
they would never return; and Aurelius and Uther, who agreed to share
the honours and cares of rule, were recognized by all the smaller
potentates, the barons, and the commons, as the kings of Britain.
They were not, however, permitted to remain long in peaceable
possession. Their reign had scarcely begun when Merlin, who, like a
loyal Briton, had come forward to give the benefit of his wisdom and
his counsel to the new kings, warned them that a numerous army of pagans
from Denmark had landed at Bristol. He added the painful news that
though the Britons would be successful in their encounter with the
invaders, one of the royal brothers was destined to perish. All fell
out as he had predicted: the heathen were so utterly overthrown that
scarcely one of them escaped alive from the field; but Aurelius died
nobly in the moment of victory, and Uther Pendragon remained the sole
and unopposed monarch of Britain.
Under the guidance of Merlin, whose counsels he always prudently
followed, Uther Pendragon reigned gloriously for many years. He
completely re-established the supremacy which his father had gained over
the other kings of Britain, and even carried his conquests into other
lands, worsting Claudas, King of Gaul, and receiving the allegiance of
the brothers Ban and Bors, two of the most famous knights in Europe, and
lords respectively of Benwick and Gannes. He also became liege lord of
Hoel, King of Harman, a country which is no longer to be found on the
maps. The wife of Hoel was the beautiful Igraine; and being still in
the prime of life at the death of her husband, she wedded the Duke of
Tintagel, a powerful baron who held wide lands in Cornwall By her first
lord she had been the mother of three daughters, of whom the eldest was
wedded to King Nanters of Gerlot. The second became the wife of King Lot
of Orkney, and bore to him four sons--Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, and
Gareth. The third was the famous Morgan le Fay. She received instruction
in magic from Merlin, and became scarcely less skilled in the black art
than the great wizard himself.
She also became the wife of a king--Urience, lord of the land of Gore.
At the instigation of Merlin, King Uther set up the Round Table, whereat
he sought to assemble the best knights of the world. To this table none
were admitted save such as were of royal or at least noble blood,
were distinguished for great personal strength, skill in arms, and
unfaltering valour. All who were so received were obliged to swear a
solemn oath to give aid to one another, even to the peril of life; to
be ever ready to undertake dangerous adventures; to be faithful to their
liege lord; and to be willing on all occasions to defend the weaker sex
from wrong. King Uther was able to bring together many noble knights as
members of the company of his Round Table, for his own valour and the
wisdom of Merlin had made him one of the most puissant monarchs of his
time.
It chanced that while King Uther was once holding his court at Camelot,
there came to do homage to him, among other barons, the Duke of
Tintagel, who brought with him his lady, the fair Igraine; and her
beauty made such an impression upon the king, who was still unmarried,
that he was immediately seized with a great desire to have her for his
queen. There was, however, a serious obstacle in the way, in the shape
of the duke her husband, who, as soon as he had learned that the king
was unduly attentive to his wife, retired with her from court, and
refused to obey a command by the king that he should return. The
haughty Uther treated this refusal as an act of rebellion, and forthwith
proceeded to wage war against the duke, who placed his wife in his
strong castle of Tintagel, retired himself to another fortress named
Terabil, and prepared to offer a resolute resistance to the royal
forces. King Uther laid siege to Terabil; but his love for Igraine had
become a stronger passion than even his desire to assert his authority,
and he implored the aid of Merlin, who undertook to win him the lady
as his queen if it were agreed that their son should be placed at
his disposal, to be brought up as he saw fit. The king accepted the
conditions prescribed; and Merlin, by means of a device which the old
chroniclers relate at length, fulfilled his part of the bargain. The
unfortunate duke was killed while making a sally from his fortress,
just at the time when Uther gained entrance into Tintagel and obtained
possession of Igraine, with whom, after a brief interval, his nuptials
were celebrated with great splendour. In due time, Igraine gave birth to
a son, who, according to the compact made by the king, was given over to
Merlin, who caused him to be baptized by the name of Arthur, and placed
him in the keeping of a worthy knight named Sir Ector.
For many years after this, Uther Pendragon reigned prosperously as King
of Britain, and ever kept the Saxons stoutly at bay. At last, however,
he was attacked by a dangerous illness which kept him languishing on his
couch, and then the heathen began to make head against him, and harassed
his people sorely. Under Merlin’s direction, therefore, he was carried
in a horse-litter at the head of his army, who were so encouraged by
his presence that they inflicted an utter defeat on the enemy, and drove
them out of the country. Then King Uther was brought back to London;
but the rejoicings on account of his victory were scarcely over when
his disease increased so much that his death was manifestly at hand.
His subjects were filled with consternation: for the birth of Arthur
had--for what reason it is impossible to say--been kept strictly secret,
and it was supposed that King Uther would leave no heir behind him.
When he had been speechless for three days and nights, however, Merlin
summoned the great barons of the realm and the Archbishop of Canterbury
into the chamber of the dying king, and in their presence asked him if
it were his will that his son Arthur should be his successor. Thereupon
Uther answered: “I give him God’s blessing and mine, and bid him pray
for my soul, and also that righteously and worshipfully he claim the
crown, on forfeiture of my blessing.” Immediately after speaking thus,
Uther Pendragon died.
But none of the barons understood, or cared to understand, the meaning
of his dying declaration. They knew nothing of any son of Uther’s named
Arthur; and Queen Igraine, having been kept in ignorance of the fate
of her son, knew not whether he were alive or dead. So great contention
arose in the realm, and everywhere there were misery and bloodshed; for
all the vassal kings asserted their independence, and every baron who
could muster a few thousand followers was ready to put forward his claim
to the crown. Many of the knights of the Round Table quitted the country
to seek “worship” in other and happier lands. The Round Table itself,
with the remnant of its noble company, was placed in charge of
Leodegrance, King of Cameliard, to whose keeping it had been bequeathed
by Uther Pendragon; and in the realm of Britain it was, for many years,
no more heard of or remembered.
The ruin of the country seemed to be at hand, when Merlin took measures
to put an end to the prevailing anarchy by bringing about the accession
of the rightful king. He induced the Archbishop of Canterbury to summon
a meeting of all the great barons and nobles at London, on Christmas
eve, in the hope that at that solemn festival some miracle might be
wrought that should make manifest to all to whom the throne rightly
belonged. The assembly was held accordingly, and amongst those who
attended it was Sir Ector, who had brought up Arthur in ignorance of his
birth, but had been careful to train him in all the knightly exercises
and accomplishments which in those days were held to be fitting in a man
of rank. Along with Sir Ector came his son Kay, who had been knighted
at the preceding All-hallowmas; and Arthur accompanied Sir Kay in the
capacity of his squire. A solemn religious service was held in the
greatest church of London, when the archbishop offered up prayer for the
enlightenment of the people as to who ought to be their king. When the
service was over, it was found that in the churchyard there had risen
up a huge block of marble, and on the top of it was an anvil of
solid steel, in which was imbedded, pointwise, a sword of marvellous
brightness, bearing on its jewelled hilt this inscription: “Whoso
pulleth me out of this stone and anvil is rightwise king born of
England.”
It may easily be imagined that the appearance of this mysterious
sword excited much emotion in the assembly of the barons, many of
whom entertained ambitious hopes of winning the crown of Britain for
themselves. At the command of the archbishop another mass was said,
and thereafter all the assembly marched into the churchyard, where, one
after another, in the order of their rank, they essayed to draw forth
the sword. First came King Nanters, King Lot, and King Urience, who,
as the husbands of Queen Igraines daughters, might claim some family
connection with the late king. Each of the three was a noted warrior;
but not one of them could move the sword a hair’s-breadth. Then came
forward the other tributary kings of the realm--King Brandegoris of
Latangor, King Clarence of Northumberland, King Idres of Cornwall, the
King of the Hundred Knights, King Anguisance of Ireland, and many more;
but they fared no better than they who had preceded them. When all in
the assembly who desired to do so had made the attempt, the mystic sword
still remained firmly fixed in the anvil.
“He is not yet here,” said the archbishop, “who shall achieve the sword;
but do not doubt that he will yet appear. It seems to me that we should
appoint ten knights to keep guard round about it, and make proclamation
that every man who will may essay it.”
All was done as the archbishop had said; but day after day passed, and
most of the nobles and proved knights of the realm had endeavoured in
vain to draw out the sword from the anvil. Merlin and the archbishop
were desirous to keep the lords together, and so on New-Year’s Day a
tournament was held. Among the knights that rode to take part therein
was Sir Kay, and with him went Arthur as his squire. Now as they went
toward the field, Sir Kay found that he had left his sword behind him at
the lodging where he abode with his father Sir Ector and his mother, and
Arthur, who passed for his brother. He prayed Arthur to ride back for
his sword; and Arthur obeyed, as was fitting in a squire. When, however,
he came to the lodging he found it closed, for all who dwelt there had
gone to see the jousting. Now on his way Arthur had passed by where the
sword was standing in the anvil in the churchyard; and so he straightway
rode thither, for, said he, “certainly my brother Sir Kay shall not be
without a sword this day.” The knights that should have guarded it being
at the tournament, no one but himself was present. He came to the sword,
and took it by the hilt, and easily drew it forth without reading the
words engraven on the hilt, and carried it to Sir Kay.
Now Sir Kay was a good knight of his hands, but he was exceedingly proud
and masterful. As soon as he beheld the sword, he knew well whence it
had come; and so he rode boldly to his father, Sir Ector.
“Sir,” said he, “here have I the sword of the stone; therefore I must be
chosen king of this land.”
Sir Ector, who knew better than his son to whom the throne rightfully
belonged, would not believe that Sir Kay had drawn forth the sword. He
led him to the churchyard, Arthur also following, and bade him replace
the sword and then again remove it. Sir Kay, thinking that the charm was
broken, promptly obeyed; he put the sword back into the anvil readily
enough, but when he essayed to pull it out again, his utmost strength
did not avail to move it.
“Now, son,” said Sir Ector, “I call upon you, in the name of the Most
High, to tell me truly from whom you had the sword.”
“Sir,” answered Sir Kay abashed, “it was brought to me by my brother
Arthur.”
Then Sir Ector bade Arthur draw forth the sword, and that he did as
easily as from a scabbard. Straightway Sir Ector and his son knelt down
and greeted Arthur as king.
“Ah, my dear father and brother,” said Arthur, “why do you call me king,
and kneel to me?”
“You are not my son,” replied Sir Ector, “but of better blood than ever
mine was.” And he told Arthur how Merlin had placed him in his charge;
and entreated, in reward for the care with which he had been nourished,
that when he became king he would make Sir Kay his seneschal, a request
which Arthur readily granted. Then they went to the archbishop, and
told him how the sword had been achieved, and by whom. On Twelfth Day,
another solemn service was held, and afterwards, in the presence of all
the kings and barons, Arthur again drew out the sword from the anvil,
though no one else could move it.
But the great lords were not at all inclined to recognize as their king
a mere youth, who had hitherto passed as the second son of a knight
of no great estate. So they put off the decision of the matter till
Candlemas; but a pavilion was set up over the sword and stone, and
five knights watched over it by day and five by night. At Candlemas the
barons assembled again, and again Arthur only could draw out the sword.
Still there were many of the chief men of the realm that were loath to
take him as their king, and another delay was agreed upon till Easter.
At Easter all went as it had gone before; and now the lords agreed to
delay the matter till Pentecost. But Merlin and the archbishop saw
that Arthur’s right would not be admitted without bloodshed, and they
gathered as many as they could of the best knights of the realm, and
such as had been faithful followers of King Uther, and kept them always
about Arthur.
The rest of the wonders that Merlin wrought to give the kingdom to
Arthur, and to make his reign glorious, may be more properly told in the
history of the king himself. But for a long time Merlin the Wizard was
Arthur’s chief adviser; and while the king was guided by his counsels
and aided by his magic art, all went well with him. When Arthur had been
some years on the throne, however, the great enchanter disappeared for
ever from mortal ken, through a calamity which he himself had long ago
foreseen. He had become deeply enamoured of the lovely Yiviane, who
dwelt in the forest of Breceliande in Brittany, and is usually, in the
ancient chronicles, called the Lady of the Lake. Yiviane did not return
his love, but she feared his supernatural powers, and therefore sought
for means of ridding herself of him without exciting his wrath. She
pretended to be as much devoted to him as he was to her, and induced
him by her wiles and caresses to reveal to her an enchantment by which
a man, of whatsoever might or magic skill, could be enclosed and
imprisoned without a tower, without walls, without chains, so securely
that of his own skill he could never be released. It was only with great
reluctance that Merlin intrusted the secret to her, for well he knew
that it would be used against himself. But, as the old proverb has it,
“love levels all,” and it made the wisdom of the great seer power-less
against the arts and the beauty of Viviane. It fell out that some little
time afterwards Merlin and the lady were wandering in the forest of
Breceliande, and they came to a white-thorn bush, laden with bloom.
Underneath this bush they sat down together, and in a while Merlin laid
his head in Viviane’s lap and fell asleep. Then she rose deftly, without
waking him, and made a ring round Merlin and the bush, and began the
enchantment which he himself had taught her; and when she had ended,
there was, as it were, a cloud about the place, so that Merlin was
hidden from sight. But to him, when he awoke, it seemed that he was shut
up in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon a fair bed. Then
he knew that the enchantment had been wrought upon him, and that there
was no escape, for only Viviane could undo the spell. She visited him
ofttimes, but would never release him, and after many years she died.
But Merlin still remains a prisoner in the depths of the forest. To him
the long years and ages have been but as days. He lies in a magic sleep.
But the day will come when the strong enchantment that bound him will
be broken, and he will come forth to behold the changes that have been
wrought by more potent arts than his, and all the wonders of this later
time.