Part 16 (1/2)

Milun was a knight of South Wales. His strength and prowess were such, that he never met an adversary who was able to unhorse him. His reputation spread far beyond the borders of his own country, and he was known and admired in Ireland, Norway, Gothland, Loegria (England), and Albany (Scotland). At no great distance from his castle dwelt an opulent baron, who had an only daughter, courteous and beautiful. Hearing his praises from all quarters, she became enamoured, and sent a messenger to say, her heart was at his service if he thought it worth acceptance.

Milun, whose affections were not pre-engaged, returned an answer expressive of grat.i.tude, sent his gold ring as a symbol of inviolable constancy; and, having fixed her messenger in his interests by magnificent presents, arranged with him a secure place of meeting. Their intercourse was managed so discreetly as to excite no suspicion; till the young lady, sending for her lover, represented to him that longer concealment was impossible. By an ancient law she was subject, on discovery, at her father's option, to be punished with instant death or sold as a slave; and she saw no means of escaping this frightful alternative. Milun listened in silent horror, but could suggest no expedient, when her old nurse undertook to conceal the rest, if the child could be properly disposed of; and for this the young lady found a ready contrivance. She had a sister richly married in Northumberland, to whom Milun might cause the child to be conveyed, with a letter explaining all, and his gold ring, by means of which it might, in due time, discover and make itself known to its parents. It proved to be a boy; the ring was hung about its neck, with a purse containing the letter; he was placed in a soft cradle, swathed in the finest linen, with an embroidered pillow under his head, and a rich coverlid edged with sable to protect him from the cold. Milun, in delivering him to the attendants, ordered that during the journey he should stop seven times in the day, for the purpose of being washed, fed, and put to sleep. The nurse, and all the servants who attended, had been selected with great care, and performed their charge with fidelity; and the Northumbrian lady a.s.sured her sister, by a letter which they brought back, that she accepted the charge with pleasure. This being settled, Milun left his castle for a short time on some military business, and during his absence the young lady's father resolved to bestow her in marriage on a neighbouring baron. She was now almost reduced to despair, her lover, to whom she was more than ever attached, was absent; to avow to her new husband what had happened was impossible, and to conceal it extremely difficult. But she was compelled to submit. The marriage took place; and Milun, on his return, was scarcely less distressed than his mistress, till he recollected she was still in the neighbourhood, and he might perhaps be able to devise some means of procuring an interview. He had a favourite swan, long accustomed to feed out of his hand. Having written and sealed a letter, he tied it round its neck, and finding it effectually concealed by the feathers, called a favourite servant, and directed him to repair to the lady's habitation, devise some contrivance for gaining admission, and deliver the same into her own hands. The man executed his commission with great ingenuity. He represented himself to the porter of the castle as a poacher; stated that he had just caught a fine swan close to Caerleon; and much wished to conciliate the future intercession of the lady by presenting it to her. The porter, after some hesitation, went to explore the anti-chamber; and, finding in it only two knights, intent on a game of chess, returned immediately, and conducted the man to his lady's apartment, which, on his knocking, was opened to them. Having graciously accepted the present, she was going to recommend the swan to the care of one of her valets; but the messenger observing ”it was a royal bird, who would only accept food from her own hand,” and desiring her to caress it, she soon perceived the letter, and changed colour, but recovering herself, dismissed the messenger with a present, turned out her own attendants, excepting one maid, and proceeded to examine the mystery. It contained the warmest protestations of her lover's unalterable attachment, expressed a hope that she might be able to point out a secure place of meeting; and shewed her an easy method of continuing the correspondence. ”The swan, already tame, might, by good feeding, be easily attached to her; after which, if debarred from meat during three days, he would, when set at liberty, fly back to his old master.” After kissing the welcome letter till she had nearly obliterated its contents she proceeded to put in practice his injunctions; and having by stealth procured some parchment and ink, made an equally tender reply, which, being tied round the swan's neck, was rapidly and faithfully conveyed to Milun. During twenty years they kept up, by this means, a regular correspondence, and their frequent interviews were managed with a secresy which secured them against detection. In the mean time their son, after receiving an excellent education, had been dubbed a knight, and learned from his aunt the name of his father, and the mystery of his birth. Inflamed with a n.o.ble ambition, he resolved instantly to set off for foreign countries and to surpa.s.s his sire in military glory. The next day he communicated the project to his aunt, who gave him a number of instructions for his future conduct; which, lest he should forget, she repeated more than once, and accompanied her admonitions with such liberal presents as would enable him to rival in splendour the richest of his compet.i.tors.

He repaired to Southampton; landed at Barbefluet (Barfleur); pa.s.sed into Britany; engaged, by his generosity, a numerous attendance of poor knights, eclipsed the proudest of his rivals by superior liberality; vanquished the stoutest; gained the prize in every tournament; and, though he concealed his name, was quickly known through the country by the appellation of ”The Knight without a Peer.” The fame of this youthful warrior at length reached the care of his father. From the first moment of his bestriding a horse, that father had never encountered an equal; and as he trusted age had added to his address more than it had yet subtracted from his vigour, he hoped to prove, by the overthrow of this unknown, that his high renown was owing to the absence of Milun. After this exploit he meant to go in quest of his son, whose departure into foreign countries he had lately learnt, and having obtained the permission of his mistress, embarked for Normandy, and thence proceeded into Bretagne. The tournaments did not begin till the festival of Easter; Milun, therefore, who arrived before the end of winter, spent the interval in travelling from place to place, in exercising hospitality, and searching out the most meritorious knights, whom he attached to himself by his liberality. At length the festival took place, at Mont St. Michel, and was attended by a crowd of French, Flemish, Norman and Breton, knights, though by very few English. Milun enquired minutely into the arms and devises of the unknown knight, and had no difficulty in procuring ample information. The tournament began: the two rivals separately acquired a manifest superiority, and bore down all who opposed them, but the opinions of the a.s.sembly were divided between the two. The strength and address of the veteran appeared invincible, yet the suppleness and activity of the youth attracted still more admiration. Even Milun himself beheld him with a mixture of wonder and delight, and summoned all his skill and strength when he rode to encounter this formidable adversary. His spear was too well-directed to miss its aim; but it flew into a thousand splinters, while that of the youth remained entire, and threw him at some distance upon the ground.

By the violence of the shock the ventail of his helmet was broken off, and displayed his beard and hair, gray with age; when the youth, bringing back his horse, courteously requested him to remount, expressing his regret at having, by his accidental victory, sullied the fame of a respectable veteran. Milun, surveying him with increased admiration, discovered on his finger, while he held the rein, his own ring, and earnestly conjured him to relate his history, and the names of his parents. He obeyed, and was proceeding to tell all he knew, when the old knight again springing from his horse, and catching him by the skirts of his coat of mail, hailed him as his son, and received him in his arms as he dismounted to request the paternal benediction. The tournament being over, they retired amidst the tears and applauses of the a.s.sembly, and retreated to their inn, where Milun related the whole series of his adventures. The young man listened till the end with respectful attention; and then exclaimed, ”In faith, fair sire, I will unite you to my mother. I will kill her present husband, and you shall marry her.” This being arranged, they parted for the night. On the next day they arrived at the sea: embarked; landed in Wales after a short and pleasant pa.s.sage; and were proceeding to Milun's castle, when they were met by a messenger bearing a letter to Milun from his lady, in which she announced the death of her husband, and requested him to hasten his return. At this joyful news they hurried on to the lady's castle; and she had the satisfaction of being for ever united to her lover, at the same time that she embraced a son every way worthy of his accomplished parents. On this occasion says the author, ”_the ancients_ made a lay which I have here set down _in writing_, and which I always relate with fresh pleasure.”

FOOTNOTES:

[79] This lay has been translated into English metre, under the t.i.tle of ”the _Nythingale_.” Bibl. Cotton. Calig. A. 11.

[80] Perhaps Milwr, a _warrior_.

No. X.--CHAITIVEL.

There lived formerly, at Nantes in Bretagne, a lady of such exquisite beauty that no one could behold her with impunity. All the young men of the town were rivals for her smiles; but four, nearly of the same age, and of equal birth and accomplishments, soon eclipsed all the rest of the compet.i.tors. Each of these four deserved, and obtained, a place in her affections; but their merits were so equal that she was unable to make a choice. At tournaments she sent to all some mark of distinction; a ring, a scarf, a pennant, or other ornament; and all ascribed to her, as mistress of their actions, the exploits they had the good fortune to perform. It happened once, that Nantes was appointed for the celebration of a tournament at the Easter festival. The four knights set out to meet the foreign ones, and proposed to joust with an equal number: the offer was accepted, and the contest ended to the advantage of the town. On the following day the four young lovers still further distinguished themselves; but the spectacle at length degenerated, as was frequently the case, into a real combat, in which three out of the four were accidentally slain, and the fourth dangerously wounded. They were brought back to the lady, who caused the three to be magnificently interred, and summoned the best physicians of the town to a.s.sist her attendance on the survivor. Their joint efforts were at length successful. He became convalescent; and, finding his pa.s.sion revive with his returning health, daily importuned the lady for her hand, to which there now remained no other equal claimant. But she gave him to understand, that feeling herself singular in misfortune, by having lost in one day three admirers of superior merit, she would not consent to bear to the bridal ceremony a heart consumed by eternal regret; and that, as a monument of her grief, she intended to compose a lay, the t.i.tle of which should be ”Les quatre Dols,” (the four griefs). The lover, instead of attempting to argue her out of this resolution, only employs his eloquence in convincing her that the t.i.tle of the new lay ought to be ”Le Chaitivel,” (the wretch), because his rivals had found in death the end of their disappointments, while he was doomed to a life of sorrow and privation. The lady having a.s.sented to this change, the story is abruptly brought to a conclusion.

No. XI.--_Translation of the Lai DEE CHEVREFOIL_:

_(From Notes to Sir Tristrem, edited by Walter Scott, Esq.)_

I am much pleased with the lay which is called Chevrefoil. Let me relate to you truly on what occasion it was made, and by whom. Many persons have narrated the story to me; and I have also found it in writing, in the work which treats of Tristrem, and of the Queen; and of their constant love, from which they suffered a thousand sorrows; and expired on the same day.[81]

King Markes had been much offended with his nephew, Tristrem; and had banished him on account of his attachment to the queen. The knight retired into the country where he was born; spent there a whole year of affliction; and, being still forbidden to return, became careless of life. Do not wonder at this; for a true lover, where his wishes are crossed by insuperable obstacles, can set no bounds to his grief.

Tristrem, therefore, thus driven to despair, left his home; pa.s.sed into Cornwall, the abode of the queen, and concealed himself in the thickest part of the forest; from which he issued only at the close of the day, at which time he took up his lodgings among the peasants and the poorest of mankind. After frequent questions to these his hosts, concerning the public news of the court, he at length learned the king had convoked his barons, and summoned them to attend him at Pentecost, at the castle of Tintagel. Tristrem was rejoiced at this news; because it was impossible the queen could arrive at the meeting without giving him an opportunity of getting sight of her during the journey. On the appointed day, therefore, be took his station, in that part of the wood through which the road pa.s.sed, cut down a branch of _codre_ (hazel), smoothed it, wrote his name on it with the point of his knife, together with other characters, which the queen would well know how to decypher. He perceives her approaching; he sees her examine with attention every object on her road. In former times they had recognized each other by means of a similar device; and he trusts, that, should she cast her eyes on the stick, she will suspect it to belong to her lover. This was the purport of the characters traced on it: ”That he had long been waiting at a distance, in hopes of being favoured with some expedient which might procure him a meeting, without which he could no longer exist. It was with these two, as with the _chevrefoil_ and the _codre._ When the honey-suckle has caught hold of the _codre_, and encircled it by its embraces, the two will live together and flourish; but if any one resolves to sever them, the _codre_ suddenly dies, and the honey-suckle with it. Sweet friend, so it is with us; I cannot live without you, nor you without me.”

The queen slowly riding on, perceives the stick, and recognizes the well-known characters. She orders the knights who accompany her to stop.

She is tired; she will get off her horse for a short time, and take some repose. She calls to her only her maid, her faithful Brenguein; quits the road, plunges into the thickest part of the forest, and finds him whom she loved more than all the world. Both were delighted beyond measure at this meeting, which gives them full leisure to concert their future projects. She tells him, that he may now be easily reconciled to his uncle. That the king has often regretted his absence, and attributes to the malicious accusations of their common enemies, the severe measure of his banishment. After a long conversation, the queen tears herself from him; and they separate with mutual grief. Tristrem returned to South-Wales, from whence he was soon recalled by his uncle; but, in the mean time, he had repeated to himself, over and over again, every word of his mistress's late conversation; and, while full of the joy he felt at having seen her, he composed (being a perfect master of the lays) a new lay, describing his stratagem, its success, his delight, and the very words uttered by the queen. I will tell you the name of this lay it is called _Goat-leaf_ in English, and _Chevre-foil_ in French. I have now told you the whole truth.[82]