Studies from Court and Cloister Part 19

A poor man and his wife having died within a few days of each other, it was decided to bury them both in one grave. For this it was necessary to dig deeper than usual, and in doing so, the grave-digger came upon an obstacle which proved to be a block of red sandstone with sculptured figures upon it. This block was found to be the missing top-stone of the Cross.

One point still needs explanation. When Pennant saw the Cross in the early part of the eighteenth century, before the buried fragment had been excavated, it measured 2o feet in height. At the present day, although the top has been replaced, the height of the column does not exceed 17 feet 6 inches, a circ.u.mstance that can only be accounted for by the supposition that the obelisk may have sunk several feet into the ground in the interval.

The spirit that breathes in The Dream of the Rood is strongly imbued with national elements. The doctrine and sentiments are strictly Catholic, but the poem is at the same time an epitome of what St.

Cuthbert and the monks of Lindisfarne, the royal Abbess Hilda, Caedmon, and now it appears Cynewulf also had been long doing for Northumbria, in taking what was grand and heroic in the old heathen traditions, and leading up through them to Christianity. But if this influence can be distinctly traced in the runes on the Ruthwell Cross, yet another element is seen in its ornamentation, which carries us back to the Christian tombs in the Roman catacombs where its prototypes are to be found.

On the Bewcastle Cross there is less of the national element and more of the Roman, fewer runes and more of this kind of sculpture. A few feet from the parish church, and within the precincts of a large Roman station, guarded by a double vallum, stands the shaft of what was formerly an Anglo-Saxon funeral cross of most graceful shape and design. This column, 14 feet in height, is quadrangular, and formed of one entire block of grey freestone, inserted in a broader base of blue stone. The side facing westward has suffered most from storm and rain.

It bears on its surface two sculptured figures, and the princ.i.p.al runic inscription. The lower figure, that representing our Lord, has been much mutilated by accident or design. He stands as He is seen on the Ruthwell Cross, with His feet on the heads of swine, as trampling down all unclean things. His right hand is uplifted in blessing, in His left hand is a scroll,

Above is St. John the Baptist holding the Agnus Dei, and near the top are the remains of the Latin word Christus.

The runic inscription has been translated thus:

"This slender sign-beacon set was by Hwoetred, Wothgar, Olufwolth, after Alcfrith Once King eke son of Oswin Bid (pray) for the high sin of his soul."

Beneath these runes is the figure of a man in a long robe with a hood over his head, and a bird, probably a falcon, on his left wrist. This figure is supposed to represent Alcfrid himself. Immediately below the falcon is an upright piece of wood with a transverse bar at the top, possibly meant for the bird's perch. On the east side there are no runes, but a vine is sculptured in low relief within a border. Dr.

Haigh observed that the design on this side was the same as on the two sides of the Ruthwell Cross.* The north and the south sides are in a state of good preservation, and are covered with a beautiful design in knotwork, and alternate lines of foliage, flowers, and fruit. On the north side there is a long panel fitted with chequers, which have given rise to a good deal of controversy among antiquaries. Camden thought them to be the arms of the De Vaux family, and when this theory was exploded, Mr. Howard of Corby Castle reversed it, and suggested that the chequers on the De Vaux arms were taken from this monument. But the Rev. John Maughan, B.A., rector of Bewcastle, in a note to his tract on this place, cites instances of chequers or diaper-work in Scythian, Egyptian, Gallic, and Roman art, and proves from the Book of Kings that there were "nets of chequered work" in the Temple of Solomon. After remarking that this is a natural form of ornamentation he calls attention to the frequent use made of it in mediaeval illuminations.**

* Archaologia Aeliana, p. 169.

** Archaeological Journal, vol. xi.

Above this panel are the words "Myrcna Kung," and over the next piece of knot-work is seen the name "Wulfhere" (King of the Mercians). Then follows another vine, and above all are three crosses and the holy name "Jesus." On the south side runs a runic inscription thus:

In the first year of the King of ric (realm) this Ecgfrith."

The last line of the inscription is so broken that it can only be guessed at.*

* c.u.mberland and Westmoreland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society.

Bewcastle and its Cross, by W. Nanson, p. 215.

Fine as this obelisk is, we should be at a loss to make out that it was ever a cross, but for a slip of paper which was found in Camden's own copy of his Britannia (ed. 1607 now in the Bodleian Library. On the slip of paper was written this memorandum: "I received this morning a ston from my lord of Arundel, sent him from my lord William. It was the head of a cross at Bucastle: and the letters legable are these on one line, and I have sett to them such as I can gather out of my alphabetts: that like an A I can find in non. But wither this may be only letters or words I somewhat doubt."

Neither Camden nor any one else got much further than this for many years; and the general ignorance of runes is the more to be deplored since it led to a carelessness and want of interest in the preservation of priceless relics, even among antiquaries. The stone which thus came into Camden's possession has utterly disappeared, and the inscription which he tried in vain to decipher, and which might have thrown light on a mysterious subject, is thus lost to us.

In conclusion, we may, for the sake of clearness, recapitulate, first: that although there can no longer be any reasonable doubt that the runes on the Ruthwell obelisk are by the Northumbrian poet, Cynewulf, it has by no means been satisfactorily proved that these runes are of a subsequent date to the West-Saxon version of the poem in the Vercelli Codex, but that probability seems rather to point to an earlier date than the second half of the tenth century; and secondly, that so close a resemblance between the two Crosses does not necessarily imply that they date from absolutely the same period. The royal obelisk at Bewcastle must have been a famous monument in its day, known and celebrated far and wide, and it would not be unlikely that even a hundred years later it might be called upon to serve, to some extent, as a model for that Cross which was to immortalise the Dream of which Northumbrians were naturally proud. If, however, the runes on the Bewcastle Cross fix its date as the latter part of the seventh century, those on the Ruthwell Cross cannot be earlier than the eighth century.

Had the zeal, directed nearly four hundred years ago against our national treasures, been bestowed on their preservation, we should have reason indeed to congratulate ourselves on the beauty of many of our public monuments. Instead of mutilated remains, we should have works of art which, but for the gentle hand of time, would be as perfect as when they left the master's hand.

But there has never been a period when the intelligent study of the past, whether in palaeography, philology, or history, has been so highly cultivated as in the present day. If we have lost the inspiration that creates, we have, at least, learned to venerate and cherish the n.o.ble works of our progenitors.

II. A MISSING PAGE FROM THE IDYLLS OF THE KING

Although the Norte d'Arthur was one of the first books printed in the English language, the great semihistorical figure of Arthur, together with his Knights of the Round Table, and all their romantic exploits, had wellnigh died out of the memory of the English people when Tennyson published his Idylls of the King

The Morte d'Arthur was translated, according to Caxton, by Sir Thomas Malory, who took it "out of certain books of French and reduced it into English." But it is no mere translation of the older romances, which Malory rather adopted as the basis of his work, moulding them to suit his more refined taste and fancy, much as Chaucer used Boccaccio's tales, and Shakespeare a century after Malory adopted the plots and outlines of inferior playwrights.

Placed midway between the works of Chaucer and Shakespeare, the book, which has been aptly described as a prose-poem, is one of the happiest ill.u.s.trations possible of the language, manners, modes of thought and expression prevalent in England in the fifteenth century. Chivalry was not yet dead, ideals were still cherished, the feudal system still obtained, Gothic architecture had not yet said its last word, Englishmen were papal to the backbone, and religion was a potent factor in their live, in spite of much that was harsh, crude, and violent.

"Herein," said Caxton, "may be seen n.o.ble chivalry, courtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friends.h.i.+p, cowardice, murder, hate, virtue, sin. Do after the good, and leave the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame and renommee."

The Norte d'Arthur was finished in the ninth year of Edward IV., that is in 1470, and Caxton printed the first edition of the book in black letter, in 1485. Of this edition, now almost priceless, only two copies are known to exist, both of which are in private collections. One of these is in the United States, the other, slightly defective, is in the possession of Lord Spencer, who has also in his library at Althorp the only known copy of the second edition, printed in 1498 by Wynkyn de Worde, who took over Caxton's presses at his death. Of the third edition (1529), also printed by Wynkyn de Worde, a copy is in the British Museum. It is incomplete inasmuch as the t.i.tle, preface, and part of the table of contents are wanting.

The British Museum possesses two other copies, one printed by William Copland in 1557, the other a folio without date, published by East. All these editions are in black letter.

Whether we agree with Caxton that "it might full well be aretted great folly and blindness to say or think that there was never such a king called Arthur," or whether we are of those "divers men who hold opinion that all such books as be made of him be but fayne matters and fables, because that some chronicles make of him no mention, nor remember him nothing, nor of his knights," we must admit that at least incidentally, the Morte d'Arthur is a picture of British faith and pious practices.

Its composition is mediaeval, and represents the tone of thought common in the world as distinct from the cloister, in the Middle Ages; but it is also a true exponent of an earlier period still, when Lucius, the British chief, sent messengers to home to beg Pope Eleutherius to admit him into the Fold of Christ, and to send missionaries to instruct his people in the Faith. Comparing the Idylls of the King with Malory's book, we are irresistibly reminded of certain Catholic books of devotion "expurgated" or "adapted" for members of the Church of England. All that savours too much of popery is left out. There is, no doubt, a strong Protestant prejudice in Tennyson, struggling with his sense of artistic beauty, and repeatedly Protestantism wins the day. We cannot always quarrel with him for his selection, because, although the modern mind is not a whit cleaner than the mediaeval mind, there is an unwritten convention, that at all events a spade shall not now be called a spade, at least in polite society, and Tennyson wrote exclusively for the polite. In the Middle Ages evil was spoken of plainly as in Scripture; there was no blinking of facts, no dressing-up of vice to make it look like virtue, and consequently much "bowdlerising" was necessary before Malory's outspoken language should be sufficiently veiled to suit the susceptibilities, to which we have a perfect and legitimate right in so far as they are genuine, and no cloak for an hypocrisy that delights in the loathsome indecencies and disgusting suggestiveness of the modern problem novel.

But what we do regret is that apart from the coa.r.s.eness, and even from a mere dramatic point of view, much that Tennyson rejected is finer than anything he took. His Lancelot is a grand conception, as mournfully, but with n.o.ble self-abas.e.m.e.nt, he says:

". . . . in me there dwells No greatness, save it be some far-off touch Of greatness to know well I am not great."

He is the very knight of courtesy, in chivalry above all other knights save Arthur--so strong that "whom he smote he overthrew"; he is brave, n.o.ble, scornful, and "falsely true," but he is not the Lancelot of the Morte d'Arthur.

The story of Lancelot is incomplete in the Idylls, and by incompleteness we do not mean only that it is deprived of its denouement, of the climax up to which it has been working from the beginning, but that there is also to be noted the conspicuous absence of a refrain that should be there throughout. It is true that at the end of "Lancelot and Elaine," one single line hints vaguely at the penance that was to atone for his sad and sin-stained life, where he is described as

"Not knowing he should die a holy man."

And in another place the long account of his confession, absolution, contrition, and the exhortation of the priest is slurred over in these words relating to the poisonous weeds that twined and clung round the wholesome flowers of his life:

"Then I spake To one most holy saint, who wept and said That save they could be plucked asunder all My quest were but in vain; to whom I vowed That I would work according as he willed."

If we compare this with what Malory said, we shall see the total inadequacy of Tennyson's treatment of the episode which left out the whole root of the matter:--

How Sir Lancelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made, and of the good examples that were showed him.

Then Sir Lancelot wept with heavy cheer and said, "Now I know well ye say me sooth." "Sir," said the good man, "hide none old sin from me."

"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "that were me full loth to discover. For this fourteen years I never discovered one thing that I have used and to that may I now blame my shame and my misadventure." And then he told there, that good man, all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably, and out of measure long;--"and all my great deeds of arms that I have done I did the most part for the queen's sake, and for her sake would I do battle, were it right or wrong, and never did I battle all only for G.o.d's sake, but for to win wors.h.i.+p and to cause me to be the better beloved, and little or nought I thanked G.o.d of it." Then Sir Lancelot said, "I pray you counsel me." "I will counsel you," said the hermit, "if ye will ensure me that ye will never come in that queen's fellows.h.i.+p, as much as ye may forbare." And then Sir Lancelot promised him he would not, by the faith of his body. "Look that your heart and your mouth accord," said the good man, "and I shall ensure you ye shall have more wors.h.i.+p than ever ye had." . . . Then the good man enjoined Sir Lancelot such penance as he might do, and to sue knighthood, and so he a.s.soiled him, and prayed Sir Lancelot to abide with him all that day. "I will well," said Sir Lancelot, "for I have neither helm, nor horse, nor sword." "As for that," said the good man, "I shall help you to-morn at even of an horse and all that longeth unto you." And then Sir Lancelot repented him greatly.

After this he meets with another hermit who gives him a hair s.h.i.+rt to wear as a penance, and riding on in pursuit of his quest, the Holy Grail, Lancelot next comes to a Cross, "and took that for his host as for that night. And so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm and his s.h.i.+eld, and made his prayers unto the Cross that he never fall in deadly sin again. And so he laid him down to sleep." Further on, we are told, as a sign of his sincerity and perseverance that "the hair p.r.i.c.ked so Sir Lancelot's skin that it grieved him full sore, but he took it meekly and suffered the pain."

Tennyson records no fights with conscience, no turning towards the light, no sorrowful confessions at all. He has given us a great deal, but it is not too much to say that what he rejected, a Catholic poet would have seized with delight as the purplest patches of his epic, and the climax to which the whole story led.

The same remarks do not altogether apply to Tennyson's conception of Arthur's character. Although there is much that is fine and beautiful in him, as he is portrayed in the older legends, although, when pierced with many wounds, he fought on valiantly, because he was "so full of knighthood that knightly he endured the pain," it is Tennyson who has exalted him into "the blameless king," "the highest creature here," and if it had only been for what he has given us in King Arthur, the Idylls would have been worth writing. Still even here he leaves out all those Catholic touches which went to make up the life and soul of British Christianity, the custom of beginning each day with the hearing of Ma.s.s, the frequent allusions to the Pope as the Head of Christendom, the mention of prayers for the dead, of penance, and so on.

When Arthur had defied the Roman Emperor, who had sent to claim tribute, and had carried his victorious arms to the gates of the Eternal City, the legend says that senators and cardinals came out and sued for peace. They invited him in, and there he was crowned emperor "with all the solemnity that could be made, and by the Pope's own hands." King Mark of Cornwall, for reasons of his own, wanted to rid himself of Tristram, and set about it in this wily manner:

He let do counterfeit letters from the Pope, and made a strange clerk for to bear them unto King Mark, the which letters specified that King Mark should make him ready upon pain of cursing, with his host for to come to the Pope, to help to go to Jerusalem for to make war upon the Saracens.

Mark, pretending that he could not leave home, proposed that Sir Tristram should go in his place, since the command of the Pope must be obeyed. "But," said Sir Tristram, "sythen the apostle Pope hath sent for him, bid him go thither himself." "Well," said King Mark, "yet shall he be beguiled," and counterfeited other letters, and the letters specified that the Pope desired Sir Tristram to come himself to make war upon the Saracens. But Tristram began to suspect the King of Cornwall of treachery, and at last Mark was obliged to walk into the trap which he had set for his enemy, and to take an oath "that he would go himself unto the Pope of Rome for to war upon the Saracens."

Malory's book abounds in such ill.u.s.trations and side lights as these, but enough has been said to show how entirely the modern poet has suppressed the part played by the Pope in the lives of Englishmen, at least, up to the time of Edward IV.

One other instance of this pre-reformation doctrine belongs to the story of Lancelot, and will be given in its proper place. We may remark here that whatever the shortcomings of some of Arthur's knights, they one and all evinced a lively faith, profound veneration for holy things, and a truly Catholic desire for reconciliation with G.o.d, through the reception of the Sacraments, whenever they fell into sin.

Thus, the knights who were convened to a.s.sist at Arthur's coronation "made them clean of their lives, that their prayers might be the more acceptable unto G.o.d." And when Balan fought with his brother, Balyn, by mistake, and both were mortally wounded, Balan entreated the lady of the Tower to send for a priest: "Yea," said the lady, "it shall be done," and so she sent for a priest to give them their rights. "Now,"