1863
BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY:
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE OR ROMANCE OF THE MIDDLE AGES
by Thomas Bulfinch
"How Agrican with all his northern powers
Besieged Albracca, as romances tell;
The city of Galaphron, from thence to win
The fairest of her sex, Angelica,
His daughter, loved of many prowest knights,
Both paynim, and the peers of Charlemain."
Paradise Regained.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
THOSE who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables
relating to Charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the deeds of
Charles Martel, and perhaps of other Charleses, have been blended in
popular tradition with those properly belonging to Charlemagne. It was
indeed a most momentous era; and if our readers will have patience,
before entering on the perusal of the fabulous annals which we are
about to lay before them, to take a rapid survey of the real history
of the times, they will find it hardly less romantic than the tales of
the poets.
In the century beginning from the year 600, the countries
bordering upon the native land of our Saviour, to the east and
south, had not yet received his religion. Arabia was the seat of an
idolatrous religion resembling that of the ancient Persians, who
worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. In Mecca, in the year 571,
Mahomet was born, and here, at the age of forty, he proclaimed himself
the prophet of God, in dignity as superior to Christ as Christ had
been to Moses. Having obtained by slow degrees a considerable number
of disciples, he resorted to arms to diffuse his religion. The
energy and zeal of his followers, aided by the weakness of the
neighboring nations, enabled him and his successors to spread the sway
of Arabia and the religion of Mahomet over the countries to the east
as far as the Indus, northward over Persia and Asia Minor, westward
over Egypt and the southern shores of the Mediterranean, and thence
over the principal portion of Spain. All this was done within one
hundred years from the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet from Mecca to
Medina, which happened in the year 622, and is the era from which
Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ.
From Spain the way was open for the Saracens (so the followers of
Mahomet were called) into France, the conquest of which, if
achieved, would have been followed very probably by that of all the
rest of Europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of
Christianity from the earth. For Christianity was not at that day
universally professed, even by those nations which we now regard as
foremost in civilization. Great part of Germany, Britain, Denmark, and
Russia were still pagan or barbarous.
At that time there ruled in France, though without the title of
king, the first of those illustrious Charleses of whom we have spoken,
Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne. The Saracens of
Spain had made incursions into France in 712 and 718, and had retired,
carrying with them a vast booty. In 725, Anbessa, who was then the
Saracen governor of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees with a numerous
army, and took by storm the strong town of Carcassone. So great was
the terror, excited by this invasion, that the country for a wide
extent submitted to the conqueror, and a Mahometan governor for the
province was appointed and installed at Narbonne. Anbessa, however,
received a fatal wound in one of his engagements, and the Saracens,
being thus checked from further advance, retired to Narbonne.
In 732 the Saracens again invaded France under Abdalrahman, advanced
rapidly to the banks of the Garonne, and laid siege to Bordeaux. The
city was taken by assault and delivered up to the soldiery. The
invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the territories of
Orleans, Auxerre, and Sens. Their advanced parties were suddenly
called in by their chief, who had received information of the rich
abbey of St. Martin of Tours, and resolved to plunder and destroy it.
Charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the
Saracens, for the reason that the portion of France over which their
incursions had been made was not at that time under his dominion,
but constituted an independent kingdom, under the name of Aquitaine,
of which Eude was king. But now Charles became convinced of the
danger, and prepared to encounter it. Abdalrahman was advancing toward
Tours, when intelligence of the approach of Charles, at the head of an
army of Franks, compelled him to fall back upon Poitiers, in order
to seize an advantageous field of battle.
Charles Martel had called together his warriors from every part of
his dominion, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever been
seen in France, crossed the Loire, probably at Orleans, and, being
joined by the remains of the army of Aquitaine, came in sight of the
Arabs in the month of October, 732. The Saracens seem to have been
aware of the terrible enemy they were now to encounter, and for the
first time these formidable conquerors hesitated. The two armies
remained in presence during seven days before either ventured to begin
the attack; but at length the signal for battle was given by
Abdalrahman, and the immense mass of the Saracen army rushed with fury
on the Franks. But the heavy line of the Northern warriors remained
like a rock, and the Saracens, during nearly the whole day, expended
their strength in vain attempts to make an impression upon them. At
length, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when Abdalrahman was
preparing for a new and desperate attempt to break the line of the
Franks, a terrible clamor was heard in the rear of the Saracens. It
was King Eude, who, with his Aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and
a great part of the Saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field to
protect their plunder. In this moment of confusion the line of the
Franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried fearful
slaughter amongst the enemy. Abdalrahman made desperate efforts to
rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest of his
officers, fell beneath the swords of the Christians, all order
disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in their
immense camp, from which Eude and his Aquitanians had been repulsed.
It was now late, and Charles, unwilling to risk an attack on the
camp in the dark, withdrew his army, and passed the night in the
plain, expecting to renew the battle in the morning.
Accordingly, when daylight came, the Franks drew up in order of
battle, but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to
approach the Saracen camp, they found it empty. The invaders had taken
advantage of the night to begin their retreat, and were already on
their way back to Spain, leaving their immense plunder behind to
fall into the hands of the Franks.
This was the celebrated battle of Tours, in which vast numbers of
the Saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the Franks.
Charles received the surname of Martel (the Hammer) in consequence
of this victory.
The Saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold
their ground in the South of France; but Pepin, the son of Charles
Martel, who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title
of king, successively took from them the strong places they held;
and in 759, by the capture of Narbonne, their capital, extinguished
the remains of their power in France.
Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, succeeded his father, Pepin, on
the throne in the year 768. This prince, though the hero of numerous
romantic legends, appears greater in history than in fiction.
Whether we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as a patron
of learning or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he is
entitled to our warmest admiration. Such he is in history; but the
romancers represent him as often weak and passionate, the victim of
treacherous counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent barons, on
whose prowess he depends for the maintenance of his throne. The
historical representation is doubtless the true one, for it is
handed down in trustworthy records, and is confirmed by the events
of the age. At the height of his power, the French empire extended
over what we now call France, Germany, Switzerland, Holland,
Belgium, and a great part of Italy.
In the year 800, Charlemagne, being in Rome, whither he had gone
with a numerous army to protect the Pope, was crowned by the Pontiff
Emperor of the West. On Christmas day Charles entered the Church of
St. Peter, as if merely to take his part in the celebration of the
mass with the rest of the congregation. When he approached the altar
and stooped in the act of prayer, the Pope stepped forward and
placed a crown of gold upon his head; and immediately the Roman people
shouted, "Life and victory to Charles the August, crowned by God the
great and pacific Emperor of the Romans." The Pope then prostrated
himself before him, and paid him reverence, according to the custom
established in the times of the ancient Emperors, and concluded the
ceremony by anointing him with consecrated oil.
Charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous
people, who, under the name of Saxons, inhabited the countries now
called Hanover and Holland. He also led expeditions against the
Saracens of Spain; but his wars with the Saracens were not carried on,
as the romances assert, in France, but on the soil of Spain. He
entered Spain by the Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of
Barcelona and Pampeluna. But Saragossa refused to open her gates to
him, and Charles ended by negotiating, and accepting a vast sum of
gold as the price of his return over the Pyrenees.
On his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges
of the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, and
Roncesvalles. The chief of this region had waited upon Charlemagne, on
his advance, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy; but now, on the
return of the Franks, he had called together all the wild mountaineers
who acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights
of the mountains under which the army had to pass. The main body of
the troops met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of
danger; but the rear-guard, which was considerably behind, and
encumbered with its plunder, was overwhelmed by the mountaineers in
the pass of Roncesvalles, and slain to a man. Some of the bravest of
the Frankish chiefs perished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned
Roland or Orlando, governor of the marches or frontier of Brittany.
His name became famous in after times, and the disaster of
Roncesvalles and death of Roland became eventually the most celebrated
episode in the vast cycle of romance.
Though after this there were hostile encounters between the armies
of Charlemagne and the Saracens, they were of small account, and
generally on the soil of Spain. Thus the historical foundation for the
stories of the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the events
of an earlier and of a later age to be incorporated with those of
Charlemagne's own time.
There is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was
admitted as authentic, and attributed to Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims,
a real personage of the time of Charlemagne. Its title is "History
of Charles the Great and Orlando." It is now unhesitatingly considered
as a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous
and unscrupulous monk, who thought to give dignity to his romance by
ascribing its authorship to a well-known and eminent individual. It
introduces its pretended author, Bishop Turpin, in this manner:-
"Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, the friend and secretary of Charles
the Great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of
a genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of the poor,
beloved of God in his life and conversation, who often fought the
Saracens, hand to hand, by the Emperor's side, he relates the acts
of Charles the Great in one book, and flourished under Charles and his
son Louis, to the year of our Lord eight hundred and thirty."
The titles of some of Archbishop Turpin's chapters will show the
nature of his history. They are these: "Of the Walls of Pampeluna,
that fell of themselves." "Of the War of the holy Facundus, where
the Spears grew." (Certain of the Christians fixed their spears, in
the evening, erect in the ground, before the castle; and found them,
in the morning, covered with bark and branches.) "How the Sun stood
still for Three Days, and the Slaughter of Four Thousand Saracens."
Turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous
adventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated
around the names of Charlemagne and his Paladins, or Peers. But
Ariosto and the other Italian poets have drawn from different sources,
and doubtless often from their own invention, numberless other stories
which they attribute to the same heroes, not hesitating to quote as
their authority "the good Turpin," though his history contains no
trace of them;- and the more outrageous the improbability, or rather
the impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to
cite "the Archbishop," generally adding their testimonial to his
unquestionable veracity.
The principal Italian poets who have sung the adventures of the
peers of Charlemagne are Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto. The characters
of Orlando, Rinaldo, Astolpho, Gano, and others, are the same in
all, though the adventures attributed to them are different, Boiardo
tells us of the loves of Orlando, Ariosto of his disappointment and
consequent madness, Pulci of his death.
Ogier, the Dane, is a real personage. History agrees with romance in
representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from Denmark and a
Pagan, embraced Christianity, and took service under Charlemagne. He
revolted from the Emperor, and was driven into exile. He afterwards
led one of those bands of piratical Norsemen which ravaged France
under the reigns of Charlemagne's degenerate successors. The
description which an ancient chronicler gives of Charlemagne, as
described by Ogier, is so picturesque, that we are tempted to
transcribe it. Charlemagne was advancing to the siege of Pavia.
Didier, King of the Lombards, was in the city with Ogier, to whom he
had given refuge. When they learned that the king was approaching,
they mounted a high tower, whence they could see far and wide over the
country. "They first saw advancing the engines of war, fit for the
armies of Darius or Julius Caesar. 'There is Charlemagne,' said
Didier. 'No,' said Ogier. The Lombard next saw a vast body of
soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'Certainly Charles advances with
that host,' said the king. 'Not yet,' replied Ogier. 'What hope for
us,' resumed the king, 'if he brings with him a greater host than
that?' At last Charles appeared, his head covered with an iron helmet,
his hands with iron gloves, his breast and shoulders with a cuirass of
iron, his left hand holding an iron lance, while his right hand
grasped his sword. Those who went before the monarch, those who
marched at his side, and those who followed him, all had similar arms.
Iron covered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the
rays of the sun. This iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose
hearts were harder still. The blaze of the weapons flashed terror into
the streets of the city."
This picture of Charlemagne in his military aspect would be
incomplete without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace." One
of the greatest of modern historians, M. Guizot, has compared the
glory of Charlemagne to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of the
darkness of barbarism to disappear no less suddenly in the darkness of
feudalism. But the light of this meteor was not extinguished, and
reviving civilization owed much that was permanently beneficial to the
great Emperor of the Franks. His ruling hand is seen in the
legislation of his time, as well as in the administration of the laws.
He encouraged learning; he upheld the clergy, who were the only
peaceful and intellectual class, against the encroaching and turbulent
barons; he was an affectionate father, and watched carefully over
the education of his children, both sons and daughters. Of his
encouragement of learning, we will give some particulars.
He caused learned men to be brought from Italy and from other
foreign countries, to revive the public schools of France, which had
been prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. He recompensed
these learned men liberally, and kept some of them near himself,
honoring them with his friendship. Of these the most celebrated is
Alcuin, an Englishman, whose writings still remain, and prove him to
have been both a learned and a wise man. With the assistance of
Alcuin, and others like him, he founded an academy or royal school,
which should have the direction of the studies of all the schools of
the kingdom. Charlemagne himself was a member of this academy on equal
terms with the rest. He attended its meetings, and fulfilled all the
duties of an academician. Each member took the name of some famous man
of antiquity. Alcuin called himself Horace, another took the name of
Augustin, a third of Pindar. Charlemagne, who knew the Psalms by
heart, and who had an ambition to be, according to his conception, a
king after God's own heart, received from his brother academicians the
name of David.
Of the respect entertained for him by foreign nations an interesting
proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by the Caliph of the
Arabians, the celebrated Haroun al Raschid, a prince in character
and conduct not unlike to Charlemagne. The ambassadors brought with
them, besides other rich presents, a clock, the first that was seen in
Europe, which excited universal admiration. It had the form of a
twelve-sided edifice with twelve doors. These doors formed niches,
in each of which was a little statue representing one of the hours. At
the striking of the hour the doors, one for each stroke, were seen
to open, and from the doors to issue as many of the little statues,
which, following one another, marched gravely round the tower. The
motion of the clock was caused by water, and the striking was effected
by balls of brass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon
a cymbal of the same metal, the number falling being determined by the
discharge of the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowed their
escape.
Charlemagne was succeeded by his son Louis, a well-intentioned but
feeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by Charles began
rapidly to crumble. Louis was followed successively by two
Charleses, incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannical
conduct is no doubt the source of incidents of that character ascribed
in the romances to Charlemagne.
The lawless and disobedient deportment of Charles's paladins,
instances of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, was also a
trait of the declining empire, but not of that of Charlemagne.
CHAPTER II.
THE PEERS, OR PALADINS.
THE twelve most illustrious knights of Charlemagne were called
Peers, for the equality that reigned among them; while the name of
Paladins, also conferred on them, implies that they were inmates of
the palace and companions of the king. Their names are not always
given alike by the romancers, yet we may enumerate the most
distinguished of them as follows: Orlando or Poland (the former the
Italian, the latter the French form of the name), favorite nephew of
Charlemagne; Rinaldo of Montalban, cousin of Orlando; Namo, Duke of
Bavaria; Salomon, King of Brittany; Turpin, the Archbishop;
Astolpho, of England; Ogier, the Dane; Malagigi, the Enchanter; and
Florismart, the friend of Orlando. There were others who are sometimes
named as paladins, and the number cannot be strictly limited to
twelve. Charlemagne himself must be counted one, and Ganelon, or Gano,
of Mayence, the treacherous enemy of all the rest, was rated high on
the list by his deluded sovereign, who was completely the victim of
his arts.
We shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of the
principal peers, leaving the others to make their own introduction, as
they appear in the course of our narrative. We begin with Orlando.
ORLANDO.
Milon, or Milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related to
Charlemagne, having secretly married Bertha, the Emperor's sister, was
banished from France, and excommunicated by the Pope. After a long and
miserable wandering on foot as mendicants, Milon and his wife
arrived at Sutri, in Italy, where they took refuge in a cave, and in
that cave Orlando was born. There his mother continued, deriving a
scanty support from the compassion of the neighboring peasants;
while Milon, in quest of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands.
Orlando grew up among the children of the peasantry, surpassing them
all in strength and manly graces. Among his companions in age,
though in station far more elevated, was Oliver, son of the governor
of the town. Between the two boys a feud arose, that led to a fight,
in which Orlando thrashed his rival; but this did not prevent a
friendship springing up between the two which lasted through life.
Orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. As he was a
favorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to
make him clothes. Two brought white and two red; and from this
circumstance Orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings.
When Charlemagne was on his way to Rome to receive the imperial
crown, he dined in public in Sutri. Orlando and his mother that day
had nothing to eat, and Orlando, coming suddenly upon the royal party,
and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the attendants as much
as he could carry off, and made good his retreat in spite of their
resistance. The Emperor, being told of this incident, was reminded
of an intimation he had received in a dream, and ordered the boy to be
followed. This was done by three of the knights, whom Orlando would
have encountered with a cudgel on their entering the grotto had not
his mother restrained him. When they heard from her who she was,
they threw themselves at her feet, and promised to obtain her pardon
from the Emperor. This was easily effected. Orlando was received
into favor by the Emperor, returned with him to France and so
distinguished himself that he became the most powerful support of
the throne and of Christianity.*
* It is plain that Shakespeare borrowed from this source the similar
incident in his "As you Like it." The names of characters in the play,
Orlando, Oliver, Rowland, indicate the same thing.
ROLAND AND FERRAUGUS.
Orlando, or Roland, particularly distinguished himself by his combat
with Ferragus. Ferragus was a giant, and moreover, his skin was of
such impenetrable stuff that no sword could make any impression upon
it. The giant's mode of fighting was to seize his adversary in his
arms and carry him off, in spite of all the struggles he could make.
Roland's utmost skill only availed to keep him out of the giant's
clutches, but all his efforts to wound him with the sword were
useless. After long fighting, Ferragus was so weary that he proposed a
truce, and when it was agreed upon, he lay down and immediately fell
asleep. He slept in perfect security, for it was against all the
laws of chivalry to take advantage of an adversary under such
circumstances. But Ferragus lay so uncomfortably for the want of a
pillow, that Orlando took pity upon him, and brought a smooth stone
and placed it under his head. When the giant woke up, after a
refreshing nap, and perceived what Orlando had done, he seemed quite
grateful, became sociable, and talked freely in the usual boastful
style of such characters. Among other things, he told Orlando that
he need not attempt to kill him with a sword, for that every part of
his body was invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke, he put his
hand to the vital part, just in the middle of his breast. Aided by
this information, Orlando succeeded, when the fight was renewed, in
piercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and giving him
a death-wound. Great was the rejoicing in the Christian camp, and many
the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by the Emperor and
all his host.
On another occasion, Orlando encountered a puissant Saracen warrior,
and took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword Durindana.
This famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious prince
Hector of Troy. It was of the finest workmanship, and of such strength
and temper that no armor in the world could stand against it.
A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER.
Guerin de Montglave held the lordship of Vienne, subject to
Charlemagne. He had quarrelled with his sovereign, and Charles laid
siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. Guerin
was an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon his four sons and
two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of the age. After
the siege had continued two months, Charlemagne received tidings
that Marsilius, king of Spain, had invaded France, and, finding
himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly in the Southern provinces. At
this intelligence, Charles listened to the counsel of his peers, and
consented to put the quarrel with Guerin to the decision of Heaven, by
single combat between two knights, one of each party, selected by lot.
The proposal was acceptable to Guerin and his sons. The names of the
four, together with Guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the
two grandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet,
Oliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the grandsons,
was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. He accepted the
award with delight, exulting in being thought worthy to maintain the
cause of his family. On Charlemagne's side Roland was the designated
champion, and neither he nor Oliver knew who his antagonist was to be.
They met on an island in the Rhone, and the warriors of both camps
were ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. At the first
encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept their seats,
immovable. They dismounted, and drew their swords. Then ensued a
combat which seemed so equal, that the spectators could not form an
opinion as to the probable issue. Two hours and more the knights
continued to strike and parry, to thrust and ward, neither showing any
sign of weariness, nor ever being taken at unawares. At length Orlando
struck furiously upon Oliver's shield, burying Durindana in its edge
so deeply that he could not draw it back, and Oliver, almost at the
same moment, thrust so vigorously upon Orlando's breastplate that
his sword snapped off at the handle. Thus were the two warriors left
weaponless. Scarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another,
each striving to throw his adversary to the ground, and failing in
that, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. Both
succeeded, and at the same moment they stood bareheaded face to
face, and Roland recognized Oliver, and Oliver recognized Roland.
For a moment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed
into one another's embrace. "I am conquered," said Orlando. "I yield
me," said Oliver.
The people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. Presently
they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand, and it was
evident the battle was at an end. The knights crowded round them,
and with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. If there were any
who felt disposed to murmur that the battle was left undecided, they
were silenced by the voice of Ogier the Dane, who proclaimed aloud
that all had been done that honor required, and declared that he would
maintain that award against all gainsayers.
The quarrel with Guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce
was made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of Duke
Namo on the one side, and of Oliver on the other, a reconciliation was
effected. Charlemagne, accompanied by Guerin and his valiant family,
marched to meet Marsilius, who hastened to retreat across the
frontier.
RINALDO.
Rinaldo was one of the four sons of Aymon, who married Aya, the
sister of Charlemagne. Thus Rinaldo was nephew to Charlemagne and
cousin of Orlando.
When Rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms, Orlando had won
for himself an illustrious name by his exploits against the
Saracens, whom Charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out of
France. Orlando's fame excited a noble emulation in Rinaldo. Eager
to go in pursuit of glory, he wandered in the country near Paris,
and one day saw at the foot of a tree a superb horse, fully equipped
and loaded with a complete suit of armor. Rinaldo clothed himself in
the armor and mounted the horse, but took not the sword. On the day
when, with his brothers, he had received the honor of knighthood
from the Emperor, he had sworn never to bind a sword to his side
till he had wrested one from some famous knight.
Rinaldo took his way to the forest of Arden, celebrated for so
many adventures. Hardly had he entered it, when he met an old man,
bending under the weight of years, and learned from him that the
forest was infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke and
overturned everything that opposed his career. To attack him, he said,
or even to meet him, was certain death. Rinaldo, far from being
alarmed, showed the most eager desire to combat the animal. This was
the horse Bayard, afterwards so famous. He had formerly belonged to
Amadis of Gaul. After the death of that hero, he had been held under
enchantment by the power of a magician, who predicted that, when the
time came to break the spell, he should be subdued by a knight of
the lineage of Amadis, and not less brave than he.
To win this wonderful horse, it was necessary to conquer him by
force or skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown down,
he would become docile and manageable. His habitual resort was a
cave on the borders of the forest; but woe be to any one who should
approach him, unless gifted with strength and courage more than
mortal. Having told this, the old man departed. He was not, in fact,
an old man, but Malagigi, the enchanter, cousin of Rinaldo, who, to
favor the enterprises of the young knight, had procured for him the
horse and armor which he so opportunely found, and now put him in
the way to acquire a horse unequalled in the world.
Rinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seeking
Bayard, but found no traces of him. One day he encountered a Saracen
knight, with whom he made acquaintance, as often happened to
knights, by first meeting him in combat. This knight, whose name was
Isolier, was also in quest of Bayard. Rinaldo succeeded in the
encounter, and so severe was the shock that Isolier was a long time
insensible. When he revived, and was about to resume the contest, a
peasant who passed by (it was Malagigi) interrupted them with the news
that the terrible horse was near at hand, advising them to unite their
powers to subdue him, for it would require all their ability.
Rinaldo and Isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to the
attack of the horse. They found Bayard, and stood a long time,
concealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty.
A bright bay in color (whence he was called Bayard), with a silver
star in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender, his
head delicate, his ample chest filled out with swelling muscles, his
shoulders broad and full, his legs straight and sinewy, his thick mane
falling over his arching neck,- he came rushing through the forest,
regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees, rending everything that opposed
his way, and neighing defiance.
He first descried Isolier, and rushed upon him. The knight
received him with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke the
spear, and his course was not delayed by it for an instant. The
Spaniard adroitly stepped aside, and gave way to the rushing
tempest. Bayard checked his career, and turned again upon the
knight, who had already drawn his sword. He drew his sword, for he had
no hope of taming the horse; that, he was satisfied, was impossible.
Bayard rushed upon him, fiercely rearing, now on this side, now on
that. The knight struck him with his sword, where the white star
adorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed, thinking
that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that the skin of that
horse was so tough that the keenest sword could make no impression
upon it.
Whistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force,
and the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow, but
the next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet that the
Pagan fell stunned and lifeless to the earth.
Rinaldo, who saw Isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft,
darted towards the horse, and, with his fist, gave him such a blow
on the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion. Quicker
than an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him, and tried to
seize his arm with his teeth.
The knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck him on
the forehead. Bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet with a
force that would have shattered a mountain. Rinaldo was on his
guard, and evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. He
kept at his side, avoiding both; but, making a false step, he at
last received a terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at the
shock almost fainted away. A second such blow would have killed him,
but the horse kicked at random, and a second blow did not reach
Rinaldo, who in a moment recovered himself. Thus the contest continued
until by chance Bayard's foot got caught between the branches of an
oak. Rinaldo seized it, and putting forth all his strength and
address, threw him on the ground.
No sooner had Bayard touched the ground, than all his rage subsided.
No longer an object of terror, he became gentle and quiet, yet with
dignity in his mildness.
The paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed his
mane, while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressed by
his master. Rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, took the
saddle and trappings from the other horse, and adorned Bayard with the
spoils.
Rinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights of
Charlemagne's court,- indeed, the most illustrious, if we except
Orlando. Yet he was not always so obedient to the Emperor's commands
as he should have been, and every fault he committed was sure to be
aggravated by the malice of Gan, Duke of Maganza, the treacherous
enemy of Rinaldo and all his house.
At one time Rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure of
Charlemagne, and been banished from court. Seeing no chance of being
ever restored to favor, he went to Spain, and entered the service of
the Saracen king, Ivo. His brothers, Alardo, Ricardo, and
Ricciardetto, accompanied him, and all four served the king so
faithfully that they rose to high favor with him. The king gave them
land in the mountains on the frontiers of France and Spain, and
subjected all the country round to Rinaldo's authority. There was
plenty of marble in the mountains, the king furnished workmen, and
they built a castle for Rinaldo, surrounded with high walls, so as
to be almost impregnable. Built of white stone, and placed on the brow
of a marble promontory, the castle shone like a star, and Rinaldo gave
it the name of Montalban. Here he assembled his friends, many of
whom were banished men like himself, and the country people
furnished them with provisions in return for the protection the castle
afforded. Yet some of Rinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes the
supplies were not furnished in sufficient abundance, so that Rinaldo
and his garrison got a bad name for taking by force what they could
not obtain by gift; and we sometimes find Montalban spoken of as a
nest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison.
Charlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time our
history commences, Rinaldo and his brothers were completely restored
to the favor of the Emperor, and none of his cavaliers served him with
greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughout all his wars with
the Saracens and Pagans.
CHAPTER III.
THE TOURNAMENT.
IT was the month of May and the feast of Pentecost. Charlemagne
had ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besides his
paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, Christian or
Saracen, then sojourning at Paris. Among the guests were King
Grandonio, from Spain; and Ferrau, the Saracen, with eyes like an
eagle; Orlando and Rinaldo, the Emperor's nephews; Duke Namo;
Astolpho, of England, the handsomest man living; Malagigi, the
Enchanter; and Gano, of Maganza, that wily traitor, who had the art to
make the Emperor think he loved him, while he plotted against him.
High sat Charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins,
rejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, while all
were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenly there came
into the hall four enormous giants, having between them a lady of
incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. There were many
ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she made her
appearance, but after that they all seemed nothing. Every Christian
knight turned his eyes to her, and every Pagan crowded round her,
while she, with a sweetness that might have touched a heart of
stone, thus addressed the Emperor:-
"High-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valor
of these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages me
to hope that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of the world to
behold you, will not have encountered their fatigue in vain. And,
before I show the motive which has brought us hither, learn that
this knight is my brother Uberto, and that I am his sister Angelica.
Fame has told us of the jousting this day appointed, and so the prince
my brother has come to prove his valor, and to say that, if any of the
knights here assembled choose to meet him in the joust, he will
encounter them, one by one, at the stair of Merlin, by the Fountain of
the Pine. And his conditions are these: No knight who chances to be
thrown shall be allowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner
to my brother, but if my brother be overthrown, he shall depart out of
the country, leaving me as the prize of the conqueror."
Now it must be stated that this Angelica and her brother who
called himself Uberto, but whose real name was Argalia, were the
children of Galafron, king of Cathay, who had sent them to be the
destruction of the Christian host; for Argalia was armed with an
enchanted lance, which unfailingly overthrew everything it touched,
and he was mounted on a horse, a creature of magic, whose swiftness
outstripped the wind. Angelica possessed also a ring which was a
defence against all enchantments, and when put into the mouth rendered
the bearer invisible. Thus Argalia was expected to subdue and take
prisoners whatever knights should dare to encounter him; and the
charms of Angelica were relied on to entice the paladins to make the
fatal venture, while her ring would afford her easy means of escape.
When Angelica ceased speaking, she knelt before the king and awaited
his answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration. Orlando
especially felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that he trembled
and changed countenance. Every knight in the hall was infected with
the same feeling, not excepting old white-headed Duke Namo and
Charlemagne himself.
All stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of looking
at her. The fiery youth Ferrau could hardly restrain himself from
seizing her from the giants and carrying her away; Rinaldo turned as
red as fire, while Malagigi, who had discovered by his art that the
stranger was not speaking the truth, muttered softly, as he looked
at her, "Exquisite false creature! I will play thee such a trick for
this, as will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit."
Charlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayed
his assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all of which
she answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted.
As soon as she was gone, Malagigi consulted his book, and found
out the whole plot of the vile, infidel king Galafron, as we have
explained it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrate her
designs. He hastened to the appointed spot, and there found the prince
and his sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they lay asleep, while
the four giants kept watch. Malagigi took his book and cast a spell
out of it, and immediately the four giants fell into a deep sleep.
Drawing his sword (for he was a belted knight), he softly approached
the young lady, intending to despatch her at once; but, seeing her
look so lovely, he paused for a moment, thinking there was no need
of hurry, as he believed his spell was upon her, and she could not
wake. But the ring which she wore secured her from the effect of the
spell, and some slight noise, or whatever else it was, caused her at
that moment to awake. She uttered a great cry, and flew to her
brother, and waked him. By the help of her knowledge of enchantment,
they took and bound fast the magician, and, seizing his book, turned
his arts against himself. Then they summoned a crowd of demons, and
bade them seize their prisoner and bear him to king Galafron, at his
great city of Albracca, which they did, and, on his arrival, he was
locked up in a rock under the sea.
While these things were going on, all was uproar at Paris, since
Orlando insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at the
stair of Merlin. This was resented by the other pretenders to
Angelica, and all contested his right to the precedence. The tumult
was stilled by the usual expedient of drawing lots, and the first
prize was drawn by Astolpho. Ferrau, the Saracen, had the second,
and Grandonio the third. Next came Berlinghieri, and Otho; then
Charles himself, and, as his ill-fortune would have it, after thirty
more, the indignant Orlando.
Astolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich.
But, whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unlucky
jouster, and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore with
perfect good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mend his
fortune, generally with no better success.
Astolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dress
and manner, encountered Argalia, and was immediately tilted out of the
saddle. He railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault; but his
painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness of Angelica,
who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted him the liberty of
the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with all kindness and
respect.
The violent Ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and was
thrown no less speedily than Astolpho; but he did not so easily put up
with his mischance. Crying out, "What are the Emperor's engagements to
me?" he rushed with his sword against Argalia, who, being forced to
defend himself, dismounted and drew his sword, but got so much the
worse of the fight that he made a signal of surrender, and, after some
words, listened to a proposal of marriage from Ferrau to his sister.
The beauty, however, feeling no inclination to match with such a rough
and savage-looking person, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily
bidding her brother to meet her in the forest of Arden, she vanished
from the sight of both by means of the enchanted ring. Argalia, seeing
this, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the same
direction. Ferrau pursued him, and Astolpho, thus left to himself,
took possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, which
was broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, and
returned to the tournament. Charlemagne, finding the lady and her
brother gone, ordered the jousting; to proceed as at first intended,
in which Astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance, unhorsed all
comers against him, equally to their astonishment and his own.
The paladin Rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of Ferrau
and the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony of love
and impatience. Orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushed forth in
like manner; and, at length, all three are in the forest of Arden,
hunting about for her who is invisible.
Now in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructed
by the sage Merlin, who designed it for Tristram and the fair Isoude;*
for such was the virtue of this fountain, that a draught of its waters
produced an oblivion of the love which the drinker might feel, and
even produced aversion for the object formerly beloved. The other
fountain was endowed with exactly opposite qualities, and a draught of
it inspired love for the first living object that was seen after
tasting it. Rinaldo happened to come to the first-mentioned
fountain, and, being flushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in
one draught both his thirst and his passion. So far from loving
Angelica as before, he hated her from the bottom of his heart,
became disgusted with the search he was upon, and, feeling fatigued
with his ride, finding a sheltered and flowery nook, laid himself down
and fell asleep.
* See their story in "The Age of Chivalry."
Shortly after came Angelica, but, approaching in a different
direction, she espied the other fountain, and there quenched her
thirst. Then resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping Rinaldo.
Love instantly seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot.
The meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wild
roses. Angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked a handful
of these, and dropped them, one by one, on the face of the sleeper. He
woke up, and, seeing who it was, received her salutations with averted
countenance, remounted his horse, and galloped away. In vain the
beautiful creature followed and called after him, in vain asked him
what she had done to be so despised. Rinaldo disappeared, leaving
her in despair, and she returned in tears to the spot where she had
found him sleeping. There, in her turn, she herself lay down, pressing
the spot of earth on which he had lain, and, out of fatigue and
sorrow, fell asleep.
As Angelica thus lay, fortune conducted Orlando to the same place.
The attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely, that it is not
to be conceived, much less expressed. Orlando stood gazing like a
man who had been transported to another sphere. "Am I on earth," he
exclaimed, "or am I in Paradise? Surely it is I that sleep, and this
is my dream."
But his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he little
desired. Ferrau, who had slain Argalia, came up, raging with jealousy,
and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper.
Terrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and,
while the fighters were occupied with one another, fled away through
the forest. The champions continued their fight till they were
interrupted by a messenger, who brought word to Ferrau that king
Marsilius, his sovereign, was in pressing need of his assistance,
and conjured him to return to Spain. Ferrau, upon this, proposed to
suspend the combat to which Orlando, eager to pursue Angelica, agreed.
Ferrau, on the other hand, departed with the messenger to Spain.
Orlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. Aided by
the powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country.
But the thought of Rinaldo could not be banished from her mind,
and she determined to set Malagigi at liberty, and to employ him to
win Rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection. She
accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetters with her
own hands, and restored him his book, promising him ample honors and
rewards, on condition of his bringing Rinaldo to her feet.
Malagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon,
mounted him, and departed. Arrived at his destination, he inveigled
Rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him, without any
visible pilot, to an island where stood an edifice called Joyous
Castle. The whole island was a garden. On the western side, close to
the sea, was the palace, built of marble, so clear and polished that
it reflected the landscape about it. Rinaldo leapt ashore, and soon
met a lady, who invited him to enter. The house was as beautiful
within as without, full of rooms adorned with azure and gold, and with
noble paintings. The lady led the knight into an apartment painted
with stories, and opening to the garden, through pillars of crystal,
with golden capitals. Here he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom
were singing in concert, while another played on an instrument of
exquisite accord, and the rest danced round about them. When the
ladies beheld him coming, they turned the dance into a circuit round
him, and then one of them, in the sweetest manner, said, "Sir
Knight, the tables are set, and the hour for the banquet is come";
and, with these words, still dancing, they drew him across the lawn in
front of the apartment, to a table that was spread with cloth of
gold and fine linen, under a bower of damask roses by the side of a
fountain.
Four ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placed
Rinaldo at their head, in a chair set with pearls. And truly indeed
was he astonished. A repast ensued, consisting of viands the most
delicate, and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunk out of
jewelled cups; and, when it drew towards its conclusion, harps and
lutes were heard in the distance, and one of the ladies said in the
knight's ear: "This house and all that you see in it are yours; for
you alone was it built, and the builder is a queen. Happy indeed
must you think yourself, for she loves you, and she is the greatest
beauty in the world. Her name is Angelica."
The moment Rinaldo heard the name he so detested, he started up,
with a changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the lady could
say, broke off across the garden, and never ceased hastening till he
reached the place where he landed. The bark was still on the shore. He
sprang into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobody in it but
himself. It was in vain for him to try to control its movements, for
it dashed on as if in fury, till it reached a distant shore covered
with a gloomy forest. Here Rinaldo, surrounded by enchantments of a
very different sort from those which he had lately resisted, was
entrapped into a pit.
The pit belonged to a castle called Altaripa, which was hung with
human heads, and painted red with blood. As the paladin was viewing
the scene with amazement, a hideous old woman made her appearance at
the edge of the pit, and told him that he was destined to be thrown to
a monster, who was only kept from devastating the whole country by
being supplied with living human flesh. Rinaldo said, "Be it so; let
me but remain armed as I am, and I fear nothing." The old woman
laughed in derision. Rinaldo remained in the pit all night, and the
next morning was taken to the place where the monster had his den.
It was a court surrounded by a high wall. Rinaldo was shut in with the
beast, and a terrible combat ensued. Rinaldo was unable to make any
impression on the scales of the monster, while he, on the contrary,
with his dreadful claws, tore away plate and mail from the paladin.
Rinaldo began to think his last hour was come, and cast his eyes
around and above to see if there was any means of escape He
perceived a beam projecting from the wall at the height of some ten
feet, and, taking a leap almost miraculous, he succeeded in reaching
it, and in flinging himself up across it. Here he sat for hours, the
hideous brute continually trying to reach him. All at once, he heard
the sound of something coming through the air like a bird, and
suddenly Angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam. She held
something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in a loving voice.
But the moment Rinaldo saw her, he commanded her to go away, refused
all her offers of assistance, and at length declared that, if she
did not leave him, he would cast himself down to the monster and
meet his fate.
Angelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displease
him, departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of wax she
had prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted with nooses. The
beast took the bait, and, finding his teeth glued together by the wax,
vented his fury in bounds and leaps, and, soon getting entangled in
the nooses, drew them tight by his struggles, so that he could
scarcely move a limb.
Rinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized him
round the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his grip till the
beast fell dead.
Another difficulty remained to be overcome. The walls were of
immense height, and the only opening in them was a grated window of
such strength that he could not break the bars. In his distress
Rinaldo found a file which Angelica had left on the ground, and,
with the help of this, effected his deliverance.
What further adventures he met with will be told in another chapter.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SIEGE OF ALBRACCA.
AT the very time when Charlemagne was holding his plenary court
and his great tournament, his kingdom was invaded by a mighty monarch,
who was moreover so valiant and strong in battle that no one could
stand against him. He was named Gradasso, and his kingdom was called
Sericane. Now, as it often happens to the greatest and the richest
to long for what they cannot have, and thus to lose what they
already possess, this king could not rest content without Durindana,
the sword of Orlando, and Bayard, the horse of Rinaldo. To obtain
these he determined to war upon France, and for this purpose put in
array a mighty army.
He took his way through Spain, and, after defeating Marsilius, the
king of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing on
France. Charlemagne, though Marsilius was a Saracen, and had been
his enemy, yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremity from
a consideration of common danger, and, with the consent of his
peers, despatched Rinaldo with a strong body of soldiers against
Gradasso.
There was much fighting, with doubtful results, and Gradasso was
steadily advancing into France. But, impatient to achieve his objects,
he challenged Rinaldo to single combat, to be fought on foot, and upon
these conditions: If Rinaldo conquered, Gradasso agreed to give up all
his prisoners and return to his own country; but if Gradasso won the
day, he was to have Bayard.
The challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it not
been for the arts of Malagigi, who just then returned from
Angelica's kingdom with set purpose to win Rinaldo to look with
favor upon the fair princess who was dying for love of him. Malagigi
drew Rinaldo away from the army, by putting on the semblance of
Gradasso, and, after a short contest, pretending to fly before him, by
which means Rinaldo was induced to follow him into a boat, in which he
was borne away, and entangled in various adventures, as we have
already related.
The army, left under the command of Ricciardetto, Rinaldo's brother,
was soon joined by Charlemagne and all his peerage, but experienced
a disastrous rout, and the Emperor and many of his paladins were taken
prisoners. Gradasso, however, did not abuse his victory; he took
Charles by the hand, seated him by his side, and told him he warred
only for honor. He renounced all conquests, on condition that the
Emperor should deliver to him Bayard and Durindana, both of them the
property of his vassals, the former of which, as he maintained, was
already forfeited to him by Rinaldo's failure to meet him as agreed.
To these terms Charlemagne readily acceded.
Bayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken in
charge by Ricciardetto, and sent back to Paris, where Astolpho was
in command, in the absence of Charlemagne. Astolpho received with
great indignation the message despatched for Bayard, and replied by
a herald that "he would not surrender the horse of his kinsman
Rinaldo, without a contest. If Gradasso wanted the steed, he might
come and take him, and that he, Astolpho, was ready to meet him in the
field."
Gradasso was only amused at this answer, for Astolpho's fame as a
successful warrior was not high, and Gradasso willingly renewed with
him the bargain which he had made with Rinaldo. On these conditions
the battle was fought. The enchanted lance, in the hands of
Astolpho, performed a new wonder; and Gradasso, the terrible Gradasso,
was unhorsed.
He kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on the
march to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however, not to
rest till he had taken from Rinaldo his horse, and from Orlando his
sword, or lost his life in the attempt.
Charlemagne, full of gratitude to Astolpho, would have kept him near
his person and loaded him with honors, but Astolpho preferred to
seek Rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, and
departed from Paris with that design.
Our story now returns to Orlando, whom we left fascinated with the
sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him while
engaged in the combat with Ferrau. Having long sought her in vain
through the recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to her
father's court. Leaving, therefore, the camp of Charlemagne, he
travelled long in the direction of the East, making inquiry
everywhere, if, perchance, he might get tidings of the fugitive. After
many adventures, he arrived one day at a place where many roads
crossed, and, meeting there a courier, he asked him for news. The
courier replied, that he had been despatched by Angelica to solicit
the aid of Sacripant, king of Circassia, in favor of her father
Galafron, who was besieged in his city, Albracca, by Agrican, king
of Tartary. This Agrican had been an unsuccessful suitor to the
damsel, whom he now pursued with arms. Orlando thus learned that he
was within a day's journey of Albracca; and feeling now secure of
Angelica, he proceeded with all speed to her city.
Thus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed a foaming
river. Here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informed him that it
was the usage of this bridge to present the traveller with a cup.
Orlando accepted the offered cup and drank its contents. He had no
sooner done so than his brain reeled, and he became unconscious of the
object of his journey, and of everything else. Under the influence
of this fascination he followed the damsel into a magnificent and
marvellous palace. Here he found himself in company with many knights,
unknown to him and to each other, though if it had not been for the
Cup of Oblivion of which they all had partaken, they would have
found themselves brothers in arms.