Tales and Legends of the English Lakes Part 8

No one versed in ballad lore--no reader of old poetry and romance, can approach Carlisle for the first time without pleasurable emotion.

Carlisle is the border city--the city of King Arthur and his knights. It has been the scene of many a stout siege and b.l.o.o.d.y feud; of many a fierce foray, and mournful execution, and of many a just punishment upon traitors and reivers. It is, consequently, not to be pictured to the imagination without unusual interest. Old traditions of events like these have made it among the most remarkable of the cities of England; and it would be difficult to name another around which are cl.u.s.tered so many memories of such various degrees of attraction to the poetical and historical antiquary. Its approach from the south, though striking, gives no idea of its antiquity and former feudalism. It is situated in an extensive plain, surrounded in the distance by mountains, amongst which Saddleback, Skiddaw, and Crossfell, are prominent; and from afar off, with the smoke of its households hanging over it, does undoubtedly impress the imagination with ideas of the romantic.

Nearer approach, however, dissipates this illusion. We lose sight of the valley, being in it, and of the mountains, in the presence of immediate objects. Tall chimneys rear their heads in considerable numbers, pouring forth steam and smoke, and with square buildings and their numerous windows, prove incontestably that modern Carlisle is a manufacturing city, and has a.s.sociations very different from those of its former history. On entrance, the contrast between the past and the present becomes still more vivid. We see that its walls and gates have disappeared; that its streets are clean, wide and comfortable, which no ancient streets in England ever were; and that it has altogether a juvenile, busy, and thriving appearance, giving few signs (to the eye at least) that it has been in existence above a century. It is true that two venerable relics, its castle and its cathedral, remain to attest its bygone grandeur and glory; but these are not immediately visible, and have to be sought out by the enquiring stranger; whilst all around him is modern and prosaic; and a mere reduplication of the same characteristics of English life and manners that he must have seen in a hundred other places.

Still, however, it is "merry Carlisle," and "bonnie Carlisle," although, like all other mundane things, it has been changed by time; and is quite as much King Arthur's city as England is King Arthur's England; and brimfull of a.s.sociations which the traveller will be at no loss to recall, of the crime and sorrow--the "fierce wars and faithful loves" of our ancestors, from the year 800 downwards to 1745. Not that Carlisle is only a thousand years old. It has a much earlier origin than the year 800, having been founded by the Romans. By them it was called Luguballium, or Luguvallum, signifying the tower or station by the wall, and was so named from its contiguity to the wall of Severus. The Saxons, disliking this long and awkward name, abbreviated it into Luel; and afterwards in speaking of it, called it Caer-luel, or the city of Luel; from whence comes its present designation of Carlisle. It is supposed to have been during the Saxon period, if not the chief city, the frequent residence of that great mythic personage, King Arthur, where he

With fifty good and able Knights that resorted unto him And were of his round table: Did hold his jousts and tournaments, Whereto were many pressed, Wherein some knights did far excel And eke surmount the rest.

Among these knights, Sir Lancelot du Lake, Sir Bevis, and Sir Gawaine are the most conspicuous in tradition. One of the most celebrated of our most ancient ballads relates to the latter, and to his marriage with the mis-shapen lady that afterwards became so fair. The story is a very beautiful one; and was the model upon which Chaucer founded his Wife of Bath's Tale. It is worth repeating, for the sake of those to whom the uncouth rhymes of ancient days are not familiar; but though it is likely enough that the number of these is but few, it is too interesting, as connected with Carlisle, to be left unmentioned in a chapter expressly devoted to the poetical antiquities of the place.

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE.

King Arthur lives in merry Carleile, And seemly is to see: And there with him queene Guenever, That bride so bright of blee.

And there with him queene Guenever, That bride so bright in bowre; And all his barons about him stoode, That were both stiffe and stowre.

The king a royale Christma.s.se kept, With mirth and princelye cheare; To him repaired many a knighte, That came both farre and neare.

And when they were to dinner sette, And cups went freely round: Before them came a faire damselle, And knelt upon the ground.

A boone! a boone! O kinge Arthure, I beg a boone of thee; Avenge me of a carlish knighte, Who hath shent my love and me.

At Tearne-Wadling,[4] his castle stands, Near to that lake so fair, And proudlye rise the battlements, And streamers deck the air.

Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay, May pa.s.s that castle-walle; But from that foule discurteous knighte, Mishappe will them befalle.

Hee's twyce the size of common men, Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge, And on his backe he bears a clubbe, That is both thicke and longe.

This grimme barne, 'twas our harde happe, But yester morne to see; When to his bowre he bare my love, And sore misused me.

And when I told him, King Arthure As lyttle shold him spare; Goe tell, sayd he, that cuckold kinge, To meete me if he dare.

Upp then sterted King Arthure, And sware by hille and dale, He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme barne, Till he had made him quail.

King Arthur sets off in a great rage. The opprobrious term, which galled him the more because it was true, fired his blood, and he challenged the "grimme barne" to mortal combat.

Sir Gawaine, who seems to have been of a stature as gigantic as the famous Sir Hugh Caesar, who is buried at Penrith, conquered him by enchantment: his sinews lost their strength, his arms sank powerless at his side; and he only received the boon of life at the hands of his enemy by swearing upon his faith as a knight, to return upon New Year's day, and bring "true word what thing it was that women most desired."

Go fetch my sword Excalibar: Goe saddle mee my steede, Nowe, by my faye, that grimme barne Shall rue this ruthfulle deede.

And when he came to Tearne-Wadling, Beneath the castle-walle; "Come forth; come forth; thou proud barne, Or yielde thyself my thralle."

On magicke grounde that castle stoode, And fenc'd with many a spelle: Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon, But straite his courage felle.

Forth then rush'd that carlish knight, King Arthur felte the charme: His st.u.r.dy sinews lost their strengthe, Down sunke his feeble arme.

Nowe yield thee, yield thee, King Arthure, Nowe yield thee unto mee: Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande, Noe better terms maye bee.

Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood, And promise on thy faye, Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling Upon the New Yeare's daye:

And bringe me worde what thing it is All women moste desyre: This is thy ransome, Arthure, he says, Ile have noe other hyre.

King Arthur then helde up his hande, And sweare upon his faye, Then tooke his leave of the grimme barne, And faste hee rode awaye.

And he rode east, and he rode west, And did of all inquyre, What thing it is all women crave, And what they most desyre.

King Arthur made due inquiry; but it was not so easy a matter to discover the secret.

Some told him riches, pompe, or state; Some rayment fine and brighte; Some told him mirthe; some flatterye; And some a jollye knighte:

In letters all King Arthur wrote, And seal'd them with his ringe; But still his minde was helde in doubte, Each tolde a different thinge.

As New Year's day approached, his tribulation increased; for though he might have told the "grimme barne" with much truth many things that women did much desire, he was not at all sure that his version of what they most desired, would hit the fancy of the Lord of Tarn-Wadling, who had set him to expound the riddle. He would not give up, however, and one day,--

As ruthfulle he rode over a more, He saw a ladye sitte Between an oke, and a greene holleye, All clad in "red scarlette."

Her nose was crookt and turned outwarde, Her chin stoode all awreye; And where as sholde have been her mouthe, Lo! there was set her eye:

Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute Her cheekes of deadlye hewe: A worse-form'd ladye than she was, No man mote ever viewe.

This ill-conditioned damsel tells him the secret, however, upon condition that he will bring her a "fair and courtly knight to marry her,"--a condition which, considering all the circ.u.mstances, must have seemed to the good king as bad as the jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. The great secret is, as she expresses it, "that all women will have their wille, and this is their chief desyre," which Arthur forthwith tells to the "grimme barne;" and so acquits himself as far as he is concerned. The other trouble, however, still remains, and fills the king's mind with anxiety. Queen Guinevere, who was outraged as well as her husband by the opprobrious message of the "grimme barne," but who had never thought of the very obvious solution of the riddle he had been set, comes out to meet him on his return, and inquires how he has sped. He details his new tribulation in having promised to procure a fair knight to marry this ugly, mis-shapen creature. Comfort is nearer at hand than he thought, and Sir Gawaine, his own nephew, "his sister's son," bids him "be merrye and lighte," for he will marry her, however foul and loathsome she may be. He does so accordingly:--

And when they were in wed-bed laid, And all were done awaye: "Come turne to me, mine owne wed-lord, Come turne to mee, I praye."

Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head, For sorrowe and for care; When lo! instead of that lothelye dame, He sawe a young ladye faire.

Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke, Her eyen were blacke as sloe; The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe, And all her necke was snowe.

Agreeably surprised at the change, Sir Gawaine soon learns to love the lady. She informs him that, by a cruel fate, she cannot be fair both night and day; and asks him which he prefers. He hints that the night would be most pleasant; to which she replies:--

What when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes To drinke the ale and wine; Alas! then I must hide myself, I must not go, with mine?

"My faire ladye, Sir Gawaine sayd, I yield me to thy skille; Because thou art my owne ladye Thou shalt have all thy wille."

The spell is broken. She tells him her history; and that henceforth she shall be fair both night and day.

My father was an aged knighte, And yet it chanced soe, He took to wife a false ladye, Whiche broughte me to this woe.

Shee witch'd mee, being a faire younge maide, In the grene forest to dwelle; And there to abide in lothlye shape, Most like a fiend of h.e.l.le.

Midst mores and mosses, woods, and wilds; To lead a lonesome life: Till some yonge faire and courtlye knighte Wolde marrye me for his wife:

Nor fully to game mine owne trewe shape, Such was her devilish skille; Until he wolde yielde to be ruled by mee, And let mee have all my wille.

She witch'd my brother to a carlish boore, And made him stiffe and stronge; And built him a bowre on magicke grounde, To live by rapine and wronge.

But now the spelle is broken throughe, And wronge is turnde to righte; Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladye, And hee a gentle knighte.