"But to what place he cold not tell, For neuer after he did him see, But he see a barge from the land goe, And heard ladyes houle and crye certainlye." 1 Doubtless this version is very corrupt, but, making every allowance, there is a great descent from Malory's lofty prose to such uncouth and helpless verse. This ballad, however, illustrates a kind of interest that the flattest English versions often possess. Where did the writer get the idea of Arthur vanishing from under the tree? Was it from romance, or from popular lore, or from his own invention ? Some of the variations, like Lukin's throwing away his own sword before he throws away the scabbard of Excalibur, have the air of being original to the ballad. This is not exactly an improvement, but at least it introduces more life and movement into the narrative; and, by showing the same action thrice with a variation of details, gives a complete series of parallels and contrasts such as ballad poetry loves. It Even in this rude ditty, then, the popular imagination has been at work, and not wholly in vain. shows at any rate how the people tried to make the stories of Arthur their own. And precisely this is the significance of the ballads. They did for the lower orders what Malory did for the aristocratic and Geoffrey for the learned classes. In all these ways the Arthurian legend, Celtic in origin and French in development, if it did not pass into the life blood of the English nation, became at least a part of its imaginative inheritance. 1 CHAPTER I FROM THE REFORMATION TO THE PURITAN REVOLUTION ATTENTION has often been drawn to a certain flatness in the vernacular literature of the West in the beginning of the sixteenth century. Of this there were many causes, the absorption of the more gifted in classical study, the preoccupation of the more earnest with religious controversy, the temporary vulgarisation of letters that came with the invention of printing. In Germany especially these tendencies had full play, and the most characteristic poetry that it then produced arose from the ranks of artizans and tradesmen in the associations of the master-singers. Among these, by far the most attractive and notable figure is Hans Sachs, the "cobbler-bard" of Nürnberg, who lived from 1494 to 1576, and spent the most of his long life in sedulous cultivation of "the benignant art." Of course, from such a man in such surroundings at such a time we must not look for any supreme masterpiece of beauty. In flights of fancy he as a worthy citizen could not indulge; at excess of passion he looked askance; of grace of form he has but a dim and distorted presentiment. He is at his best when he is recounting some homely story that can be treated with quiet humour or pathos, and that can be made to serve for profit and edification. At the same time the life of the city was alert and multiple, many interests came within within its sweep, and to satisfy these Hans Sachs had recourse to some subjects that he was hardly qualified to treat with perfect tact or sympathy; contemporary Italian novels, stories from classical antiquity, and stray fragments from the medieval store. There were two reasons why the last-named should bulk largely in his repertory. In the first place, the most thorough-going revolutions remain dependent on what they displace; it takes generations before the new principle, despite the most prohibitive protection in matters spiritual, can develop home industries for all its needs; till which time it must consent to some reciprocity with the alien. And accordingly, even after Europe had broken with the Middle Ages, a good many of the prose romances, generally altered for the worse, were printed and reprinted in France and Germany : they were in such universal circulation that they could not escape attention. And, besides, as the art of the bourgeois master-singers was descended from that of the knightly minnesingers, and inherited the traditions of their lyric poetry, there was an actual bond between the two that might easily be extended to narrative as well. But the mention of the lyric suggests the treatment the romance was likely to receive at the hands of its new practitioners. The form of the master-song was at once laboured and rude; the measures of the old court-poets were attempted, but their melody was lost; their silken net-work of sound. became a tangled yarn, and their celebration of chivalrous love gave place to theological disquisition. It was not very different with medieval romance, when Hans Sachs recast the story of Tristram and Isolt in the form of one of his humble little dramas. He had so much gentleness of feeling, so true a poet's heart, that he could not but treat his subject with a certain homely sympathy, which gives it a quaint and pathetic attraction. But the evangelic and municipal creed frowned on such perilous stuff, and the shoemaker who celebrated the Nightingale of Wittenberg," as he called the great reformer, was too good a Lutheran and too good a citizen to be carried away by the inmost spirit of his theme. The Tristram of the worthy mastersinger is apt to leave the same sort of impression on the mind as that other love drama of the "hempen homespuns" of Athens in the Midsummer Night's Dream. The romantic fable seems strangely out of place in the plain-spoken and formless little play, with its abrupt transitions, its seven unconnected acts, its matter-of-fact simplicity of language. Isolt and "C Brangel" come to look for Tristram, who lies exhausted after his struggle with the dragon. He unwittingly reveals his whereabouts in a way that is more effective than poetical. "Your Grace," says Brangel," there among the brushwood I hear a man snoring in his sleep." 1 When Isolt discovers who the dragon-slayer really is, and demands his death, she is assailed with many petitions for mercy, but it is Brangel's argument that prevails: "Yea, it is just that you forgive him, for His Royal Majesty has issued a decree: 'Who so takes the dragon's life, to him will the king give his daughter.' This must be obeyed."2 In a moment her mistress is appeased. These, however, are incongruities of detail. The grand incongruity of the play is that Hans hardly knows whether he should admire or condemn the chief persons. In one aspect he regards Tristram as the beneficent hero of Kurneval's anticipation: "Perhaps you are chosen to contest with people and poisonous dragons, to fight and struggle with them, and clear away the vermin." So too Isolt of Brittany breaks out in admiration of Isolt of Ireland: "Oh! but now is my sorrow of heart renewed, "3 1 "Gnedige Fraw, dort in den Stauden, Hör ich ein Menschen schlaffent schnauden." Tristan und Isolde. Act ii. H. Sachs, Sehr herrliche, schöne, und warhaffte Gedicht &c., 4 Bd. Kempten, 1612-16. 2“Ja billich thut ihr ihm vergeben Dieweil küngliche Majestat Hat ausgeschrieben ein Mandat, Wer dem Trachen neme sein Leben, Dem wöll der Köng sein Tochter geben. Demselben muss man kommen nach."--Act ii. 3 "Vielleicht seit ihr zum Streit erwehlt |