He had become blind with his own blood, and smitten
Orlando without knowing him, who had never received such a blow in his
life.
Orlando without knowing him, who had never received such a blow in his
life.
Stories from the Italian Poets
Rinaldo, alas!
the second
thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not to be there in time to save
their lives. He could only avenge the dreadful tragedy, and prevent
still worse consequences to the whole Christian court and empire.
The Paladins had in vain begged Orlando to be on his guard against
treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. The great heart of
the Champion of the Faith was unwilling to think the worst as long as
he could help it. He refused to summon aid that might be superfluous;
neither would he do any thing but what his liege lord had desired. And
yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his
heart, great and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friends
disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. I am not
sure that he did not, by a certain instinctive foresight, expect death
itself; but he felt bound not to encourage the impression. Besides, time
pressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand; and little
combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest events.
King Blanchardin had brought Orlando's people a luxurious supper; King
Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute; and Uliviero
accordingly, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see
if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the
distance. Guottibuoffi was with him, a warrior who had expected the very
worst, and repeatedly implored Orlando to believe it possible. Uliviero
and he rode up the mountain nearest them, and from the top of it beheld
the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes.
"O Guottibuoffi! " exclaimed he, "behold thy prophecies come true! behold
the last day of the glory of Charles! Every where I see the arms of the
traitors around us. I feel Paris tremble all the way through France, to
the ground beneath my feet. O Malagigi, too much in the right wert thou!
O devil Gan, this then is the consummation of thy good offices! "
Uliviero put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to
Orlando.
"Well," cried the hero, "what news? "
"Bad news," said his cousin; "such as you would not hear of yesterday.
Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world has come with him. "
The Paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn,
in token that he needed help. His only answer was, to mount his horse,
and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.
As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes and beheld what was round
about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into Roncesvalles, and
said, "O valley, miserable indeed! the blood that is shed in thee this
day will colour thy name for ever. "
Many of the Paladins had ridden after him, and they again pressed him to
sound his horn, if only in pity to his own people. He said, "If Cæsar
and Alexander were here, Scipio and Hannibal, and Nebuchadnezzar with
all his flags, and Death stared me in the face with his knife in his
hand, never would I sound my horn for the baseness of fear. "
Orlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. They armed
themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothing but lacing
of helmets and mounting of horses; and good Archbishop Turpin went
from rank to rank, exhorting and encouraging the warriors of Christ.
Accoutrements and habiliments were put on the wrong way; words and
deeds mixed in confusion; men running against one another out of very
absorption in themselves; all the place full of cries of "Arm! arm! the
enemy! " and the trumpets clanged over all against the mountain-echoes.
Orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation. He
fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say; so
wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in Roncesvalles.
Uliviero spoke first. He could not resist the opportunity of comforting
himself a little in his despair, with referring to his unheeded advice.
"You see, cousin," said he, "what has come at last. Would to God you had
attended to what I said; to what Malagigi said; to what we all said! I
told you Marsilius was nothing but an anointed scoundrel. Yet forsooth,
he was to bring us tribute! and Charles is this moment expecting his
mummeries at St. John Pied de Port! Did ever any body believe a word
that Gan said, but Charles? And now you see this rotten fruit has come
to a head;--this medlar has got its crown. "
Orlando said nothing in answer to Uliviero; for in truth he had nothing
to say. He broke away to give orders to the camp; bade them take
refreshment; and then addressing both officers and men, he said, "I
confess, that if it had entered my heart to conceive the king of Spain
to be such a villain, never would you have seen this day. He has
exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and I thought
that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had
become now. I fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue
on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as can
never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I certainly did not
suppose him to be one. Let us die, if we must die, like honest and
gallant men; so that it shall be said of us, it was only our bodies that
died. It becomes our souls to be invincible, and our glory immortal.
Our motto must be, 'A good heart and no hope. ' The reason why I did not
sound the horn was, partly because I thought it did not become us, and
partly because our liege lord could be of little use, even if he heard
it. Let Gan have his glut of us like a carrion crow; but let him find
us under heaps of his Saracens, an example for all time. Heaven, my
friends, is with us, if earth is against us. Methinks I see it open
this moment, ready to receive our souls amidst crowns of glory; and
therefore, as the champion of God's church, I give you my benediction;
and the good archbishop here will absolve you; and so, please God, we
shall all go to Heaven and be happy. "
And with these words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "Away against
the Saracens! " but he had no sooner turned his face than he wept
bitterly, and said, "O holy Virgin, think not of me, the sinner Orlando,
but have pity on these thy servants. "
Archbishop Turpin did as Orlando said, giving the whole band his
benediction at once, and absolving them from their sins, so that every
body took comfort in the thought of dying for Christ, and thus they
embraced one another, weeping; and then lance was put to thigh, and the
banner was raised that was won in the jousting at Aspramont.
And now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns, and
tambours, and trumpets, which came filling the valley, the first army
of the infidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand
pennons flying in the air. King Falseron led them on, saying to his
officers, "Now, gentlemen, recollect what I said. The first battle is
for the leaders only;--and, above all, let nobody dare to lay a finger
on Orlando. He belongs to myself. The revenge of my son's death is mine.
I will cut the man down that comes between us. "
"Now, friends," said Orlando, "every man for himself, and St. Michael
for us all. There is no one here that is not a perfect knight. "
And he might well say it; for the flower of all France was there, except
Rinaldo and Ricciardetto; every man a picked man; all friends and
constant companions of Orlando. There was Richard of Normandy, and
Guottibuoffi, and Uliviero, and Count Anselm, and Avolio, and Avino, and
the gentle Berlinghieri, and his brother, and Sansonetto, and the good
Duke Egibard, and Astolfo the Englishman, and Angiolin of Bayona, and
all the other Paladins of France, excepting those two whom I have
mentioned. And so the captains of the little troop and of the great
array sat looking at one another, and singling one another out, as the
latter came on; and then either side began raising their war-cries, and
the mob of the infidels halted, and the knights put spear in rest, and
ran for a while, two and two in succession, each one against the other.
Astolfo was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Soria; and
Angiolin then ran against Malducco; and Mazzarigi the Renegade came
against Avino; and Uliviero was borne forth by his horse Rondel, who
couldn't stand still, against Malprimo, the first of the captains of
Falseron.
And now lances began to be painted red, without any brush but
themselves; and the new colour extended itself to the bucklers, and the
cuishes, and the cuirasses, and the trappings of the steeds.
Astolfo thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul
into the other world; and Angiolin gave and took a terrible blow with
Malducco; but his horse bore him onward; and Avino had something of the
like encounter with Mazzarigi; but Uliviero, though he received a thrust
which hurt him, sent his lance right through the heart of Malprimo.
Falseron was daunted at this blow. "Verily," thought he, "this is a
miracle. " Uliviero did not press on among the Saracens, his wound was
too painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band into motion,
and you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of the rattling of
the blows and helmets was as if the forge of Vulcan had been thrown
open. Falseron beheld Orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a
Lucifer who had burst his chain, and was quite of another mind than when
he proposed to have him all to himself. On the contrary, he recommended
himself to his gods; and turning away, begged for a more auspicious
season of revenge. But Orlando hailed and arrested him with a terrible
voice, saying, "O thou traitor! Was this the end to which old quarrels
were made up? Dost thou not blush, thou and thy fellow-traitor
Marsilius, to have kissed me on the cheek like a Judas, when last thou
wert in France? "
Orlando had never shewn such anger in his countenance as he did that
day. He dashed at Falseron with a fury so swift, and at the same time
a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that though he plunged it in the
man's body so as instantly to kill him, the body did not move in the
saddle. The hero himself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end
of a stroke so perfect, and, turning his horse back, he touched the
carcass with his sword, and it fell on the instant. They say, that it
had no sooner fallen than it disappeared. People got off their horses
to lift up the body, for it seemed to be there still, the armour being
left; but when they came to handle the armour, it was found as empty as
the shell that is cast by a lobster. O new, and strange, and portentous
event! --proof manifest of the anger with which God regards treachery.
When the first infidel army beheld their leader dead, such fear fell
upon them, that they were for leaving the field to the Paladins; but
they were unable. Marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round the
valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in vain. Orlando
rode into the thick of them, with Count Anselm by his side. He rushed
like a tempest; and wherever he went, thunderbolts fell upon helmets.
The Paladins drove here and there after them, each making a whirlwind
round about him, and a bloody circle. Uliviero was again in the _mêlée_;
and Walter of Amulion threw himself into it; and Baldwin roared like
a lion; and Avino and Avolio reaped the wretches' heads like a
turnip-field; and blows blinded men's eyes; and Archbishop Turpin
himself had changed his crozier for a lance, and chased a new flock
before him to the mountains.
Yet what could be done against foes without number? Multitudes fill
up the spaces left by the dead without stopping. Marsilius, from his
anxious and raging post, constantly pours them in. The Paladins are as
units to thousands. Why tarry the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto?
The horses did not tarry; but fate had been quicker than enchantment.
Ashtaroth, nevertheless, had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt, as
though he had issued out of a flash of lightning. After telling his
mission, and giving orders to hundreds of invisible spirits round about
him (for the air was full of them), he and Foul-Mouth, his servant,
entered the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto, which began to neigh and
snort and leap with the fiends within them, till off they flew through
the air over the pyramids, crowds of spirits going like a tempest before
them. Ricciardetto shut his eyes at first, on perceiving himself so high
in the air; but he speedily became used to it, though he looked down
on the sun at last. In this manner they passed the desert, and the
sea-coast, and the ocean, and swept the tops of the Pyrenees, Ashtaroth
talking to them of wonders by the way; for he was one of the wisest of
the devils, and knew a great many things which were then unknown to man.
He laughed, for instance, as they went over sea, at the notion, among
other vain fancies, that nothing was to be found beyond the pillars of
Hercules; "for," said he, "the earth is round, and the sea has an even
surface all over it; and there are nations on the other side of the
globe, who walk with their feet opposed to yours, and worship other gods
than the Christians. "
"Hah! " said Rinaldo; "and may I ask whether they can be saved? "
"It is a bold thing to ask," said the devil; "but do you take the
Redeemer for a partisan, and fancy he died for you only? Be assured he
died for the whole world, Antipodes and all. Perhaps not one soul will
be left out the pale of salvation at last, but the whole human race
adore the truth, and find mercy. The Christian is the only true
religion; but Heaven loves all goodness that believes honestly,
whatsoever the belief may be. "
Rinaldo was mightily taken with the humanity of the devil's opinions:
but they were now approaching the end of their journey, and began to
hear the noise of the battle; and he could no longer think of any thing
but the delight of being near Orlando, and plunging into the middle of
it.
"You shall be in the very heart of it instantly," said his bearer.
"I love you, and would fain do all you desire. Do not fancy that all
nobleness of spirit is lost among us people below. You know what the
proverb says, 'There's never a fruit, however degenerate, but will taste
of its stock. ' I was of a different order of beings once, and--But it is
as well not to talk of happy times. Yonder is Marsilius; and there goes
Orlando. Farewell, and give me a place in your memory. "
Rinaldo could not find words to express his sense of the devil's
good-will, nor of that of Foul Mouth himself. He said: "Ashtaroth, I am
as sorry to part with you as if you were a brother; and I certainly do
believe that nobleness of spirit exists, as you say, among your people
below. I shall be glad to see you both sometimes, if you can come; and I
pray God (if my poor prayer be worth any thing) that you may all repent,
and obtain his pardon; for without repentance, you know, nothing can be
done for you. "
"If I might suggest a favour," returned Ashtaroth, "since you are so
good as to wish to do me one, persuade Malagigi to free me from his
service, and I am yours for ever. To serve you will be a pleasure to me.
You will only have to say, 'Ashtaroth,' and my good friend here will be
with you in an instant. "
"I am obliged to you," cried Rinaldo, "and so is my brother. I will
write Malagigi, not merely a letter, but a whole packet-full of your
praises; and so I will to Orlando; and you shall be set free, depend on
it, your company has been so perfectly agreeable. "
"Your humble servant," said Ashtaroth, and vanished with his companion
like lightning.
But they did not go far.
There was a little chapel by the road-side in Roncesvalles, which had
a couple of bells; and on the top of that chapel did the devils place
themselves, in order that they might catch the souls of the infidels as
they died, and so carry them off to the infernal regions. Guess if their
wings had plenty to do that day! Guess if Minos and Rhadamanthus were
busy, and Charon sung in his boat, and Lucifer hugged himself for joy.
Guess, also, if the tables in heaven groaned with nectar and ambrosia,
and good old St. Peter had a dry hair in his beard.
The two Paladins, on their horses, dropped right into the middle of the
Saracens, and began making such havoc about them, that Marsilius, who
overlooked the fight from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned
one against the other. He therefore descended in fury with his third
army; and Rinaldo, seeing him coming, said to Ricciardetto, "We had
better be off here, and join Orlando;" and with these words, he gave his
horse one turn round before he retreated, so as to enable his sword to
make a bloody circle about him; and stories say, that he sheared off
twenty heads in the whirl of it. He then dashed through the astonished
beholders towards the battle of Orlando, who guessed it could be no
other than his cousin, and almost dropped from his horse, out of desire
to meet him. Ricciardetto followed Rinaldo; and Uliviero coming up at
the same moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be expressed.
They almost died for joy. After a thousand embraces, and questions, and
explanations, and expressions of astonishment (for the infidels held
aloof awhile, to take breath from the horror and mischief they had
undergone), Orlando refreshed his little band of heroes, and then drew
Rinaldo apart, and said, "O my brother, I feel such delight at seeing
you, I can hardly persuade myself I am not dreaming. Heaven be praised
for it. I have no other wish on earth, now that I see you before I die.
Why didn't you write? But never mind. Here you are, and I shall not die
for nothing. "
"I did write," said Rinaldo, "and so did Ricciardetto; but villany
intercepted our letters. Tell me what to do, my dear cousin; for time
presses, and all the world is upon us. "
"Gan has brought us here," said Orlando, "under pretence of receiving
tribute from Marsilius--you see of what sort; and Charles, poor old man,
is waiting to receive his homage at the town of St. John! I have never
seen a lucky day since you left us. I believe I have done for Charles
more than in duty bound, and that my sins pursue me, and I and mine must
all perish in Roncesvalles. "
"Look to Marsilius," exclaimed Rinaldo; "he is right upon us. "
Marsilius was upon them, surely enough, at once furious and frightened
at the coming of the new Paladins; for his camp, numerous as it was, had
not only held aloof, but turned about to fly like herds before the lion;
so he was forced to drive them back, and bring up his other troops,
reasonably thinking that such numbers must overwhelm at last, if they
could but be kept together.
Not the less, however, for this, did the Paladins continue to fight as
if with joy. They killed and trampled wheresoever they went; Rinaldo
fatiguing himself with sending infinite numbers of souls to Ashtaroth,
and Orlando making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, whom he hoped to
settle as he had done Falseron.
In the course of this his tremendous progress, the hero struck a youth
on the head, whose helmet was so good as to resist the blow, but at the
same time flew off; and Orlando seized him by the hair to kill him.
"Hold! " cried the youth, as loud as want of breath could let him; "you
loved my father--I'm Bujaforte. "
The Paladin had never seen Bujaforte; but he saw the likeness to the
good old Man of the Mountain, his father; and he let go the youth's
hair, and embraced and kissed him. "O Bujaforte! " said he; "I loved him
indeed my good old man; but what does his son do here, fighting against
his friend? "
Bujaforte was a long time before he could speak for weeping. At length
he said, "Orlando, let not your noble heart be pained with ill thoughts
of my father's son. I am forced to be here by my lord and master
Marsilius. I had no friend left me in the world, and he took me into his
court, and has brought me here before I knew what it was for; and I have
made a shew of fighting, but have not hurt a single Christian. Treachery
is on every side of you. Baldwin himself has a vest given him by
Marsilius, that every body may know the son of his friend Gan, and do
him no injury. See there--look how the lances avoid him. "
"Put your helmet on again," said Orlando, "and behave just as you have
done. Never will your father's friend be an enemy to the son. Only take
care not to come across Rinaldo. "
The hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who was hastening
towards him at that moment with friendliness in his looks.
"'Tis strange," said Baldwin; "I have done my duty as well as I could,
yet no body will come against me. I have slain right and left, and
cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest infidels avoid me. "
"Take off your vest," cried Orlando, contemptuously, "and you will soon
discover the secret, if you wish to know it. Your father has sold us to
Marsilius, all but his honourable son. "
"If my father," cried Baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest, "has
been such a villain, and I escape dying any longer, by God! I will
plunge this sword through his heart. But I am no traitor, Orlando;
and you do me wrong to say it. You do me foul dishonour, and I'll not
survive it. Never more shall you behold me alive. "
Baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another word
from Orlando, but constantly crying out, "You have done me dishonour;"
and Orlando was very sorry for what he had said, for he perceived that
the youth was in despair.
And now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; and the Paladins
themselves began to fall, the enemy were driven forward in such
multitudes by Marsilius. There was unhorsing of foes, and re-seating of
friends, and great cries, and anguish, and unceasing labour; and twenty
Pagans went down for one Christian; but still the Christians fell. One
Paladin disappeared after another, having too much to do for mortal men.
Some could not make way through the press for very fatigue of killing,
and others were hampered with the falling horses and men. Sansonetto was
thus beaten to earth by the club of Grandonio; and Walter d'Amulion had
his shoulders broken; and Angiolin of Bayona, having lost his lance,
was thrust down by Marsilius, and Angiolin of Bellonda by Sirionne; and
Berlinghieri and Ottone are gone; and then Astolfo went, in revenge of
whose death Orlando turned the spot on which he died into a gulf of
Saracen blood. Rinaldo met the luckless Bujaforte, who had just begun to
explain how he seemed to be fighting on the side which his father hated,
when the impatient hero exclaimed, "He who is not with me is against
me;" and gave him a volley of such horrible cuffs about the head and
ears, that Bujaforte died without being able to speak another word.
Orlando, cutting his way to a spot in which there was a great struggle
and uproar, found the poor youth Baldwin, the son of Gan, with two
spears in his breast. "I am no traitor now," said Baldwin; and so
saying, fell dead to the earth; and Orlando lifted up his voice and
wept, for he was bitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death. He
then joined Rinaldo in the hottest of the tumult; and all the surviving
Paladins gathered about them, including Turpin the archbishop, who
fought as hardily as the rest; and the slaughter was lavish and
horrible, so that the eddies of the wind chucked the blood into the air,
and earth appeared a very seething-cauldron of hell. At length down went
Uliviero himself.
He had become blind with his own blood, and smitten
Orlando without knowing him, who had never received such a blow in his
life.
"How now, cousin! " cried Orlando; "have you too gone over to the enemy? "
"O, my lord and master, Orlando," cried the other, "I ask your pardon,
if I have struck you. I can see nothing--I am dying. The traitor
Arcaliffe has stabbed me in the back; but I killed him for it. If you
love me, lead my horse into the thick of them, so that I may not die
unavenged. "
"I shall die myself before long," said Orlando, "out of very toil and
grief; so we will go together. I have lost all hope, all pride, all wish
to live any longer; but not my love for Uliviero. Come--let us give them
a few blows yet; let them see what you can do with your dying hands. One
faith, one death, one only wish be ours. "
Orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and
dreadful was the strength of the dying man and of his half-dying
companion. They made a street, through which they passed out of the
battle; and Orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said, "Wait
a little till I return, for I will go and sound the horn on the hill
yonder. "
"'Tis of no use," said Uliviero; "and my spirit is fast going, and
desires to be with its Lord and Saviour. " He would have said more, but
his words came from him imperfectly, like those of a man in a dream;
only his cousin gathered that he meant to commend to him his sister,
Orlando's wife, Alda the Fair, of whom indeed the great Paladin had not
thought so much in this world as he might have done. And with these
imperfect words he expired.
But Orlando no sooner saw him dead, than he felt as if he was left alone
on the earth; and he was quite willing to leave it; only he wished that
Charles at St. John Pied de Port should hear how the case stood before
he went; and so he took up the horn, and blew it three times with such
force that the blood burst out of his nose and mouth. Turpin says, that
at the third blast the horn broke in two.
In spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn broke
over it like a voice out of the other world. They say that birds fell
dead at it, and that the whole Saracen army drew back in terror. But
fearfuller still was its effect at St. John Pied de Port. Charlemagne
was sitting in the midst of his court when the sound reached him; and
Gan was there. The emperor was the first to hear it.
"Do you hear that? " said he to his nobles. "Did you hear the horn, as I
heard it? "
Upon this they all listened; and Gan felt his heart misgive him.
The horn sounded the second time.
"What is the meaning of this? " said Charles.
"Orlando is hunting," observed Gan, "and the stag is killed. He is at
the old pastime that he was so fond of in Aspramonte. "
But when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one of so
dreadful a vehemence, every body looked at the other, and then they all
looked at Gan in fury. Charles rose from his seat. "This is no hunting
of the stag," said he. "The sound goes to my very heart, and, I confess,
makes me tremble. I am awakened out of a great dream. O Gan! O Gan! Not
for thee do I blush, but for myself, and for nobody else. O my God, what
is to be done! But whatever is to be done, must be done quickly. Take
this villain, gentlemen, and keep him in hard prison. O foul and
monstrous villain! Would to God I had not lived to see this day! O
obstinate and enormous folly! O Malagigi, had I but believed thy
foresight! 'Tis thou went the wise man, and I the grey-headed fool. "
Ogier the Dane, and Namo and others, in the bitterness of their grief
and anger, could not help reminding the emperor of all which they had
foretold. But it was no time for words. They put the traitor into
prison; and then Charles, with all his court, took his way to
Roncesvalles, grieving and praying.
It was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it when
the emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to the fight that
he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he could sit his
horse, and the Paladins were now reduced to four; and though the
Saracens suffered themselves to be mowed down like grass by them and
their little band, he found his end approaching for toil and fever,
and so at length he withdrew out of the fight, and rode all alone to a
fountain which he knew of, where he had before quenched his thirst.
His horse was wearier still than he, and no sooner had its master
alighted, than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to
say, "I have brought you to your place of rest," fell dead at his feet.
Orlando cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him
dead; but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he
had been a human being, and addressed him by name in tears, and asked
forgiveness if ever he had done him wrong. They say, that the horse at
these words once more opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his
master, and so stirred never more.
They say also that Orlando then, summoning all his strength, smote a
rock near him with his beautiful sword Durlindana, thinking to shiver
the steel in pieces, and so prevent its falling into the hands of the
enemy; but though the rock split like a slate, and a deep fissure
remained ever after to astonish the eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained
unhurt.
"O strong Durlindana," cried he, "O noble and worthy sword, had I known
thee from the first, as I know thee now, never would I have been brought
to this pass. "
And now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto and Turpin came up, having given chase
to the Saracens till they were weary, and Orlando gave joyful welcome to
his cousin, and they told him how the battle was won, and then Orlando
knelt before Turpin, his face all in tears, and begged remission of his
sins and confessed them, and Turpin gave him absolution; and suddenly a
light came down upon him from heaven like a rainbow, accompanied with
a sound of music, and an angel stood in the air blessing him, and then
disappeared; upon which Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword
as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and said, "Lord, vouchsafe that I may
look on this poor instrument as on the symbol of the tree upon which
Thou sufferedst thy unspeakable martyrdom! " and so adjusting the sword
to his bosom, and embracing it closer, he raised his eyes, and appeared
like a creature seraphical and transfigured; and in bowing his head he
breathed out his pure soul. A thunder was then heard in the heavens,
and the heavens opened and seemed to stoop to the earth, and a flock of
angels was seen like a white cloud ascending with his spirit, who were
known to be what they were by the trembling of their wings. The white
cloud shot out golden fires, so that the whole air was full of them; and
the voices of the angels mingled in song with the instruments of their
brethren above, which made an inexpressible harmony, at once deep and
dulcet. The priestly warrior Turpin, and the two Paladins, and the
hero's squire Terigi, who were all on their knees, forgot their own
beings, in following the miracle with their eyes.
It was now the office of that squire to take horse and ride off to
the emperor at Saint John Pied de Port, and tell him of all that had
occurred; but in spite of what he had just seen, he lay for a time
overwhelmed with grief. He then rose, and mounted his steed, and left
the Paladins and the archbishop with the dead body, who knelt about it,
guarding it with weeping love.
The good squire Terigi met the emperor and his cavalcade coming towards
Roncesvalles, and alighted and fell on his knees, telling him the
miserable news, and how all his people were slain but two of his
Paladins, and himself, and the good archbishop. Charles for anguish
began tearing his white locks; but Terigi comforted him against so
doing, by giving an account of the manner of Orlando's death, and how
he had surely gone to heaven. Nevertheless, the squire himself was
broken-hearted with grief and toil; and he had scarcely added a
denouncement of the traitor Gan, and a hope that the emperor would
appease Heaven finally by giving his body to the winds, than he said,
"The cold of death is upon me;" and so he fell dead at the emperor's
feet.
Charles was ready to drop from his saddle for wretchedness. He cried
out, "Let nobody comfort me more. I will have no comfort. Cursed be Gan,
and cursed this horrible day, and this place, and every thing. Let us go
on, like blind miserable men that we are, into Roncesvalles; and have
patience if we can, out of pure misery, like Job, till we do all that
can be done. "
So Charles rode on with his nobles; and they say, that for the sake of
the champion of Christendom and the martyrs that died with him, the sun
stood still in the sky till the emperor had seen Orlando, and till the
dead were buried.
Horrible to his eyes was the sight of the field of Roncesvalles. The
Saracens, indeed, had forsaken it, conquered; but all his Paladins but
two were left on it dead, and the slaughtered heaps among which they lay
made the whole valley like a great dumb slaughter-house, trampled up
into blood and dirt, and reeking to the heat. The very trees were
dropping with blood; and every thing, so to speak, seemed tired out, and
gone to a horrible sleep.
Charles trembled to his heart's core for wonder and agony. After dumbly
gazing on the place, he again cursed it with a solemn curse, and wished
that never grass might grow within it again, nor seed of any kind,
neither within it, nor on any of its mountains around with their proud
shoulders; but the anger of Heaven abide over it for ever, as on a pit
made by hell upon earth.
Then he rode on, and came up to where the body of Orlando awaited him
with the Paladins, and the old man, weeping, threw himself as if he had
been a reckless youth from his horse, and embraced and kissed the dead
body, and said, "I bless thee, Orlando. I bless thy whole life, and all
that thou wast, and all that thou ever didst, and thy mighty and holy
valour, and the father that begot thee; and I ask pardon of thee for
believing those who brought thee to thine end. They shall have their
reward, O thou beloved one! But, indeed, it is thou that livest, and I
that am worse than dead. "
And now, behold a wonder. For the emperor, in the fervour of his heart
and of the memory of what had passed between them, called to mind that
Orlando had promised to give him his sword, should he die before him;
and he lifted up his voice more bravely, and adjured him even now to
return it to him gladly; and it pleased God that the dead body of
Orlando should rise on its feet, and kneel as he was wont to do at the
feet of his liege lord, and gladly, and with a smile on its face, return
the sword to the Emperor Charles. As Orlando rose, the Paladins and
Turpin knelt down out of fear and horror, especially seeing him look
with a stern countenance; but when they saw that he knelt also, and
smiled, and returned the sword, their hearts became re-assured, and
Charles took the sword like his liege lord, though trembling with wonder
and affection: and in truth he could hardly clench his fingers around
it.
Orlando was buried in a great sepulchre in Aquisgrana, and the dead
Paladins were all embalmed and sent with majestic cavalcades to their
respective counties and principalities, and every Christian was
honourably and reverently put in the earth, and recorded among the
martyrs of the Church.
But meantime the flying Saracens, thinking to bury their own dead, and
ignorant of what still awaited them, came back into the valley, and
Rinaldo beheld them with a dreadful joy, and shewed them to Charles. Now
the emperor's cavalcade had increased every moment; and they fell upon
the Saracens with a new and unexpected battle, and the old emperor,
addressing the sword of Orlando, exclaimed, "My strength is little, but
do thou do thy duty to thy master, thou famous sword, seeing that he
returned it to me smiling, and that his revenge is in my hands. " And so
saying, he met Balugante, the leader of the infidels, as he came borne
along by his frightened horse; and the old man, raising the sword with
both hands, cleaved him, with a delighted mind, to the chin.
O sacred Emperor Charles! O well-lived old man! Defender of the Faith!
light and glory of the old time! thou hast cut off the other ear of
Malchus, and shown how rightly thou wert born into the world, to save it
a second time from the abyss.
Again fled the Saracens, never to come to Christendom more: but Charles
went after them into Spain, he and Rinaldo and Ricciardetto and the good
Turpin; and they took and fired Saragossa; and Marsilius was hung to the
carob-tree under which he had planned his villany with Gan; and Gan was
hung, and drawn and quartered, in Roncesvalles, amidst the execrations
of the country.
And if you ask, how it happened that Charles ever put faith in such a
wretch, I shall tell you that it was because the good old emperor, with
all his faults, was a divine man, and believed in others out of the
excellence of his own heart and truth. And such was the case with
Orlando himself.
APPENDIX.
No. I.
STORY OF PAULO AND FRANCESCA.
Poscia ch' i' ebbi il mio dottore udito
Nomar le donne antiche e i cavalieri,
Pietà mi vinse, e fui quasi smarrito.
I' cominciai: Poeta, volentieri
Parlerei a que' duo the 'nsieme vanno,
E pajon sì al vento esser leggieri.
Ed egli a me: Vedrai, quando saranno
Più presso a noi: e tu allor gli piega,
Per quell' amor ch' ei mena; e quei verranno.
Si tosto come 'l vento a noi gli piega,
Mossi la voce: O anime affannate,
Venite a not parlar, s' altri nol niega.
Quali colombe dal disio chiamate,
Con l' ali aperte e ferme, al dolce nido
Volan per l' aer dal voter portate:
Cotali uscir de la schiera ov' è Dido,
A noi venendo per l' aer maligno,
Si forte fu l' affettuoso grido.
O animal grazioso e benigno,
Che visitando vai per l' aer perso
Noi che tignemmo it mondo di sanguigno;
Se fosse amico il Re de l'Universo,
Noi pregheremmo lui per la tua pace,
Poich' hai pietà del nostro mal perverso.
Di quel ch'udire e che parlar ti piace,
Noi udiremo, e parleremo a vui,
Mentre che 'l vento, come fa, si tace.
Siede la terra, dove nata fui,
Su la marina, dove 'l Pò discende,
Per aver pace co' seguaci sui.
Amor ch'al cor gentil ratto s'apprende,
Prese costui de la bella persona
Che mi fu tolta, e 'l modo ancor m'offende
Amer ch'a null'amato amar perdona,
Mi prese del costui piacer si forte,
Che come vedi ancor non m'abbandona
Amor condusse noi ad una morte
Caina attende chi 'n vita ci spense.
Queste parole da lor ci fur porte.
Da ch'io 'ntesi quell'anime offense,
Chinai 'l viso, e tanto 'l tenni basso,
Finchè 'l poeta mi disse: Che pense?
Quando risposi, cominciai: O lasso,
Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio
Menò costoro al doloroso passo!
Po' mi rivolsi a loro, e parla' io,
E cominciai: Francesca, i tuoi martiri
A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pie.
Ma dimmi: al tempo de' dolci sospiri,
A che, e come concedette amore
Che conosceste i dubbiosi desiri?
Ed ella a me: Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Ne la miseria; e ciò sa 'l tuo dottore.
Ma s'a conoscer la prima radice
Del nostro amor to hai cotanto affetto,
Farò come colui the piange e dice.
Noi leggiavamo tin giorno per diletto
Di Lancilotto, come amor to strinse
Soli eravamo, e senza alcun sospetto.
Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse
Quella lettura, e scolorocci 'l viso
Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.
Quando leggemmo il disiato riso
Esser baciato da cotanto amante,
Questi che mai da me non sia diviso,
La bocca mi baciò tutto tremante:
Galeotto fu il libro, e chi to scrisse:
Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante.
Mentre the l'uno spirto questo disse,
L'altro piangeva si, che di pietade
I' venni men cosi com' io morisse,
E caddi come corpo morto cade.
* * * * *
_Translation in the terza rima of the original. _
Scarce had I learnt the names of all that press
Of knights and dames, than I beheld a sight
Nigh reft my wits for very tenderness.
"O guide! " I said, "fain would I, if I might,
Have speech with yonder pair, that hand in hand
Seem borne before the dreadful wind so light. "
"Wait," said my guide, "until then seest their band
Sweep round. Then beg them, by that lose, to stay;
And they will come, and hover where we stand. "
Anon the whirlwind flung them round that way;
And then I cried, "Oh, if I ask nought ill,
Poor weary souls, have speech with me, I pray. "
As doves, that leave some bevy circling still,
Set firm their open wings, and through the air
Sweep homewards, wafted by their pure good will;
So broke from Dido's flock that gentle pair,
Cleaving, to where we stood, the air malign;
Such strength to bring them had a loving prayer.
The female spoke. "O living soul benign! "
She said, "thus, in this lost air, visiting
Us who with blood stain'd the sweet earth divine;
Had we a friend in heaven's eternal King,
We would beseech him keep thy conscience clear,
Since to our anguish thou dost pity bring.
Of what it pleaseth thee to speak and hear,
To that we also, till this lull be o'er
That falleth now, will speak and will give ear.
The place where I was born is on the shore,
Where Po brings all his rivers to depart
In peace, and fuse them with the ocean floor.
Love, that soon kindleth in a gentle heart,
Seized him thou look'st on for the form and face,
Whose end still haunts me like a rankling dart.
Love, which by love will be denied no grace,
Gave me a transport in my turn so true,
That to! 'tis with me, even in this place.
Love brought us to one grave. The hand that slew
Is doom'd to mourn us in the pit of Cain. "
Such were the words that told me of those two.
Downcast I stood, looking so full of pain
To think how hard and sad a case it was,
That my guide ask'd what held me in that vein.
His voiced aroused me; and I said, "Alas
All their sweet thoughts then, all the steps that led
To love, but brought them to this dolorous pass. "
Then turning my sad eyes to theirs, I said,
"Francesca, see--these human cheeks are wet--
Truer and sadder tears were never shed.
But tell me. At the time when sighs were sweet,
What made thee strive no longer? --hurried thee
To the last step where bliss and sorrow meet? "
"There is no greater sorrow," answered she,
"And this thy teacher here knoweth full well,
Than calling to mind joy in misery.
But since thy wish be great to hear us tell
How we lost all but love, tell it I will,
As well as tears will let me. It befel,
One day, we read how Lancelot gazed his fill
At her he loved, and what his lady said.
We were alone, thinking of nothing ill.
Oft were our eyes suspended as we read,
And in our cheeks the colour went and came;
Yet one sole passage struck resistance dead.
'Twas where the lover, moth-like in his flame,
Drawn by her sweet smile, kiss'd it. O then, he
Whose lot and mine are now for aye the same,
All in a tremble, on the mouth kiss'd _me_.
The book did all. Our hearts within us burn'd
Through that alone. That day no more read we. "
While thus one spoke, the other spirit mourn'd
With wail so woful, that at his remorse
I felt as though I should have died. I turned
Stone-stiff; and to the ground fell like a corse. ]
No. II.
ACCOUNTS GIVEN BY DIFFERENT WRITERS OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES RELATING TO
PAULO AND FRANCESCA; CONCLUDING WITH THE ONLY FACTS ASCERTAINED.
BOCCACCIO'S ACCOUNT
Translated from his Commentary on the Passage.
"You must know, that this lady, Madonna Francesca, was daughter of
Messer Guido the Elder, lord of Ravenna and of Cervia, and that a long
and grievous war having been waged between him and the lords Malatesta
of Rimini, a treaty of peace by certain mediators was at length
concluded between them; the which, to the end that it might be the more
firmly established, it pleased both parties to desire to fortify by
relationship; and the matter of this relationship was so discoursed,
that the said Messer Guido agreed to give his young and fair daughter
in marriage to Gianciotto, the son of Messer Malatesta. Now, this being
made known to certain of the friends of Messer Guido, one of them
said to him, 'Take care what you do; for if you contrive not matters
discreetly, such relationship will beget scandal. You know what manner
of person your daughter is, and of how lofty a spirit; and if she see
Gianciotto before the bond is tied, neither you nor any one else will
have power to persuade her to marry him; therefore, if it so please you,
it seems to me that it would be good to conduct the matter thus: namely,
that Gianciotto should not come hither himself to marry her, but that a
brother of his should come and espouse her in his name. '
"Gianciotto was a man of great spirit, and hoped, after his father's
death, to become lord of Rimini; in the contemplation of which event,
albeit he was rude in appearance and a cripple, Messer Guido desired him
for a son-in-law above any one of his brothers. Discerning, therefore,
the reasonableness of what his friend counselled, he secretly disposed
matters according to his device; and a day being appointed, Polo, a
brother of Gianciotto, came to Ravenna with full authority to espouse
Madonna Francesca. Polo was a handsome man, very pleasant, and of a
courteous breeding; and passing with other gentlemen over the court-yard
of the palace of Messer Guido, a damsel who knew him pointed him out to
Madonna Francesca through an opening in the casement, saying, 'That is
he that is to be your husband;' and so indeed the poor lady believed,
and incontinently placed in him her whole affection; and the ceremony of
the marriage having been thus brought about, and the lady conveyed to
Rimini, she became not aware of the deceit till the morning ensuing
the marriage, when she beheld Gianciotto rise from her side; the which
discovery moved her to such disdain, that she became not a whit the less
rooted in her love for Polo. Nevertheless, that it grew to be unlawful
I never heard, except in what is written by this author (Dante), and
possibly it might so have become; albeit I take what he says to have
been an invention framed on the possibility, rather than any thing
which he knew of his own knowledge. Be this as it may, Polo and Madonna
Francesca living in the same house, and Gianciotto being gone into
a certain neighbouring district as governor, they fell into great
companionship with one another, suspecting nothing; but a servant of
Gianciotto's noting it, went to his master and told him how matters
looked; with the which Gianciotto being fiercely moved, secretly
returned to Rimini; and seeing Polo enter the room of Madonna Francesca
the while he himself was arriving, went straight to the door, and
finding it locked inside, called to his lady to come out; for, Madonna
Francesca and Polo having descried him, Polo thought to escape suddenly
through an opening in the wall, by means of which there was a descent
into another room; and therefore, thinking to conceal his fault either
wholly or in part, he threw himself into the opening, telling the lady
to go and open the door. But his hope did not turn out as he expected;
for the hem of a mantle which he had on caught upon a nail, and the
lady opening the door meantime, in the belief that all would be well by
reason of Polo's not being there, Gianciotto caught sight of Polo as
he was detained by the hem of the mantle, and straightway ran with his
dagger in his hand to kill him; whereupon the lady, to prevent it, ran
between them; but Gianciotto having lifted the dagger, and put the whole
force of his arm into the blow, there came to pass what he had not
desired--namely, that he struck the dagger into the bosom of the lady
before it could reach Polo; by which accident, being as one who had
loved the lady better than himself, he withdrew the dagger, and again
struck at Polo, and slew him; and so leaving them both dead, he hastily
went his way and betook him to his wonted affairs; and the next morning
the two lovers, with many tears, were buried together in the same
grave. "
The reader of this account will have observed, that while Dante assumes
the guilt of all parties, and puts them into the infernal regions, the
good-natured Boccaccio is for doubting it, and consequently for sending
them all to heaven. He will ignore as much of the business as a
gentleman can; boldly doubts any guilt in the case; says nothing of the
circumstance of the book; and affirms that the husband loved his wife,
and was miserable at having slain her. There is, however, one negative
point in common between the two narrators; they both say nothing of
certain particulars connected with the date of Francesca's marriage, and
not a little qualifying the first romantic look of the story.
Now, it is the absence of these particulars, combined with the tradition
of the father's artifice (omitted perhaps by Dante out of personal
favour), and with that of the husband's ferocity of character (the
belief in which Boccaccio did not succeed in displacing), that has
left the prevailing impression on the minds of posterity, which is
this:--that Francesca was beguiled by her father into the marriage with
the deformed and unamiable Giovanni, and that the unconscious medium of
the artifice was the amiable and handsome Paulo; that one or both of
the victims of the artifice fell in love with the other; that their
intercourse, whatever it was, took place not long after the marriage;
and that when Paulo and Francesca were slain in consequence, they were
young lovers, with no other ties to the world.
It is not pleasant in general to dispel the illusions of romance, though
Dante's will bear the operation with less hurt to a reader's feelings
than most; and I suspect, that if nine out of ten of all the implied
conclusions of other narratives in his poem could be compared with the
facts, he would be found to be one of the greatest of romancers in a new
and not very desirable sense, however excusable he may have been in his
party-prejudice. But a romance may be displaced, only to substitute
perhaps matters of fact more really touching, by reason of their greater
probability. The following is the whole of what modern inquirers have
ascertained respecting Paulo and Francesca. Future enlargers on the
story may suppress what they please, as Dante did; but if any one of
them, like the writer of the present remarks, is anxious to speak
nothing but the truth, I advise him (especially if he is for troubling
himself with making changes in his story) not to think that he has seen
all the authorities on the subject, or even remembered all he has seen,
until he has searched every corner of his library and his memory. All
the poems hitherto written upon this popular subject are indeed only to
be regarded as so many probable pieces of fancy, that of Dante himself
included.
* * * * *
THE ONLY PARTICULARS HITHERTO REALLY ASCERTAINED RESPECTING THE HISTORY
OF PAULO AND FRANCESCA.
Francesca was daughter of Guido Novello da Polenta, lord of Ravenna.
She was married to Giovanni, surnamed the Lame, one of the sons of
Malatesta da Verrucchio, lord of Rimini.
Giovanni the Lame had a brother named Paulo the Handsome, who was a
widower, and left a son.
Twelve years after Francesca's marriage, by which time she had become
mother of a son who died, and of a daughter who survived her, she and
her brother-in-law Paulo were slain together by the husband, and buried
in one grave.
Two hundred years afterwards, the grave was opened, and the bodies found
lying together in silken garments, the silk itself being entire.
Now, a far more touching history may have lurked under these facts than
in the half-concealed and misleading circumstances of the received
story--long patience, long duty, struggling conscience, exhausted hope.
On the other hand, it may have been a mere heartless case of intrigue
and folly.
But tradition is to be allowed its reasonable weight; and the
probability is, that the marriage was an affair of state, the lady
unhappy, and the brothers too different from one another.
The event took place in Dante's twenty-fourth year; so that he, who
looks so much older to our imaginations than his heroine, was younger;
and this renders more than probable what the latest biographers have
asserted--namely, that the lord of Ravenna, at whose house he finished
his days, was not her father, Guido da Polenta, the third of that name,
but her nephew, Guido the Fifth.
* * * * *
No. IIII
STORY OF UGOLINO.
Non eravam partiti già da ello,
Ch' i' vidi duo ghiacciati in una buca
Si, che l'un capo a l'altro era capello:
E come 'l pan per fame si manduca,
Così 'l sovran li denti a l'altro pose
Là've 'l cervel s'aggiunge con la nuca.
Non altrimenti Tideo sì rose
Le tempie a Menalippo per disdegno,
Che quei faceva 'l teschio e l'altre cose.
O tu che mostri per sì bestial segno
Odio sovra colui che tu ti mangi
Dimmi 'l perchè, diss' io, per tal convegno,
Che se tu a ragion di lui ti piangi,
Sappiendo chi voi siete, e la sua pecca,
Nel mondo suso ancor io te ne cangi,
Se quella con ch' i' parlo non si secca.
La bocca sollevò dal fiero pasto
Quel peccator, forbendola a' capelli
Del capo ch' egli avea diretro guasto:
Poi cominciò: tu vuoi ch' i' rinnovelli
Disperato dolor the 'l cuor mi preme
Già pur pensando, pria ch' i' ne favelli.
Ma se le mie parole esser den seme,
Che frutti infamia al traditor ch' i' rodo,
Parlare e lagrimar vedrai insieme.
I' non so chi tu sei, nè per che modo
Venuto se' qua giù: ma Fiorentino
Mi sembri veramente, quand' i' t' odo.
Tu de' saper ch' i' fu 'l Conte Ugolino,
E questi l' Arcivescovo Ruggieri:
Or ti dirò perch' i' son tal vicino.
thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not to be there in time to save
their lives. He could only avenge the dreadful tragedy, and prevent
still worse consequences to the whole Christian court and empire.
The Paladins had in vain begged Orlando to be on his guard against
treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. The great heart of
the Champion of the Faith was unwilling to think the worst as long as
he could help it. He refused to summon aid that might be superfluous;
neither would he do any thing but what his liege lord had desired. And
yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his
heart, great and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friends
disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. I am not
sure that he did not, by a certain instinctive foresight, expect death
itself; but he felt bound not to encourage the impression. Besides, time
pressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand; and little
combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest events.
King Blanchardin had brought Orlando's people a luxurious supper; King
Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute; and Uliviero
accordingly, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see
if he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the
distance. Guottibuoffi was with him, a warrior who had expected the very
worst, and repeatedly implored Orlando to believe it possible. Uliviero
and he rode up the mountain nearest them, and from the top of it beheld
the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes.
"O Guottibuoffi! " exclaimed he, "behold thy prophecies come true! behold
the last day of the glory of Charles! Every where I see the arms of the
traitors around us. I feel Paris tremble all the way through France, to
the ground beneath my feet. O Malagigi, too much in the right wert thou!
O devil Gan, this then is the consummation of thy good offices! "
Uliviero put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to
Orlando.
"Well," cried the hero, "what news? "
"Bad news," said his cousin; "such as you would not hear of yesterday.
Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world has come with him. "
The Paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn,
in token that he needed help. His only answer was, to mount his horse,
and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.
As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes and beheld what was round
about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into Roncesvalles, and
said, "O valley, miserable indeed! the blood that is shed in thee this
day will colour thy name for ever. "
Many of the Paladins had ridden after him, and they again pressed him to
sound his horn, if only in pity to his own people. He said, "If Cæsar
and Alexander were here, Scipio and Hannibal, and Nebuchadnezzar with
all his flags, and Death stared me in the face with his knife in his
hand, never would I sound my horn for the baseness of fear. "
Orlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. They armed
themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothing but lacing
of helmets and mounting of horses; and good Archbishop Turpin went
from rank to rank, exhorting and encouraging the warriors of Christ.
Accoutrements and habiliments were put on the wrong way; words and
deeds mixed in confusion; men running against one another out of very
absorption in themselves; all the place full of cries of "Arm! arm! the
enemy! " and the trumpets clanged over all against the mountain-echoes.
Orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation. He
fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say; so
wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in Roncesvalles.
Uliviero spoke first. He could not resist the opportunity of comforting
himself a little in his despair, with referring to his unheeded advice.
"You see, cousin," said he, "what has come at last. Would to God you had
attended to what I said; to what Malagigi said; to what we all said! I
told you Marsilius was nothing but an anointed scoundrel. Yet forsooth,
he was to bring us tribute! and Charles is this moment expecting his
mummeries at St. John Pied de Port! Did ever any body believe a word
that Gan said, but Charles? And now you see this rotten fruit has come
to a head;--this medlar has got its crown. "
Orlando said nothing in answer to Uliviero; for in truth he had nothing
to say. He broke away to give orders to the camp; bade them take
refreshment; and then addressing both officers and men, he said, "I
confess, that if it had entered my heart to conceive the king of Spain
to be such a villain, never would you have seen this day. He has
exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and I thought
that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had
become now. I fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue
on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as can
never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I certainly did not
suppose him to be one. Let us die, if we must die, like honest and
gallant men; so that it shall be said of us, it was only our bodies that
died. It becomes our souls to be invincible, and our glory immortal.
Our motto must be, 'A good heart and no hope. ' The reason why I did not
sound the horn was, partly because I thought it did not become us, and
partly because our liege lord could be of little use, even if he heard
it. Let Gan have his glut of us like a carrion crow; but let him find
us under heaps of his Saracens, an example for all time. Heaven, my
friends, is with us, if earth is against us. Methinks I see it open
this moment, ready to receive our souls amidst crowns of glory; and
therefore, as the champion of God's church, I give you my benediction;
and the good archbishop here will absolve you; and so, please God, we
shall all go to Heaven and be happy. "
And with these words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, "Away against
the Saracens! " but he had no sooner turned his face than he wept
bitterly, and said, "O holy Virgin, think not of me, the sinner Orlando,
but have pity on these thy servants. "
Archbishop Turpin did as Orlando said, giving the whole band his
benediction at once, and absolving them from their sins, so that every
body took comfort in the thought of dying for Christ, and thus they
embraced one another, weeping; and then lance was put to thigh, and the
banner was raised that was won in the jousting at Aspramont.
And now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns, and
tambours, and trumpets, which came filling the valley, the first army
of the infidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand
pennons flying in the air. King Falseron led them on, saying to his
officers, "Now, gentlemen, recollect what I said. The first battle is
for the leaders only;--and, above all, let nobody dare to lay a finger
on Orlando. He belongs to myself. The revenge of my son's death is mine.
I will cut the man down that comes between us. "
"Now, friends," said Orlando, "every man for himself, and St. Michael
for us all. There is no one here that is not a perfect knight. "
And he might well say it; for the flower of all France was there, except
Rinaldo and Ricciardetto; every man a picked man; all friends and
constant companions of Orlando. There was Richard of Normandy, and
Guottibuoffi, and Uliviero, and Count Anselm, and Avolio, and Avino, and
the gentle Berlinghieri, and his brother, and Sansonetto, and the good
Duke Egibard, and Astolfo the Englishman, and Angiolin of Bayona, and
all the other Paladins of France, excepting those two whom I have
mentioned. And so the captains of the little troop and of the great
array sat looking at one another, and singling one another out, as the
latter came on; and then either side began raising their war-cries, and
the mob of the infidels halted, and the knights put spear in rest, and
ran for a while, two and two in succession, each one against the other.
Astolfo was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Soria; and
Angiolin then ran against Malducco; and Mazzarigi the Renegade came
against Avino; and Uliviero was borne forth by his horse Rondel, who
couldn't stand still, against Malprimo, the first of the captains of
Falseron.
And now lances began to be painted red, without any brush but
themselves; and the new colour extended itself to the bucklers, and the
cuishes, and the cuirasses, and the trappings of the steeds.
Astolfo thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul
into the other world; and Angiolin gave and took a terrible blow with
Malducco; but his horse bore him onward; and Avino had something of the
like encounter with Mazzarigi; but Uliviero, though he received a thrust
which hurt him, sent his lance right through the heart of Malprimo.
Falseron was daunted at this blow. "Verily," thought he, "this is a
miracle. " Uliviero did not press on among the Saracens, his wound was
too painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band into motion,
and you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of the rattling of
the blows and helmets was as if the forge of Vulcan had been thrown
open. Falseron beheld Orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a
Lucifer who had burst his chain, and was quite of another mind than when
he proposed to have him all to himself. On the contrary, he recommended
himself to his gods; and turning away, begged for a more auspicious
season of revenge. But Orlando hailed and arrested him with a terrible
voice, saying, "O thou traitor! Was this the end to which old quarrels
were made up? Dost thou not blush, thou and thy fellow-traitor
Marsilius, to have kissed me on the cheek like a Judas, when last thou
wert in France? "
Orlando had never shewn such anger in his countenance as he did that
day. He dashed at Falseron with a fury so swift, and at the same time
a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that though he plunged it in the
man's body so as instantly to kill him, the body did not move in the
saddle. The hero himself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end
of a stroke so perfect, and, turning his horse back, he touched the
carcass with his sword, and it fell on the instant. They say, that it
had no sooner fallen than it disappeared. People got off their horses
to lift up the body, for it seemed to be there still, the armour being
left; but when they came to handle the armour, it was found as empty as
the shell that is cast by a lobster. O new, and strange, and portentous
event! --proof manifest of the anger with which God regards treachery.
When the first infidel army beheld their leader dead, such fear fell
upon them, that they were for leaving the field to the Paladins; but
they were unable. Marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round the
valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in vain. Orlando
rode into the thick of them, with Count Anselm by his side. He rushed
like a tempest; and wherever he went, thunderbolts fell upon helmets.
The Paladins drove here and there after them, each making a whirlwind
round about him, and a bloody circle. Uliviero was again in the _mêlée_;
and Walter of Amulion threw himself into it; and Baldwin roared like
a lion; and Avino and Avolio reaped the wretches' heads like a
turnip-field; and blows blinded men's eyes; and Archbishop Turpin
himself had changed his crozier for a lance, and chased a new flock
before him to the mountains.
Yet what could be done against foes without number? Multitudes fill
up the spaces left by the dead without stopping. Marsilius, from his
anxious and raging post, constantly pours them in. The Paladins are as
units to thousands. Why tarry the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto?
The horses did not tarry; but fate had been quicker than enchantment.
Ashtaroth, nevertheless, had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt, as
though he had issued out of a flash of lightning. After telling his
mission, and giving orders to hundreds of invisible spirits round about
him (for the air was full of them), he and Foul-Mouth, his servant,
entered the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto, which began to neigh and
snort and leap with the fiends within them, till off they flew through
the air over the pyramids, crowds of spirits going like a tempest before
them. Ricciardetto shut his eyes at first, on perceiving himself so high
in the air; but he speedily became used to it, though he looked down
on the sun at last. In this manner they passed the desert, and the
sea-coast, and the ocean, and swept the tops of the Pyrenees, Ashtaroth
talking to them of wonders by the way; for he was one of the wisest of
the devils, and knew a great many things which were then unknown to man.
He laughed, for instance, as they went over sea, at the notion, among
other vain fancies, that nothing was to be found beyond the pillars of
Hercules; "for," said he, "the earth is round, and the sea has an even
surface all over it; and there are nations on the other side of the
globe, who walk with their feet opposed to yours, and worship other gods
than the Christians. "
"Hah! " said Rinaldo; "and may I ask whether they can be saved? "
"It is a bold thing to ask," said the devil; "but do you take the
Redeemer for a partisan, and fancy he died for you only? Be assured he
died for the whole world, Antipodes and all. Perhaps not one soul will
be left out the pale of salvation at last, but the whole human race
adore the truth, and find mercy. The Christian is the only true
religion; but Heaven loves all goodness that believes honestly,
whatsoever the belief may be. "
Rinaldo was mightily taken with the humanity of the devil's opinions:
but they were now approaching the end of their journey, and began to
hear the noise of the battle; and he could no longer think of any thing
but the delight of being near Orlando, and plunging into the middle of
it.
"You shall be in the very heart of it instantly," said his bearer.
"I love you, and would fain do all you desire. Do not fancy that all
nobleness of spirit is lost among us people below. You know what the
proverb says, 'There's never a fruit, however degenerate, but will taste
of its stock. ' I was of a different order of beings once, and--But it is
as well not to talk of happy times. Yonder is Marsilius; and there goes
Orlando. Farewell, and give me a place in your memory. "
Rinaldo could not find words to express his sense of the devil's
good-will, nor of that of Foul Mouth himself. He said: "Ashtaroth, I am
as sorry to part with you as if you were a brother; and I certainly do
believe that nobleness of spirit exists, as you say, among your people
below. I shall be glad to see you both sometimes, if you can come; and I
pray God (if my poor prayer be worth any thing) that you may all repent,
and obtain his pardon; for without repentance, you know, nothing can be
done for you. "
"If I might suggest a favour," returned Ashtaroth, "since you are so
good as to wish to do me one, persuade Malagigi to free me from his
service, and I am yours for ever. To serve you will be a pleasure to me.
You will only have to say, 'Ashtaroth,' and my good friend here will be
with you in an instant. "
"I am obliged to you," cried Rinaldo, "and so is my brother. I will
write Malagigi, not merely a letter, but a whole packet-full of your
praises; and so I will to Orlando; and you shall be set free, depend on
it, your company has been so perfectly agreeable. "
"Your humble servant," said Ashtaroth, and vanished with his companion
like lightning.
But they did not go far.
There was a little chapel by the road-side in Roncesvalles, which had
a couple of bells; and on the top of that chapel did the devils place
themselves, in order that they might catch the souls of the infidels as
they died, and so carry them off to the infernal regions. Guess if their
wings had plenty to do that day! Guess if Minos and Rhadamanthus were
busy, and Charon sung in his boat, and Lucifer hugged himself for joy.
Guess, also, if the tables in heaven groaned with nectar and ambrosia,
and good old St. Peter had a dry hair in his beard.
The two Paladins, on their horses, dropped right into the middle of the
Saracens, and began making such havoc about them, that Marsilius, who
overlooked the fight from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned
one against the other. He therefore descended in fury with his third
army; and Rinaldo, seeing him coming, said to Ricciardetto, "We had
better be off here, and join Orlando;" and with these words, he gave his
horse one turn round before he retreated, so as to enable his sword to
make a bloody circle about him; and stories say, that he sheared off
twenty heads in the whirl of it. He then dashed through the astonished
beholders towards the battle of Orlando, who guessed it could be no
other than his cousin, and almost dropped from his horse, out of desire
to meet him. Ricciardetto followed Rinaldo; and Uliviero coming up at
the same moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be expressed.
They almost died for joy. After a thousand embraces, and questions, and
explanations, and expressions of astonishment (for the infidels held
aloof awhile, to take breath from the horror and mischief they had
undergone), Orlando refreshed his little band of heroes, and then drew
Rinaldo apart, and said, "O my brother, I feel such delight at seeing
you, I can hardly persuade myself I am not dreaming. Heaven be praised
for it. I have no other wish on earth, now that I see you before I die.
Why didn't you write? But never mind. Here you are, and I shall not die
for nothing. "
"I did write," said Rinaldo, "and so did Ricciardetto; but villany
intercepted our letters. Tell me what to do, my dear cousin; for time
presses, and all the world is upon us. "
"Gan has brought us here," said Orlando, "under pretence of receiving
tribute from Marsilius--you see of what sort; and Charles, poor old man,
is waiting to receive his homage at the town of St. John! I have never
seen a lucky day since you left us. I believe I have done for Charles
more than in duty bound, and that my sins pursue me, and I and mine must
all perish in Roncesvalles. "
"Look to Marsilius," exclaimed Rinaldo; "he is right upon us. "
Marsilius was upon them, surely enough, at once furious and frightened
at the coming of the new Paladins; for his camp, numerous as it was, had
not only held aloof, but turned about to fly like herds before the lion;
so he was forced to drive them back, and bring up his other troops,
reasonably thinking that such numbers must overwhelm at last, if they
could but be kept together.
Not the less, however, for this, did the Paladins continue to fight as
if with joy. They killed and trampled wheresoever they went; Rinaldo
fatiguing himself with sending infinite numbers of souls to Ashtaroth,
and Orlando making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, whom he hoped to
settle as he had done Falseron.
In the course of this his tremendous progress, the hero struck a youth
on the head, whose helmet was so good as to resist the blow, but at the
same time flew off; and Orlando seized him by the hair to kill him.
"Hold! " cried the youth, as loud as want of breath could let him; "you
loved my father--I'm Bujaforte. "
The Paladin had never seen Bujaforte; but he saw the likeness to the
good old Man of the Mountain, his father; and he let go the youth's
hair, and embraced and kissed him. "O Bujaforte! " said he; "I loved him
indeed my good old man; but what does his son do here, fighting against
his friend? "
Bujaforte was a long time before he could speak for weeping. At length
he said, "Orlando, let not your noble heart be pained with ill thoughts
of my father's son. I am forced to be here by my lord and master
Marsilius. I had no friend left me in the world, and he took me into his
court, and has brought me here before I knew what it was for; and I have
made a shew of fighting, but have not hurt a single Christian. Treachery
is on every side of you. Baldwin himself has a vest given him by
Marsilius, that every body may know the son of his friend Gan, and do
him no injury. See there--look how the lances avoid him. "
"Put your helmet on again," said Orlando, "and behave just as you have
done. Never will your father's friend be an enemy to the son. Only take
care not to come across Rinaldo. "
The hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who was hastening
towards him at that moment with friendliness in his looks.
"'Tis strange," said Baldwin; "I have done my duty as well as I could,
yet no body will come against me. I have slain right and left, and
cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest infidels avoid me. "
"Take off your vest," cried Orlando, contemptuously, "and you will soon
discover the secret, if you wish to know it. Your father has sold us to
Marsilius, all but his honourable son. "
"If my father," cried Baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest, "has
been such a villain, and I escape dying any longer, by God! I will
plunge this sword through his heart. But I am no traitor, Orlando;
and you do me wrong to say it. You do me foul dishonour, and I'll not
survive it. Never more shall you behold me alive. "
Baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another word
from Orlando, but constantly crying out, "You have done me dishonour;"
and Orlando was very sorry for what he had said, for he perceived that
the youth was in despair.
And now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; and the Paladins
themselves began to fall, the enemy were driven forward in such
multitudes by Marsilius. There was unhorsing of foes, and re-seating of
friends, and great cries, and anguish, and unceasing labour; and twenty
Pagans went down for one Christian; but still the Christians fell. One
Paladin disappeared after another, having too much to do for mortal men.
Some could not make way through the press for very fatigue of killing,
and others were hampered with the falling horses and men. Sansonetto was
thus beaten to earth by the club of Grandonio; and Walter d'Amulion had
his shoulders broken; and Angiolin of Bayona, having lost his lance,
was thrust down by Marsilius, and Angiolin of Bellonda by Sirionne; and
Berlinghieri and Ottone are gone; and then Astolfo went, in revenge of
whose death Orlando turned the spot on which he died into a gulf of
Saracen blood. Rinaldo met the luckless Bujaforte, who had just begun to
explain how he seemed to be fighting on the side which his father hated,
when the impatient hero exclaimed, "He who is not with me is against
me;" and gave him a volley of such horrible cuffs about the head and
ears, that Bujaforte died without being able to speak another word.
Orlando, cutting his way to a spot in which there was a great struggle
and uproar, found the poor youth Baldwin, the son of Gan, with two
spears in his breast. "I am no traitor now," said Baldwin; and so
saying, fell dead to the earth; and Orlando lifted up his voice and
wept, for he was bitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death. He
then joined Rinaldo in the hottest of the tumult; and all the surviving
Paladins gathered about them, including Turpin the archbishop, who
fought as hardily as the rest; and the slaughter was lavish and
horrible, so that the eddies of the wind chucked the blood into the air,
and earth appeared a very seething-cauldron of hell. At length down went
Uliviero himself.
He had become blind with his own blood, and smitten
Orlando without knowing him, who had never received such a blow in his
life.
"How now, cousin! " cried Orlando; "have you too gone over to the enemy? "
"O, my lord and master, Orlando," cried the other, "I ask your pardon,
if I have struck you. I can see nothing--I am dying. The traitor
Arcaliffe has stabbed me in the back; but I killed him for it. If you
love me, lead my horse into the thick of them, so that I may not die
unavenged. "
"I shall die myself before long," said Orlando, "out of very toil and
grief; so we will go together. I have lost all hope, all pride, all wish
to live any longer; but not my love for Uliviero. Come--let us give them
a few blows yet; let them see what you can do with your dying hands. One
faith, one death, one only wish be ours. "
Orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and
dreadful was the strength of the dying man and of his half-dying
companion. They made a street, through which they passed out of the
battle; and Orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said, "Wait
a little till I return, for I will go and sound the horn on the hill
yonder. "
"'Tis of no use," said Uliviero; "and my spirit is fast going, and
desires to be with its Lord and Saviour. " He would have said more, but
his words came from him imperfectly, like those of a man in a dream;
only his cousin gathered that he meant to commend to him his sister,
Orlando's wife, Alda the Fair, of whom indeed the great Paladin had not
thought so much in this world as he might have done. And with these
imperfect words he expired.
But Orlando no sooner saw him dead, than he felt as if he was left alone
on the earth; and he was quite willing to leave it; only he wished that
Charles at St. John Pied de Port should hear how the case stood before
he went; and so he took up the horn, and blew it three times with such
force that the blood burst out of his nose and mouth. Turpin says, that
at the third blast the horn broke in two.
In spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn broke
over it like a voice out of the other world. They say that birds fell
dead at it, and that the whole Saracen army drew back in terror. But
fearfuller still was its effect at St. John Pied de Port. Charlemagne
was sitting in the midst of his court when the sound reached him; and
Gan was there. The emperor was the first to hear it.
"Do you hear that? " said he to his nobles. "Did you hear the horn, as I
heard it? "
Upon this they all listened; and Gan felt his heart misgive him.
The horn sounded the second time.
"What is the meaning of this? " said Charles.
"Orlando is hunting," observed Gan, "and the stag is killed. He is at
the old pastime that he was so fond of in Aspramonte. "
But when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one of so
dreadful a vehemence, every body looked at the other, and then they all
looked at Gan in fury. Charles rose from his seat. "This is no hunting
of the stag," said he. "The sound goes to my very heart, and, I confess,
makes me tremble. I am awakened out of a great dream. O Gan! O Gan! Not
for thee do I blush, but for myself, and for nobody else. O my God, what
is to be done! But whatever is to be done, must be done quickly. Take
this villain, gentlemen, and keep him in hard prison. O foul and
monstrous villain! Would to God I had not lived to see this day! O
obstinate and enormous folly! O Malagigi, had I but believed thy
foresight! 'Tis thou went the wise man, and I the grey-headed fool. "
Ogier the Dane, and Namo and others, in the bitterness of their grief
and anger, could not help reminding the emperor of all which they had
foretold. But it was no time for words. They put the traitor into
prison; and then Charles, with all his court, took his way to
Roncesvalles, grieving and praying.
It was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it when
the emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to the fight that
he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he could sit his
horse, and the Paladins were now reduced to four; and though the
Saracens suffered themselves to be mowed down like grass by them and
their little band, he found his end approaching for toil and fever,
and so at length he withdrew out of the fight, and rode all alone to a
fountain which he knew of, where he had before quenched his thirst.
His horse was wearier still than he, and no sooner had its master
alighted, than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to
say, "I have brought you to your place of rest," fell dead at his feet.
Orlando cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him
dead; but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he
had been a human being, and addressed him by name in tears, and asked
forgiveness if ever he had done him wrong. They say, that the horse at
these words once more opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his
master, and so stirred never more.
They say also that Orlando then, summoning all his strength, smote a
rock near him with his beautiful sword Durlindana, thinking to shiver
the steel in pieces, and so prevent its falling into the hands of the
enemy; but though the rock split like a slate, and a deep fissure
remained ever after to astonish the eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained
unhurt.
"O strong Durlindana," cried he, "O noble and worthy sword, had I known
thee from the first, as I know thee now, never would I have been brought
to this pass. "
And now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto and Turpin came up, having given chase
to the Saracens till they were weary, and Orlando gave joyful welcome to
his cousin, and they told him how the battle was won, and then Orlando
knelt before Turpin, his face all in tears, and begged remission of his
sins and confessed them, and Turpin gave him absolution; and suddenly a
light came down upon him from heaven like a rainbow, accompanied with
a sound of music, and an angel stood in the air blessing him, and then
disappeared; upon which Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword
as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and said, "Lord, vouchsafe that I may
look on this poor instrument as on the symbol of the tree upon which
Thou sufferedst thy unspeakable martyrdom! " and so adjusting the sword
to his bosom, and embracing it closer, he raised his eyes, and appeared
like a creature seraphical and transfigured; and in bowing his head he
breathed out his pure soul. A thunder was then heard in the heavens,
and the heavens opened and seemed to stoop to the earth, and a flock of
angels was seen like a white cloud ascending with his spirit, who were
known to be what they were by the trembling of their wings. The white
cloud shot out golden fires, so that the whole air was full of them; and
the voices of the angels mingled in song with the instruments of their
brethren above, which made an inexpressible harmony, at once deep and
dulcet. The priestly warrior Turpin, and the two Paladins, and the
hero's squire Terigi, who were all on their knees, forgot their own
beings, in following the miracle with their eyes.
It was now the office of that squire to take horse and ride off to
the emperor at Saint John Pied de Port, and tell him of all that had
occurred; but in spite of what he had just seen, he lay for a time
overwhelmed with grief. He then rose, and mounted his steed, and left
the Paladins and the archbishop with the dead body, who knelt about it,
guarding it with weeping love.
The good squire Terigi met the emperor and his cavalcade coming towards
Roncesvalles, and alighted and fell on his knees, telling him the
miserable news, and how all his people were slain but two of his
Paladins, and himself, and the good archbishop. Charles for anguish
began tearing his white locks; but Terigi comforted him against so
doing, by giving an account of the manner of Orlando's death, and how
he had surely gone to heaven. Nevertheless, the squire himself was
broken-hearted with grief and toil; and he had scarcely added a
denouncement of the traitor Gan, and a hope that the emperor would
appease Heaven finally by giving his body to the winds, than he said,
"The cold of death is upon me;" and so he fell dead at the emperor's
feet.
Charles was ready to drop from his saddle for wretchedness. He cried
out, "Let nobody comfort me more. I will have no comfort. Cursed be Gan,
and cursed this horrible day, and this place, and every thing. Let us go
on, like blind miserable men that we are, into Roncesvalles; and have
patience if we can, out of pure misery, like Job, till we do all that
can be done. "
So Charles rode on with his nobles; and they say, that for the sake of
the champion of Christendom and the martyrs that died with him, the sun
stood still in the sky till the emperor had seen Orlando, and till the
dead were buried.
Horrible to his eyes was the sight of the field of Roncesvalles. The
Saracens, indeed, had forsaken it, conquered; but all his Paladins but
two were left on it dead, and the slaughtered heaps among which they lay
made the whole valley like a great dumb slaughter-house, trampled up
into blood and dirt, and reeking to the heat. The very trees were
dropping with blood; and every thing, so to speak, seemed tired out, and
gone to a horrible sleep.
Charles trembled to his heart's core for wonder and agony. After dumbly
gazing on the place, he again cursed it with a solemn curse, and wished
that never grass might grow within it again, nor seed of any kind,
neither within it, nor on any of its mountains around with their proud
shoulders; but the anger of Heaven abide over it for ever, as on a pit
made by hell upon earth.
Then he rode on, and came up to where the body of Orlando awaited him
with the Paladins, and the old man, weeping, threw himself as if he had
been a reckless youth from his horse, and embraced and kissed the dead
body, and said, "I bless thee, Orlando. I bless thy whole life, and all
that thou wast, and all that thou ever didst, and thy mighty and holy
valour, and the father that begot thee; and I ask pardon of thee for
believing those who brought thee to thine end. They shall have their
reward, O thou beloved one! But, indeed, it is thou that livest, and I
that am worse than dead. "
And now, behold a wonder. For the emperor, in the fervour of his heart
and of the memory of what had passed between them, called to mind that
Orlando had promised to give him his sword, should he die before him;
and he lifted up his voice more bravely, and adjured him even now to
return it to him gladly; and it pleased God that the dead body of
Orlando should rise on its feet, and kneel as he was wont to do at the
feet of his liege lord, and gladly, and with a smile on its face, return
the sword to the Emperor Charles. As Orlando rose, the Paladins and
Turpin knelt down out of fear and horror, especially seeing him look
with a stern countenance; but when they saw that he knelt also, and
smiled, and returned the sword, their hearts became re-assured, and
Charles took the sword like his liege lord, though trembling with wonder
and affection: and in truth he could hardly clench his fingers around
it.
Orlando was buried in a great sepulchre in Aquisgrana, and the dead
Paladins were all embalmed and sent with majestic cavalcades to their
respective counties and principalities, and every Christian was
honourably and reverently put in the earth, and recorded among the
martyrs of the Church.
But meantime the flying Saracens, thinking to bury their own dead, and
ignorant of what still awaited them, came back into the valley, and
Rinaldo beheld them with a dreadful joy, and shewed them to Charles. Now
the emperor's cavalcade had increased every moment; and they fell upon
the Saracens with a new and unexpected battle, and the old emperor,
addressing the sword of Orlando, exclaimed, "My strength is little, but
do thou do thy duty to thy master, thou famous sword, seeing that he
returned it to me smiling, and that his revenge is in my hands. " And so
saying, he met Balugante, the leader of the infidels, as he came borne
along by his frightened horse; and the old man, raising the sword with
both hands, cleaved him, with a delighted mind, to the chin.
O sacred Emperor Charles! O well-lived old man! Defender of the Faith!
light and glory of the old time! thou hast cut off the other ear of
Malchus, and shown how rightly thou wert born into the world, to save it
a second time from the abyss.
Again fled the Saracens, never to come to Christendom more: but Charles
went after them into Spain, he and Rinaldo and Ricciardetto and the good
Turpin; and they took and fired Saragossa; and Marsilius was hung to the
carob-tree under which he had planned his villany with Gan; and Gan was
hung, and drawn and quartered, in Roncesvalles, amidst the execrations
of the country.
And if you ask, how it happened that Charles ever put faith in such a
wretch, I shall tell you that it was because the good old emperor, with
all his faults, was a divine man, and believed in others out of the
excellence of his own heart and truth. And such was the case with
Orlando himself.
APPENDIX.
No. I.
STORY OF PAULO AND FRANCESCA.
Poscia ch' i' ebbi il mio dottore udito
Nomar le donne antiche e i cavalieri,
Pietà mi vinse, e fui quasi smarrito.
I' cominciai: Poeta, volentieri
Parlerei a que' duo the 'nsieme vanno,
E pajon sì al vento esser leggieri.
Ed egli a me: Vedrai, quando saranno
Più presso a noi: e tu allor gli piega,
Per quell' amor ch' ei mena; e quei verranno.
Si tosto come 'l vento a noi gli piega,
Mossi la voce: O anime affannate,
Venite a not parlar, s' altri nol niega.
Quali colombe dal disio chiamate,
Con l' ali aperte e ferme, al dolce nido
Volan per l' aer dal voter portate:
Cotali uscir de la schiera ov' è Dido,
A noi venendo per l' aer maligno,
Si forte fu l' affettuoso grido.
O animal grazioso e benigno,
Che visitando vai per l' aer perso
Noi che tignemmo it mondo di sanguigno;
Se fosse amico il Re de l'Universo,
Noi pregheremmo lui per la tua pace,
Poich' hai pietà del nostro mal perverso.
Di quel ch'udire e che parlar ti piace,
Noi udiremo, e parleremo a vui,
Mentre che 'l vento, come fa, si tace.
Siede la terra, dove nata fui,
Su la marina, dove 'l Pò discende,
Per aver pace co' seguaci sui.
Amor ch'al cor gentil ratto s'apprende,
Prese costui de la bella persona
Che mi fu tolta, e 'l modo ancor m'offende
Amer ch'a null'amato amar perdona,
Mi prese del costui piacer si forte,
Che come vedi ancor non m'abbandona
Amor condusse noi ad una morte
Caina attende chi 'n vita ci spense.
Queste parole da lor ci fur porte.
Da ch'io 'ntesi quell'anime offense,
Chinai 'l viso, e tanto 'l tenni basso,
Finchè 'l poeta mi disse: Che pense?
Quando risposi, cominciai: O lasso,
Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio
Menò costoro al doloroso passo!
Po' mi rivolsi a loro, e parla' io,
E cominciai: Francesca, i tuoi martiri
A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pie.
Ma dimmi: al tempo de' dolci sospiri,
A che, e come concedette amore
Che conosceste i dubbiosi desiri?
Ed ella a me: Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Ne la miseria; e ciò sa 'l tuo dottore.
Ma s'a conoscer la prima radice
Del nostro amor to hai cotanto affetto,
Farò come colui the piange e dice.
Noi leggiavamo tin giorno per diletto
Di Lancilotto, come amor to strinse
Soli eravamo, e senza alcun sospetto.
Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse
Quella lettura, e scolorocci 'l viso
Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.
Quando leggemmo il disiato riso
Esser baciato da cotanto amante,
Questi che mai da me non sia diviso,
La bocca mi baciò tutto tremante:
Galeotto fu il libro, e chi to scrisse:
Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante.
Mentre the l'uno spirto questo disse,
L'altro piangeva si, che di pietade
I' venni men cosi com' io morisse,
E caddi come corpo morto cade.
* * * * *
_Translation in the terza rima of the original. _
Scarce had I learnt the names of all that press
Of knights and dames, than I beheld a sight
Nigh reft my wits for very tenderness.
"O guide! " I said, "fain would I, if I might,
Have speech with yonder pair, that hand in hand
Seem borne before the dreadful wind so light. "
"Wait," said my guide, "until then seest their band
Sweep round. Then beg them, by that lose, to stay;
And they will come, and hover where we stand. "
Anon the whirlwind flung them round that way;
And then I cried, "Oh, if I ask nought ill,
Poor weary souls, have speech with me, I pray. "
As doves, that leave some bevy circling still,
Set firm their open wings, and through the air
Sweep homewards, wafted by their pure good will;
So broke from Dido's flock that gentle pair,
Cleaving, to where we stood, the air malign;
Such strength to bring them had a loving prayer.
The female spoke. "O living soul benign! "
She said, "thus, in this lost air, visiting
Us who with blood stain'd the sweet earth divine;
Had we a friend in heaven's eternal King,
We would beseech him keep thy conscience clear,
Since to our anguish thou dost pity bring.
Of what it pleaseth thee to speak and hear,
To that we also, till this lull be o'er
That falleth now, will speak and will give ear.
The place where I was born is on the shore,
Where Po brings all his rivers to depart
In peace, and fuse them with the ocean floor.
Love, that soon kindleth in a gentle heart,
Seized him thou look'st on for the form and face,
Whose end still haunts me like a rankling dart.
Love, which by love will be denied no grace,
Gave me a transport in my turn so true,
That to! 'tis with me, even in this place.
Love brought us to one grave. The hand that slew
Is doom'd to mourn us in the pit of Cain. "
Such were the words that told me of those two.
Downcast I stood, looking so full of pain
To think how hard and sad a case it was,
That my guide ask'd what held me in that vein.
His voiced aroused me; and I said, "Alas
All their sweet thoughts then, all the steps that led
To love, but brought them to this dolorous pass. "
Then turning my sad eyes to theirs, I said,
"Francesca, see--these human cheeks are wet--
Truer and sadder tears were never shed.
But tell me. At the time when sighs were sweet,
What made thee strive no longer? --hurried thee
To the last step where bliss and sorrow meet? "
"There is no greater sorrow," answered she,
"And this thy teacher here knoweth full well,
Than calling to mind joy in misery.
But since thy wish be great to hear us tell
How we lost all but love, tell it I will,
As well as tears will let me. It befel,
One day, we read how Lancelot gazed his fill
At her he loved, and what his lady said.
We were alone, thinking of nothing ill.
Oft were our eyes suspended as we read,
And in our cheeks the colour went and came;
Yet one sole passage struck resistance dead.
'Twas where the lover, moth-like in his flame,
Drawn by her sweet smile, kiss'd it. O then, he
Whose lot and mine are now for aye the same,
All in a tremble, on the mouth kiss'd _me_.
The book did all. Our hearts within us burn'd
Through that alone. That day no more read we. "
While thus one spoke, the other spirit mourn'd
With wail so woful, that at his remorse
I felt as though I should have died. I turned
Stone-stiff; and to the ground fell like a corse. ]
No. II.
ACCOUNTS GIVEN BY DIFFERENT WRITERS OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES RELATING TO
PAULO AND FRANCESCA; CONCLUDING WITH THE ONLY FACTS ASCERTAINED.
BOCCACCIO'S ACCOUNT
Translated from his Commentary on the Passage.
"You must know, that this lady, Madonna Francesca, was daughter of
Messer Guido the Elder, lord of Ravenna and of Cervia, and that a long
and grievous war having been waged between him and the lords Malatesta
of Rimini, a treaty of peace by certain mediators was at length
concluded between them; the which, to the end that it might be the more
firmly established, it pleased both parties to desire to fortify by
relationship; and the matter of this relationship was so discoursed,
that the said Messer Guido agreed to give his young and fair daughter
in marriage to Gianciotto, the son of Messer Malatesta. Now, this being
made known to certain of the friends of Messer Guido, one of them
said to him, 'Take care what you do; for if you contrive not matters
discreetly, such relationship will beget scandal. You know what manner
of person your daughter is, and of how lofty a spirit; and if she see
Gianciotto before the bond is tied, neither you nor any one else will
have power to persuade her to marry him; therefore, if it so please you,
it seems to me that it would be good to conduct the matter thus: namely,
that Gianciotto should not come hither himself to marry her, but that a
brother of his should come and espouse her in his name. '
"Gianciotto was a man of great spirit, and hoped, after his father's
death, to become lord of Rimini; in the contemplation of which event,
albeit he was rude in appearance and a cripple, Messer Guido desired him
for a son-in-law above any one of his brothers. Discerning, therefore,
the reasonableness of what his friend counselled, he secretly disposed
matters according to his device; and a day being appointed, Polo, a
brother of Gianciotto, came to Ravenna with full authority to espouse
Madonna Francesca. Polo was a handsome man, very pleasant, and of a
courteous breeding; and passing with other gentlemen over the court-yard
of the palace of Messer Guido, a damsel who knew him pointed him out to
Madonna Francesca through an opening in the casement, saying, 'That is
he that is to be your husband;' and so indeed the poor lady believed,
and incontinently placed in him her whole affection; and the ceremony of
the marriage having been thus brought about, and the lady conveyed to
Rimini, she became not aware of the deceit till the morning ensuing
the marriage, when she beheld Gianciotto rise from her side; the which
discovery moved her to such disdain, that she became not a whit the less
rooted in her love for Polo. Nevertheless, that it grew to be unlawful
I never heard, except in what is written by this author (Dante), and
possibly it might so have become; albeit I take what he says to have
been an invention framed on the possibility, rather than any thing
which he knew of his own knowledge. Be this as it may, Polo and Madonna
Francesca living in the same house, and Gianciotto being gone into
a certain neighbouring district as governor, they fell into great
companionship with one another, suspecting nothing; but a servant of
Gianciotto's noting it, went to his master and told him how matters
looked; with the which Gianciotto being fiercely moved, secretly
returned to Rimini; and seeing Polo enter the room of Madonna Francesca
the while he himself was arriving, went straight to the door, and
finding it locked inside, called to his lady to come out; for, Madonna
Francesca and Polo having descried him, Polo thought to escape suddenly
through an opening in the wall, by means of which there was a descent
into another room; and therefore, thinking to conceal his fault either
wholly or in part, he threw himself into the opening, telling the lady
to go and open the door. But his hope did not turn out as he expected;
for the hem of a mantle which he had on caught upon a nail, and the
lady opening the door meantime, in the belief that all would be well by
reason of Polo's not being there, Gianciotto caught sight of Polo as
he was detained by the hem of the mantle, and straightway ran with his
dagger in his hand to kill him; whereupon the lady, to prevent it, ran
between them; but Gianciotto having lifted the dagger, and put the whole
force of his arm into the blow, there came to pass what he had not
desired--namely, that he struck the dagger into the bosom of the lady
before it could reach Polo; by which accident, being as one who had
loved the lady better than himself, he withdrew the dagger, and again
struck at Polo, and slew him; and so leaving them both dead, he hastily
went his way and betook him to his wonted affairs; and the next morning
the two lovers, with many tears, were buried together in the same
grave. "
The reader of this account will have observed, that while Dante assumes
the guilt of all parties, and puts them into the infernal regions, the
good-natured Boccaccio is for doubting it, and consequently for sending
them all to heaven. He will ignore as much of the business as a
gentleman can; boldly doubts any guilt in the case; says nothing of the
circumstance of the book; and affirms that the husband loved his wife,
and was miserable at having slain her. There is, however, one negative
point in common between the two narrators; they both say nothing of
certain particulars connected with the date of Francesca's marriage, and
not a little qualifying the first romantic look of the story.
Now, it is the absence of these particulars, combined with the tradition
of the father's artifice (omitted perhaps by Dante out of personal
favour), and with that of the husband's ferocity of character (the
belief in which Boccaccio did not succeed in displacing), that has
left the prevailing impression on the minds of posterity, which is
this:--that Francesca was beguiled by her father into the marriage with
the deformed and unamiable Giovanni, and that the unconscious medium of
the artifice was the amiable and handsome Paulo; that one or both of
the victims of the artifice fell in love with the other; that their
intercourse, whatever it was, took place not long after the marriage;
and that when Paulo and Francesca were slain in consequence, they were
young lovers, with no other ties to the world.
It is not pleasant in general to dispel the illusions of romance, though
Dante's will bear the operation with less hurt to a reader's feelings
than most; and I suspect, that if nine out of ten of all the implied
conclusions of other narratives in his poem could be compared with the
facts, he would be found to be one of the greatest of romancers in a new
and not very desirable sense, however excusable he may have been in his
party-prejudice. But a romance may be displaced, only to substitute
perhaps matters of fact more really touching, by reason of their greater
probability. The following is the whole of what modern inquirers have
ascertained respecting Paulo and Francesca. Future enlargers on the
story may suppress what they please, as Dante did; but if any one of
them, like the writer of the present remarks, is anxious to speak
nothing but the truth, I advise him (especially if he is for troubling
himself with making changes in his story) not to think that he has seen
all the authorities on the subject, or even remembered all he has seen,
until he has searched every corner of his library and his memory. All
the poems hitherto written upon this popular subject are indeed only to
be regarded as so many probable pieces of fancy, that of Dante himself
included.
* * * * *
THE ONLY PARTICULARS HITHERTO REALLY ASCERTAINED RESPECTING THE HISTORY
OF PAULO AND FRANCESCA.
Francesca was daughter of Guido Novello da Polenta, lord of Ravenna.
She was married to Giovanni, surnamed the Lame, one of the sons of
Malatesta da Verrucchio, lord of Rimini.
Giovanni the Lame had a brother named Paulo the Handsome, who was a
widower, and left a son.
Twelve years after Francesca's marriage, by which time she had become
mother of a son who died, and of a daughter who survived her, she and
her brother-in-law Paulo were slain together by the husband, and buried
in one grave.
Two hundred years afterwards, the grave was opened, and the bodies found
lying together in silken garments, the silk itself being entire.
Now, a far more touching history may have lurked under these facts than
in the half-concealed and misleading circumstances of the received
story--long patience, long duty, struggling conscience, exhausted hope.
On the other hand, it may have been a mere heartless case of intrigue
and folly.
But tradition is to be allowed its reasonable weight; and the
probability is, that the marriage was an affair of state, the lady
unhappy, and the brothers too different from one another.
The event took place in Dante's twenty-fourth year; so that he, who
looks so much older to our imaginations than his heroine, was younger;
and this renders more than probable what the latest biographers have
asserted--namely, that the lord of Ravenna, at whose house he finished
his days, was not her father, Guido da Polenta, the third of that name,
but her nephew, Guido the Fifth.
* * * * *
No. IIII
STORY OF UGOLINO.
Non eravam partiti già da ello,
Ch' i' vidi duo ghiacciati in una buca
Si, che l'un capo a l'altro era capello:
E come 'l pan per fame si manduca,
Così 'l sovran li denti a l'altro pose
Là've 'l cervel s'aggiunge con la nuca.
Non altrimenti Tideo sì rose
Le tempie a Menalippo per disdegno,
Che quei faceva 'l teschio e l'altre cose.
O tu che mostri per sì bestial segno
Odio sovra colui che tu ti mangi
Dimmi 'l perchè, diss' io, per tal convegno,
Che se tu a ragion di lui ti piangi,
Sappiendo chi voi siete, e la sua pecca,
Nel mondo suso ancor io te ne cangi,
Se quella con ch' i' parlo non si secca.
La bocca sollevò dal fiero pasto
Quel peccator, forbendola a' capelli
Del capo ch' egli avea diretro guasto:
Poi cominciò: tu vuoi ch' i' rinnovelli
Disperato dolor the 'l cuor mi preme
Già pur pensando, pria ch' i' ne favelli.
Ma se le mie parole esser den seme,
Che frutti infamia al traditor ch' i' rodo,
Parlare e lagrimar vedrai insieme.
I' non so chi tu sei, nè per che modo
Venuto se' qua giù: ma Fiorentino
Mi sembri veramente, quand' i' t' odo.
Tu de' saper ch' i' fu 'l Conte Ugolino,
E questi l' Arcivescovo Ruggieri:
Or ti dirò perch' i' son tal vicino.
