Now Merlin had to be present at the espousal of Arthur, his King, with Guinevere, at which he was to a.s.sist the archbishop, Dubric, as priest. The festivities over, he recalled his promise to Vivien, and on the appointed day he once more a.s.sumed the guise of a travelling scholar and set out to meet the maiden in the forest of Broceliande.

She awaited him patiently in Joyous Garden, where they partook of a dainty repast. But the viands and the wines were wasted upon Merlin, for Vivien was beside him and she alone filled his thoughts. She was fair of colour, and fresh with the freshness of all in the forest, and her hazel eyes made such fire within his soul that he conceived a madness of love for her that all his wisdom, deep as it was, could not control.

But Vivien was calm as a lake circled by trees, where no breath of the pa.s.sion of tempest can come. Again and again she urged him to impart to her the secrets she so greatly longed to be acquainted with. And chiefly did she desire to know three things; these at all hazards must she have power over. How, she asked, could water be made to flow in a dry place? In what manner could any form be a.s.sumed at will? And, lastly, how could one be made to fall asleep at the pleasure of another?

"Wherefore ask you this last question, demoiselle?" said Merlin, suspicious even in his great pa.s.sion for her.

"So that I may cast the spell of sleep over my father and my mother when I come to you, Merlin," she replied, with a beguiling glance, "for did they know that I loved you they would slay me."

Merlin hesitated, and so was lost. He imparted to her that hidden knowledge which she desired. Then they dwelt together for eight days in the Joyous Garden, during which time the sage, to Vivien's delight and amaze, related to her the marvellous circ.u.mstances of his birth.

Next day Merlin departed, but came again to Broceliande when the eglantine was flowering at the edge of the forest. Again he wore the scholar's garments. His aspect was youthful, his fair hair hung in ringlets on his shoulders, and he appeared so handsome that a tender flower of love sprang up in Vivien's heart, and she felt that she must keep him ever near her. But she knew full well that he whom she loved was in reality well stricken in years, and she was sorrowful. But she did not despair.

"Beloved," she whispered, "will you grant me but one other boon? There is one secret more that I desire to learn."

Now Merlin knew well ere she spoke what was in her mind, and he sighed and shook his head.

"Wherefore do you sigh?" she asked innocently.

"I sigh because my fate is strong upon me," replied the sage. "For it was foreseen in the long ago that a lady should lead me captive and that I should become her prisoner for all time. Neither have I the power to deny you what you ask of me."

Vivien embraced him rapturously.

"Ah, Merlin, beloved, is it not that you should always be with me?"

she asked pa.s.sionately. "For your sake have I not given up father and mother, and are not all my thoughts and desires toward you?"

Merlin, carried away by her amorous eloquence, could only answer: "It is yours to ask what you will."

Vivien then revealed to him her wish. She longed to learn from his lips an enchantment which would keep him ever near her, which would so bind him to her in the chains of love that nothing in the world could part him from her. Hearkening to her plea, he taught her such enchantment as would render him love's prisoner for ever.

Evening was shrouding the forest in soft shadows when Merlin sank to rest. Vivien, waiting until his deep and regular breathing told her that he was asleep, walked nine times around him, waving her cloak over his head, and muttering the mysterious words he had taught her.

When the sage awoke he found himself in the Joyous Garden with Vivien by his side.

"You are mine for ever," she murmured. "You can never leave me now."

"My delight will be ever to stay with you," he replied, enraptured.

"And oh, beloved, never leave me, I pray you, for I am bespelled so as to love you throughout eternity!"

"Never shall I leave you," she replied; and in such manner the wise Merlin withdrew from the world of men to remain ever in the Joyous Garden with Vivien. Love had triumphed over wisdom.

The Arthurian version of the story does not, of course, represent Vivien as does the old Breton legend. In Geoffrey of Monmouth's book and in the _Morte d'Arthur_ she is drawn as the scheming enchantress who wishes to lure Merlin to his ruin for the joy of being able to boast of her conquest. In some romances she is alluded to as Nimue, and in others is described as the daughter of Dyonas, who perhaps is the same as Dylan, a Brythonic (British) sea-G.o.d. As the Lady of the Lake she is the foster-mother of Lancelot, and we should have no difficulty in cla.s.sing her as a water deity or spirit very much like the Korrigan.

_Merlin_

But Merlin is a very different character, and it is probable that the story of his love for Vivien was composed at a comparatively late date for the purpose of rounding off his fate in Arthurian legend. A recent hypothesis concerning him is to the effect that "if he belongs to the pagan period [of Celtic lore] at all, he was probably an ideal magician or G.o.d of magicians."[27] Canon MacCulloch smiles at the late Sir John Rhys's belief that Merlin was "a Celtic Zeus," but his later suggestion seems equally debatable. We must remember that we draw our conception of Merlin as Arthurian archimagus chiefly from late Norman-French sources and Celtic tradition. Ancient Brythonic traditions concerning beings of much the same type as Merlin appear to have existed, however, and the character of Lailoken in the life of St Kentigern recalls his life-story. So far research on the subject seems to show that the legend of Merlin is a thing of complex growth, composed of traditions of independent and widely differing origin, most of which were told about Celtic bards and soothsayers. Merlin is, in fact, the typical Druid or wise man of Celtic tradition, and there is not the slightest reason for believing that he was ever paid divine honours. As a soothsayer of legend, he would a.s.suredly belong to the pagan period, however much he is indebted to Geoffrey of Monmouth for his late popularity in pure romance.

_The Fountain of Baranton_

In the country of Broceliande lies the magic fountain of Baranton, sequestered among hills and surrounded by deep woods. Says a thirteenth-century writer of this fountain:

"Oh, amazing wonder of the Fountain of Brecelien! If a drop be taken and poured on a certain rock beside the spring, immediately the water changes into vapour, forms itself into great clouds filled with hail; the air becomes thick with shadows, and resonant with the muttering of thunder. Those who have come through curiosity to behold the prodigy wish that they had never done so, so filled are their hearts with terror, and so does fear paralyse their limbs. Incredible as the marvel may seem, yet the proofs of its reality are too abundant to be doubted."

Huon de Mery was more fortunate than Wace. He sprinkled the magic stone which lay behind the fountain with water from the golden basin that hung from the oak that shaded it, and beheld many marvels. And so may he who has the seeing eye to-day.

BROCELIANDE

Ah, how remote, forlorn Sounded the sad, sweet horn In forest gloom enchanted!

I saw the shadows of kings go riding by, But cerements mingled and paled with their panoply, And the moss-ways deadened the steps of steeds that never panted.

Ah, what had phantasy In that sad sound to say, Sad as a spirit's wailing?

A call from over the seas of shadowland, A call the soul of the soul might understand, But never, ah, never the mind, the steeps of soul a.s.sailing.

_Bruno of La Montagne_

The old fragmentary romance of Bruno of La Montagne is eloquent of the faery spirit which informs all Breton lore. Butor, Baron of La Montagne, had married a young lady when he was himself of mature years, and had a son, whom he resolved to take to a fountain where the fairies came to repose themselves. The Baron, describing this magic well to the child's mother, says (we roughly translate):

"Some believe 'tis in Champagne, And others by the Rock Grifaigne; Perchance it is in Alemaigne, Or Bersillant de la Montagne; Some even think that 'tis in Spain, Or where sleeps Artus of Bretaigne."

The Seigneur gave his infant son into the keeping of Bruyant, a trusty friend of his, and they set out for the fairy fountain with a troop of va.s.sals. They left the infant in the forest of Broceliande. Here the fairies soon found him.

"Ha, sisters," said one whose skin was as white as the robe of gossamer she wore, and whose golden crown betokened her the queen of the others, "come hither and see a new-born infant. How, I wonder, does he come to be here? I am sure I did not behold him in this spot yesterday. Well, at all events, he must be baptized and suitably endowed, as is our custom when we discover a mortal child. Now what will you give him?"

"I will give him," said one, "beauty and grace."

"I endow him," said a second, "with generosity."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FAIRIES OF BROCELIANDE FIND THE LITTLE BRUNO]

"And I," said a third, "with such valour that he will overthrow all his enemies at tourney and on the battlefield."

The Queen listened to these promises. "Surely you have little sense,"

she said. "For my part, I wish that in his youth he may love one who will be utterly insensible to him, and although he will be as you desire, n.o.ble, generous, beautiful, and valorous, he will yet, for his good, suffer keenly from the anguish of love."

"O Queen," said one of the fairies, "what a cruel fate you have ordained for this unfortunate child! But I myself shall watch over him and nurse him until he comes to such an age as he may love, when I myself will try to engage his affections."

"For all that," said the Queen, "I will not alter my design. You shall not nurse this infant."

The fairies then disappeared. Shortly afterward Bruyant returned, and carried the child back to the castle of La Montagne, where presently a fairy presented herself as nurse.

Unfortunately the ma.n.u.script from which this tale is taken breaks off at this point, and we do not know how the Fairy Queen succeeded with her plans for the amorous education of the little Bruno. But the fragment, although tantalizing in the extreme, gives us some insight into the nature of the fairies who inhabit the green fastnesses of Broceliande.

_Fairies in Folk-lore_

Nearly all fairy-folk have in time grown to mortal height. Whether fairies be the decayed poor relations of more successful deities, G.o.ds whose cult has been forgotten and neglected (as the Irish _Sidhe_, or fairy-folk), or diminutive animistic spirits, originating in the belief that every object, small or great, possessed a personality, it is noticeable that Celtic fairies are of human height, while those of the Teutonic peoples are usually dwarfish. t.i.tania may come originally from the loins of t.i.tans or she may be Diana come down in the world, and Oberon may hail from a very different and more dwarfish source, but in Shakespeare's England they have grown sufficiently to permit them to tread the boards of the Globe Theatre with normal humans.