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THE STORY 
 
 MERLIN AND VIVIEN, 
 
 GATHERED FROM THE 
 
 British and Breton Chronteles and Poems, and Modern 
 Gerstons of the Anetent Legends. 
 
 WITH NINE ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 GUSTAVE DORE. 
 
 
 
 Dondo: 
 
 E. MOXON, SON, AND CO., DORSET BUILDINGS, 
 SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C. 
 

 
 
 
 
 LONDON : 
 SWIFT AND CO., NEWTON STREET, 
 
 HIGH HOLBORN, W.C. 
 
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 422 Sv 
 
 
 
 Wreface, 
 
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 PpatiE Wisdom which made its possessor nearly the master of the world subdued 
 
 
 
 ae 2c and enslaved by the greater enchantment of Beauty is an old theme, which 
 philosophers, sacred and profane, didactic and poetical, have enlarged on since the world 
 began. In our: own land, and in kindred Brittany, the legends of the wisdom and 
 power of Merlin have found peculiar acceptance; and so, too, has the story of the 
 
 beauteous and wily Vivien, to whose fascinations the illustrious sage and prophetic 
 
 seer, the master of all arts and the wisest of counsellors, yielded up his glory. 
 
 In the version of the story now presented, not only the early English Chroniclers, 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth and others, have been consulted, but the old Breton legends, 
 rescued from obscurity by the research of modern French writers, have been made 
 available; and the grace and vigour with which the story has been illustrated by the 
 greatest living master of English verse, have influenced the narrative. It is believed that 
 the varied aspects of the many differing legends have been preserved, and that the 
 
 story appears for the first time in a form approaching completeness. 
 
 Gustave Doré has reproduced with striking fidelity the aspect of the rocky-bound 
 
 * coasts and dense forests which are the scenery of the legend, and imparted to the figures 
 
 the vitality which only artistic genius can give. 
 
 GORI E: 
 
 
 
 803011 
 

 
Merlin and Vivien.] 
 
 
 
 Sllustrattons, 
 
 VIVIEN AND MERLIN REPOSE. (Frontispiece.) 
 VIVIEN AND MERLIN DISEMBARK. 
 
 VIVIEN AND MERLIN ENTER THE Woops. 
 
 THE KNiGHTs’ CAROUSE. 
 
 THE KNIGHTS’ PROGRESS. 
 
 MERLIN PAINTS THE YOUNG KNIGHT’s SHIELD. 
 Tue Sea Ficut. 
 
 THE CAVE SCENE. 
 
 VIVIEN ENCLOSES MERLIN IN THE TREE. 
 
 
 

 
The Legend of Merlin and Aitvien. 
 
 Day LOFFREY OF MONMOUTH relates the early history of Merlin in this 
 
 manner. After the treacherous massacre of the British princes and warriors 
 
 
 
 by Hengist, who, having come to Britain at the request of King Vortigern, 
 had invited him and his chiefs to a conference, to which, supposing it was a peaceful 
 occasion, they had come unarmed, Vortigern was made a captive, and only released on 
 promising to surrender his cities and fortified places. “ He, to secure himself, denied 
 them nothing they asked; and when they had made him confirm his grants with an 
 oath, they released him from his chains.’ The fierce Saxons then took possession of 
 London, York, Lincoln, and Winchester; “wasting the countries through which they 
 passed, and destroying the people as wolves do sheep when left by their shepherds.” 
 Vortigern took refuge in Cumbria, and occupied himself with schemes for protecting the 
 remainder of his dominions, and revenging himself if possible on the treacherous 
 
 Saxons. 
 
 After the fashion of all antique legendary kings in difficulties, he had recourse to 
 the advice of magicians, who in Britain, as well as in Egypt or Babylonia, professed to 
 be supernaturally wise, and gifted with power to interpret mysteries. In this case, they 
 gave very practical advice, which would probably meet the approval of modern military 
 commanders. The King was recommended to “build a very strong tower for his own 
 safety, since he had lost all his other fortified places.” Vortigern adopted this counsel, 
 and collected a great number of workmen, who began to erect a strong tower, at a 
 place named by the chronicler Mount Evir, a locality we cannot pretend to identify. 
 But the work was impeded by a most mysterious and alarming circumstance: ‘ What- 
 ever they did one day, the earth swallowed up the next, so as to leave no appearance 
 
 of their work.” Vortigern was again sadly perplexed; and once more the magicians were 
 
70 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 called on to advise. When consulted previously, their task was comparatively easy ; 
 shrewd common sense being all that was required. Now they had a mystery to solve, 
 and mystic rites must be resorted to. In the barbarous ages—the early times of all 
 nations—the idea that the supernatural powers of good or evil were propitiated by human 
 sacrifices, was almost universally prevalent. Agamemnon the Greek as unhesitatingly 
 offered his daughter, Iphigenia, as the Hebrew Jephthah sacrificed his. ‘The Philistinic 
 idol-worshippers offered their children to Moloch; the Scandinavians, Teutons, and Celts 
 were ready with the sacrificial knife to avert danger to themselves; the Druids made the 
 slab on which the victims bled to death a principal feature of the circular temples of 
 unhewn stone. The purer, more beautiful, or holier the victim, the more probably 
 would it be acceptable to the avenging deities. Children, young maidens, youth gifted 
 with beauty or more than common intelligence, were chosen for the sacrifice. When 
 Vortigern consulted the magicians, they told him that it would be impossible to raise 
 his stronghold, unless he could find out a youth that never had a father, and kill him, 
 and then sprinkle the stones and cement with his blood, for by that means, they said, 
 he would obtain a firm foundation. The King immediately sent messengers in various 
 directions on what must have appeared to be a very hopeless quest. Historic and 
 legendary literature acquaint us with many strange expeditions in search of the fountain 
 of perpetual youth, the elixir vite, the Holy Graal, the mystic medium which should 
 transmute baser metals into gold, treasures hidden in the earth or in caves guarded by 
 dragons, sleeping beauties and enchanted castles. We have heard the legends as sung by 
 poets old and new; have followed almost breathlessly the footsteps of the wearied but 
 still hopeful wanderers, penetrating the depths of unknown forests, or entering gateways 
 hoar with the accumulation of untold ages, and passing by figures of sentinels and 
 warriors who have slept for centuries. Surely, the quest for a youth that never had a 
 father was no less difficult, and even more hopeless. Some of the messengers reached a 
 city, afterwards known as Caermerdin—there is a pleasant vagueness as to locality—and 
 outside the gate were some young men playing. The messengers, wearied with their 
 journey, sat down and watched the sports.» Soon a dispute arose, and high words passed 
 between two of the youths, whose names are given as Dabutius and Merlin. The former 
 seems to have been of aristocratic connexions, and after the manner of some “ golden 
 youths,” quite ready to assert his supposed privileges. He said haughtily to Merlin, 
 “Do you presume to quarrel with me? Is there any equality in our birth? I am, both 
 by my father’s and mother’s side, descended of royal race. As for you, nobody knows 
 
 what you are, for you never had a father.” 
 
VIVIEN. 71 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 We can readily imagine the pleasure of the weary messengers of Vortigern when 
 they heard this. They had achieved the object of their search, and discovered a youth 
 who never had a father. They made eager inquiries of the townsmen who were 
 gathered about the gate, and soon ascertained that Merlin’s father was indeed unknown, 
 but that his mother was a Princess, daughter of the King of Demetia, and that she lived 
 in St. Peter’s Church among the nuns of the city. No doubt the proud young Dabutius 
 knew as much as this, and he might, had he been generously minded, have spared the 
 taunt about the comparatively obscure birth of Merlin, who, by his mother’s side at 
 least, was, as well as himself, of royal blood. The messengers went to the governor of 
 the city and in King Vortigern’s name demanded that Merlin and his mother should be 
 given up to them. This was done, and the messengers returned, elated with their success, 
 to Vortigern. That King, who was no doubt a model of courtesy—as most legendary 
 potentates were, unless especially irritated (and sometimes a very little matter irritated 
 them greatly)—“ received the mother in a very respectful manner, on account of her noble 
 birth,” and then requested her to explain the mystery in which her son’s birth was 
 involved. Her story was adapted to impress vividly minds influenced by the imaginative 
 superstitions prevalent in those twilight times, in which religious and mythical beliefs were 
 so strangely blended. An apparently celestial personage, in the shape of a most beautiful 
 young man, had suddenly appeared, embraced and kissed her, then suddenly vanished 
 from her sight. Many times afterwards she heard his voice, and had sweet converse 
 with him, when he made no visible appearance. Then he again appeared, and the result 
 of his visits was the birth of Merlin. This narrative greatly increased the wonder of 
 the King, who sent for the wisest of his councillors, one Maugantius, who seems to have 
 been a tolerably ripe scholar, and well acquainted with the philosophical literature of the 
 Greeks. He listened attentively to the strange story, and then said, “In the books of 
 our philosophers, and in a great many histories, 1 have found that several men have had 
 the like original. For as Apuleius informs us, in his book concerning the demon of 
 Socrates, between the moon and the earth inhabit those spirits which we call Incubuses. 
 These are of the nature partly of men and partly of angels, and whenever they please 
 
 assume human shapes. Perhaps one of them appeared to this woman.” 
 
 Readers of modern poetry will be reminded of Byron’s “ Heaven and Earth,” 
 Moore’s “ Loves of the Angels,” and other poems, founded on a mysterious passage 
 in the book of Genesis; and students of Rabbinical lore will recall to memory the strange 
 
 legends referring to the subject. 
 
72 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 
 
 Young Merlin listened attentively to the questions put by the King, and the ex- 
 planation given by Maugantius, by whose learning he was not perhaps greatly impressed ; 
 and then, with an air of calm resolution, approached the King, and asked him why he 
 and his mother had been brought into his presence. The King replied to his bold 
 speech with remarkable frankness, telling him that he had been advised by his magicians 
 to find a man that had no father, kill him, and sprinkle with his blood the building, 
 in order to make it stand. Such an announcement might well have alarmed a weaker 
 mind than that possessed by Merlin. His only companion was his mother; he was 
 surrounded by fierce men, eager for his death, and the powerful King before whom he 
 stood had been assured by those in whose judgment he had the greatest confidence, that 
 nothing but the sacrifice of the young man would suffice to preserve his kingdom. But 
 Merlin was undaunted. “ Order your magicians,” he said, “to come before me, and I 
 will convict them of a lie.” He spoke boldly and in a slightly contemptuous manner. At 
 first the King was surprised at his audacity; then he sent for the magicians, and ordered 
 them to listen to Merlin, who addressed them with an air of conscious superiority. 
 “‘ Because you are ignorant what it is that hinders the foundation of the tower, you 
 have recommended the shedding of my blood for cement to it, as if that would presently 
 make it stand. But tell me now, what is there under the foundation? For something 
 there is that will not suffer it to stand.’ It had not occurred to the magicians, learned 
 in occult lore, that the sinking of the earth might be due to some cause, which would 
 be in no wise affected by the killing of anybody, whether he had a father or not; 
 and this new view of the case puzzled them greatly. They looked at each other 
 confusedly, and were unable to frame a reply; and Maugantius himself could not call 
 to .mind any passage in Apuleius, or any incident in the history of the demon of 
 Socrates, which would throw any light upon the matter. King Vortigern, we may | 
 suppose, was in a dubious state of mind, and disposed to place some confidence in 
 the wisdom of the young man who had so unexpectedly, but so completely, perplexed 
 
 his councillors, 
 
 Merlin then turned to the King, and said, “I entreat your Majesty would 
 command your workmen to dig into the ground, and you will find a pond which 
 causes the foundation to sink” The diggers were set to work, and the subterranean 
 pond was found. So far, there was nothing but what was consistent with the 
 practical and mechanical talent by which, according to the legend, Merlin was 
 
 distinguished; giving, says the chronicler, “a manifest proof of the prevalence of art 
 
VIVIEN. 73 
 
 
 
 above strength.” We quietly pass, however, from engineering to more mysterious 
 matters; for Merlin went on to say that if the pond were drained, there would be 
 found at the bottom two hollow stones, and in them two dragons asleep. _The water 
 was drawn off, and there, sure enough, were the sleeping monsters. Vortigern, Geoffrey 
 tells us, “was now possessed with the greatest admiration of Merlin; nor were the 
 rest that were present less amazed at his wisdom, thinking it to be no less than Divine 
 
 inspiration.” 
 
 The dragons—one white, the other red—awakened from their long slumber, soon 
 showed what terrible creatures they were, and engaged in a fierce fight, casting forth 
 fire with their breath, The King and his people crouched on the edge of the drained 
 pond, watching the combat. First the white dragon had the advantage, and made the 
 other retreat; but the red beast rallied, and, in his turn, the white dragon was driven 
 to the edge of the pond. What then became of them we are not told; but Merlin 
 was commanded by the King to tell him what the struggle portended. The young 
 interpreter, under the influence of that intense mental excitement which, in many similar 
 narratives, accompanies the explanation of supernatural signs and omens, burst into tears, 
 and uttered a lengthy prophecy, for the most part unintelligible to modern readers, and 
 no doubt equally unintelligible to Vortigern and his followers. The first part of the 
 explanation of the fight of the dragons, however, was plain enough, and of encouraging 
 import. ‘ Woe,” said Merlin, “Woe to the red dragon, for his banishment hasteneth. 
 His lurking hole shall be seized by the white dragon, which signifies the Saxons whom 
 you have invited over; but the red denotes the British nation, which shall be oppressed 
 _ by the white. Therefore shall its mountains be levelled as the valleys, and the rivers of 
 the valleys shall run with blood. The exercise of religion shall be destroyed and churches 
 lay open to ruin. At last the oppressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruelty of foreigners. 
 For a boar of Cornwall shall give his assistance, and trample their necks under his feet. 
 The islands of the ocean shall be subject to his power, and he shall possess the forests 
 of Gaul. His end shall be doubtful. He shall be celebrated in the mouths of the 
 people, and his exploits shall be food to those that relate them.” It can scarcely be 
 doubted that the British Arthur, fabled to have been born at Tintagel, is the “ boar of 
 
 Cornwall,” here alluded to. 
 
 Merlin went on to predict famines, slaughters, showers of blood, and desolations, 
 
 another invasion of the Saxons; but ultimately “a people in woad and in iron coats 
 K 
 
74. MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 shall come and revenge upon his wickedness....the seed of the white dragon shall be 
 swept out of our gardens, and the remainder of his generation shall be decimated— 
 they shall bear the yoke of slavery.” ‘These would have been remarkable predictions 
 indeed for Merlin, but are far less remarkable as the production of Geoffrey of Mon- 
 mouth, who had the advantage of living nearly a hundred years after the Norman 
 Conquest, was well acquainted with Saxon history, and was more distinguished by 
 vividness of imagination than by scrupulous veracity. The editor and translator, the 
 learned Aaron Thompson, of Queen’s College, Oxford, seems to have had half a mind 
 to omit what he describes as “the nonsense and unintelligible jargon” of Merlin’s 
 prophecy ; but appears to think that it is of great antiquity, as it “had sometimes a 
 considerable influence upon the counsels of the ancient Britons,’ as a proof of which he 
 
 mentions that ‘“ 
 
 the final subjection of the Principality of Wales to the Crown of England 
 was partly owing to it, since Llewellin, the last Prince of Wales, was, by the conceit of 
 a passage in it, viz., that he should be crowned with the diadem of Brutus, encouraged 
 to carry on a war against King Edward I. to his own destruction.” As that event 
 occurred about a hundred and fifty years after the death of Geoffrey, the testimony 
 to the antiquity of the prophecy afforded by Llewellin’s acquaintance with it, is not 
 overwhelming. Geoffrey himself says he translated the prophecy to “ gratify ” Alexander, 
 Bishop of Lincoln, who was his patron, and perhaps an antiquary who “possessed a large 
 share of the faith in the genuineness of modern antiques which has characterized so 
 
 many of kindred taste. 
 
 The latter part of the prophecy teems with allusions to “the Dragon of Worcester,” 
 “the Boar of Totness,” “the Lion of Gloucester,’ “the Adder of Lincoln,” “anda 
 Charioteer of York,” respecting whose personalities we strongly suspect Geoffrey knew a 
 great deal more than did Merlin. The conclusion is'a jargon of astrology, quite in the 
 fashion of the twelfth century. A very brief specimen will, probably, be sufficient for 
 our readers: “The helmet of Mars shall make a shadow; and the rage of Mercury | 
 pass his bounds. Now Orion shall unsheath his sword; the marine Phcebus shall 
 torment the clouds; Jupiter shall go out of his lawful paths, and Venus forsake her 
 stated lines. ‘The malignity of the star Saturn shall fall down in rain, and slay mankind 
 with a crooked sickle. The twelve houses of the stars shall lament the irregular 
 excursions of their guests; and Gemini omit their usual embraces, and call the urn 
 to the fountains.” We profess ourselves quite unable to say whether any of these 
 
 things have happened. It would almost seem that Geoffrey himself was slyly 
 
VIVIEN. 75 
 
 
 
 laughing in his sleeve, when he added, “ Merlin, by delivering these and many 
 other prophecies, caused in all that were present an admiration at the ambiguity of his 
 
 expressions.” 
 
 Merlin, being pressed by Vortigern as to his own fate, told him Aurelius Ambrosius 
 and Uther Pendragon (here we again get near Arthurian legend) would burn him in a 
 
 tower, which they did soon afterwards. 
 
 Aurelius, having been crowned King, routed his enemies, and restored “all things 
 in Britain, especially ecclesiastical, to their ancient state.’ He repaired Winchester and 
 other cities, and then went to the monastery near Caercaradoc (Salisbury), ‘where the 
 consuls and princes whom the wicked Hengist had treacherously murdered lay buried.” 
 At the sight of this place the King shed tears, and determined to erect a suitable monu-— 
 ment, “to perpetuate the memory of that piece of ground which was honoured with the 
 bodies of so many noble patriots that died for their country. His carpenters and masons, 
 however, with a charming diffidence of their own skill, professed themselves unable to 
 construct anything worthy of the occasion. Aurelius was in a difficulty, from which 
 he was relieved by the counsels of Archbishop Tremounus, who said, “ If any one living 
 is able to execute your commands, Merlin, the prophet of Vortigern, is the man. In my 
 opinion there is not in all your kingdom a person of a brighter genius, either in predicting 
 future events, or in mechanical contrivances. Order him to come to you, and exercise 
 his skill on the works you design.” With great trouble Merlin was discovered and brought 
 to the King, who, “ being curious to hear some of his wonderful speeches, commanded 
 him to prophesy.” The answer is remarkable, as being in exact accordance with the 
 old Greek belief in the mode of working of familiar spirits, or demons, and some more 
 modern theories. ‘‘ Mysteries of this kind are not to be revealed, but when there is the 
 greatest necessity for it. If I should pretend to utter them either for ostentation or 
 diversion, the spirit that instructs me would be silent, and would leave me when I should 
 have occasion for it.’ The spirit that visited Merlin was evidently of a superior nature 
 to those who attend modern séances, to gratify the curiosity of anybody willing to pay 
 
 the entrance fee. 
 
 Although he declined to prophesy, he was quite willing to place his mechanical skill 
 at the service of the King; but made a suggestion which must have taken away the 
 
 breath of the artificers who, we may suppose, waited eagerly for the proposal he would 
 
76 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 make. ‘If,’ said Merlin to Aurelius, “you are desirous to honour the burying- 
 place of these men with an everlasting monument, send for the ‘Giants’ Dance,’ which 
 is in Killaraus, a mountain in Ireland; for there is a structure of stones there which 
 none of this age could raise without a profound knowledge of the mechanical arts. 
 They are stones of a vast magnitude and wonderful quality, and if they can be 
 placed here, as they are there, quite round this spot of ground, they will stand for 
 
 ever.” 
 
 Aurelius ridiculed the idea of sending to Ireland for big stones, as if stones fit for 
 the work could not be found in Britain. It was another instance of the “rivers of 
 Damascus” spirit of scepticism; but Merlin assured him that these Irish stones had been 
 brought by giants from Africa, and possessed rare medicinal virtues, sick persons bathed in 
 water in which the stones had been washed being infallibly cured. They healed wounds 
 too—that is, said Merlin, with commendable discretion, “adding only the application 
 of some herbs”? The King restored to seriousness, determined to obtain these stones of 
 the ‘Giants’ Dance,” and as he would probably have to fight for them, the people of 
 Ireland being very warlike, and no doubt determined to defend their treasure, he fitted 
 out an expedition of fifteen thousand men, under the leadership of Uther Pendragon, 
 who had already given proof of the valour and ability which afterwards made him so 
 famous, and in British legend second only to his son, the great Arthur. Merlin, of 
 
 course, as engineer-in-chief, accompanied the expedition. 
 
 The fetching of Cleopatra’s Needle from Egypt to the Thames was a trifling 
 feat compared with the fetching of the stones of the “Guiants’ Dance” from Ireland to 
 Salisbury Plain. Our engineers and navigators had only to contend with winds and 
 waves; the brave Uther and the gifted Merlin had to fight with Irish armies, before 
 they could attempt to solve the difficulty of moving the stones. There was a brave 
 young King in Ireland at that time, Gillomanius (do not, kind readers, perplex yourselves 
 about authentic history, for we are now in a land of legends), and he was quite ready 
 to do battle with any number of Britons. Respecting the stones, he argued as Aurelius 
 had done previously, wondering what could make the stones of Ireland better than those 
 of Britain, and plainly expressing his opinion that the invaders were fools to cross the sea 
 on such an errand. But his patriotism was aroused, and he exclaimed gallantly to his 
 army, “'T’o arms, soldiers, and defend your country; while I have life they shall not take 
 
 from us the least stone of the ‘Giants’ Dance!” 
 
VIVIEN. 77 
 
 Against Uther Pendragon, however, the brave young Irishman could make no stand. 
 His army was dispersed, and he was compelled to fly. The circle of stones was reached, 
 and then Merlin politely requested the stalwart British warriors to attempt to remove it. 
 They set to work with cables, ropes, and ladders, but could not move the stubborn 
 masses a single inch. Merlin laughed at their efforts, then “ placed in order the engines 
 that were necessary,” took down the stones easily enough, and gave directions for 
 carrying them to the ships. The journey across the sea was effected in safety, and the 
 
 huge stones were erected at the burying-place of the British heroes. 
 
 One of the legends quoted by Villemarqué describes, in another fashion, the mode 
 in which Merlin moved the huge stones. We are told that when the moon appeared, 
 and Merlin saw that the men who had attempted in vain to move the stones were 
 discouraged, he entered the circle of the Giants, his harp in his hand, and mounting on 
 the central table of stone, chanted an. invocation which the bards knew as “the En- 
 chantment of the Precious Stones.” ‘As he raised the song, the stones moved in cadence, 
 and balanced themselves lightly on the soil of the funeral enclosure, each of them saluting 
 him who conducted the dance. To the astonishment of the warriors, the stones advanced 
 to the shore, keeping time to the cadences of the song, turning and twining before the 
 army of the Britons in a long spiral. Merlin, in a condition of poetic ecstacy followed, 
 chanting a song commemorating the massacre when the British chiefs perished by the 
 long knives of the Saxons. Across the sea, dividing Ireland from England, waltzed the 
 Great Stones; and when the warriors returned they found them arrayed in the same 
 
 order as in Ireland.” 
 
 This is certainly a more fanciful, and probably as authentic, an account of the 
 
 removal of the stones as that given by Geoffrey. 
 
 Aurelius celebrated the erection of the monument by solemn religious services, 
 lasting three days, conducted by bishops and abbots from all parts of Britain; 
 and many promotions to honourable offices were made, farther to celebrate the great 
 
 EVENT. 
 
 There the stones remain to this day, some erect, some prostrate; known for 
 centuries as the circle of Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain. Most likely Merlin had 
 
 nothing whatever to do with placing them there, and that they are fragments of a great 
 
78 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Druidical temple. But Geoffrey of Monmouth was of another opinion, and we have 
 
 allowed him to tell his story. 
 
 The chronicler subsequently mentions that Merlin interpreted the appearance of a 
 comet to mean the future greatness of Uther, and assisted him by magical arts to assume 
 the appearance of Gorlois, whose wife Igerna was deceived, and so became the mother 
 of Arthur—which legend we notice in its proper place. Then Merlin disappears from the 
 
 chronicler’s pages; and we must seek at other sources the remainder of his history. 
 
 The Viscount de la Villemarqué, who has given so much attention to the old Breton 
 legends, says that this mysterious personage was known to the ancient Bretons as Marthin ; 
 to the later Gauls and Bretons as Myrdhin, or Myrddhin; to the Armoricans of Brittany 
 as Marzin; to the Scotch as Meller or Melziar; and to the French as Merlin. William 
 of Newbrige Latinizes the name as Martinus, and Geoffrey of Monmouth as Merlinus ; 
 and in a medieval life of St. Patrick, the enchanter appears as Melinus. Villemarqué 
 arrives at the conclusion that the name is derived from a mythical figure who appears 
 dimly in Median, Phoenician, and Teutonic legends, and from whom were descended a 
 people known as the Marsi, who practised medicine, and were especially famous for their 
 power of taming serpents. A belief in the magical gifts of the race has been traced in 
 the sixth century in Gaul, and the ninth century in Britain. The Bretons believed 
 vaguely in Merlin, a semi-divine personage, who was king of the air, the earth, and a 
 subterranean world, the waters, the woods, and the fields of which were more beautiful 
 than anything familiar to the eyes of man. All the stones were diamonds, and the fruits 
 and flowers possessed an incomparable splendour and odour. The inhabitants of this 
 beautiful kingdom enjoyed a life of perpetual pleasure. They were very small, but 
 admirably proportioned; very fair, wore their hair in long curls, and rode on horses not 
 larger than greyhounds. ‘Their food was fruits and milk; flesh and fish they abhorred. 
 The form of government was monarchical; they professed no form of worship, their sole 
 religion being the love of truth. -They passed their time listening to the most delicious 
 music, and enjoying all they could desire. One thing only was wanting, according to the 
 views of the inhabitants of this upper world, and that was sunlight, for the happy 
 people lived in a perpetual twilight. Merlin, the King, was a great worker of metals, 
 and fabricated arms of wondrous power; and among them the famous sword, afterwards 
 wielded with such terrible effect by Uther Pendragon and Arthur—the sword Excalibur 
 
 of the bardic legends and of Tennyson’s. modern poem. Merlin himself, who had 
 
VIVIEN. 79 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 given it to the Breton Kings, brandished it with an invisible hand after it had been 
 hurled into the sea) We have already alluded to Tennyson’s passage in the “ Passing 
 of Arthur :’— 
 
 ‘“‘ Behold an arm 
 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
 That caught him by the hilt, and brandish’d him 
 
 Three times, and drew him under in the mere.” 
 
 Such was the mythical Merlin of the ancient Bretons: and Villemarqué has 
 endeavoured with infinite pains to trace the outline of the real Merlin, enveloped in 
 poetry and legend. ‘This is the veritable history as he relates it. In the fifth century 
 he was born in the country of the ancient Silurians (now South Wales). His 
 father was a Roman by descent, and his mother appears to have been a vestal who 
 had broken her vow. The punishment for such a breach of chastity was a terrible death; 
 to avoid which, she. attributed the parentage of the child to one of those sylphs, or 
 supernatural powers,: which were intensely believed in, and the existence of which the 
 magistrates could not deny without exposing themselves to the charge of atheism. Her 
 story was believed, she escaped punishment, and no suspicion attached to the real 
 father. ‘The infant was named Ambroise, the surname Merlin being added when he 
 _ afterwards became famous. He seems to have been attached as a youth to the court of 
 the good King Ambroise Aurelius, in the capacity of bard, but afterwards to have joined 
 the bards or Druids, to have become eminent among them, and to have acquired a 
 profound knowledge of all their mysterious arts. The Gallic annals say that, although 
 he received the Christian ordinance of baptism, he retained most of the superstitions of 
 the Druidic order, worshipping trees and fountains, and having at least a partial belief in 
 spirits of the air, water, fire and earth; that he consulted the stars, predicted the future, 
 and practised most of the magical arts denounced by ecclesiastical councils and punished 
 by the Church. A singular mental disposition, or nervous affection, which he experienced, 
 as did other individuals of his race and order, and of which examples are not rare in 
 the history of the ancient bards, was united with knowledge derived traditionally from the 
 Druids. This nervous excitement aided him in exercising a potent influence over other 
 spirits, and contributed to his reputation as a prophet and enchanter. He was subject 
 to extraordinary ecstacies, and to fits of catalepsy, in which his faculties were prodigiously 
 developed, a state known to the Bretons and Gauls as “the sacred or blessed malady,” 
 and in later ages to the Scotch Highlanders as “second sight.” Those who experienced 
 
 it were supposed to have received a special and even Divine inspiration and revelation. 
 
80 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 Some of the bards so affected, pretended to have communication with spirits, who imparted 
 to them prophetic knowledge, and enabled them to discover all kinds of wrong-doing ; 
 and although the bards themselves might be unlettered, they were, by the assistance of ” 
 
 the spirits, enabled easily to distinguish between a book of fables and a true book. 
 
 A bard so gifted and yet so unorthodox as Merlin, and also so patriotic at a time 
 when the nation was trodden down by foreigners, was certain to make enemies. His 
 contemporary Gildas, the British monk and chronicler, attacked him with all the force of 
 invective he could command—certainly not slight. One writer of the time had compared 
 Merlin to the prophet Isaiah, a comparison which greatly excited the anger of a monkish 
 writer, who asked, “In what respect do the predictions of Merlin respecting events to come 
 differ from those of Isaiah? Is it not that he has not the audacity to begin with the 
 words, ‘Thus saith the Lord,’ and would blush to put, ‘Thus says the devil, which alone 
 would be suitable to a bard who is the son of a demoniacal incubus?” Merlin, who 
 possessed a considerable measure of the combativeness which not uncommonly accompanies 
 high poetic qualities, returned the monkish invectives with interest. If he was really the 
 author of some of the compositions attributed to him, he treated the monks as impostors 
 and libertines, attributing to them all kinds of vices, especially gluttony; and it is said 
 that he translated the attacks of the pagan writer Libanus, who compared their voracity 
 
 to that of elephants. 
 
 There is some reason to think that Merlin did not limit his resentment of monkish 
 attacks to verbal replies or satirical effusions. There are traditions of his leading bodies 
 of armed men against the monks, of a church burnt, and of a copy of the Gospels torn 
 leaf by leaf and cast into the water by Merlin. Perhaps it is to these exploits that Gildas 
 refers, when, observing that wars with the foreigners had ceased in Britain, he laments 
 
 that civil discord raged. 
 
 After the death of King Ambroise Aurelius, Merlin appears to have been attached to 
 the Court of the renowned Arthur. He was a military leader, as well as royal bard and 
 
 councillor, ‘Tennyson, in the Idyll “ Vivien,” describes him— 
 
 ‘“‘“The most famous man of all those times, 
 Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, 
 Had built the King his havens, ships, and halls, 
 
 Was also bard, and knew the starry heavens.” 
 
VIVIEN. 81 
 
 
 
 If an old couplet attributed to him may be trusted, he took part with Arthur in a 
 great battle against the Saxons, in Caledonia, carrying “a buckler on his shoulder, a 
 ‘ sword upon his thigh, and a harp in his hand;” and before the battle he had, in one 
 
 of his strange cataleptic manifestations, predicted victory. 
 
 After the death of Arthur, and when Merlin had grown old, and, to adopt his own 
 expression, “his hair had become white as the frost of winter,’ he fell a victim to the 
 discords raging among his countrymen. At a great battle waged not far from the 
 Solway, between the Britons of the South and those of the Scotch frontier, he was 
 suddenly attacked with madness, his mind having been previously weakened by the 
 cataleptic swoons to which he had been so long subject. He saw the blood of his 
 compatriots shed by the hands of other Britons, and in a paroxysm of mental excitement 
 believed that he was assailed by furious phantoms. He broke his sword and fled to the 
 woods, preferring the society of savage beasts to that of his ferocious fellow-countrymen. 
 An antique Breton legend says that he found in his harp an alleviation of his mental 
 disorder—as in the case of Saul, the evil spirit was subdued by the music; and there is 
 still preserved a poem believed to have been composed in the intervals of his malady. 
 There is almost a repetition of the grief and the consolation of the “sweet singer of 
 Israel” in the conclusion of this poem:—‘‘ My countenance is sad with tears; I am 
 abandoned by my dearest friends. Who will recognize me wandering among the shades 
 of the departed? But God will very soon receive me; by His mercy deliver me from 
 
 all evil, and teach me to trust in His Son.” 
 
 This figure of the real, as opposed to the legendary Myrddhin, or Merlin, is grand 
 and impressive. In all semi-barbarous times the man _ exhibiting pre-eminent mental 
 abilities has been believed to be allied with supernatural. beings, to work with charms, 
 and influence events by enchantments. His acquaintance with natural facts has been 
 by turns admired and denounced as magical knowledge; his enthusiastic and excitable 
 temperament described as exhibiting indubitable proofs of demoniac possession. The sage 
 who had by intuitive genius and long and devoted study mastered the secrets of some of 
 the workings of natural powers was a wizard, by whose potent enchantments the grave 
 could be made to render up the dead, storms could be raised, opponents be struck down 
 or withered, and the magician himself could at will assume any shape. Acuteness in 
 obtaining intelligence was attributed to the assistance of a legion of servile demons; and 
 
 the ripened experience which enabled the possessor to indicate the result which would 
 ii, 
 
82 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 probably happen from a certain succession of causes, was mistaken for magical foresight, 
 purchased by the sacrifice of the immortal soul. Among a wild and warlike people, this belief 
 in supernatural endowments led to admiration, mingled with a reverential awe; in com- 
 munities where there were priestly domination and a narrow religious spirit which dreaded 
 intellectual activity, the ignorant laity were terror-stricken, and the Church was a persecutor. 
 In the one state of society, the supposed magician was chosen leader and lawgiver; in 
 the other, denounced as an instrument of Satan, to destroy whom was the duty of every 
 Christian man. If the offender were rich and powerful, he might defy the dungeon and the 
 stake; but he was assailed alike by preaching friars and by bishops, his books were burned, 
 and the faithful were warned against holding converse with or even approaching him. 
 Virgil, in the popular estimation in the middle ages, was more of a wizard than 
 a poet. Roger Bacon was popularly believed to possess magical powers. Michael 
 Scott was, in the opinion of his contemporaries, a wizard of the first class. Froissart 
 assures us that the famous Gaston de Foix was kept informed respecting current events 
 by a spirit, which brought him intelligence with supernatural rapidity. The European 
 inventor of the art of printing was supposed to have been aided by the powers of 
 evil in producing so speedily many copies of a book, each resembling the others; and the 
 belief was little weakened by the fact that the mysterious volumes were copies of the Bible. 
 In many cases the possessors of vigorous and cultivated minds encouraged the popular 
 misconception respecting themselves; did not, at least, care to deny, even if they did not 
 expressly assert, an alliance with more than mortal intelligence. ‘They were the masters— 
 even if the dreaded masters—of their little worlds, and assisted to maintain the delusion 
 
 which made kings and nobles fear them, and men of lower rank grovel at their feet. 
 
 With a warlike, densely ignorant, and unsettled people like the ancient Britons, a 
 man possessing vigorous imagination and acquired knowledge was a more potent force 
 than even the most renowned warrior. ‘The indomitable courage, the trenchant blow, 
 of the military chief could be understood by those who could not rival the achievement ; but 
 the poetic faculty was a mysterious power which appeared to be a direct inspiration. The 
 wildest stories of supernatural parentage were readily accepted as the only possible expla- 
 nation of an otherwise unaccountable phenomenon; and skill in the practical arts, ora 
 knowledge of even the elements of natural science, was so unusual, that it could only be 
 accounted for by the supposition that superhuman aid was afforded. Such assistance once 
 
 taken for granted, a belief in the power of foretelling events followed naturally; and 
 
VIVIEN. 83 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 when we add the influence of music and poetry upon excitable and sympathetic, but 
 ignorant, natures, it is not difficult to account for the paramount influence of Myrddhin 
 over his contemporaries, or for the vast space he occupies in the historical traditions and 
 poetical legends of those early times. He was shrewd and adroit, a master of several 
 mechanical arts, a poet and musician, wise in council, brave in the battle-field, and possessed 
 of that susceptibility to strong emotions which seems to be allied as much with physical 
 disease as with genius, and is frequently associated with remarkable intellectual power. 
 He was also a patriot in a time when patriotism was a passion, and his memory was 
 stored with traditions of struggles with the magnificent Romans, who drove the Britons 
 from hill to hill, and from cave to cave, and of deadly feud with the Saxon hordes, who 
 attacked and massacred the native owners of the soil. By such legends, chanted to wild 
 and fitting music, the bardic warrior urged his compatriots to fly at the Saxons’ throat ; 
 sword in hand he led the attack ; and, in another sphere of action, was more than a match 
 for the scholastic priests who hurled ecclesiastical anathemas at his head, replying with 
 
 bursts of oratorical invective and pungent satire with which they had no skill to cope. 
 
 The following is the story of Merlin and Vivien, or Viviane, from a Celtic word 
 
 meaning a nymph, as gatheredsby Villemarqué from the ancient Breton legends. 
 
 Merlin, attired as a young scholar, enjoying a holiday, was wandering one sunny 
 morning in May in the forest of Broceliande, and reached a beautiful fountain, to which, 
 while he was resting on the margin, came a maiden of marvellous beauty. Her father, 
 the owner of the manor of Broceliande, often resided there for the sake of enjoying 
 the beautiful scenery of the woods and the rivers, and “was so gracious that all the 
 country people loved him.” He gained, too, the love of a fairy of the valley, who 
 became the mother of Viviane, who at her birth was, at her father’s request, promised that 
 she should be loved by the wisest man in the world, be able to make him conform to 
 all her wishes, while he would never be able to compel her to consent to his, and learn 
 
 from him everything she wished to know. 
 
 Merlin sat for a long time, without uttering a word, admiring the beauty of the 
 maiden, but amusing himself with the thought that he was not so foolish as to fall in 
 love with her. At length he rose to depart, saluting her, as in politeness he felt bound 
 to do, Vivien returned the salute in a stately manner, saying, “ May He, who knows 
 
 the thoughts of the heart, give you all good things, and as much happiness and honour 
 
84 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 
 
 as I could wish to have for myself’ Merlin, hearing her speak so gracefully and well, 
 sat down by the side of the fountain, and after a momentary silence, asked her name. 
 She replied that she was the daughter of a gentleman of the country, and in return, 
 
 addressing him as dear friend, asked who he was. 
 ‘‘A scholar returning to his master,” was the reply. 
 “Your master? What does he teach you? What can you do?” 
 
 “Many things, lady,” answered Merlin; “I am able to raise at once, on this spot, 
 a castle, and place in it so many gallant knights that it could never be taken by siege. 
 I can also make a river to flow where not even a drop of water is visible; and, more, I 
 
 can walk through it without so much as wetting my feet.” 
 
 “You are very wise,” replied the damsel, “and I would give much to have such, 
 
 a power.” 
 
 “This is only child’s play,” said Merlin, no doubt amused by the impression he 
 was making on the imagination of the simple girl. ‘I can do other things, fitting to 
 
 amuse the greatest nobles and kings.” 
 
 “ Oh, Sir Scholar,” exclaimed Viviane eagerly, “if it does not displease you, I greatly 
 desire to understand these sports; I shall give you, in exchange for your teaching, my 
 
 sincere friendship.” 
 
 Merlin, already influenced by the damsel’s beauty and simple manner, replied 
 courteously, ““By my faith, lady, you appear to me so sweet and gentle that I cannot 
 
 refuse to teach you something of my art for friendship’s sake, asking nothing more.” 
 
 Stepping back a few paces, he traced on the grass, with the point of his walking-staff, 
 a circle. He then returned, and seated himself by the side of Viviane, at the edge of 
 the fountain. In a few moments she saw, coming from the forest, a crowd of ladies and 
 knights, with attendant maidens and esquires, holding one another’s hands, and singing 
 as they advanced. Before them were musicians, playing flutes, tambourines, and many 
 
 other instruments. ‘They went towards the circle Merlin had traced, and there began to 
 
VIVIEN. 85 
 
 
 
 dance in the most joyous manner conceivable. While they danced, there arose from the 
 ground, at the border of the forest, a magnificent castle, and in front of it a garden, in 
 which were trees with as many flowers as leaves, and as many fruits as flowers, the 
 charming odour of which reached to the fountain. Viviane was so amazed at the mar- 
 vellous vision, and so occupied in watching the dancers, that she did not listen to the 
 words of the song, the refrain of which was, “Love comes singing and departs 
 weeping.” 
 
 The dance and joyous games lasted from the morning to the evening. Occasionally 
 some of the knights led their partners into the beautiful gardens, and seated themselves 
 for rest on the green and fresh turf in the shadow of the trees laden with fruits and 
 
 flowers. 
 
 Taking Viviane by the hand, Merlin asked her what she thought of the entertain- 
 ment he had provided for her. 
 
 “Tt is beautiful, dear friend, I am ravished with delight,” she replied; “but as yet 
 
 you have taught me nothing.” 
 
 “J will teach you the secret, and you will put it in writing, for you well know 
 
 how to write.” 
 “* Who has told you that I can write?” asked the damsel. 
 “My master,” was the reply. “ By his aid, I know everything that is done.” 
 “You know everything that is done!” exclaimed Viviane. “Then you possess the 
 grandest knowledge of which I have ever heard, and that which above everything I 
 desire to possess. But do you know anything of what will happen in the future?” 
 “Certainly, I can foresee many things, sweet friend.” 
 
 “What more then, can you learn? Certainly you need not go again to school.” 
 
 While they discoursed in this manner, the ladies and their maidens had re-entered 
 
86 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 the forest, singing, and the castle had disappeared. But the garden was still there; and 
 at the request of Viviane, Merlin allowed it to remain, and named it the “Garden 
 
 of Joy.” 
 
 The evening came, and Merlin must depart, as he told Viviane, having important 
 affairs to attend to. She pressed him to teach her how to make the castle and the 
 beautiful ladies and knights appear. He told her he would teach her all at the proper 
 time, and reminded her that she had not yet given him any guarantee of their friendship. 
 
 “Promise me,” he said, “to do whatever I please.” 
 
 Viviane hesitated for a few moments; but had such confidence in the gifts made her 
 
 by her mother at the time of her birth, that she feared no danger. 
 
 ““T will promise, dear friend,” she at length replied; “but, on your part, you must 
 
 first promise to teach me all things which I desire to know.” 
 
 The mutual promises were exchanged; and then Viviane asked Merlin when he 
 
 would return. 
 “In ia year,* the replied, on’ the) Vigil of St John.” 
 
 Viviane thought that was a long time to wait, but the delay must be borne with 
 
 resignation. 
 
 Merlin had been summoned to attend the Court of Arthur to be present at the 
 celebration of the King’s marriage with Guinevere, for to his offices of bard and councillor 
 he added some of the functions of a priest, assisting the archbishop, Dubric, to perform 
 the nuptial ceremony. After the marriage, as the young Queen was being conducted 
 by her old gouvernante through the gardens to her apartments, several armed men 
 attempted to carry her off; but Merlin, who by his magical power was aware of their 
 intentions, was ready with some men-at-arms, made the traitors fly, and _ rescued 
 
 Guinevere. 
 
 On the Eve of St. John, as appointed, Merlin, again wearing the dress of a 
 
 travelling scholar, went to meet Viviane. She had awaited his coming with eagerness, 
 
VIVIEN. 87 
 
 and when she saw him approach, ran to him, took him by the hand, and led him into 
 the Garden of Joy, where a dainty repast was prepared on the green turf by the side 
 
 of the fountain. 
 
 To the eyes of Merlin, Viviane appeared even more beautiful than she was before. 
 She did not appear to be more than fifteen years old, her complexion was so fair and 
 fresh. He felt a love for her so ardent that it was almost a madness. Viviane saw 
 that he loved her, and saw too the strength of his passion, and then she besought him 
 to teach her the secrets as he had promised to do. She especially desired to know three 
 charms—by one of which water could be made to flow in a dry place; by another any 
 form could be assumed at will; and by the third she would be able to make another 
 person fall asleep at her pleasure. Merlin, guessing that she had some special reason for 
 
 desiring this last-named knowledge, asked her the motive of her wish. 
 
 Viviane blushed, for she knew that she was telling a falsehood when she said, “ To 
 make my father and mother sleep every time when I come to see you, for they would 
 
 kill me if they suspected I loved you.” 
 
 Merlin refused for some time; but one day she spoke to him with so sweet a voice, 
 
 that he could resist no longer, and taught her the charms. 
 
 During eight days the lovers passed most of their time in the Garden of Joy, and 
 then Merlin was compelled to rejoin King Arthur, and was able to announce to the King 
 the arrival at Salisbury ot fifty thousand knights from Britanny, and six captive kings, 
 who promised fidelity to Arthur. Britain was free; the pagan invaders having been 
 
 driven into the sea or perished by the sword. 
 
 Once more he visited Viviane—whom he loved with a sincere love—and remained 
 with her eight days, and related to her his history from his birth, at which she was 
 
 greatly amazed. 
 
 When he again came, the eglantines were in flower at the border of the forest, as 
 they were on the day when he first saw Viviane. Again he wore the scholar’s dress. 
 His aspect was youthful, his fair hair hung in ringlets on his shoulders, and he appeared 
 
 so handsome that Viviane felt more love for him than she had previously experienced. 
 
88 MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 She was sad at the idea of his again leaving her, and pondered how she might be able 
 to retain him, ever young and beautiful, near her. In vain she tried all the means of 
 fascination at her command—Merlin himself alone could aid her. She caressed him as she 
 
 had never caressed him before. 
 
 “Dearest,” she said, “there is still one thing which I do not know, and I wish to 
 
 learn it. I pray you, teach it to me.” 
 Merlin, although he saw what was in her mind, encouraged her to speak. 
 
 “Dearest, I wish to know how to imprison anybody without stone walls, wood, or 
 
 iron, and solely by enchantment.” 
 Merlin shook his head and sighed. ‘* Why do you sigh?” she asked. 
 
 “ Dear lady, I see what is in your thoughts; you wish to retain me; and I am 
 
 so weak, that, for good or evil, I must give you what you ask.” 
 In a childlike rapture of joy, Viviane threw herself upon his neck. 
 
 ‘““My dearest, is it not right that you should be.mine, when I am yours? Have 
 I not left my father and mother for you? Are you not all my thoughts, all my 
 wishes? Without you, can I have pleasure or happiness? All my hope is in you; I 
 desire no other good; and, dearly as we love each other, I have a might to ask you 
 
 to do what I wish, as you have to demand the same of me.” 
 Merlin, unable to resist, answered, saying, “ Ask what you will.” 
 
 “T wish,” she replied, “that this Garden of Joy shall never be destroyed, that we 
 shall always live in it without growing old, without quitting it, and without ceasing to 
 love and be happy. Do not grant this by your own power, but teach me how to work 
 
 the charm.” 
 
 He instructed her, as she desired, and she was so delighted that she redoubled her 
 
 tender caresses. 
 
VIVIEN. 8y 
 
 
 
 One day in spring-time as they were walking, hand in hand, under the fresh 
 leaves in Broceliande, they saw a large hawthorn bush, in full blossom. They seated 
 themselves in its shade on the green turf, and Merlin rested his head in Viviane’s lap. 
 She lovingly caressed him, and passed and repassed her fingers through his fair curls, 
 till at length he slept. Then she arose gently, and twined her scarf nine times around 
 the hawthorn bush, uttering nine charms which Merlin had taught her. Having done 
 this, she again sat down, and took his head upon her knees, thinking that what she 
 had done was only in idle play, and that there was no serious meaning in the enchant- 
 
 ments she had employed. 
 
 But when Merlin opened his eyes and looked around, the forest, the garden, the 
 hawthorn bush, all had disappeared, and he found himself in an enchanted castle, lying 
 
 on a bed of flowers, captive of love to Viviane. 
 
 “Ah! Viviane!” he exclaimed, “I shall think that you have worked to deceive 
 
 me if you ever leave me.” 
 
 “ Dearest,” she answered to her beloved captive, “can you ever believe that? Never 
 
 shall I be able to leave you.” 
 And, ends the legend, she kept her word. 
 
 There is a poetic and dramatic prettiness about this legend, which reminds us of 
 the old stories of the Troubadour poets, and in some degree of the fairy-tales told by the 
 Countess D’Aulnoy in the seventeenth century. The potent enchanter appearing in the 
 guise of a handsome young scholar, and winning the love of the gifted Viviane, the 
 daughter of a wandering knight and a forest fairy; the stately castle rising like an 
 exhalation from the green sward, the wondrously beautiful garden, and the ladies and 
 knights singing and dancing stately measures—all are like characters and scenes in a 
 romantic opera or ballet. There is nothing of the sternness of a time of struggle. The 
 story, indeed, is set in a framework of knightly adventure, and, away from Viviane, 
 Merlin is again the sage and the enthusiast; but with her all is youth and gaiety. He 
 displays his magical power, amused at the astonishment of the innocent maiden, and the 
 almost childish joy, modified by the dawning in her heart of more womanly emotions 
 with which she watches the dance and listens to the cadences of the song. Viviane, 
 
 M 
 
go MERLIN AND 
 
 
 
 remembering the promise made to her in infancy, that she should subdue to her will the 
 wisest man in the world, desires for that reason to know the secret of his magical power, 
 and desires also, from the love awakened in her bosom, to exercise it for the purpose of 
 
 keeping him always with her in the beautiful Garden of Joy. 
 
 Another version of the legend is given in Sir Thomas Malory’s “noble and joyous 
 book intituled ‘La Mort Darthur,’ notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and acts 
 of the said King Arthur and of his noble Knights of the Round Table, and their 
 mervailous conquests and adventures, the achieving of the holy Sancgreall, and in the 
 
 end the dolorous death and departing out of this world of them all.” 
 
 According to this legend, Sir Pellinore brought to the Court of Arthur one of the 
 “‘damsels of the lake,’ named Nimue, with whom Merlin, wise as he was, “fell in a 
 dotage,” and he would always be with her. She took advantage of his love, and learned 
 of him “all manner of thing that she desired.” Having made him swear that he would 
 not enchant her, she went with him over the sea “unto the land of Benwicke” 
 (geography exceedingly uncertain), and then they wandered into Cornwall, and by the 
 way Merlin showed her many wonders. In time she grew weary of him, and even 
 afraid, because she had heard he was the son of a fiend. At length her opportunity 
 came, Merlin pointed out a rock, in which was a great wonder, wrought by enchant- 
 ment, concealed under a stone. She persuaded the sage, made foolish by his love, to 
 creep under the stone, and tell her what he saw there. He complied; for, like the good 
 St. Kevin, of Ireland, famous in song, “he little knew what the wily sex can do.” No 
 sooner was he under the stone, than Nimue put in force one of the potent charms he 
 
 had taught her, and “he came never out, for all the craft that he could doe. And so she 
 departed, and left Merlin.” 
 
 Tennyson apparently found in the legend the suggestion of a story of more profound 
 interest, an allegory, in fact, illustrating the contest between a higher and a lower nature, 
 and the essential weakness of merely intellectual power, which he had previously exhibited 
 in his noble poems, “The Two Voices,” and the “ Palace of Art.’ The characters are 
 Merlin, the greatest intellectual power of his time, and Vivien, a subtle, clever, daring, 
 unscrupulous, and beautiful woman, who knowing the darkness of her own moral nature, 
 endeavours with an almost Satanic love of ill-doing to weaken or destroy noble souls. 
 
 She was attached in some indefinite way to the Court of Arthur, and her name was a byword 
 
VIVIEN. gI 
 
 with the knights, from her lightness of behaviour and audacity. She loved to besmirch 
 the fairest reputation by a scandalous hint; had no veneration for the noble, pure manhood 
 of Arthur himself ; watched with the sympathy of an inherently base nature the dark 
 spot in the heart of Guinevere, the stain on the resplendent shield of Lancelot. The poet 
 tells us that she had even attempted to ensnare the great King, when he was sad at heart 
 from rumours touching the Queen; and affecting respectful sympathy, gave “ dark sweet 
 hints of some who prized him more than those who should prize him most.” Arthur, not 
 fully, perhaps, divining her meaning, so simple-minded and lofty was his own nature, 
 “gazed upon her blandly,’ and went his way. The scene was witnessed by one of the 
 knights or squires, and very soon the audacious venture of Vivien was the current jest 
 of the Court. No doubt she encountered the subdued raillery and sly allusion—for who 
 would dare to speak openly on such a theme in the Court of Arthur ?—with characteristic 
 courage, and with keen replies. Like the beauties of the Stuart times, whose saucy 
 lineaments Kneller and. Lely painted, she was not easily daunted, and still less easily 
 shamed. A consummate actress, she loved to assume the character of a wilful, petulant, 
 playful innocent, readily moved either to tears or laughter. ‘Those more experienced’ about 
 the Court saw through her artifices, but could not help admiring her wit and audacity. They 
 laughed with her and at her, and liked her none the less for her duplicity and dexterity. 
 She could at will assume the tone and aspect of “ the tenderest-hearted maid that ever 
 
 b] 
 
 bided tryst at village style;” sing with touching plaintiveness songs of love, telling of the 
 “little rift within the lute,’ while “so sweetly gleamed her eyes behind her tears, like 
 sunlight on the plain behind a shower.” She could be mirthful, with apparently spontaneous 
 abandonment to childish merriment, till the gravest of the knights, and those, too, who 
 knew best how false she was, smiled a sympathy and approval. Her active brain was 
 never idle, her keen eyes never at default, her ambition never at rest. It those about her 
 half despised her while they sported with her, she altogether despised them for their duller 
 brains. ‘They might like her, or loathe her—she cared not which. In subtlety she was their 
 
 mistress, and they were her docile instruments if she wanted their aid. 
 
 There were two who towered above the rest—Arthur the King, and Merlin the sage, 
 to subdue whom would be glory indeed. Against the noble integrity of the spotless 
 King her shafts were powerless; but there remained Merlin, vigorous in intellect, endowed 
 with superhuman knowledge, accomplished in all arts, the wisest counsellor of the greatest 
 King, a seer and prophet, but yet a man, with all his wisdom, inferior in moral stature to 
 
 Arthur. Dark visions passed before him in his times of ecstacy ; terrible depression 
 

 
 Mibien and Werlin disembark. 
 
 “And touching Breton sands, they disembark’d.” 
 
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VIVIEN. 93 
 
 
 
 
 
 succeeded great intellectual effort; and then came over his spirit fits of morbid melancholy 
 which drove him to hide in solitary places, and almost hate his kind. He shared nothing 
 of. the majestic calmness of Arthur’s soul, so pure and so strong, so tender, loving, and 
 true. His was an energetic and practical nature; and when not under the influence of 
 the enthusiasm or sadness which came upon him so suddenly and strangely, he regarded 
 with an almost contemptuous feeling of superiority the uncultured warlike natures around 
 him, the strong men mighty in battle, gross in appetites, rude and untrained in intellect. 
 Tristram or Geraint, Kaye or Percivale, what were they to the sage wise in all the 
 knowledge of the Druids, who could read the stars, mould stubborn elements to his will, 
 
 build cities, and subdue even the waves of ocean? 
 
 The passage of years whitened the beard of Merlin, but sat lightly on his heart. 
 There was a sympathy between the intellect of the old man and that of the youthful 
 Vivien, which made him appreciate the quick wit with which she repelled the awkward 
 banter of the uncultured squires and pages. He watched with something of admiration 
 the lissome gracefulness of her form, the varied expression of her face, her readiness for 
 merry mischief, her quick transitions from smiles to tears. He would “ watch her at her 
 
 petulance and play, and laugh as those who watch a kitten.” 
 
 Vivien soon perceived that she interested him, and then changed her tactics. She 
 had gained his attention by her frolics, now she assumed a graver air, would blush—she 
 had the art of blushing when she chose—sighed in his hearing, and allowed him to see, 
 as if by unawares, that she was gazing on him with an expression of reverent admiration. 
 Merlin was a great man, a shrewd experienced man, and besides had magical knowledge. 
 The boldest knight in Arthur’s Court would far sooner have encountered a legion of armed 
 Saxons than have had to defend himself against an accusation, however unjust, supported by 
 the masterly eloquence, the shrewd perceptions, the indomitable will, of the powerful Merlin. 
 But the slight maiden, with the subtle eyes, the soft speech, the changeful face, the quick 
 transitions from laughter to weeping, and the consummate art which aided her falsehood and 
 hypocrisy, dared to encounter the wise man—and the wise man was her captive. At first he 
 smiled at and disdained her wiles; then by little and little her adroit flattery made an im- 
 pression on his mind. He had lived alone and unloved, if venerated and feared; now he 
 
 was old, and his heart was stirred with some of the soft, if transient, emotions of youth. 
 
 “Then fell upon him a great melancholy,” the old wrestling with gloomy shadows, 
 

 
 
 
 Vibier and Werliw enter the Woods, 
 
 “ And then she follow’d Merlin all the way, is 
 
 Ev’n to the wild woods of Broceliand.” 
 
 TENNYSON’S “VIVIEN” | 
 

 

 
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VIVIEN. 95 
 
 
 
 
 
 the old despair and morbid dislike of the world. He left the Court and wandered to the 
 sea-shore, followed, though he knew it not, by Vivien, who with relentless purpose 
 determined that he should not escape from the influence of her wiles. On the beach was 
 a little boat, into which Merlin moodily stept. Vivien followed; but, wrapped in his 
 own thoughts, he did not appear to be conscious that she was there. She took the helm, 
 a breeze sprang up, and the little bark bore the silent, meditative man and the keen- 
 eyed girl to the shores of Brittany, where so many of the Britons had found refuge from 
 the Romans and Saxons, and where Arthur was acknowledged King. When the keel 
 ground upon the sands, Merlin stepped out and silently passed on, followed by Vivien. 
 Over the yellow sands, broken rocks, and precipitous cliffs the two went: Merlin moody 
 and dejected, Vivien watchful, active, undismayed by fatigue or danger. When they 
 reached a spring, Vivien caught the water in her hands, making of them a cup, from 
 
 which Merlin drank, but otherwise unnoticed her presence. 
 
 One hope supported her, one idea had full possession of her mind, and to realize 
 that she would have encountered far greater perils. In other days, when Merlin would 
 sometimes relax from his dignity, and amuse himself with familiar and even playful 
 converse, he had excited her wonder by the description of the marvels to be wrought by 
 magic arts. One potent charm he had mentioned, half in jest and half in earnest, by 
 which the magician could make a man lose consciousness and power of motion, seeing only 
 the movement to and fro of the worker of the charm, and be made to “lie as dead, and 
 lost to life, and use, and name, and fame,” and as effectually shut out from all com- 
 munication with the world, and beyond the reach of any search by others, as if he were 
 immured in the strongest dungeon in the most remote region. ‘This terrible condition, 
 Merlin had told Vivien, could be produced by using certain gestures and making certain 
 
 paces before the victim; but what the gestures and paces were she was not told. 
 
 This was the secret Vivien was resolved to know; and her intention was carried out with 
 unrelenting tenacity of purpose and indomitable energy. One object, and one object alone, 
 she pursued—the destruction of her instructor by his own charm. It was not that he 
 had injured her, or that she hated him above all other men; but that he was the wisest 
 among men, and like the incendiary of old, who burnt the glorious temple from no 
 other motive but that his name should be remembered by posterity, her ambition aimed 
 at the immolation of the greatest; fancying, says the poet, “that her glory would be 
 
 greatest according to his greatness whom she quenched.” 
 

 
 
 
 
 Vibien and Merlin repose. 
 
 “At Merlin’s feet the wily Vivien lay.” 
 
 TENNYSON’S “VIVIEN.” 
 
VIVIEN. 97 
 
 The sea and cliff were left far behind, and the dark woods of Broceliande reached. 
 Wearied in body and mind, Merlin rested beneath the shade of a tall oak. Vivien threw 
 herself at his feet, kissing them with a well-affected fervour of reverential love, passionately 
 exclaiming that she could worship Merlin even if he trampled on her. There was a 
 dark foreshadowing of evil in the enchanter’s mind. He could not but look with an 
 admiration which had some tinge of love on the beautiful girl lying at his feet. The 
 flow of her long hair was partially retained by a chain of gold; a light robe of silken 
 tissue clung around her graceful limbs, as she looked up to the old man’s face with an 
 expression of childlike dependence and love. In a low and sweet voice, trembling with 
 well affected emotion, she asked him if he loved her. He was silent, but his very silence 
 gave encouragement. With a slow and graceful movement, almost feline in its sinuous 
 motion, she raised herself from the ground, and slid up to his knee, put her arm round 
 his neck, and, as the poet expresses it, “clung like a snake.” ‘“* Those who love 
 most, say least,” said Merlin. “Must, then,” she replied, “‘ Love, who is blind, be dumb 
 also? You who are wise, say so, and therefore I must think silence is wisdom.” Then 
 changing her mood, and with a playful manner like that which first attracted Merlin in 
 Arthur’s Court at Camelot, she exclaimed, “I will clothe myself with wisdom,” and 
 drawing his venerable beard about her, said laughingly that she was like a poor little 
 gilded fly in the web of an old spider. Rather, says Tennyson, by way of comment 
 
 on this simile, she seemed “a lovely, baleful star veiled in gray vapour.” 
 
 Already the moody melancholy which had driven Merlin from the haunts of men— 
 that mysterious gloominess of spirit to which through life he had been occasionally subject 
 —was disappearing before the pretty, playful artfulness of Vivien. He even thanked her 
 for the effect she had produced, and smiling—though still with an expression of sadness 
 
 —asked what boon she meant to ask in return for her “ pretty tricks and fooleries.” 
 
 With a saucy smile Vivien congratulated him on having found his tongue; and 
 then, with a more serious air, asked him how she had offended him, for offended he must 
 
 have been to be—wisely, perhaps, but unkindly—silent so long. 
 
 The wise man’s heart had already softened towards the wilful beauty who clung 
 to him so tenderly. The dark spell was broken by the music of her voice and the 
 moistened fulness of her eyes. There had been the old struggle between Wisdom and 
 
 Beauty ; and Beauty was once more nearly the victrix, with heroic, vaunting, self-confident 
 N 
 

 
 
 
 
 Che Rnights’ Carouse. 
 
 “It was the time when first the question rose . be 
 
 About the founding of a Table Round.” 
 
 TENNYSON’S * VIVIEN.” vy 
 
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VIVIEN. 99 
 
 Wisdom in chains of flowers at her feet. Merlin pressed her little white hand, and as it 
 lay on his large and wrinkled palm, told her that for three days before he fled from the 
 Court he had experienced the presage of a great wave of trouble about to overwhelm him; 
 and when he saw that she followed his steps, sat with him unasked in the boat, accom- 
 panied him like his shadow over sands and rock, gave him water to drink, bathed his feet 
 when he rested, yet spake no word, the conviction grew upon him that she was the 
 destructive wave which would “sweep him from his hold upon the world.” Now the 
 dark presage had passed away; her gambols and dainty prettiness had brightened all again ; 
 he owed her compensation for his thanklessness and unjust suspicions, and would grant 
 her the boon she asked. 
 
 There was a tone of reproach in her reply. Not only, she said, when the dark fit 
 was on him, but habitually, he was mistrustful, and she could not believe he loved her 
 unless he had confidence in her. Whenever she had asked him to teach her the mystic 
 movements of the hands and the measured paces by which such, a potent influence as 
 that he had described could be produced, he had exhibited the unkind distrustfulness of 
 which she spoke. Once more she asked him to teach her the charm, as a proof of his 
 love, and to show that he was really as great as he was deemed to be, and being so 
 great, superior to mean suspicions. If he could suppose that, in desiring to possess the 
 knowledge, she hoped to gain an unfair advantage and use the charm upon him unawares, 
 they had better part for ever, for there could be no true love between them then. 
 Whether he trusted her or not, she solemnly vowed in the face of Heaven that she 
 spoke the truth, and if she were such a traitress as perchance he supposed, might the 
 
 earth open and she be swiftly hurried down to perdition. 
 
 For once Vivien had nearly overacted her part. With the return of clearer reason 
 to Merlin, came back a measure of the matured shrewdness of his intellect. However 
 wise he might be deemed, he told her, he now knew he had been guilty of folly when 
 he had told her of such a charm; that he had already trusted her too much, and had 
 excited her womanly curiosity, which, he could see, would hesitate at little until it was 
 gratified. He was not deceived, he said, by her assumption of childish simplicity, and 
 when she compared herself to a gilded fly, he thought of a gnat, which, although often 
 beaten back, settles again and again, until from utter weariness no farther efforts to drive 
 it away are made. He would not yield to her, and grant her what she asked; why 
 
 would she not ask some other boon? 
 
The Anights’ Progress. 
 
 “ And all day long we rode 
 
 Thro’ the dim land, against a rushing wind.” 
 
 TENNYSON’S “VIVIEN.” 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
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VIVIEN. IOI 
 
 
 
 While he spoke Vivien’s face assumed an expression of exquisite sadness and tender- 
 ness. She asked his forgiveness, begged that he would caress her, had no heart to ask 
 any other boon, and sang with pathetic earnestness a dainty little lyric she had once 
 
 heard Sir Lancelot sing, the refrain of which was “Trust me not at all, or all in all.” 
 
 Merlin was deeply touched. Notwithstanding his brave words, uttered only a few 
 moments previously, his belief in her duplicity was weakened. The fair face, the tender 
 air, the voice so low, sweet, and pathetic, made it impossible for him to maintain the tone 
 of severity he had assumed. So potently did her sweet song affect him, that he felt as 
 if she had indeed discovered the charm and was proving it on him, his will being 
 captive to the rhythm. With a great effort he rallied his powers, and endeavoured to 
 divert the attention of Vivien, by telling her that he heard a song of a far other kind, 
 many years ago, at the very place where they were then sitting. It was when he was 
 in the prime of his manhood, and he and ten or twelve others had entered the woods 
 of Broceliande, to chase a hart with golden horns. As they rested in the wood, they 
 fell to talk of the project to establish a Round Table of Knights, who for their devotion 
 and noble deeds should be the flower of all the world. A young knight, excited by the 
 ardent talk, burst out with a song, so brave and warlike in tone, so full of “fire for 
 fame,” that all their blood was stirred to combat, and they would have even fought 
 among themselves, as in a tourney, for very valour’s sake, but at that moment, the 
 golden-horned hart, startled by the noise, dashed from its covert, and, thoughts of 
 combat having at once vanished in the excitement of the chase, away sped the knights, 
 chanting the roundel of the song. For a full day they rode, but the hart could not 
 
 be overtaken, and at the fairy well was lost to view. 
 
 Vivien listened sadly, then sang another verse of her song, adding, “ Man dreams of 
 fame, while woman wakes to love.” What! she asked, not without a tone of scorn, is 
 not fame in life often allied with imputations of infamy? Your yourself, she said, who 
 seem to be the master ot all arts, are charged by envy with being the master of all vices, 
 
 and the Devil’s son. 
 
 Merlin could well afford to smile at this. He had long since learned to despise the 
 petty attacks made on him by the jealousy of lesser men. True fame, he said, was only 
 valuable as giving ampler means to serve mankind; and he told Vivien that he once 
 
 met with a youthful squire who had carved himself a shield of wood, and was adorning 
 
Merlin Paints the Poung Anight’s Shield. 
 
 “And speaking not, but leaning over him, 
 
 I took his brush and blotted: out the bird.” 
 
 ert: i ¥ 7 
 TENNYSON'S “VIVIEN.” 
 
 
 

 
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 it with what he thought was a right noble and knightly device, an eagle rising towards the 
 sun, with the motto, “I follow fame.” Merlin took the brush from his hand, painted 
 out the bird, and in its place depicted a gardener grafting a tree, and beneath the 
 words, “ Rather use than fame.” The youth blushed, said Merlin, but in due time he 
 
 became a stalwart knight. 
 
 Applying this little story to the subject of Vivien’s request, he said he dreaded 
 the loss of use more than the loss of fame; and if he gave her power to work the 
 charm, she might, having the power, be tempted to use it, and act falsely towards him, 
 not so much from mere wickedness, as from a sudden outburst of anger, or jealous desire 
 
 to keep him to herself, and so he would lose his power of usefulness to his fellows. 
 
 ' Merlin must have known that he had rightly estimated her wilfulness and want of 
 control, when she answered petulantly, “ You will not trust me, although I have sworn? 
 Keep your secret, if you can. JI shall find it out, and then beware of what Vivien 
 may do. You speak of woman’s jealousy! I well believe it was your own jealousy 
 made you invent the charm, and that by its force you keep many beautiful captives 
 imprisoned in towers from which there is no escape, and where none can see them but 
 
 yourself.” 
 
 Merlin was amused at this little display of petulance. ‘“ When I was young,” he 
 said merrily, “I needed no charm but youth and love to gain the love of others... As 
 for the mystic charm you desire to know, it is not of my invention. Those who first 
 
 wrought it died long since; and in return for your pretty song, I will tell you— 
 “THE LEGEND OF THE CHARM. 
 
 “In the far East, there lived a King, and one morning he saw that a pirate had 
 cast anchor in the port of his chief city. This rover of the seas, in one of his wild 
 marauding excursions, had seen a battle between the boats of two great cities, ‘all 
 fighting for a woman on the sea. The pirate dashed among them, scattered them, 
 though not without considerable loss of his own men, and carried off the prize for 
 which they were contending. She was a wonderfully beautiful maiden, and the legend 
 says that ‘a light came from her when she moved” The King went on board the 
 
 pirate’s barque, saw his charming prize, and demanded that she should be given up to 
 

 
 The Sea Fight. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “And pushing his black craft among them all, 4 
 He lightly scatter’d theirs, and brought her off, 
 
 With loss of half his people arrow-slain.” 
 
 
 
 TENNYSON'S “VIVIEN.” 
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VIVIEN. 105 
 
 
 
 
 
 him. Her captor refusing, he was seized by the King’s men and suffered a cruel death. 
 The lovely maiden was made Queen, and then it was discovered that she exercised a 
 strange and baleful influence. The youths about the Court fell sick with love and died, 
 when her lustrous eyes looked on them. Old councillors and stern veterans of war 
 fell victims to the same unearthly malady of love; the very beasts, elephants and camels, 
 bowed their knees before her as she passed. Moved to extreme jealousy by this strange 
 admiration, the King sent messengers to all parts of his kingdom, offering the most 
 splendid rewards, gold mines, rich provinces, palaces, and beautiful princesses, to any 
 magician who could furnish a charm which would enable the King to ‘keep her all his 
 own. Many presented themselves; but none could give the charm, and the King 
 sentenced them to suffer cruel deaths, as a warning to other pretenders. At length a 
 wizard was found—a little withered man, living in solitude—who had gained an insight 
 into the spirit world, and learned many great secrets. The messengers took him by 
 force to the King, and he taught him the charm by which his Queen would henceforth 
 be hidden from the sight of all save the King himself. The old magician refused 
 reward, went back to his cave in the wilderness, and in time died. His book, with 
 
 all its wonderful secrets, is now mine.” 
 
 Vivien had listened to the legend with a smiling expression of partial unbelief: 
 “Can you think,” she asked, “that the beautiful Queen was unwillingly the cause of so 
 much mischief? She delighted, no doubt, in the number of those who died for love of 
 her. Was there no damsel, angered by the loss of love, with courage enough to put 
 poison into the drink of the coquetting Queen, or kill her with the deadly perfume of a 
 rose? You say you have the book ; if so, it will be well for you to tell me the charm 
 freely, for, hide it as you will, locked in chest within chest, and buried beneath a moun- 
 
 tain, I will find it and read it, and then who could blame me if I tried the charm ?” 
 
 Merlin was still more amused at this. ‘“ You read it?’ he replied jestingly. It is 
 written in a language long since forgotten ; the characters are small as limbs of little 
 insects, and every character itself is an awful charm. I myself cannot read the text, but 
 only the comments scribbled over the page. Ask no more; for, though you might 
 keep faith, and forbear to try the charm on me, you might in anger use it on some of 
 
 Arthur’s knights, who offended by their light talk of you?” 
 
 “What dare they say of me!” burst out Vivien, angrily. “Zhey! I know them: 
 O 
 
ipa 
 
 
 
 The Cave Scene, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “ At last they found —his foragers for charms— 
 
 A little glassy-headed hairless man.” 
 
 TENNYSON’S “VIVIEN.” 
 
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VIVIEN. 107 
 
 gluttons and impure, professing to be knights bound by holy vows and ready to redress 
 wrongs. They!” Then, her temper being aroused, she gave utterance to many scandalous 
 tales reflecting on the purity and good faith of several of the noblest knights; especially 
 dwelling on the rumours rife about Lancelot and Queen Guinevere, and sneering at 
 Arthur himself as a coward and fool, who knew how he was deceived, and was too 
 
 poor-spirited to resent it. 
 
 In vain Merlin essayed to silence the torrent of her talk; in vain he urged that 
 the tales she told were scandalous and unfounded rumours, or perversions of facts to 
 which no blame attached; and at length he, too, grew angry. “Tell ber the charm!” 
 he muttered. “She is a spiteful wanton; and I believe that, having herself tempted 
 the good knights and failed, she revenges herself by inventing and repeating these 
 slanders. Harlots can feign in talk as well as paint their faces. Those who flatter and 
 those who slander are oftentimes the same; and those most ready to impute sin are most 
 prone to it themselves. They would, bring down high and good natures to their own 
 level; and like the base crowd, if some blemish is detected in a name of note, do 
 not grieve that the greatest are so small, but shout in insane delight, seeing only the 
 feet of clay, not the godlike head crowned with light and touching other worlds. I am 
 
 weary of her.” 
 
 Vivien heard some of the words he spoke to himself. In a passion of anger she 
 sprang from his knee to her feet, and her hand wandered to her girdle, as if seeking 
 for a dagger with which she might strike him dead. Then her fierce spirit gave way, 
 and she wept passionately and long. She reproached him for his cruel thoughts, and 
 wished she had loved a lesser man, in whom she would have found a greater heart. 
 ‘Her passion for him had made all others seem poor and base, and she had been led to 
 believe them worse than they were, and even take pleasure in believing evil things 
 about them, because Merlin appeared by contrast so much the brighter, and she loved 
 to seat him “sole upon her pedestal of worship.” Her heart was now broken, her 
 life was a ruin, and nothing was left for her but to find a hiding-place, where she 
 
 could weep till welcome death should come. 
 
 The circle of gold around her head slipped off, and she stood weeping, with her 
 long hair falling over her face. A storm was gathering in the sky, and the large rain- 
 
 drops fell on her throbbing bosom. Merlin’s anger passed away as he looked on her, so 
 
“For Merlin, overtalk’d and overworn, — 
 
 AMbiew Encloses Merlin wr the Cree. 
 
 
 
 Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept.” 
 
 TENNYSON'S “VIVIEN.” 
 
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VIVIEN. 109 
 
 beautiful and so stricken with sorrow as she appeared to him. He spoke to her kindly, 
 bade her take shelter from the tempest in the hollow oak. At first she answered nothing ; 
 then he spoke still more tenderly and caressingly, and she let him lead her to the tree, 
 again crouching on his knee and nestling near his heart. He passed his arm around her, 
 and then, as if arousing to a sense of virtuous womanhood, she drew away, and stood 
 
 before him flushed as if with indignation. 
 
 “There must be no more passages of love between us,” she exclaimed. “If I am 
 what you named me, I am unworthy of your love, and you would be shamed to ask 
 mine. I will leave you. Better would it have been that I had died then than asked 
 the boon I did. If, even now, you granted it, I might stay; but thinking of me as 
 you do, it is just that you should refuse it. Once the desire to share your wisdom and 
 your love was perhaps a fancy of my youth. Now I feel it is the great necessity of 
 my life. Farewell! Think kindly of me. My fate, perhaps my fault, in giving my 
 heart to one so old, and I so young, is to love you for evermore. But ere I leave you 
 for ever, hear this, if I have thought of harming you by what I asked, may Heaven 
 strike me with the lightning’s flash !” 
 
 Almost as she spoke, a mighty oak was riven by the lightning, and splinters of 
 the wood fell near her. Vivien thought Heaven had indeed heard her; and dazzled 
 by the bright light, and almost deafened by the thunder’s peal, crouched in fear, and 
 then fled towards Merlin, and clung to him, calling on him to save her. Her momentary 
 terror passed away, but, with her old artfulness, still she feigned it. She trembled as if 
 with fear, and with faltering voice blamed herself for repeating hearsay tales of scandal, 
 and for her outburst of anger. Merlin was all to her; her star, her lord, the one passionate 
 love of her life. He pitied her; and pity again awakened a partial love, and he forgave 
 
 her all. ‘The storm passed away, and there was peace in the evening sky. 
 
 Then came the end. Merlin was wearied with the long mental struggle he had 
 endured. Vivien crept closer to him, the fading light making her seem the more beautiful 
 than before. She whispered lovingly, caressed him, and—he told her all the charm, 
 
 then sank back in sleep. 
 
 The power was hers. Slowly she waved her hands as she had been taught; slowly 
 
 she made the mystic paces, and then Merlin lay, imprisoned in the hollow oak, dead 
 
ary MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 
 
 
 
 to the world; no more the sage, the magician, the bard, but “lost to life, and use, 
 
 and name, and fame.” 
 
 Vivien almost shrieked with the joy of triumph. “I have made his glory mine! 
 _O fool! O fool!” -She leapt from the thicket into the open glade of the forest, the 
 bushes closing behind her, shutting out for ever from the world the mighty Merlin. 
 
 It is an old, very old story, the weakness of Wisdom—the story of the dimmed 
 glory of Solomon, of Samson and Dalilah, of Cxsar and Cleopatra, and of many others © 
 since the world began. How exquisitely Tennyson has related it, the world knows; 
 
 how Gustave Doré has illustrated it, we can see in the pages before us. 
 
 Another old Breton romance of Merlin, quoted by Southey, says that the King 
 missed Merlin, and sent several knights to seek him. Among them was Gawaine, who 
 having neglected to salute a witch in the form of a young damsel, whom he encountered 
 on the way, was changed into an ugly dwarf. He wandered into the forest of 
 Broceliande, where he heard, a groan, but looking in the direction whence the sound came, 
 could only see a smoke or mist, through which he could not pass. Then he heard the 
 voice of Merlin, who told him that man should never see him more, and he would 
 never speak again except to Vivien, who sometimes came to him. He comforted 
 Gawaine by telling him that he would be disenchanted and restored to his original 
 
 form, and that act was the last known exercise of Merlin’s power. 
 
 The forest of Broceliande, near the town of Ploermel, in Brittany, is still thought 
 by the simple country folk to be peopled with fairies, who are kind to children, and 
 are sometimes seen in white apparel on the borders of the forest. In the middle ages 
 the adjoining plain of Condorcet was known as the Val-des-Fées. In it, tradition avers, 
 
 is the tomb of Merlin. 
 

 
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