Four Arthurian Romances
took her place at a window, where she sat with great delight, because
from there she could get a view of him whom she holds secretly in her
heart with no desire to remove him thence; for she will never love any
other man. But she does not know his name, nor who he is, nor of what
race; for it is not proper to ask questions; but she yearns to hear
tidings which will bring joy to her heart. She looks out of the window
at the shields with their gleaming gold, and she gazes at those who wear
the shields about their necks, as they prepare for the trial at arms.
But all her thoughts and glances soon rest upon one object, and to all
others she is indifferent. Whereever Cligés goes, she seeks to follow
him with her eyes. And he in turn does his best for her, and battles
openly, in order that she at least may hear it said that he is bold and
very skilled: thus she will be compelled to prize him for his prowess.
He attacks the duke's nephew, who was breaking many a lance and sorely
discomfiting the Greeks. But Cligés, who is displeased at this, braces
himself firmly in his stirrups, and goes to strike him so speedily that
in spite of himself he had to vacate the saddle-bows. When he got up,
the uproar was great; for the youth arose and mounted, thinking to
avenge his shame. But many a man only falls into deeper disgrace who
thinks to avenge his shame when he has the chance. The young man rushes
at Cligés, who lowers his lance to meet him, and thrusts at him with
such force that he carries him to earth again. Now his shame is doubled,
and all his followers are in dismay, seeing that they can never leave
the field with honour; for not one of them is so valiant that he can
keep his seat in the saddle when Cligés thrust reaches him. But those of
Germany and the Greeks are overjoyed when they see their party drive off
the Saxons, who retreat discomfited. With mockery they pursue them until
they come up with them at a stream, into which they drive them for
a plunge. In the deepest part of the ford Cligés unhorsed the duke's
nephew and so many of his men that they escaped grieving and sad in
their shame and confusion. But Cligés, twice victor, returned in glee,
and entered a gate which was near the apartment where the maiden was;
and as he passed through the gate she exacted as toll a tender glance,
which he paid her as their eyes met. Thus was the maiden subdued by the
man. But there is not a German of the lowland or highland, possessing
the power of speech who does not cry: "God! who is this in whom such
beauty is radiant? God! how has it happened that so suddenly he has
attained such great success?" Thus one man and another asks: "Who is
this youth, who is he, I say?" Thus, soon throughout the city it is
known what his name is, and who is his father, and what pledge that was
which had been made to him by the emperor. So much was said and noised
about that the news reached the ears of her who in her heart rejoiced
because she could no more say that Love had made sport of her, nor had
she any ground for complaint. For Love has made her give her heart to
the fairest, most courteous, and valiant man that could anywhere be
found. But some force must be employed, if she would gain possession of
him who is not free do her will. This makes her anxious and distraught.
For she has no one with whom to take counsel concerning him for whom
she pines, but must waste herself in thought and vigils. She becomes so
affected by these cares that she loses her colour and grows wan, and
it becomes plain to all that her loss of colour betokens an unfulfilled
desire. She plays less now than she used to do, and laughs less and
loses her gaiety. But she conceals her trouble and passes it off, if any
one asks what her ailment is. Her old nurse's name was Thessala, [229]
who was skilled in necromancy, having been born in Thessaly, where
devilish charms are taught and wrought; for the women of that country
perform many a charm and mystic rite.
(Vv. 3011-3062.) Thessala saw pale and wan her whom Love holds in his
bonds, and thus she addressed her with advice: "God!" she said, "are you
bewitched, my lady dear, that your face should be so pale? I wonder what
your trouble is. Tell me, if you can, where this pain attacks you most,
for if any one can cure you, you may safely trust me to give you back
your health again. I can cure the dropsy, gout, quinsy, and asthma; I am
so expert in examining the urine and the pulse that you need consult no
other physician. And I dare say that I know more than ever Medea [230]
knew of enchantments and of charms which tests have proven to be true.
I have never spoken to you of this, though I have cared for you all your
life; and now I should not mention it did I not plainly see that you are
so afflicted as to need my ministrations. My lady, you will do well to
tell me what your sickness is before its hold becomes more severe. The
emperor has committed you to me in order that I may care for you, and my
devotion has been such that I have kept you safe and sound. Now all my
pains will come to naught if I do not relieve this malady. Take care
not to conceal from me whether this is sickness or something else." The
damsel dares not openly expose her desire in all its fullness for she
is in fear lest she be disapproved and blamed. And when she hears and
understands how Thessala boasts and highly rates herself as being expert
in enchantments, charms, and potions, she decides to tell her what
is the cause of her pale and colourless face; but first she makes her
promise to keep her secret and never to oppose her will.
(Vv. 3063-3216.) "Nurse," she said, "I truly thought I felt no pain, but
I shall soon feel differently. For as soon as I begin to think about it,
I feel great pain, and am dismayed. But when one has no experience,
how can one tell what is sickness and what is health? My illness is
different from all others; for when I wish to speak of it, it causes me
both joy and pain, so happy I am in my distress. And if it can be that
sickness brings delight, then my trouble and joy are one, and in my
illness consists my health. So I do not know why I complain, for I know
not whence my trouble comes, unless it is caused by my desire. Perchance
my desire is my disease, but I find so much joy in it that the suffering
it causes me is grateful, and there is so much contentment in my pain
that it is sweet to suffer so. Nurse Thessala, now tell me true, is not
this a deceitful ill, to charm and torment me both at once? I do not see
how I can tell whether this is a disease or not. Nurse, tell me now its
name, nature, and character. But understand well that I have no desire
to be cured of it, for my distress is very dear to me." Thessala, who
was very wise about love and its symptoms knows full well from what she
hears that it is love which is tormenting her; the tender, endearing
terms she uses are certain proof that she is in love, for all other
woes are hard to bear, except that alone which comes from love; but love
transforms its bitterness into sweetness and joy, then often transforms
them back again. The nurse, who was expert in this matter, thus replies
to her: "Have no fear, for I will tell you at once the name of your
malady. You told me, I believe, that the pain which you feel seems
rather to be joy and health: now of such a nature is love-sickness,
for in it, too, there is joy and bliss. You are in love, then, as I can
prove to you, for I find no pleasure in any malady save only in love.
All other sickness is always bad and horrible, but love is sweet and
peaceable. You are in love; of that I am sure, nor do I see any wrong in
that. But I shall consider it very wrong, if through some childish
folly you conceal from me your heart." "Nurse, there is no need of
your speaking so. But first I must be sure and certain that under no
circumstances will you speak of it to any living soul." "My lady, surely
the winds will speak of it before I do without your leave, and I will
give you my word so to favour your desires that you may safely trust in
having your joy fulfilled through my services." "In that case, Nurse,
I shall be cured. But the emperor is giving me in marriage, wherefore
I grieve and am sorrowful; for he who has won my heart is the nephew of
him whom I must take. And though he may find joy in me, yet is my joy
forever lost, and no respite is possible. I would rather be torn limb
from limb than that men should speak of us as they speak of the loves of
Iseut and Tristan, of so many unseemly stories are told that I should
be ashamed to mention them. I could never bring myself to lead the
life that Iseut led. Such love as hers was far too base; for her body
belonged to two, whereas her heart was possessed by one. Thus all her
life was spent, refusing her favours to neither one. But mine is fixed
on one object, and under no circumstances will there be any sharing
of my body and heart. Never will my body be portioned out between two
shareholders. Who has the heart has the body, too, and may bid all
others stand aside. But I cannot clearly see how he whom I love can have
my body when my father gives me to another, and his will I do not dare
resist. And when this other is lord of my body, and does something which
displeases me, it is not right for me to summon another to my aid.
Nor can this man marry a wife without breaking his plighted word; for,
unless injustice be done, Cligés is to have the empire after his uncle's
death. But I should be well served by you, if you were so skilful as
to present him, to whom I am pledged and engaged, from having any claim
upon me. O Nurse, exert yourself to the end that he may not break the
pledge which he gave to the father of Cligés, when he promised him
solemnly never to take a wife in marriage. For now, if he should marry
me his promise would be broken. But Cligés is so dear to me that I would
rather be under ground than that he should ever lose through me a penny
of the fortune which should be his. May never a child be born to me to
cause his disinheritance! Nurse, now do your best, and I will always be
your slave." Then the nurse tells her and assures her that she will cast
so many charms, and prepare so many potions and enchantments that she
need never have any worry or fear concerning the emperor after he shall
have drunk of the potion which she will give him; even when they shall
lie together and she be at his side, she may be as secure as if there
were a wall between them. "But do not be alarmed, if, in his sleep, he
sports with you, for when he is plunged in sleep he will have his sport
with you, and he will be convinced that he has had you when wide awake,
nor will he think it is all a dream, a fiction, and illusion. Thus he
will have his sport with you when asleep, he will think he is awake."
(Vv. 3217-3250.) The maiden is highly pleased and delighted by the
nurse's kindness and offer of help. Her nurse inspires good hope in her
by the promise which she makes, and which she binds herself to keep;
with this hope she expects to obtain her desire, in spite of wearisome
delay, for if Cligés' nature is as noble as she takes it to be he cannot
fail to take pity upon her when he learns that she loves him, and
that she has imposed virginity upon herself in order to insure his
inheritance. So the maiden believes her nurse, and puts full confidence
in her. One promises to the other, and gives her word, that this plot
shall be kept so secret as never to be revealed. At this point their
conversation ceases, and the next morning the emperor summons his
daughter. At his command she goes to him. But why should I weary you
with details? The two emperors have so settled the matter that the
marriage is solemnised, and joy reigns in the palace. But I do not wish