Take Sir Darras: his position is that of Priam when he meets
Achilles, who slew his sons, except that Priam comes as a suppliant;
Sir Darras has Tristram in his hands, and may slay him. He is "too
polite," as Mr Harrison says: he is too good a Christian, or too
good a gentleman. One would not have given a tripod for the life of
Achilles had he fallen into the hands of Priam. But between 1200
B.C. (or so) and the date of Malory, new ideas about "living sweet
lives" had arisen. Where and when do they not arise? A British
patrol fired on certain Swazis in time of truce. Their lieutenant,
who had been absent when this occurred, rode alone to the stronghold
of the Swazi king, Sekukoeni, and gave himself up, expecting death by
torture. "Go, sir," said the king; "we too are gentlemen." The idea
of a "sweet life" of honour had dawned even on Sekukoeni: it lights
up Malory's romance, and is reflected in Tennyson's Idylls, doubtless
with some modernism of expression.
That the Idylls represent no real world is certain. That Tennyson
modernises and moralises too much, I willingly admit; what I deny is
that he introduces gentleness, courtesy, and conscience where his
sources have none. Indeed this is not a matter of critical opinion,
but of verifiable fact. Any one can read Malory and judge for
himself. But the world in which the Idylls move could not be real.
For more than a thousand years different races, different ages, had
taken hold of the ancient Celtic legends and spiritualised them after
their own manner, and moulded them to their own ideals.
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