XXXVI. THE BATTLE IN THE WEST
XXXVII. THE PASSING OF ARTHUR
XXXVIII. THE DEATH OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND OF THE QUEEN




INTRODUCTION


Among the stories of world-wide renown, not the least stirring are
those that have gathered about the names of national heroes. The
_Æneid_, the _Nibelungenlied_, the _Chanson de Roland_, the _Morte
D'Arthur_,--they are not history, but they have been as National
Anthems to the races, and their magic is not yet dead.

In olden times our forefathers used to say that the world had seen
nine great heroes, three heathen, three Jewish, and three
Christian; among the Christian heroes was British Arthur, and of
none is the fame greater. Even to the present day, his name
lingers in many widely distant places. In the peninsula of Gower, a
huge slab of rock, propped up on eleven short pillars, is still
called Arthur's Stone; the lofty ridge which looks down upon
Edinburgh bears the name of Arthur's Seat; and--strangest, perhaps,
of all--in the Franciscan Church of far-away Innsbrück, the finest
of the ten statues of ancestors guarding the tomb of the Emperor
Maximilian I. is that of King Arthur. There is hardly a country in
Europe without its tales of the Warrior-King; and yet of any real
Arthur history tells us little, and that little describes, not the
knightly conqueror, but the king of a broken people, struggling for