Geek Orthodox

In which I reflect on some of the echoes of Arthurian legend in Lewis and Tolkien, and on some of the influence and significance of the death of Arthur for me

Show Notes:

Tolkien:

• “The Fall of Arthur”
• The Return of the King
• Tolkien states in a letter that he had given Frodo and Bilbo an “Arthurian ending”. “The Elves were summond to return into the West, and such as obeyed dwelt again in Eressëa, the Lonely Island, which was renamed Avallon: for it is hard by Valinor.”

Lewis:

“When the Pevensie children had returned to Narnia last time for their second visit, it was (for the Narnians) as if King Arthur came back to Britain, as some people say he will. And I say the sooner the better.” –C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

“The association of Arthur’s grave with Glasontbury can therefore be described briefly. The earliest written record is found in a work of the Welsh antiquary Giraldus Cambrensis, or Gerald of Wales, written near the end of the twelfth century. After observing that fantastical tales were told of Arthur’s body, as that it had been borne to a region far away by spirits and was not subject to death, he said that ‘in our days’ Arthur’s body had in fact been found, by the monks of the abbey of Glastonbury, buried deep in the ground in a hollowed oak in the graveyard. A leaden cross was fixed to the underside of a stone beneath the coffin, in such a way that an inscription on the cross was conceled. The inscription, which Giraldus himself had seen, declared that buried there was the renowned King Arthur together with Wennevaria in insula Avallonia [in the island Avallonia]. (He records also the curious detail that beside the bones of Arthur (which were of hugest size) and of Guinevere was a perfectly preserved tress of her golden hair, but that when it was touched by one of the monks it fell instantly to dust.) The date of this event is recorded as 1191.

In the same passage Giraldus said that what was now called Glastonia was anciently called Insula Avallonia. This name, he explained, arose because the place was virtually an island, entirely surrounded by marshes, whence it was called Britannice (in the British [i.e., Celtic] language) Inis Avallon, meaning, he said, insula pomifera ‘island of apples’, aval being the British word for ‘apple’, for apple-trees were once abundant there. He adds also that Morganis, who was a noble lady, akin to King Arthur, and ruler of that region, took him after the battle of Kemelen (Camlan) to the island which is now called Glastonia for the healing of his wounds.” –Christopher Tolkien, The Fall of Arthur

“‘Don’t you remember planting the orchard outside the north gate of Cair Paravel? The greatest of all the wood-people, Pomona herself, came to put good spells on it.’ …
‘[But] Cair Paravel wasn’t on an island.’
‘Yes, … but it was a what-do-you-call-it, a peninusla. Jolly nearly an island.
Couldn’t it have been made an island since our time? Somebody has dug a channel.'” –Peter and Edmund in Prince Caspian

Steinbeck:

“The western world and its so called culture have invented very few things,” he wrote in 1953. “But there is one thing that we invented and for which there is no counterpart in the east and that is gallantry. . . . It means that a person, all alone, will take on odds that by their very natures are insurmountable, will attack enemies which are unbeatable. And the crazy thing is that we win often enough to make it a workable thing. And also this same gallantry gives a dignity to the individual that nothing else ever has. . . .”

Influence on Me

Shakespeare, Hamlet:
“Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, when our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us there’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will…
Not a whit, we defy augury: there’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come, if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.” –Act V, Scene II

In which King Arthur and his death are presented in their most perfectly poetic and Christian form

Show Notes:

Date: AD 1859-1885

• Causes of Arthur’s Death:
  • Guinevere’s and Lancelot’s infidelity
  • general infidelity and breaking of vows
• Aftermath:
  • monasticism
  • repentance
  • prayer
  • “The old order changeth, yielding place to new, / And God fulfils himself in many ways, / Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.”
• Tennyson generally follows Malory, with some reference to Nennius (“twelve battles”), but radically simplifies in ways that make Arthur a paragon of virtue.

“The Last Tournament”

• Tennyson builds up to the end in “The Last Tournament”, in which he weaves three strands together:

1. Arthur takes his young knights to deal with the Red Knight (rumoured to be a former knight of the Table turned bandit) and his followers, who says to him:
   “‘Tell thou the King and all his liars, that I
   Have founded my Round Table in the North,
   And whatsoever his own knights have sworn
   My knights have sworn the counter to it—and say
   My tower is full of harlots, like his court,
   But mine are worthier, seeing they profess
   To be none other than themselves—and say
   My knights are all adulterers like his own,
   But mine are truer, seeing they profess
   To be none other; and say his hour is come,
   The heathen are upon him, his long lance
   Broken, and his Excalibur a straw.’”
2. Lancelot is left to judge “a tournament,
   By these in earnest those in mockery called
   The Tournament of the Dead Innocence”
   and does so “Sighing weariedly, as one
   Who sits and gazes on a faded fire,
   When all the goodlier guests are past away,
   Sat their great umpire, looking o’er the lists.
   He saw the laws that ruled the tournament
   Broken, but spake not; … [examples follow]”
3. Tristam, who loves King Mark’s wife, Isolt, but who has married Isolt of Brittany, wins the tournament, for which the prize is a ruby necklace of which Guinevere says “Perchance—who knows?—the purest of thy knights / May win them for the purest of my maids.” He and Lancelot clash:
   “So Tristram won, and Lancelot gave, the gems,
   Not speaking other word than “Hast thou won?
   Art thou the purest, brother? See, the hand
   Wherewith thou takest this, is red!” to whom
   Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot’s languorous mood,
   Made answer, “Ay, but wherefore toss me this
   Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound?
   Lest be thy fair Queen’s fantasy. Strength of heart
   And might of limb, but mainly use and skill,
   Are winners in this pastime of our King.
   My hand—belike the lance hath dript upon it—
   No blood of mine, I trow; but O chief knight,
   Right arm of Arthur in the battlefield,
   Great brother, thou nor I have made the world;
   Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in mine.””

• Tristam also tangles with Arthur’s jester, Dagonet, calling him swine when the jester calls out his infidelity and the hollowness of Tristam’s “free love” song (“we love but while we may”):
  ““Knight, an ye fling those rubies round my neck
  In lieu of hers, I’ll hold thou hast some touch
  Of music, since I care not for thy pearls.
  Swine? I have wallowed, I have washed—the world
  Is flesh and shadow—I have had my day.
  The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind
  Hath fouled me—an I wallowed, then I washed—
  I have had my day and my philosophies—
  And thank the Lord I am King Arthur’s fool.
  …
  “Lo, fool,” he said, “ye talk
  Fool’s treason: is the King thy brother fool?”
  Then little Dagonet clapt his hands and shrilled,
  “Ay, ay, my brother fool, the king of fools!
  Conceits himself as God that he can make
  Figs out of thistles, silk from bristles, milk
  From burning spurge, honey from hornet-combs,
  And men from beasts—Long live the king of fools!””
• The two strands with Tristam and Arthur are then entwined. While Tristam dreams his wife and lover struggle over the prize and the ruby turns out to be frozen blood that melts in his lover’s hand “hot with ill desires”, Arthur leads his young knights, who are angered to see one of their own hanged outside the Red Knight’s tower, to deal with the Red Knight and his bandits:
  “And Arthur deigned not use of word or sword,
  But let the drunkard, as he stretched from horse
  To strike him, overbalancing his bulk,
  Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp
  Fall, … [contrasting with the conduct of his men:]
  then the knights, who watched him, roared
  And shouted and leapt down upon the fallen;
  There trampled out his face from being known,
  And sank his head in mire, and slimed themselves:
  Nor heard the King for their own cries, but sprang
  Through open doors, and swording right and left
  Men, women, on their sodden faces, hurled
  The tables over and the wines, and slew
  Till all the rafters rang with woman-yells,
  And all the pavement streamed with massacre:
  Then, echoing yell with yell, they fired the tower,
  Which half that autumn night, like the live North,
  Red-pulsing up through Alioth and Alcor
  …
  So all the ways were safe from shore to shore,
  But in the heart of Arthur pain was lord.”
• This echoes Guinevere’s earlier response to the tournament, but her and Lancelot’s thread is not resolved until the end:
  “…the Queen,
  And wroth at Tristram and the lawless jousts,
  Brake up their sports, then slowly to her bower
  Parted, and in her bosom pain was lord.”
• Tristam, awakening from his “red dream” goes to see Isolt, who says of her husband, King Mark, “What rights are his that dare not strike for them?”

Isolt tells Tristam her response to the news he was married:
“‘I will flee hence and give myself to God’”, to which he jokingly replies:
Then Tristram, ever dallying with her hand,
“May God be with thee, sweet, when old and gray,
And past desire!” a saying that angered her.
“‘May God be with thee, sweet, when thou art old,
And sweet no more to me!’ I need Him now.
… lie to me: I believe.
Will ye not lie? not swear, as there ye kneel,
And solemnly as when ye sware to him,
The man of men, our King—My God, the power
Was once in vows when men believed the King!
They lied not then, who sware, and through their vows
The King prevailing made his realm:—I say,
Swear to me thou wilt love me even when old,
Gray-haired, and past desire, and in despair.””

Tristam: “Vows! did you keep the vow you made to Mark
More than I mine? Lied, say ye? Nay, but learnt,
The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself —
My knighthood taught me this — ay, being snapt —
We run more counter to the soul thereof
Than had we never sworn. I swear no more.
I swore to the great King, and am forsworn.
… The vows!
O, ay — the wholesome madness of an hour —
They served their use, their time; for every knight
Believed himself a greater than himself,
And every follower eyed him as a God;
Till he, being lifted up beyond himself,
Did mightier deeds than elsewise he had done,
And so the realm was made: but then their vows —
First mainly thro’ that sullying of our Queen —
Began to gall the knighthood, asking whence
Had Arthur right to bind them to himself?
… can Arthur make me pure
As any maiden child? lock up my tongue
From uttering freely what I freely hear?
Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it.
And worldling of the world am I, and know
The ptarmigan that whitens ere his hour
Woos his own end; we are not angels here
Nor shall be: vows—I am woodman of the woods,
And hear the garnet-headed yaffingale
Mock them: my soul, we love but while we may;
And therefore is my love so large for thee,
Seeing it is not bounded save by love.”

Here ending, he moved toward her, and she said,
“Good: an I turned away my love for thee
To some one thrice as courteous as thyself—
For courtesy wins woman all as well
As valour may, but he that closes both
Is perfect, he is Lancelot—taller indeed,
Rosier and comelier, thou—but say I loved
This knightliest of all knights, and cast thee back
Thine own small saw, ‘We love but while we may,’
Well then, what answer?”

He that while she spake,
Mindful of what he brought to adorn her with,
The jewels, had let one finger lightly touch
The warm white apple of her throat, replied,
“Press this a little closer, sweet, until—
Come, I am hungered and half-angered—meat,
Wine, wine—and I will love thee to the death,
And out beyond into the dream to come.””

“Then in the light’s last glimmer Tristram showed
And swung the ruby carcanet. She cried,
“The collar of some Order, which our King
Hath newly founded, all for thee, my soul,
For thee, to yield thee grace beyond thy peers.”

“Not so, my Queen,” he said, “but the red fruit
Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-heaven,
And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize,
And hither brought by Tristram for his last
Love-offering and peace-offering unto thee.”

He spoke, he turned, then, flinging round her neck,
Claspt it, and cried, “Thine Order, O my Queen!”
But, while he bowed to kiss the jewelled throat,
Out of the dark, just as the lips had touched,
Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek—
“Mark’s way,” said Mark, and clove him through the brain.

That night came Arthur home, and while he climbed,
All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom,
The stairway to the hall, and looked and saw
The great Queen’s bower was dark,—about his feet
A voice clung sobbing till he questioned it,
“What art thou?” and the voice about his feet
Sent up an answer, sobbing, “I am thy fool,
And I shall never make thee smile again.””

“Guinevere”

Tennyson sort of follows Malory: Guinevere flees to a monastery when Mordred exposes her adultery with Lancelot (so, no rescue by Lancelot from burning, or return to Arthur, or fleeing from Mordred to the Tower and only after that to the convent – the idea of burning is there when Arthur confronts her and says that he considered burning her, according to the law, but he rejected that idea).

In Tennyson, Guinevere’s infidelity leads more directly to the downfall of the Round Table and the kingdom.

Arthur to Guinevere:
“Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies
Have erred not, that I march to meet my doom.
Thou hast not made my life so sweet to me,
That I the King should greatly care to live;
For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my life.
Bear with me for the last time while I show,
Even for thy sake, the sin which thou hast sinned.
For when the Roman left us, and their law
Relaxed its hold upon us, and the ways
Were filled with rapine, here and there a deed
Of prowess done redressed a random wrong.
But I was first of all the kings who drew
The knighthood-errant of this realm and all
The realms together under me, their Head,
In that fair Order of my Table Round,
A glorious company, the flower of men,
To serve as model for the mighty world,
And be the fair beginning of a time.
I made them lay their hands in mine and swear
To reverence the King, as if he were
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King,
To break the heathen and uphold the Christ,
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs,
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it,
To honour his own word as if his God’s,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,
To love one maiden only, cleave to her,
And worship her by years of noble deeds,
Until they won her; for indeed I knew
Of no more subtle master under heaven
Than is the maiden passion for a maid,
Not only to keep down the base in man,
But teach high thought, and amiable words
And courtliness, and the desire of fame,
And love of truth, and all that makes a man.
And all this throve before I wedded thee,
Believing, ‘lo mine helpmate, one to feel
My purpose and rejoicing in my joy.’
Then came thy shameful sin with Lancelot;
Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt;
Then others, following these my mightiest knights,
And drawing foul ensample from fair names,
Sinned also, till the loathsome opposite
Of all my heart had destined did obtain,
And all through thee! ..
…
…how to take last leave of all I loved?
…
My love through flesh hath wrought into my life
So far, that my doom is, I love thee still.
Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul,
And so thou lean on our fair father Christ,
Hereafter in that world where all are pure
We two may meet before high God, and thou
Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know
I am thine husband—not a smaller soul,
Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that,
I charge thee, my last hope.”

“And while she grovelled at his feet,
She felt the King’s breath wander o’er her neck,
And in the darkness o’er her fallen head,
Perceived the waving of his hands that blest.”

Guinevere’s response:
“shall I kill myself?
What help in that? I cannot kill my sin,
If soul be soul; nor can I kill my shame;
No, nor by living can I live it down.
…
I must not dwell on that defeat of fame.
Let the world be; that is but of the world.
What else? what hope? I think there was a hope,
Except he mocked me when he spake of hope;
His hope he called it; but he never mocks,
For mockery is the fume of little hearts.
And blessed be the King, who hath forgiven
My wickedness to him, and left me hope
That in mine own heart I can live down sin
And be his mate hereafter in the heavens
Before high God. Ah great and gentle lord,
Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint
Among his warring senses, to thy knights—
To whom my false voluptuous pride, that took
Full easily all impressions from below,
Would not look up, or half-despised the height
To which I would not or I could not climb—
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air
That pure severity of perfect light—
I yearned for warmth and colour which I found
In Lancelot—now I see thee what thou art,
Thou art the highest and most human too,
Not Lancelot, nor another. …
…
What might I not have made of thy fair world,
Had I but loved thy highest creature here?
It was my duty to have loved the highest:
It surely was my profit had I known:
It would have been my pleasure had I seen.
We needs must love the highest when we see it,
Not Lancelot, nor another.”

“The Passing of Arthur”

“For on their march to westward, Bedivere,
Who slowly paced among the slumbering host,
Heard in his tent the moanings of the King:

“I found Him in the shining of the stars,
I marked Him in the flowering of His fields,
But in His ways with men I find Him not.
I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.
O me! for why is all around us here
As if some lesser god had made the world,
But had not force to shape it as he would,
Till the High God behold it from beyond,
And enter it, and make it beautiful?
Or else as if the world were wholly fair,
But that these eyes of men are dense and dim,
And have not power to see it as it is:
Perchance, because we see not to the close;—
For I, being simple, thought to work His will,
And have but stricken with the sword in vain;
And all whereon I leaned in wife and friend
Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm
Reels back into the beast, and is no more.
My God, thou hast forgotten me in my death;
Nay—God my Christ—I pass but shall not die.””

“Then spake the King: “My house hath been my doom.
But call not thou this traitor of my house
Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me.
My house are rather they who sware my vows,
Yea, even while they brake them, owned me King.
And well for thee, saying in my dark hour,
When all the purport of my throne hath failed,
That quick or dead thou holdest me for King.
King am I, whatsoever be their cry;
And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see
Yet, ere I pass.” And uttering this the King
Made at the man: then Modred smote his liege
Hard on that helm which many a heathen sword
Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one blow,
Striking the last stroke with Excalibur,
Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell.”

“Then went Sir Bedivere the second time
Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere,
Counting the dewy pebbles, fixed in thought;
But when he saw the wonder of the hilt,
How curiously and strangely chased, he smote
His palms together, and he cried aloud:

“And if indeed I cast the brand away,
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.
What good should follow this, if this were done?
What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand
An act unprofitable, against himself?
The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
And rumours of a doubt? But were this kept,
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,
Some one might show it at a joust of arms,
Saying, ‘King Arthur’s sword, Excalibur,
Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake.
Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps
Upon the hidden bases of the hills.’
So might some old man speak in the aftertime
To all the people, winning reverence.
But now much honour and much fame were lost.”

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit,
And hid Excalibur the second time,
And so strode back slow to the wounded King.

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily:
“What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?”

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:
“I heard the water lapping on the crag,
And the long ripple washing in the reeds.”

To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath:
“Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue,
Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me!
Authority forgets a dying king,
Laid widowed of the power in his eye
That bowed the will. I see thee what thou art,
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights,
In whom should meet the offices of all,
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt;
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice,
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence:
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,
I will arise and slay thee with my hands.””

“Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere:
“Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?
For now I see the true old times are dead,
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Such times have been not since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved
Which was an image of the mighty world,
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.”

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within himself make pure! but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
But now farewell. I am going a long way
With these thou seest—if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)—
To the island-valley of Avilion;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.”

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere
Revolving many memories, till the hull
Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died away.

But when that moan had past for evermore,
The stillness of the dead world’s winter dawn
Amazed him, and he groaned, “The King is gone.”
And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme,
“From the great deep to the great deep he goes.”

Whereat he slowly turned and slowly clomb
The last hard footstep of that iron crag;
Thence marked the black hull moving yet, and cried,
“He passes to be King among the dead,
And after healing of his grievous wound
He comes again; but—if he come no more—
O me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat,
Who shrieked and wailed, the three whereat we gazed
On that high day, when, clothed with living light,
They stood before his throne in silence, friends
Of Arthur, who should help him at his need?”

Then from the dawn it seemed there came, but faint
As from beyond the limit of the world,
Like the last echo born of a great cry,
Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice
Around a king returning from his wars.

Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb
Even to the highest he could climb, and saw,
Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand,
Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King,
Down that long water opening on the deep
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go
From less to less and vanish into light.
And the new sun rose bringing the new year.”

In which we dive into the definitive English rendition of the legend of King Arthur to examine Sir Thomas Malory’s complex and nuanced handling of the causes and implications of King Arthur’s death

Show Notes:

• Date: AD 1485, one of the first books published on an English printing press
• Based on multiple previous texts, including the 14th C English alliterative Morte Arthure and the “French book”, Malory adapts freely, and is in turn extensively edited by his printer/publisher, William Caxton.
• Causes of Arthur’s Death:
  • hatred of Mordred and Agravine
  • Lancelot and Guinevere’s infidelity
  • flaw of trial by combat
  • family ties gone wrong: Sir Gawain’s grudge vs. Lancelot and Lancelot’s kin supporting him
  • Mordred’s betrayal: now Arthur’s son by his (unknown) half-sister, who is now left in charge while Arthur is in France, fighting Lancelot
  • the populace’s new-fangled love of ease
  • Bedivere’s weakness
• Aftermath:
  • Arthur actually dies
  • Guinevere goes to the Tower of London to escape Mordred, then seeks refuge in a convent when she learns Arthur is dead
  • Lancelot arrives late, mourns Gawain, enters monastery with seven of his knights, buries Guinevere
• Hatred of Agravine and Mordred for Guinevere and Lancelot produced “a great anger and unhap that stinted not till the flower of chivalry of all the world was destroyed and slain; and all was long upon two unhappy knights the which were named Agravaine and Sir Mordred, that were brethren unto Sir Gawaine. For this Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred had ever a privy hate unto the queen Dame Guenever and to Sir Launcelot, and daily and nightly they ever watched upon Sir Launcelot.”
• Flaw of trial by combat: King Arthur recommends capture in the act. “I would be loath to begin such a thing but I might have proofs upon it; for Sir Launcelot is an hardy knight, and all ye know he is the best knight among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed, he will fight with him that bringeth up the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him. … take with you sure fellowship … for I warn you ye shall find him wight.” Lancelot confirms this flaw, responding when caught in the act, “go ye all from this chamber door, and make not such crying and such manner of slander as ye do; for I promise you by my knighthood, an ye will depart and make no more noise, I shall as to-morn appear afore you all before the king, and then let it be seen which of you all, outher else ye all, that will accuse me of treason; and there I shall answer you as a knight should, that hither I came to the queen for no manner of mal engin, and that will I prove and make it good upon you with my hands.” And again, when restoring Guinevere, he says, “My most redoubted king, ye shall understand, by the Pope’s commandment and yours, I have brought to you my lady the queen, as right requireth; and if there be any knight, of whatsomever degree that he be, except your person, that will say or dare say but that she is true and clean to you, I here myself, Sir Launcelot du Lake, will make it good upon his body, that she is a true lady unto you; but liars ye have listened, and that hath caused debate betwixt you and me.”
• Family ties gone wrong: “”Mercy Jesu, said the king, why slew he Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, for I dare say as for Sir Gareth he loved Sir Launcelot above all men earthly. That is truth, said some knights, but they were slain in the hurtling as Sir Launcelot thrang in the thick of the press; and as they were unarmed he smote them and wist not whom that he smote, and so unhappily they were slain. The death of them, said Arthur, will cause the greatest mortal war that ever was; I am sure, wist Sir Gawaine that Sir Gareth were slain, I should never have rest of him till I had destroyed Sir Launcelot’s kin and himself both, outher else he to destroy me. And therefore, said the king, wit you well my heart was never so heavy as it is now, and much more I am sorrier for my good knights’ loss than for the loss of my fair queen; for queens I might have enow, but such a fellowship of good knights shall never be together in no company. And now I dare say, said King Arthur, there was never Christian king held such a fellowship together; and alas that ever Sir Launcelot and I should be at debate.”
• Now purely civil war, given Mordred’s betrayal and the populace’s new-fangled love of ease: “As Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, he did do make letters as though that they came from beyond the sea, and the letters specified that King Arthur was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot. Wherefore Sir Mordred made a parliament, and called the lords together, and there he made them to choose him king; and so was he crowned at Canterbury, and held a feast there fifteen days; and afterward he drew him unto Winchester, and there he took the Queen Guenever, and said plainly that he would wed her which was his uncle’s wife and his father’s wife. And so he made ready for the feast, and a day prefixed that they should be wedded; wherefore Queen Guenever was passing heavy. But she durst not discover her heart, but spake fair, and agreed to Sir Mordred’s will. Then she desired of Sir Mordred for to go to London, to buy all manner of things that longed unto the wedding. And because of her fair speech Sir Mordred trusted her well enough, and gave her leave to go. And so when she came to London she took the Tower of London, and suddenly in all haste possible she stuffed it with all manner of victual, and well garnished it with men, and so kept it.” And: “For then was the common voice among them that with Arthur was none other life but war and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss. Thus was Sir Arthur depraved, and evil said of. And many there were that King Arthur had made up of nought, and given them lands, might not then say him a good word. Lo ye all Englishmen, see ye not what a mischief here was! for he that was the most king and knight of the world, and most loved the fellowship of noble knights, and by him they were all upholden, now might not these Englishmen hold them content with him. Lo thus was the old custom and usage of this land; and also men say that we of this land have not yet lost nor forgotten that custom and usage. Alas, this is a great default of us Englishmen, for there may no thing please us no term. And so fared the people at that time, they were better pleased with Sir Mordred than they were with King Arthur; and much people drew unto Sir Mordred, and said they would abide with him for better and for worse. And so Sir Mordred drew with a great host to Dover, for there he heard say that Sir Arthur would arrive, and so he thought to beat his own father from his lands; and the most part of all England held with Sir Mordred, the people were so new-fangle.”
• The King’s anger and honour, which drives him to attack Mordred even though he knows it will be his doom: “Tide me death, betide me life, saith the king, now I see him yonder alone he shall never escape mine hands, for at a better avail shall I never have him.”
• Mordred’s death: “Then the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred, crying: Traitor, now is thy death-day come. And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his hand. And there King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear, throughout the body, more than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death wound he thrust himself with the might that he had up to the bur of King Arthur’s spear. And right so he smote his father Arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth; and the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned ofttimes.”
• Arthur’s death: “Alas, said the king, help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long. Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and so went with him to that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the bank hoved a little barge with many fair ladies in it, and among them all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur. Now put me into the barge, said the king. And so he did softly; and there received him three queens with great mourning; and so they set them down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his head. And then that queen said: Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long from me? alas, this wound on your head hath caught over-much cold. And so then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies? Comfort thyself, said the king, and do as well as thou mayst, for in me is no trust for to trust in; for I will into the vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound: and if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.”
• Arthur truly dead: “Sir, said Bedivere, what man is there interred that ye pray so fast for? Fair son, said the hermit, I wot not verily, but by deeming. But this night, at midnight, here came a number of ladies, and brought hither a dead corpse, and prayed me to bury him; and here they offered an hundred tapers, and they gave me an hundred besants. Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried in this chapel.”
• Alternate belief: “Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will not say it shall be so, but rather I will say: here in this world he changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb this verse: Hic jacet Arthurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus.”
• Guinevere and Lancelot in the monastery: “When Sir Launcelot was brought to her, then she said to all the ladies: Through this man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul-heal; and yet I trust through God’s grace that after my death to have a sight of the blessed face of Christ, and at domesday to sit on his right side, for as sinful as ever I was are saints in heaven. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more in the visage; and I command thee, on God’s behalf, that thou forsake my company, and to thy kingdom thou turn again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack; for as well as I have loved thee, mine heart will not serve me to see thee, for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed; therefore, Sir Launcelot, go to thy realm, and there take thee a wife, and live with her with joy and bliss; and I pray thee heartily, pray for me to our Lord that I may amend my misliving. Now, sweet madam, said Sir Launcelot, would ye that I should now return again unto my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well that shall I never do, for I shall never be so false to you of that I have promised; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me unto, for to please Jesu, and ever for you I cast me specially to pray. If thou wilt do so, said the queen, hold thy promise, but I may never believe but that thou wilt turn to the world again. Well, madam, said he, ye say as pleaseth you, yet wist you me never false of my promise, and God defend but I should forsake the world as ye have done. … And therefore, lady, sithen ye have taken you to perfection, I must needs take me to perfection, of right. For I take record of God, in you I have had mine earthly joy; and if I had found you now so disposed, I had cast me to have had you into mine own realm. But sithen I find you thus disposed, I ensure you faithfully, I will ever take me to penance, and pray while my life lasteth, if I may find any hermit, either gray or white, that will receive me. Wherefore, madam, I pray you kiss me and never no more. Nay, said the queen, that shall I never do, but abstain you from such works: and they departed. But there was never so hard an hearted man but he would have wept to see the dolour that they made; for there was lamentation as they had been stung with spears; and many times they swooned, and the ladies bare the queen to her chamber.”
• Lancelot and seven of his knights become monks and bury Guinevere: “Thus they endured in great penance six year; and then Sir Launcelot took the habit of priesthood of the Bishop, and a twelvemonth he sang mass. And there was none of these other knights but they read in books, and holp for to sing mass, and rang bells, and did bodily all manner of service. And so their horses went where they would, for they took no regard of no worldly riches. For when they saw Sir Launcelot endure such penance, in prayers, and fastings, they took no force what pain they endured, for to see the noblest knight of the world take such abstinence that he waxed full lean. And thus upon a night, there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him, in remission of his sins, to haste him unto Almesbury: And by then thou come there, thou shalt find Queen Guenever dead. And therefore take thy fellows with thee, and purvey them of an horse bier, and fetch thou the corpse of her, and bury her by her husband, the noble King Arthur. So this avision came to Sir Launcelot thrice in one night.”
• Lancelot’s repentance and death: “And when she was put in the earth Sir Launcelot swooned, and lay long still, while the hermit came and awaked him, and said: Ye be to blame, for ye displease God with such manner of sorrow-making. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease God, for He knoweth mine intent. For my sorrow was not, nor is not for any rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may never have end. For when I remember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was both with her king and with her, so when I saw his corpse and her corpse so lie together, truly mine heart would not serve to sustain my careful body. Also when I remember me how by my default, mine orgule and my pride, that they were both laid full low, that were peerless that ever was living of Christian people, wit you well, said Sir Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness, sank so to mine heart, that I might not sustain myself. So the French book maketh mention. Then Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, ne drank, till he was dead.”

In which we examine the transition from the treatment of Arthur as a primarily historical to a primarily literary figure in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain, and the resultant changes to the handling and implications of Arthur’s death

Show Notes:

1. Geoffrey of Monmouth, History of the Kings of Britain

• Date: AD 1138
• Causes of Arthur’s death:
  • Mordred’s betrayal: Arthur’s nephew, who is left in charge during Arthur’s Roman campaign, rebels and marries Guinevere
  • Civil war: Arthur dies fighting his fellow Britons and a collection of enemies, primarily Saxons, but also “Scots, Picts, Irish” and others
• Aftermath:
  • Guinevere (Guanhumara) flees to a convent
  • Arthur “mortally wounded” and carried to the isle of Avallon to be cured
  • kinsman Constantine succeeds the throne, but a rapid succession of rivals replacing one another as well as civil war over the next ten years or so leads to the wasting of what is left to them and the domination of the Saxons
• Beginnings of the subsequent shape of the “matter of Britain”:
  • Theme of freedom: Uther, on defeating the Saxons (leading his troops on a litter due to illness): “Victory to me half-dead is better than to be safe and sound and vanquished. For to die with honour is preferable to living with disgrace.”
  • Mordred’s betrayal, left in charge because he is Arthur’s kinsman (though here nephew, not son)
  • Guinevere’s infidelity (though with Mordred)
  • Single-combat between Arthur and Flollo looks a lot like a joust
  • Tournaments: three-day tournament at the coronation, with prizes given on the fourth, including: “The military men composed a kind of diversion in imitation of a fight on horseback; and the ladies, placed in a sportive manner darted their amorous glances at the courtiers, the more to encourage them.”
  • Civil war, which Geoffrey condemns: “Why foolish nation! oppressed with the weight of your abominable wickedness, why did you, in your insatiable thirst after civil wars, so weaken yourself by domestic confusions, that whereas formerly you brought distant kingdoms under your yoke, now, like a good vineyard degenerated and turned to bitterness, you cannot defend your country, your wives, and children, against your enemies?”
• Geoffrey’s account, written in Latin and thus widely disseminated, was hugely popular and influential, but was not well received by all his contemporaries – or even by later critics, like C.S. Lewis.
  • William of Newburgh (c. 1196) condemns Geoffrey for weaving “ridiculous figments of imagination” around historical events recorded by the Venerable Bede and cloaked these old, British “fables about Arthur … with the honorable name of history by presenting them with the ornaments of the Latin tongue.” It is interesting that one of the possible motives he ascribes to Geoffrey for doing so is “to please the Britons, most of whom are known to be so primitive that they are said still to be awaiting the return of Arthur, and will not suffer themselves to hear that he is dead.” William wonders how “the old historians, to whom it was a matter of great concern that nothing worthy of memory should be omitted from what was written … could … have suppressed with silence Arthur and his acts, this king of the Britons who was nobler than Alexander the Great,” and further disparages Geoffrey for translating “the fallacious prophecies of a certain Merlin, to which he has in any event added many things himself” into Latin.
  • Gerald of Wales, who writes an account of the discovery of King Arthur’s body (more on that later), condemns Geoffrey’s History with the story of a man who could see demons: “When he was harrassed beyond endurance by these unclean spirits, Saint John’s Gospel was placed on his lap, and then they all vanished immediately, flying away like so many birds. If the Gospel were afterwards removed and the History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth put there in its place, just to see what would happen, the demons would alight all over his body, and on the book too, staying there longer than usual and being even more demanding.”
  • Lewis, on the other hand, condemns Geoffrey from a more modern, literary perspective: “Geoffrey is of course important for the historians of the Arthurian Legend; but since the interest of those historians has seldom lain chiefly in literature, they have not always remembered to tell us that he is an author of mediocre talent and no taste. In the Arthurian parts of his work the lion’s share falls to the insufferable rigamarole of Merlin’s prophecies and to the foreign conquests of Arthur. These latter are, of course, at once the least historical and the least mythical thing about Arthur. If there was a real Arthur he did not conquer Rome. … The annals of senseless and monotonously successful aggression are dreary enough reading even when true; when blatantly, stupidly false, they are unendurable.”

2. Intermediate sources I’m going to skip

Geoffrey’s influential History established Arthurian legend as the English ur-text, the “matter of Britain” and inspired a whole range of imaginative elaborations, most notably the addition of Lancelot by the French, writing in the “courtly love” tradition which Lewis engages with in his most important academic work, The Allegory of Love, as well as English works such as the alliterative Morte Arthure, which seems to have inspired the beginnings of Malory’s great Arthurian work.

• French prose cycle: Lancelot, Quest for the Grail, Mort Artu (Malory’s “French book”)
• 14th C English alliterative Morte Arthure
• 14th C stanzaic Le Morte Arthur