A published review

This morning's mail brought the current issues of Arthuriana, the journal of the North American Branch of the International Arthurian Society, and of Amon Hen, the bulletin of The Tolkien Society,  two items that delight me whenever I receive them.

Regrettably, I do not have time today to read either them, but I did have a chance to flip through their pages and was both surprised and pleased to see my review of David Rowe's The Proverbs of Middle-earth published in Amon Hen. If you missed my review, you can find it on pages 18 and 19, or you can read it as I first published it here.

If you haven't yet picked up a copy of The Proverbs of Middle-earth, let me again recommend you do so.

Travels in England: The Round Table and King Arthur's Grave

A meme has been going round on Facebook over the last few days that several friends have shared with me:

 
Though I am a great fan of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and I have been since I was a boy, I find this meme to be something of a groaner. The timing of the meme, however, is interesting, because it was only a few days ago that I visited the Great Hall at Winchester to see the Round Table that hangs there.

Part of the beauty and the appeal of the Arthurian legends is the manner in which this body of literature has been - and continues to be - adapted in different times and places for various means and purposes. As the Matter of Britain grew and expanded, new elements were introduced by particular authors.

The Round Table, for instance, perhaps the most politically important element of Arthuriana, was, so far as we can tell, introduced into the corpus in 1155 by Robert Wace in his "translation" of Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain. Concerning the Round Table, Wace writes:

Arthur fashioned the Round Table

Of which many tales are told

There sit his knights,

Each one equal to the next:

The sit equally at the Table

And are equally served.

None of them can boast

That he sits ahead of the next.

None has a favored position,

And none is excluded.

Sir Thomas Malory (if memory serves, though it may have been Chrétien de Troyes) would later say instead that the Round Table was not made by King Arthur, but received as a wedding gift from Guinevere's father, King Leodegrance, though the symbolism given to the Round Table by Robert Wace was retained.

Hanging today in the Great Hall at Winchester is a Round Table that, although repainted by order of King Henry VIII around 1516, the table itself dates between 1250 and 1350 and was likely constructed by order of either King Edward I (who sought to make use of the Arthurian Legends to his advantage) or of King Edward II. This Round Table measures some eighteen feet in diameter and weighs 1.3 tons:

 
From Winchester, I made my way to Glastonbury where, in 1191, the monks of Glastonbury Abbey - one of the finest in England - claimed to have discovered the lost (and previously forgotten) grave of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. 

Gerald of Wales relates what was found in his De Instructione Principis, written about 1223:

However, Arthur’s body, which the fables allege was like a fantastic thing at the end, and as it were moved by the spirit to far away places, and not subject to death, in our own days was discovered at Glastonbury between two stone pyramids erected in the holy cemetery, hidden deep in the ground by a hollow oak and marked with wonderful signs and marvels, and it was moved into the church with honor and committed properly to a marble tomb. Whence a leaden cross with a stone underneath, not above as it usually is in our day, but rather lower nailed on the side, (which I have seen, and in fact I have traced these sculpted letters - not projecting and protruding, but carved into the stone) contains the words: “Here lies buried the famous King Arthur with Guinevere, his second wife, in the isle of Avalon.”

At the time, not everyone accepted the claim of the monks and some viewed it as an utter deception, a belief held by many - though not all - historians and archeologists today. in fact, Graham Phillips claimed last month to have discovered two possible locations for King Arthur's grave in Shropshire (I'm a bit skeptical of his claims, but I haven't yet read his book and my skepticism is greatly increased by looking at the titles of his books).

Several decades later, King Edward I ordered the exhumation of the mortal remains and their re-interment in a marble tomb in the sanctuary of the great abbey on Easter Tuesday in 1278, as Adam of Domerham recounts:

[T]he lord king had the tomb of the famous king Arthur opened. Wherein in two caskets painted with their pictures and arms, were found separately the bones of the said king, and those of Queen Guinevere, which were of marvelous beauty...on the following day...the lord king replaced the bones of the king and the queen those of the queen, each in their own casket, having wrapped them in costly silks. When they had been sealed they ordered the tomb to be placed forthwith in front of the high altar, after the removal of the skulls for the veneration of the people.

After King Henry VIII ordered the "dissolution" of the abbeys in 1536, the Glastonbury Abbey - with the graves - was destroyed in 1539 and the bones lost to history, though the leaden cross discovered with the bones survived. We know John Leland saw it about 1540 and William Camden seems to have used it for an illustration in a work printed in 1607. In the early 1700s, the cross was in the keeping of William Hughes of Wells Cathedral, though what happened to it afterward is uncertain.

Galgano, the Saint of the Sword in the Stone

Summer vacation is always a good time to spend extra time with books, especially with books you've long wanted to read. So it was that I delved with great interest into a recently published collection of essays titled, The Arthur of the Italians: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval Italian Literature and Culture (a generous gift from a good friend). Curiously (or not), I'm the only person to have added this book to my collection over at Library Thing.

When I first became aware of the book a few months ago, I knew I wanted to read it to learn more about the Otranto mosaic (about which I've written briefly before) and the sword of Saint Galgano (about which I've also written before). Though the book provides me with no new information or insight into the mosaic at Otranto, it did answer a question I've long had about the Sword in the Stone (which, according to the legends, was not named Excalibur [which came from the Lady of the Lake], but Caliburn).

Saint Galgano was born in the castle at Chiusdino, a short distance away to the south of Siena) somewhere in the middle of the twelfth century. We have several historical documentations of him, so there can be no question of his existence even if his dates are not so certain. He died on November 30th, probably in 1181, but some texts say in 1183.

He is mostly remembered because of a sword that he thrust into stone, a sword which remains in the stone to this day:

In his essay titled "Arthur in Hagiography: The Legend of San Galgano," Franco Cardini relates that after receiving two visions of the Archangel Saint Michael, Galgano decided to leave behind his military life and become a hermit. Cardini continues:

Sometime afterwards, riding from his native Chiusdino to nearby Civitella, he noticed that at a certain point his horse obstinately stopped. Galganus let the reins hang loose on the horse's neck, and it carried him up to the top of the Montesiepi hill. Then and there he chose the hill for his dwelling-place and dismounted. Either not finding or not wanting to seek wood to make himself a cross, he unsheathed his sword - crucifom, as swords were in the twelfth century - and thrust it into the ground. The sword struck deep into the rock and afterwards could not be removed. That stone, topped by the sword-cross, served as an altar and, more significantly, as a symbol of Calvary. Before it, the aspiring knight lived and prayed as a hermit until the end of his life - a short period, as his biographers say that he died less than a year later.

I have long wondered which came first, Galgano's sword or the Sword in the Stone of the Arthurian legends. Before reading this essay, I could not easily or clearly determine the answer.

After exploring the symbolism of Galgano's dreams and his name (a popular one at the time which may have connections with Gawain), Cardini concludes that the sword of the saint came first:

Ultimately, the name Galgano/Galvano and the echo of the 'sword in the stone' - attested since the end of the twelfth century in the written sources, but present as a material and concrete datum further back than we can pinpoint - could actually suggest an idea that was born in the episcopal-seigneurial court of Volterra and in the Cistercian order during the Duecento, when Arthur was well known, to popularize the 'sanctuary' of Montesiepi and the adjancent abbey [built in honor of Saint Galgano].

Unfortunately, he ends his essay with this sentence.

One particular element of the connection between the sword of Saint Galgano and the Sword in the Stone noted by Cardini is worthy of both mention and reflection:

Arthur proved that he was destined for the throne by removing the sword held fast in a tree or anvil; Galganus by contrast abandoned the world of sin and signalled [sic] his conversion by fixing his sword in the stone and thereby renouncing his arms, to worship the cross whose form the sword suggests.

Let us strive to follow Saint Galgano's example. He stopped pursuing the glory of this world to pursue the glory of heaven. Through his intercession, may we do the same.

Sir Thomas Malory asks our prayers

Le Morte D'Arthur, by John Mullaster Carrick

The author of the great literary classic Le Morte D'Arthur (The Death of Arthur), Sir Thomas Malory, died on this day in the year 1471. William Caxton first published Sir Thomas' work in 1485.

Very little is known with certainty about this man who made such a significant contribution to the Matter of Britain other than the fact that he was held as a "knight prisoner" in France, during which time he wrote his work in twenty-one books in his cell.

At the conclusion of his work, Sir Thomas leaves us with these words:

Here is the end of King Arthur, and of his noble knights of the Round Table, that when they were whole together there was ever an hundred and forty. And here is the end of the death of Arthur. I pray you all, gentlemen and gentlewomen that readeth this book of Arthur and his knights, from the beginning to the ending, pray for me while I am alive, that God send me good deliverance, and when I am dead, I pray you all pray for my soul. For this book was ended the ninth year of the reign of King Edward the fourth, by Sir Thomas Maleore, knight, as Jesu[s] help[ed] him for his great might, as he is the servant of Jesu[s] both day and night.

His words are a fitting remember for us to pray for those who have gone before us, even those whose books we frequently read.

The Fall of Arthur: A Review

I have remarked here on occasion of my love of the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table that I first discovered as a young boy.  Still today I take delight in these stories and am always eager for more, particularly as regards the quest to discover the man who lay at the foundation of the legends.

When some weeks back I first learned of the coming release of an alliterative verse poem by J.R.R. Tolkien titled The Fall of the Arthur, excitement grew in my heart because I knew the brilliance of his version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.  Tolkien was a master at taking ancient metrical patterns and making modern English fit to them.

His The Fall of Arthur is sadly incomplete, despite the urging of R. W. Chambers who, on reading the incomplete poem wrote to Tolkien, urging him, "You simply must finish it."  How I wish he had finished it!

The poem itself consists of but five cantos and covers the betrayal of Mordred, Lancelot and Guinevere, and the circumstances that would lead to the terrible Battle of Camlann, though The Fall of Arthur ends rather abruptly, too abruptly and at a moment where it lifts the heart ever more into its tale.

It seems to me that the poem is best read aloud, but even when read quietly one cannot help but feel as though he were in the presence of a great hall, sitting round a fire with a mug of ale, enraptured at the tale of wandering minstrel telling of the glorious and tragic days of the King whom Tolkien calls the "lord of legions,     light in darkness (I.106-110).

Over the last several days a discussion has begun on the list serve Arthurnet about what it is that still brings such great passion to the Arthurian legends.  The Fall of Arthur continues in this great tradition and presents us with a thoroughly Christian Arthur who carries as his emblem "a white lady in holy arms / a babe bearing born of maiden" (IV.127-128).  But, as in other tales, Arthur is not simply a Christian monarch, but a representation of Christ, another Christ, if you will, a true Christian, who is "a king of peace kingdom wielding / in a holy realm besides Heaven's gateway" (V.10-11).

When King Arthur returns to confront Mordred and set right his treachery, "he would pass in peace pardon granting / the hurt healing and the whole guiding, / to Britain the blessed bliss recalling" (V.44-45).    Here I cannot help but recall Aragorn, in whose hands are healing.  What is more, Tolkien speaks of those who "their king betraying, Christ forsaking" (V.16).

It is, I think, this hope of a kingdom restored, of mercy given and justice done, that elicits such passion even these many centuries later, centered on the person of Arthur who is betrayed by those dearest to him but who does not betray them in return.

Hope is a common theme in the writings of Tolkien and it is not absent in this text.  In the middle of the poem we find these moving lines:

Ever times would change and tides alter,
and o'er hills of morning hope come striding
to awake the weary, while the world lasted (III.218-220).

Are not we weary who awaken each day to look for the coming of hope, for the coming of Christ?

Before I am called out on this interpretation, I know that Tolkien great dislike allegory in all of its manifestations where he could detect it, but he did allow for, and even encourage, what he termed applicability.  Consideration my interpretation here not as allegory, but as applicability, spurred on by a famous mosaic of Rex Arturus in the Cathedral of Otranto, in which Arthur is shown riding on a goat in the scenes of the Fall of Man:

I have yet to find an adequate explanation for the curious placing of this mosaic, though I do have my own thoughts (that Arthur is here depicted as a Christ-figure), which I first began to put down on paper when I was in the seminary.  It is a topic to which I shall have to return when I am soon in Italy, after visiting this Cathedral and seeing the mosaic with my own eyes.  And while I'm at it, I must also see St. Galgano's sword in the stone.

Two loves united

From the days of my childhood I have very much enjoyed the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.  It started, I think, with the cartoon The Legend of Prince Valiant:


From this cartoon I delved into the legends themselves and dabbled into the historicity of King Arthur (a topic that sill captures my attention).  I even wrote a senior seminar paper on King Arthur when I attended Quincy University.

My love of the legends continues to this day and I am a member of the International Arthurian Society - North American Branch.  I look forward to receiving the quarterly issues of Arthuriana and typically devour its contents soon after it arrives.

Also as a boy I was introduced to The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings and quickly fell in love with the tales of Middle Earth, as well.

Now it seems these two loves will soon be, in a certain sense, merged together: Next year Tolkien's poem in narrative verse titled, "The Fall of Arthur," will be published:

It's the story of a dark world, of knights and princesses, swords and sorcery, quests and betrayals, and it's from the pen of JRR Tolkien. But this is not Middle-earth, it's ancient Britain, and this previously unpublished work from the Lord of the Rings author stars not Aragorn, Gandalf and Frodo, but King Arthur.

The Guardian goes on to give us a brief excerpt of the opening lines:

Arthur eastward in arms purposedhis war to wage on the wild marches,over seas sailing to Saxon lands,from the Roman realm ruin defending.Thus the tides of time to turn backward and the heathen to humble, his hope urged him,that with harrying ships they should hunt no moreon the shining shores and shallow watersof South Britain, booty seeking.

I've already read Tolkien's masterful translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and I can't wait to read this poem.

Just last week I finished reading Tolkien's essay On Fairy Stories where he says of the Arthurian legends:

It seems fairly plain that Arthur, once historical (but perhaps as such not of great importance), was also put in the Pot.  There he was boiled for a long time, together with many other older figures and devices, of mythology and Faërie, and even some other stray bones of history (such as Alfred's defence against the Danes), until he emerged as a King of Faërie.

I wonder what elements Tolkien has put into the soup?

Arthurian scholar receives royal honour

I was very happy to learn recently that Mr. Geoffrey Thomas Leslie Ashe has been named a Member of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire for his services to culture by Her Majesty the Queen in Her Majesty's New Years Honour's List.

Geoffrey Thomas Leslie Ashe, MBE

As a scholar of things Arthurian, Mr. Ashe has spent many years searching for the historical personage upon whom the legends of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table are based, looking especially to the archaeological record.

Some of his books are happily in my library, including his The Discovery of King Arthur, King Arthur: The Dream of a Golden Age, The Landscape of King Arthur, and The Quest for Arthur's Britain.

Having as its motto For God and the Empire, the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire was founded by King George V in 1917 to honor especially those who served in non-combat roles during World War I.

Although as a Member of the Order, Mr. Ashe cannot be addressed as Sir, this is still a great honor for an illustrious Arthurian. Congratulations, Mr. Ashe!

Just because

Browsing around this morning looking for a particular image of the Visti of the Magi (which I did find and you'll see later), I stumbled upon this image.

It is "The Attainment of the Holy Grail" by Sir Edward Burne-Jones, one of my favorite artists. His work on the Arthurian Legends is spectacular.