#WingedWordsWindsday: 2023/07/19 -- King Arthur: The Man, the Myth, the Legend

 WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 2, No. 38: July 19, 2023

 

 

King Arthur: The Man, the Myth, the Legend

 

An Introductory Note from the Editor

                Longtime followers of my blog and members of the Quotemail emailing list will recall that I have been a lifelong fan of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It all began with seeing Walt Disney’s animated film The Sword in the Stone during the 1970s and listening to my mother read the story of the film from a classic Disney storybook. From then on, the tales of Camelot and Arthur’s Kingdom of Summer have always been with me, providing countless hours of edutainment and inspiration.

                Here is how the contemporary American novelist Stephen Lawhead describes the Arthurian Kingdom of Summer, which presents an ideal for our global civilization to aspire to in our own time:

 

“I have seen a land shining with goodness, where each man protects his brother’s dignity as readily as his own, where war and want have ceased, and all races live under the same law of love and honor.

“I have seen a land bright with truth, where a man’s word is his pledge, and falsehood is banished, where children sleep safely in their mother’s arms and never know fear or pain.

“I have seen a land where kings extend their hands in justice rather than reach for the sword; where mercy, kindness, and compassion flow like deep water over the land, and men revere virtue, revere truth, revere beauty, above comfort, pleasure, or selfish gain. A land where peace reigns in the hills, and love burns like a fire from every hearth…”

à Stephen R. Lawhead (1989): Arthur (Book 3 of the Pendragon Cycle)

                 This week, we have some passages from Bulfinch’s Mythology and Tennyson’s Idylls of the King to remind us of that legendary Golden Age of British history, with the hope that it may yet return again – but next time, on a worldwide scale. 😊

 

Chapter 4: “Arthur”

Excerpted from The Age of Chivalry

By Thomas Bulfinch (1798-1867)

We shall begin our history of King Arthur by giving those particulars of his life which appear to rest on historical evidence; and then proceed to record those legends concerning him which form the earliest portion of British literature.

Arthur was a prince of the tribe of Britons called Silures, whose country was South Wales, the son of Uther, named Pendragon, a title given to an elective sovereign, paramount over the many kings of Britain. He appears to have commenced his martial career about the year 500, and was raised to the Pendragonship about ten years later. He is said to have gained twelve victories over the Saxons. The most important of them was that of Badon, by some supposed to be Bath, by others Berkshire. This was the last of his battles with the Saxons, and checked their progress so effectually, that Arthur experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned in peace, until the revolt of his nephew Modred, twenty years later, which led to the fatal battle of Camlann, in Cornwall, in 542. Modred was slain, and Arthur, mortally wounded, was conveyed by sea to Glastonbury, where he died, and was buried. Tradition preserved the memory of the place of his interment within the abbey, as we are told by Giraldus Cambrensis, who was present when the grave was opened by command of Henry II. about 1190, and saw the bones and sword of the monarch, and a leaden cross let into his tombstone, with the inscription in rude Roman letters, "Here lies buried the famous King Arthur, in the island Avalonia." This story has been elegantly versified by Warton. A popular traditional belief was long entertained among the Britons, that Arthur was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed of his wounds in Fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge his countrymen and reinstate them in the sovereignty of Britain. In Warton's "Ode" a bard relates to King Henry the traditional story of Arthur's death, and closes with these lines.

 

Yet in vain a paynim foe

Armed with fate the mighty blow:

For when he fell, the Elfin queen,

All in secret and unseen,

O'er the fainting hero threw

Her mantle of ambrosial blue,

And bade her spirits bear him far,

In Merlin's agate-axled car,

To her green isle's enameled steep,

Far in the navel of the deep.

O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew

From flowers that in Arabia grew.

 

There he reigns a mighty king,

Thence to Britain shall return,

If right prophetic rolls I learn,

Borne on victory's spreading plume,

His ancient scepter to resume,

His knightly table to restore,

And brave the tournaments of yore.

 

After this narration another bard came forward who recited a different story:

 

When Arthur bowed his haughty crest,

No princess veiled in azure vest

Snatched him, by Merlin's powerful spell,

In groves of golden bliss to dwell;

But when he fell, with winged speed,

His champions, on a milk-white steed,

From the battle's hurricane,

Bore him to Joseph's towered fane,

In the fair vale of Avalon;

There, with chanted orison

And the long blaze of tapers clear,

The stoled fathers met the bier;

Through the dim aisles, in order dread

Of martial woe, the chief they led,

And deep entombed in holy ground,

Before the altar's solemn bound.

 

Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph of Arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of Avalonia.

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art," alludes to the legend of Arthur's rescue by the Faery queen, thus:

 

Or mythic Uther's deeply wounded son,

In some fair space of sloping greens,

Lay dozing in the vale of Avalon,

And watched by weeping queens."

 

It must not be concealed that the very existence of Arthur has been denied by some. Milton says of him: "As to Arthur, more renowned in songs and romances than in true stories, who he was, and whether ever any such reigned in Britain, hath been doubted heretofore, and may again, with good reason." Modern critics, however, admit that there was a prince of this name, and find proof of it in the frequent mention of him in the writings of the Welsh bards.

 

King Arthur (in Latin, Arthurus) was perhaps named after Arcturus, the brightest star in the northern hemisphere of the sky. In this early modern woodcut, Arcturus is pictured within the constellation Boötes the Herdsman, which is also known as Arctophylax, the Guardian of the Pole. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

Excerpt from Book 1: “The Coming of Arthur”

The Idylls of the King

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Editor’s Note: In this passage, King Leodegran of the city-state of Cameliard is debating with himself as to whether he should allow his only child, the Princess Guinevere, to marry the recently crowned King Arthur, as he has heard many conflicting stories about Arthur’s parentage. Here, Queen Bellicent – who is reputed to be Arthur’s stepsister – tells her own story of Arthur’s Otherworldly origins.

 

Then while the King debated with himself

If Arthur were the child of shamefulness,

Or born the son of Gorlois, after death,

Or Uther’s son, and born before his time,

Or whether there were truth in anything

Said by these three, there came to Cameliard,

With Gawain and young Modred, her two sons,

Lot’s wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent;

Whom as he could, not as he would, the King

Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat,

 

“A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

Ye come from Arthur’s court.  Victor his men

Report him!  Yea, but ye—think ye this king—

So many those that hate him, and so strong,

So few his knights, however brave they be—

Hath body enow to hold his foemen down?”

 

“O King,” she cried, “and I will tell thee:  few,

Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him;

For I was near him when the savage yells

Of Uther’s peerage died, and Arthur sat

Crowned on the dais, and his warriors cried,

‘Be thou the king, and we will work thy will

Who love thee.’  Then the King in low deep tones,

And simple words of great authority,

Bound them by so strait vows to his own self,

That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some

Were pale as at the passing of a ghost,

Some flushed, and others dazed, as one who wakes

Half-blinded at the coming of a light.

 

“But when he spake and cheered his Table Round

With large, divine, and comfortable words,

Beyond my tongue to tell thee—I beheld

From eye to eye through all their Order flash

A momentary likeness of the King:

And ere it left their faces, through the cross

And those around it and the Crucified,

Down from the casement over Arthur, smote

Flame-color, vert and azure, in three rays,

One falling upon each of three fair queens,

Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends

Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright

Sweet faces, who will help him at his need.

 

“And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit

And hundred winters are but as the hands

Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege.

 

“And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,

Who knows a subtler magic than his own—

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.

She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword,

Whereby to drive the heathen out:  a mist

Of incense curled about her, and her face

Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom;

But there was heard among the holy hymns

A voice as of the waters, for she dwells

Down in a deep; calm, whatsoever storms

May shake the world, and when the surface rolls,

Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.

 

“There likewise I beheld Excalibur

Before him at his crowning borne, the sword

That rose from out the bosom of the lake,

And Arthur rowed across and took it—rich

With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt,

Bewildering heart and eye—the blade so bright

That men are blinded by it—on one side,

Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world,

‘Take me,’ but turn the blade and ye shall see,

And written in the speech ye speak yourself,

‘Cast me away!’  And sad was Arthur’s face

Taking it, but old Merlin counselled him,

‘Take thou and strike! the time to cast away

Is yet far-off.’  So this great brand the king

Took, and by this will beat his foemen down.”

 

Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought

To sift his doubtings to the last, and asked,

Fixing full eyes of question on her face,

“The swallow and the swift are near akin,

But thou art closer to this noble prince,

Being his own dear sister;” and she said,

“Daughter of Gorlois and Ygerne am I;”

“And therefore Arthur’s sister?” asked the King.

She answered, “These be secret things,” and signed

To those two sons to pass, and let them be.

And Gawain went, and breaking into song

Sprang out, and followed by his flying hair

Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw:

But Modred laid his ear beside the doors,

And there half-heard; the same that afterward

Struck for the throne, and striking found his doom.

 

And then the Queen made answer, “What know I?

For dark my mother was in eyes and hair,

And dark in hair and eyes am I; and dark

Was Gorlois, yea and dark was Uther too,

Wellnigh to blackness; but this King is fair

Beyond the race of Britons and of men.

Moreover, always in my mind I hear

A cry from out the dawning of my life,

A mother weeping, and I hear her say,

‘O that ye had some brother, pretty one,

To guard thee on the rough ways of the world.’”

 

“Ay,” said the King, “and hear ye such a cry?

But when did Arthur chance upon thee first?”

 

“O King!” she cried, “and I will tell thee true:

He found me first when yet a little maid:

Beaten I had been for a little fault

Whereof I was not guilty; and out I ran

And flung myself down on a bank of heath,

And hated this fair world and all therein,

And wept, and wished that I were dead; and he—

I know not whether of himself he came,

Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk

Unseen at pleasure—he was at my side,

And spake sweet words, and comforted my heart,

And dried my tears, being a child with me.

And many a time he came, and evermore

As I grew greater grew with me; and sad

At times he seemed, and sad with him was I,

Stern too at times, and then I loved him not,

But sweet again, and then I loved him well.

And now of late I see him less and less,

But those first days had golden hours for me,

For then I surely thought he would be king.

 

“But let me tell thee now another tale:

For Bleys, our Merlin’s master, as they say,

Died but of late, and sent his cry to me,

To hear him speak before he left his life.

Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the mage;

And when I entered told me that himself

And Merlin ever served about the King,

Uther, before he died; and on the night

When Uther in Tintagel past away

Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two

Left the still King, and passing forth to breathe,

Then from the castle gateway by the chasm

Descending through the dismal night—a night

In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost—

Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps

It seemed in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof

A dragon winged, and all from stern to stern

Bright with a shining people on the decks,

And gone as soon as seen.  And then the two

Dropt to the cove, and watched the great sea fall,

Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,

Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged

Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:

And down the wave and in the flame was borne

A naked babe, and rode to Merlin’s feet,

Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried ‘The King!

Here is an heir for Uther!’  And the fringe

Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand,

Lashed at the wizard as he spake the word,

And all at once all round him rose in fire,

So that the child and he were clothed in fire.

And presently thereafter followed calm,

Free sky and stars:  ‘And this the same child,’ he said,

‘Is he who reigns; nor could I part in peace

Till this were told.’  And saying this the seer

Went through the strait and dreadful pass of death,

Not ever to be questioned any more

Save on the further side; but when I met

Merlin, and asked him if these things were truth—

The shining dragon and the naked child

Descending in the glory of the seas—

He laughed as is his wont, and answered me

In riddling triplets of old time, and said:

 

“‘Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky!

A young man will be wiser by and by;

An old man’s wit may wander ere he die.

Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on the lea!

And truth is this to me, and that to thee;

And truth or clothed or naked let it be.

Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows:

Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?

From the great deep to the great deep he goes.’

 

“So Merlin riddling angered me; but thou

Fear not to give this King thy only child,

Guinevere:  so great bards of him will sing

Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old

Ranging and ringing through the minds of men,

And echoed by old folk beside their fires

For comfort after their wage-work is done,

Speak of the King; and Merlin in our time

Hath spon also, not in jest, and sworn

Though men may wound him that he will not die,

But pass, again to come; and then or now

Utterly smite the heathen underfoot,

Till these and all men hail him for their king.”

 

Arthur draws the sword Excalibur from the stone in Henrietta Elizabeth Marshall's Our Island Story (1906). The legend of the sword in the stone is most famously told by Sir Thomas Malory in his collection of Arthurian legends, Le Mort D’Arthur, which was published in 1485 by William Caxton. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)