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Chapter 8.4: The lost
document "L": the character of
the protagonists
Fabio P.
Barbieri
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The core of Arthurs legend
is the greatness of his court. Arthurian
item after Arthurian item repeats that his court
was so renowned that no knight in the world
thought himself worth anything unless he went
there. This is found in Geoffrey, in a
Welsh life of St.Illtud in which the saint, then
still a great warrior visits the
court in order to gain honour and is duly
honoured, and in many other
Arthurian texts. The most interesting
variation is in one of the finest, Perslevaus,
a superb piece of writing and clearly the product
of a clear and well-educated mind, which reverses
the notion. At the very opening of the
story, King Arthur sins through meanness and his
court loses its lustre, which is part of the
overall picture of disaster and aimless blind
struggle which the Good Knight - who, in this
version of the story, is not Galahad but
Perslevaus - is to heal by asking the holy
question. In other words, King
Arthurs contribution to the order, sanity
and holiness of the world is to keep a generous
and magnificent court for heroic knights. When
he fails to offer the deserved gift to good
Lanval alone of all his court he
and his queen are publicly humiliated. Rachel
Bromwich observes that successive redactions of
the Triads of Britain tend to replace the
term teir
ynis Prydein (three [items] of the Island of
Britain)with teir
llys Arthur,
(three [items] of Arthurs Court) as if
Arthurs court were the equivalent of the
whole great island or at least, of
anything valuable or worth remembering in it.
Indeed, the extraordinary lustre that shines
around Camelot to this day comes from the fact
that it is the home or the resort of not one, but
an enormous number of magnificent heroes. That
is the nature of the legendary cycle, and the
reason why it outshone all others; more people in
the West are aware of Arthur, Lancelot, Perceval
and Gawain than they are of Charlemagne and
Roland, Siegfried, Dietrich of Bern, and even of
Aeneas and Latinus, Agamemnon and Odysseus, or
the heroes of the Old Testament.
Even the chivalrous and courtly
atmosphere of Arthurian romance, which we
associate with the refined courts of the
Continental later Middle Ages, may be found in
the seventh-century Old North from
which Arthur himself, in all likelihood, came.
Of the two ancient poetic cycles of the North,
there is a significant difference in atmosphere
between that of the historical Taliesin and the Gododdin
of Aneirin. In Taliesins poems,
especially those in praise of Urien and Owein,
there is no question of more than one man. The
court of Urien is a mere background to the one
gigantic figure to whom Taliesin always points,
whom he sets up as an example even to his own
followers. Urien has no peers, no equals;
Taliesin, it seems to me, turns to artistic
advantage the lack of background and ancestors of
a hero whom I strongly suspect of being a bandit
self-raised to eminence, by making him something
altogether unique, a solitary splendour.
Far different is the court of
Mynyddawg Mwyvawr in Aneirin. Mynyddawg
himself is all but hidden by the varied yet
uniform splendour of his heroes. Not that
they outface him: Aneirin makes it quite clear
that the king is the father of his men, and that
part of his paternity is to feed his war-band or comitatus,
his true foster-children, not with milk, but with
wine and mead. Everything this
glorious band do redounds to his honour. But
it is the character of the society they create
that is of the greatest interest. Far from
the braggartry and barbarism one would imagine in
a hall of Celtic warriors, drunk with ale and
wine, a premium is placed on courtliness,
gentleness, even shyness. Several
verses of the A version make powerful use of an
antithesis between gentleness at home and
ferocity in battle. It is common to both
versions that the comitatus leads a life
of aristocratic ease and plenty in the
kings hall and must therefore fight to the
death in battle, but the A version makes more
ambitious use of the contrast between hall and
battlefield. It is a part of the moral
requirement of an eillt, so the A version
has it, to be gentle and even bashful in the kings hall,
but to be fierce like a boar, an eagle or a wolf
in battle. The B version makes ample
reference to the ferocity of the warrior in
battle, but is hardly interested at all in his
gentleness at home. [However] the contrast
occurs in the B version at 1093-94 = 1070-71 A. And to
quote myself: We may be certain, from
Gildas, that L was at least in part a
contemporary, perhaps eyewitness account, and
that it concerned the struggles of valiant heroes
against terrible odds; in other words, that its
picture of the Saxon war was heavily
personalistic, centred on the activities of a
number of named individual heroes. (This
is oddly reminiscent of the Gododdin in the
emphasis on the enormous odds faced against a
numerically superior Saxon enemy, its claim to be
eyewitness material, and its praises and
descriptions of individual heroes.)
The emphasis on courtly behaviour
is actually closer to the expected behaviour of
the Arthurian court in thirteenth- and
fourteenth-century continental romance than the
latter is to that of the Carolingian legends of
the Chansons de geste, where we find some
remarkable instances of bad manners (take for
instance the spat between Roland and Ganelon in
the Chanson de Roland, in the middle of an
assembled High Council yet!) which would surprise
one greatly in Lancelot or Gawain. All it
lacks is the emphasis on fair ladies and love
affairs, to which there are only a few
references.
What is more, the story that
underlies the elegies of Aneirin has a very
similar colouring to the overall idea of
Arthurian glory and doom. A splendid court
of young heroes come together from many lands
under the paternal eye of a generous hero-king,
going to war in a magnificent company against the
Saxons, and finally falling together, in one
body, keeping their truth to their lord to the
last; after which there will be no defence for
the land against Saxon barbarians, for the best
have died. Only a golden memory remains.
Patrick Sims-Williams sums up the point of the
Arthurian poem Pa Gur as follows:
While Arthurs time was a glorious
high point, it doomed subsequent ages to
mediocrity; the poem (or at least a
part of it) presents the king himself
nostalgically remembering his best, fallen, men,
almost like Aneirin remembering the heroes of
Catraeth.
We have seen that the author of N
was a rough contemporary of the events of the Gododdin,
and possibly of the poet who first sang of them;
and it follows that already in their time, Arthur
was a legend and a name to conjure with. Therefore,
if echoes of Arthurian mood and doom can be found
in the Gododdin, that means that they are
there because the poet meant them to be. He
envisaged the doomed war-band of Mynyddawg
Mwynvawr as latter-day Arthurian heroes. The
famous reference to Arthur in the elegy for the
like-named Gwarddur would therefore be in the
nature of a reminder to the audience, bringing to
the forefront the name that had been at the back
of all their minds when hearing of courtly,
gentle, noble heroes from many parts, coming to
gratify a most generous king, and falling
together. Rachel Bromwich had the same
suspicion: The Gododdin reference
may possibly imply that Arthur was regarded as
the adversary in a previous generation of the
same enemies as those who opposed
Mynyddawgs force at Catraeth about 600.
Indeed, indeed. And if we
take Geoffreys description of Arthurs
early years seriously, it is not only the enemies
but the kind of war practised by the Gododdin
heroes which coincide with his: ...he made
up his mind to harry the Saxons, so that by their
wealth he might reward the retainers who served
his own household. The emphasis on
plundering the enemy, which is part of the climax
of A, returns in Geoffreys description of
Arthurs activities, and again in the
unfulfilled expectations of the Gododdin. Arthur
and the Gododdin both went on plundering
expeditions, taking the wealth of an already
established and prosperous Saxon enemy.
The political ambitions that led
this young man (no more than 15, according to
Geoffrey) to bankrupt his kingdom could not be
made much clearer. When he nearly bankrupts
himself, it is by his generosity to renowned
heroes, and it is his practice throughout his
reign to always be generous, in other
words, to pay with his public and ceremonial
gift-giving the accession of power given him by
the arrival of more and more champions, to gather
a large army of milites - Geoffrey is
clear that his wealth went not to churchmen,
bards, or the poor, but to men of arms whom he
defines by the ancient Roman name of the regular
army man. In the world of Celtic ideas,
this is highly practical politics, and Geoffrey
makes the point very clearly: valiant and
generous kings will not be without substance for
long. How many people have noticed
Geoffreys astonishing, brutal clarity about
Arthurs reasons to fight the Saxons? Arthur...
was... of outstanding generosity... Once he had
been invested with the royal insignia, he
observed the normal custom of giving gifts freely
to everyone. Such a crowd of soldiers
came to him that he came to an end of what he had
to distribute. However, the man to whom
open-handedness and bravery come naturally may
indeed find himself momentarily in need, but
poverty will never harass him for long ...he
made up his mind to harry the Saxons, so that
by their wealth he might reward the retainers
who served his own household. It is
clear that the young monarch nearly bankrupted
himself with his hospitality to renowned heroes,
and went to war with the Saxons to recoup his
losses.
By the same token, if he did not
have enough wealth to pay them except by raiding
the Saxons, so too one imagines that regular
tribute to the emperor of Britain would not be
very welcome. In Geoffrey, the issue which
leads to war between Arthur and Leo is the same
which is at the centre of A, the charter of the
Celticist rebellion against the unsupportable
burden, iugum, of ius Romanum:
tribute (census); Roman envoys appear at
Arthurs court, demanding reparation for
Arthurs first invasion of Gaul, and the
tribute long that Arthur had not paid for years.
Arthur answers with his army.
This is related to a question that
recurs in the life of the Galfridian Arthur - and
of no other Arthur, except where Galfridian
influence is manifest: namely, the wholly
realistic and unromantic matter of the disparity
between Arthurs ambition, which leads him,
from the beginning, to invite every hero of note
to his court, and the narrowness of his means.
In Zosimus, it is the dire straits to which the
British are reduced supposedly
by the pressure of barbarians that forces
them to reject ius Romanum and to revert
to their own customs; in other words,
it is a matter of money the
British do not have enough wealth
left to sustain ius Romanum, or so they
claim. And it is true that one of the
characteristics of late Roman law was its
relentless fiscal pressure; if the heirs of
Ambrosius insisted on the full application of
imperial law, parts of Britain might well have
found the ius an intolerable iugum
especially the ever-impoverished far
north.
One part of the contemptuous
answer of Geoffreys Arthur to the
emperors demand for tribute may well have
historical roots: he points out that the tribute
had not been claimed for years. This is a
typical reaction of those who have let an
obligation fail and dont want to be
reminded of it; and, like Arthurs reckless
generosity to all renowned warriors, not legend,
not even villainous legend, but highly practical
politics.
I think we have reached the centre
of the labyrinth. Arthur was an outstanding
military leader, perhaps not of very high rank,
who rebelled against the successors of Ambrosius
over a matter of taxes. Is there any direct
evidence for a clash between Arthur and his
followers, and the heirs of Ambrosius? Indeed
there is. The Arthurian poem Pa Gur
(Black Book of Carmarthen 31, verses 63-64) has
Arthur say in so many words that his ally Cei had
fought the servants (in other translations,
the lords) of Emrais, in other
words, that he had gone to war against soldiers
of Emrys/Ambrosius or against lords of his blood.
Pa Gur is, so far as I can
see, the fusion of several Arthurian traditions,
some legendary, some historical, and of two
separate poems a humorous piece about
Arthur being refused entrance to a court by
Glewlwyd Mighty-Grip, a bloody-minded porter of a
kind found elsewhere in Celtic legend; and a marwnad
or lament for Cai, Arthurs finest hero.
The picture of Cai before the lords of
Emrys is, exactly, the climax of Cais
greatness and deeds in this poem, followed by a
passionate description of Cai as the ideal
warrior, a tall man, bitter in vengeance (this
hints that Cai had some reason to want revenge
against the lords of Emrys a lost story,
alas), a man who could drink from the horn like
four men, but kill like a hundred. A bad
guess has been made that he was in fact fighting
men of Gwynedd, because of a single and much
later poetic reference to Gwynedd as the land of
Emrys; but in fact, Cais great battle in
the same poem, the battle of Tryfrwyd, was fought
across the sea. The poem says
that Cai fought the lords/servants of
Emrais furiously, but it does not say that
he won or that he came back alive, and in fact it
ends with mention of his death and that of
Arthurs son Llacheu; the section ends by
saying that unless God had willed it,
Cais death would not have been
possible. Is it a coincidence that
the Cai of Geoffrey died in victorious battle
against the Romans those Romans whom we
are seeing reason to believe are in fact the
British Roman party of the Ambrosiad succession?
Another piece of stark evidence,
glaring for centuries at anyone who cared to
notice, has been ignored because of the two least
attractive customs of modern scholars: a supine
habit of repeating each others judgements,
and a tendency to shut the mind down as soon as
anything of a Christian nature appears. I
can put up with the freaks of judgement of a John
Morris or an E.A.Thompson, by-products of
probing, independent and committed minds; but to
read the same piece of nonsense, repeated almost
word for word, in no less than three different
scholars, is, as far as I am concerned, more than
flesh and blood can stand.
There is a poem called The
dialogue of Arthur and the eagle, which, to
the best of my knowledge, has never been fully
translated into English, and which therefore I
can only discuss from summaries; and which,
never-theless, is as full of ground-breaking
evidence as an egg. Though its poetic
qualities have been condemned by people better
able to judge Welsh verse than myself, it starts
in fact with a vivid and arresting image: Arthur,
apparently alone, is startled to see an eagle
looking down at him from the top of a magnificent
oak, and smiling. He remarks on this
aloud, and the eagle answers: he has seen Arthur
before. He is in fact Eliwlod son of
Arthurs brother Madawg which
startles Arthur even more, since Eliwlod son of
Madawg is dead.
In the common rush to disregard
this openly Christian poem on the presumption
that Christian equals bad, flat, platitudinous
and unintelligent, nobody seems to have noticed
the extraordinarily sinister and threatening omen
of this image. Two great Celtic legends
feature a supernatural eagle perched on top of an
equally supernatural tree, which in at least one
of them is an oak: the Welsh legend of Lleu,
Blodeuwedd and Gronw Pebyr, and the Breton fable
of the bird-child (enfant-oiseau), which
has somehow ended up in Germany as the most
sombre and impressive of the Brothers
Grimms collection of fables (The juniper
tree). In both cases, the eagle is a
young man or boy, murdered, and come back to take
a magical and utterly irresistible revenge.
In The Juniper Tree, the mere presence of
the great bird, even when he is not yet seen,
separates irresistibly the good from the wicked:
the innocent father of the boy, deceived by his
murderous second wife, and the devoted little
sister who buried his bones thus insuring
his resurrection are not only caught up in
a transport of inexplicable joy, but are
completely oblivious to the plight of the
murderess, who suffers the agonies of the damned
while her own husband and little daughter simply
appear not to notice. Even before she dies,
she is isolated from the innocent around her,
quite literally damned; the honest and innocent
do not know or see her any more, taken up in
their presentment of utter joy; and she dies
savagely, crushed by a millstone. In The
Mabinogi of Map vab Mathonwy, Lleu the eagle
comes back as judge and avenger, dispensing
differentiated punishment on all those who have
been guilty, in various degrees, of his death,
and striking the actual murderer dead with his
own hand. In other words,
the nature of the bird is to do not only with
revenge, but with graded justice, even moral law:
he can separate the good and the evil.
It is therefore surely significant
that Arthur immediately surmises that this
apparition is there to rebuke him for something
done wrong; the eagle confirms it, and takes him
through a catalogue of his sins. The least
inadequate treatment is in T.Gwynn Jones
old overview of Welsh Arthurian material. Ifor
Williams suggests that this poem belongs to the
second half of the twelfth century. The
metrical form and the non-alliterative character
of the verse, in addition to the subject matter,
which is so different from that of the official
bardic compositions of the period, incline me to
the view that it is a monkish composition which
may be still earlier. The stanza form is
the tercet, called englyn milwr, not
employed by the Court Bards of the Princes, but,
in the composition itself, it is described as traeithawt
(st.25), a term restricted in the Metrical Codes
to the metres of the of the unofficial minstrel
class
Arthurs questions
exhibit in some cases a suggestive rhetorical
repetition. The eagle informs him that it
is sinful to harbour evil and treacherous
thoughts; that this may be avoided through
prayer; that Christs blessing is obtained
through the love of God and of justice; that
Christ is the lord of all the spirits; that
Heaven is merited through repentance and hope;
that the worst accompaniment of sin is despair,
which brings the soul to eternal torment; that
God is the sole might and that He reckons not the
might of man; that that which Christ shall do for
those who believe in him shall be manifest on the
Day of Judgement, when God Himself shall judge;
that the most effective means of benefiting the
soul are prayers; that idle pride is the cause of
suffering; that what is not pure must be
cleansed; that that he who commits perjury to
obtain land, and is guilty of treason against his
own lord, shall repent at the Day of
Judgement.
This series of questions and
answers I have seen no less than three separate
scholars dismiss as a standard Christian
catechism. Am I mad, or are they
blind? Since when does a standard
Christian catechism disregard such small
matters as Trinity, Holy Spirit, Incarnation,
Crucifixion and Resurrection, in favour of such
central and of course exclusively
Christian pieces of morality as that that it is
sinful to harbour evil and treacherous thoughts,
that God, the sole might, reckons not the might
of man, that what is not pure must be cleansed,
and
that it is wrong to commit perjury
to obtain land and betray ones own lord?
I simply cannot believe that no
scholar has seen what is as plain as the nose on
their face; that, whatever its poetic quality (on
which I yeld to better judges), this is not the
piece of bland morality which their obvious
prejudice misleads them into misperceiving; but
rather a vigorous, point-by-point denunciation of
Arthurs moral character - idly proud, the
cause of mischief, arrogant before God and men,
contemptuous of justice (the eagle reminds him
that Christs blessing is obtained
through the love of God and of justice),
sitting long in thought to meditate evil to
others, impure, in need of cleansing, committing
perjury to obtain land and guilty of treason
against his own lord. These are specific
charges, confirmed by the character of Arthur
himself in the poem - eager for might and more
might, wealth and more wealth. Some
of the stanzas, quoth Gwynn Jones,
exhibit the naivety so amply found in Irish
material, and may evidence of early origin,
reflecting traditional accounts of the
Christianization of the Brythons. For
example, stanzas 29-34:
Thou eagle
I ask thee, is
anything better than to hope?
Should he desire to possess a
portion of land, let the weak trust in God.
(Another allusion to the legitimate or
illegitimate eagerness to possess land!
that is what he hopes for.)
Do thou not lose God for the
sake of wealth (and another!) the
only might is the Highest.
I ask thee, is not the owner of
the land mighty? (and another!)
I ask thee in words, am I also
not mighty? (Arthur dares to compare his
might with Gods!)
Arthur, chief of the hosts of
Kernyw, magnificent leader of armies, the highest
might is God.
I do not doubt that Gwynn Jones
was right in seeing this as evidence of early
origin, but to me that is less important than the
obvious, indeed obsessive theme, of these
stanzas: the ambition to possess more land and
more wealth, the pride in Arthurs own
strength, the charge of being both treacherous to
his lord and proud before God and all for
the sake of land, and more land, and might, and
more might! The Arthur of the poem is
indeed magnificent, and the eagle addresses him
again and again as a glorious leader of hosts;
but this glory goes with huge sins, in which it
is all too easy to recognize the dark side of
Geoffreys generous giver of gifts to
heroes, which he pays for by assaulting the
Saxons, and who refuses to pay tribute to the
Emperor. The eagle criticizes Arthurs
treachery against his lord; what lord can we be
talking about? Who did Arthur rebel
against? In all Arthurian literature,
except for the vague brag by Ysbadadden that Arthur is
under my power, there is only one lord who
claims a legitimate superiority over Arthur,
against whom Arthur rebels, and all for the sake
of land (Gaul) and wealth (the tribute demanded
and denied): Leo, Emperor of Rome.
In a still important article, Nora
K.Chadwick outlined the evidence for a lost North
British tradition hostile to Arthur. She
was unable to perceive his hostility to Roman
institutions (since she did not have the evidence
for surviving Roman institutions in Britain); her
approach to literary analysis was somewhat
primitive; and she was over-enthusiastic in
assembling irrelevant material such as the
stories of the Breton St. Euflamm and the Welsh
St. Carannog, in which Arthur obtains the help of
local saints in blameless feats of
monster-slaying. But many of her insights
have stood the test of time, and they prove
beyond the shadow of a doubt that a very negative
view of Arthur existed, preserved mainly but not
exclusively in some Saints lives. In
the Life of St.Cadoc, he is in ambiguous
moral position, twice stretching his rights much
too far: first, when he is shown considering
whether to take an eloping bride for himself,
which would probably be within his rights as a
Celtic high king, but which would fall, as his
companions point out, very far below what is
expected of him; and second when, claiming
wergild for the murder of three of his fighting
men from St.Cadoc (who is giving asylum to the
murderer), he imposes excessive and onerous
methods of payment. In the Life of
St.Paternus, he is neither more nor less than
a thief, trying to steal the Saints
beautiful and consecrated tunic, and being sunk
into the earth up to his chin for his trouble.
This is a wholly symbolic story, with the
Saints tunic standing for the sacred status
and power of ecclesiastics, and the sinking of
the king into the earth - following his coming in
wrath, stamping the earth under his
feet - being a negative image of the
kings relationship with the land; behind it
lies a view of Arthur as trying to usurp the
sacred power of the clergy. Other items
include a gloss in a Sawley manuscript of
Nennius, which claims that his title mab Uthr
means not son of Uther but something like son
of cruelty, because he was a nasty bit of
work from his youth, a pueritia sua (this
reminds us of Geoffreys notice that he
reached the throne at fifteen, suggesting that he
immediately showed his ambitious and ruthless
streak); and the important Triad 37 of the Trioedd
Ynis Prydein, in which Arthurs pride is
the long-term ruin of Britain - he unburies the
head of Bran from under the White
Hill in London, thus robbing Britain of
magical protection, because he does not think it
right that the island should be defended by
anyones strength but his.
It is perhaps interesting that
both the Vita Cadoci and the Vita
Paterni show a greedy Arthur, eager to take
what pertains to him poorly or not at all,
restrained by his associates. In the Vita
Cadoci, he wants to take the maiden Gwladus
for himself until Kai and Bedwyr advise him
against him - advice which he does not take well.
In the Vita Paterni, he does not take it
at all: it is contra comitorum suorum consilia,
against the advice of his companions, that he
sets out to steal the Saints tunic - and
gets his well-deserved dunking in the earth.
This really does not agree with the Gildasian
view that the king is the moral centre of his
court, ultimately responsible for the good or the
evil of his commanipulares; Arthurs comites
(Vita Paterni) or consodales (Vita
Cadoci) are not corrupted by their king, but,
to the contrary, remind him of his duties. Now,
I have argued that the Gildasian view is the
traditional view, that the king was taken to be
the moral centre and the only moral actor of his
court; therefore, this visibly traditional
account of followers of Arthur morally
independent of their king and capable of
reproving him suggests that this moral
independence of theirs was a part of the early
traditional view of the king. It also does
seem to agree with the immense importance of his
court.
All those among these notices
which have any narrative form at all are
legendary; but their legend contradicts the
common portrayal of Arthur - which is positive
not only in romance, but in other saints
lives, in poetry and in folklore - and is
consistent. Arthur is over-ambitious.
He pushes his rights much too far and does not
recognize anyone elses. (In Pa Gur,
Arthur boasts that my young men were
valiant/ defending their rights, or
their customs) He tramples, or
tries to, on the rights of the clergy (and we
remember that the eagle charged him repeatedly
with impiety and contempt for God) and hates the
idea that anyone or anything except him should
defend Britain; and he is cruel - the Sawley
gloss finds its echo in his excessive demands for
blood-payments from St.Cadoc. There is,
however, one fragmentary account - to do, of all
people, with St.Gildas - which does seem rooted
in a recognizable historical context.
The Life of St.Gildas by
Caradoc of Llancarfan informs us that Gildas was
the son of a known and certainly historical king
in the north of Britain, Caw, the remnants of
whose once widespread fame may be traced in a
number of divergent allusions. In the Life
of St.Cadoc he appears as an ancient giant
resurrected to serve the Saint; elsewhere he is
named as the ancestor of a number of named Saints
in a triad of saintly British lineages. In Cullhwch
and Olwen, Caw is present in Arthurs
own court, but a feud between his son Hueil and
Arthur is forecast. Now Caradoc of
Llancarfan has the pro-Arthur stance that was
normal in his time, when the legend of the great
king was already spreading all over Europe, but he seems to have
unintelligently copied into his book a few
descriptions of Arthur which belong to the heart
of the negative tradition. Arthur is twice
called rex rebellis, a rebellious king; it
is the enemy whom he pursues to destruction, an
admirable young man named Hueil son of Caw, whom
the people hoped would be king, so that his
eventual slaughter at Arthurs hands - after
years of border raiding in which Hueil had
apparently proved the better man - represents, in
the eyes of the people, a real
disaster. Whatever the fact of the matter,
the tradition of Hueils proud and ambitious
character is well established: Cullhwch and
Olwen mentions the feud from a pro-Arthur
point of view, but it agrees with the Vita
Gildae that it was characteristic of Hueil
not to obey any king. Caradoc claims that
Gildas forgave Arthur for his beloved
brothers death; but sources known to Gerald
of Wales attribute to him a more credibly human
detestation for the king.
Another enormity ascribed to
Arthur is the siege of Glastonbury, again with
St.Gildas in it. Caradoc places this in the
context of Queen Guineveres well-known
habit of being abducted; Melwas, king of
the summer country, here identified
with Somerset, after abducting her, sends her to
Glastonbury for safekeeping; as a result, Arthur
besieges the monastery until Gildas and the abbot
return the queen to him and make peace between
him and Melwas.
This is partly pure legend. Arthur
besieging a castle where Guinevere is being held
with or without her consent - that is a
commonplace of Arthurian legend; and the
reconciliation between the king and his enemy
thanks to the mediation of eminent ecclesiastics,
with Guinevere being returned to Arthur, only
transposes the well-known episode in which
Lancelot, besieged by Arthur at Joyous Guard,
returns Guinevere with the Popes mediation,
swearing before the Pope that he has not touched
her sexually. Melwas, as we
have seen, is a mythical character connected with
Guinevere, and the identification of his kingdom
of the Summer Country with Somerset is a late pun
which depends on the English name of Somerset and
only works in English. It is, in fact, a
typically Celtic name for a fairy island across
the ocean, and at least one Welsh poem tells us
that Melwas the enchanter took his lady to the
ends of the Earth. The reason of the
identification of this Otherworld isle with
Glastonbury is known to any medieval historian;
Glastonbury was one of the biggest nests of
monastic forgers in the Christian world,
gleefully appropriating any Saint, any hero, and
any legend they could lay their hands on. If
they had had the nerve to claim the tomb of the
great St.Dunstan even while he rested peacefully
in his great cathedral of Canterbury across the
island, they certainly would not bridle at
claiming an Arthurian episode; some time later,
they discovered the graves of Arthur
and Guinevere. (Those who still try today
to assert that these graves may have been
historical must explain how, exactly, the grave
of an unhistorical pagan goddess,
Guinevere/Gwennhwyvar/Findabair, could be found
in a Christian cemetery.)
So, Somerset is an intrusion, and
Glastonbury is an intrusion, on a legendary
pattern that works very well without them. However,
in no other version of the legend known to me
does Arthur besiege, not his enemys castle,
but a neutral place of refuge; and in no version
of the legend is the queen moved away from her
abductor, Melwas, Lancelot or Mordred. It follows that
these features do not belong to the legend; that
is, a tradition existed that Arthur had come up
in arms against a great monastery, and besieged
it - with Gildas being involved - until the abbot
had conciliated him; and it follows that it was
Caradoc who called on a well-known episode of
Arthurian legend to explain away this sacrilege,
probably because the best-known siege episodes in
Arthurian legend as opposed to any
possible historical account have to do
with the abduction(s) of Guinevere. In the
Latin of this episode, Arthur is again both tyrannus
and rex rebellis, and no wonder!
The fact that these are evidently
fossile accounts, which Caradoc is not so much
concerned with changing as simply incapable of
understanding, suggest that the use of tyrannus
for Arthur might be in the old-fashioned
Gildasian sense of teyrn, under-king.
The Vita Paterni also calls Arthur a tyrannus,
and while the moral character ascribed to him
there fully justifies the title, it may also
depend from a similar idea; after all, we have
seen that in Gildas the moral opprobrium of being
a tyrannus is not altogether separate from
its social inferiority. The hostile account
of Arthur killing Hueil son of Caw, and besieging
a monastery with Hueils brother St.Gildas
in it, may therefore be very early; Nora Chadwick
regarded them as part of a lost North-British
literature which, except for Strathclyde, cannot
date to later than the 640s, when the English
overran all the North. Strathclyde recovered her
independence in 685, but the other ancient
kingdoms, and especially the Gododdin, vanished
from history[19].
Some documents suggest that
Arthurs ambitious and violent character was
a family trait. Arthur had a brother called
Madawg, mentioned in two poems, the father of the
already-mentioned Eliwlod. The poems describe
Madawg in terms strikingly similar to Arthur
himself. One, a fragment of a praise-poem,
presents him in terms that might apply to his
brother: Madawg, the rampart of
rejoicing/ Madawg, before he was in his grave/ He
was a fortress of generosity/ Of feats and play;/
The son of Uther, before [his]death/ Handed over
pledges
The other is of clerical
source and as bitter as all those other clerical
accounts of Arthur: He was false, Madawg
the famous leader/ And he had great profit; great
is the grief! - Madawg, like Arthur in The
dialogue of Arthur and the Eagle, is charged
with being false to his own great advantage but
to the ultimate grief and misfortune of
everything. It is possible, of course, that the
image of Madawg was influenced by that of his
more famous brother; after all, both poems
clearly refer to a hero long since dead - and
therefore clearly in the light of the sibling who
outlived him for so long and who had so high a
doom[20].
If we take as I take
Arthur to have been an ambitious border kinglet
who eventually started a revolution against Roman
law in Britain and against the house of
Ambrosius, then a conclusion about the nature of
his feud with Hueil really seems inevitable. It
was a falling-out of allies. It is impossible,
from the documents, to do more than guess; but
the Life of Gildas says that the people
hoped that Hueil would become king; in other
words, he had the same ambitions as Arthur
himself. Both Life and Cullhwch
tell us that it was a characteristic of Hueil not
to submit to any king; the result was war. At
what point in Arthurs career it took place
it is probably impossible to determine, but the
likeliest date seems at some point between the
first and second cycle of wars.
In fact, the most persistent
negative note in Arthurs dossier is the
number of feuds with former members of his court.
Hueil is at Arthurs court in Cullhwch
and Olwen, but the feud is forecast; Cullhwch
also speaks of a breach with Kei, and so does
Chretien de Troyes Le chevalier de la
charrette[21].Nennius speaks of a son
of Arthur killed by his father. The legend of
Yder son of Nut is a story of consistent
ingratitude and perfidy on Arthurs part
against a knight who at first fought by his side
and wanted nothing more than to be dubbed knight
by him. Behind Yder peep ancient North British
dynasties: Yder is Edern, ancestor of Cunedda and
Maelgwn, and his father Nut is none other than
Nudd, divine ancestor of all lesser ranks of
kings. Edern is older than Arthur by several
generations and cannot have been his enemy; but
this seems to hint at a dynastic rivalry set in
the Scottish borders[22]. Lanval is treated
nearly as shabbily, even violating Arthurs
duty of generosity to heroes; it is perhaps for
that that he passes altogether beyond the great
kings ken, in the power of a lady who
surpasses Guinevere herself.
And then, of course, there is the
feud with his nephew Mordred. The relationship of
Arthur and the possible historical original of
Mordred/Medrawt has long been an issue, since it
has been pointed out that the earliest Welsh
poetic references to Medrawt are uniformly
positive, representing him as a paragon of
courtliness and chivalry; the inference being
that such a fine character cannot really have
been the rebel against and murderer of the Great
King. But the complex character shown in the
Dialogue of Arthur and the Eagle a great
hero, a magnificent war leader, but treacherous
against his lord, greedy for land, impious,
unjust show that the fact that Medrawt
bore originally a very good reputation is in no
contradiction at all with the fact that he was
the Great Kings slayer.
A more obscure dynastic rivalry
almost certainly existed; indeed, the losing side
may actually have interpreted it as a contention de
imperio between themselves and the great
king. In Cullhwch and Olwen, Glewlwyd
Mighty-Grip, the porter, brags to Arthur of the
many wars they have been in together; and it is
typical of the way this story mixes genuine
tradition and comical nonsense that this list
contains both the resounding names of distant
lands such as Asia, Africa and Corsica, names
probably made-up such as Caer Oeth and Anoeth,
and an obscure but credible item such as I
was once there when you killed the retinue of
Gleis son of Merin, when you killed Mil Du son of
Dugum. Mil Du can mean either the
Black Animal or the Black
Soldier (Latin Miles, and a title of
Arthur himself in Nennius). His name seems
totally unknown in Wales or Scotland, but it
turns up in two significant legends in Brittany:
a legend of dynastic hostility and revenge, and
one in which his sins are forgiven post mortem,
like those of Caw in the Life of St.Cadoc.
In Appendix 10 I examine the evidence (whose full
analysis would overbalance this chapter, and is
not very necessary) to show that the family of
Mil Du almost certainly survived the killing of
their patriarch at Arthurs hands, and took
refuge in Brittany. This is another piece of
evidence suggesting that the British settlement
of Armorica took place in the sixth century: the
feud against Mil Du took place in Britain, and
was remembered to have taken place in Britain,
but the dynasty whose memories depended from it
existed in Brittany, and in Brittany alone; if it
was a feud against Arthur, then it can only have
taken place in the early to mid-500s, and its
survivors took their memories to Armorica some
time after that.
Memories of Arthur were strongest,
apparently, at the two opposite ends of the
British world. In Wales, he had to compete (until
the Norman influence and that of Geoffrey pushed
him to the forefront of Welsh mythology) with a
true host of Welsh legendary heroes, from Lleu to
Llywarch Hen, whose stories may well have been
more popular than his, and the disrespectful
burlesque of Cullhwch and Olwen suggests
that he was not always taken entirely seriously.
On the other hand, he occupies most of Nora
K.Chadwick article about the lost literature of
British Scotland; and he absolutely towers over
everyone and everything in the Arthurian
literature of the Continent, which must be held
to originate in Brittany, and in the related
province of Cornwall. It was in Cornwall, not in
Wales, that people threatened to lynch someone
who had doubted that Arthur was alive and would
return; something which the Welsh gogynfeirdd
explicitly denied[23].
This is really not too hard to
explain. Arthur did actually start from the
North, and families and tribes which had had to
do with him carried on their traditions of glory
or enmity into the light of later history and
literature. As for Brittany, Arthur can be
regarded as directly or indirectly its founder.
Before his impact, Armorica was a Roman country
with a few Celtic settlements not, in
themselves, necessarily more potent or with a
greater further than those of the Franks,
Theifali, Saxons, Alani, Burgundians and other
barbarian minorities who eventually melted into
the Roman majority of Gaul to form the new
Romance-speaking French nation; he
placed in its peninsula a solid and irremovable
Celtic aristocracy from whom the language of
Celtic Britain spread downwards to the conquered
Gallo-Roman peasantry. As late as the 580s, the
Roman population in Brittany is majority enough
for Bishop Regalis to distinguish between
we, the people of the country whom he
commends to Frankish protection, and the
British, the ruling minority who give the
orders; but today, Breton is the language of the
peasantry.
Legend remembered the founding
role of Arthur: Arthurian romance, with its
largely Breton roots, often referred to him as
the king who makes knights, whose
power is to consecrate and stabilize titles of
nobility. This is particularly clear in the case
of Perceval: it is to Arthur that Perceval goes
to have his nobility asserted and confirmed.
Perceval is a type of the Hidden King, brought up
in the forest by a widowed mother like Silvius
son of Aeneas was brought up by Lavinia or
Yudhisthira and his brothers by Kunti; his blood
is that of the Kings of the Grail; but it is
Arthur alone who enters him into the
aristocratic, and therefore royal, class. I know
no parallel from any other Indo-European stories
of Hidden Kings for the idea of a Hidden King
consecrated by another king. Both Silvius and
Yudhisthira are simply made manifest before the
assembled people, and if any high-ranking
personage is needed to confirm their identity and
title, it is not any king, but their mothers
and/or a group of sages or other initiatic
figures. In India, it is the Brahmins of the
royal household who announce the arrival of the
hidden sons of King Pandu to the assembled
people; in Rome, it is the royal swineherd (royal
swineherds, as scholars know, had a special
semi-sacred significance among the Celto-Latins).
The role of Arthur and his court in recognizing
and consecrating Perceval is something peculiar
to Breton legend, and we notice that, once again,
it is the llys Arthur, that might object
of legend, in its corporate character, that is at
the forefront.
Notes
History
of Britain, 407-597 is copyright © 2002, Fabio
P. Barbieri. Used with permission.
Comments
to: Fabio P.
Barbieri
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