One last bit on the Weslh Triads

Hey guys,

I wanted to give you one last taste of the Welsh Triads, also known as the Triads of the Island of Brittan, that I mentioned in my presentation on Tristan. They are very interesting to look at and I thought it would be nice to end on an old Arthur note.

Just to refresh your memory, these are tales that originate in texts that date in the 13th century, but are thought to be older than the 9th century. Arthur was at times described as very courageous and great, and others he was treacherous. Here, from very early, we see the dual depictions of Arthur. They Triads were written in threes and were written of figures that were important to the island of Brittan.

If you want to learn more, there is a very interesting book called, "A history of Wales from the earliest times to the Edwardian conquest" by Sir John Edward Lloyd. Definitely check it out!

Here is one of my favorite Arthur references from the Black Book (probably dates to 11th or 12th century):
I have been where Llachau was slain,
the son of Arthur, awful in songs,
when ravens croaked over blood.

Love gets a bad rap and it doesn’t make me happy

A comment I made in another entry about the different treatment of the LG affair by Chretien vs. Malory, left me wondering why is it that I missed the long amorous monologues of Chretien and (less so) Von Eschenbach and how would Morte D’Arthur change if Malory had inserted some Ovidian style love passages, more secret encounters between Lancelot and Guinevere ? And how would it had affected the tragic ending? With a blind, trance-like Lancelot like in the Cart? It would have been interesting, more melodramatic...Another creative project idea!
The exalted love component made the Arthurian text more varied, but they did seem to dominate the plot in Chretien and WVE. It was a good change, meeting surreal characters (dwarves, hermits, maidens, faeries) in the forest, and then the pining and looking at blood on snow. It was refreshing, and having that insight into a knight’s thoughts...
Why did Malory divorce his fictional knighthood from a sweeping love story? In the end Tristan and Isode’s comments about love making better knights is laughable.
Love didn’t make Lancelot et. al better knights, it was the rejection of love that permitted Lancelot, Arthur etc to die with honor or you could say that BECAUSE Lancelot had the affair he was able to patch up his act in the end, sort of define himself, who he was. And he decided he would not be a lover.
Through Lancelot, Malory seems to be saying marriage hinders knights (look at Arthur) but informal romantic entanglements help you define your priorities and make you always prefer knightly honor.
They, LG, suffer more for the consequences of love than from being apart it seems, though granted, Malory does not let us in into their deepest, innermost thoughts, so we can't assume they don't.
Anyway, so I went back to my courtly love notes, and Malory was writing when courtly, chivalric virtuous love (without the adulterous component) was incredibly popular -- the 14th century to 16th century--. People were reading romances, lyrics, handbooks of conduct, etc. The 14th century gentleman wanted to be like Tristan. Why was deviant, cleptomaniac Malory so …the only word I can think of is frugal…frugal with the love component… I understand there was a war and that Malory was a frustrated knight stuck in jail, and it was knighthood he missed the most? But he did he ever SERVE?? Was he a sort of Don Quijote? Is this book a projection of his unfulfilled knightly fantasies? And, was it difficult for him to relate to women and kept getting rejected/accused of rape in real life? Was this why Lancelot rejects all those women?
By removing the Ovidian/Tristan love from Morte the knights feel less realistic, less comprehensive men. Does this affect the way we think of them as ideal?

I do like flawed heroes with an inner life.

A new Morgan le Fay text

I've been meaning to post this for a while; finally getting around to it!

I think one of the most fascinating parts of history and literature is when people make new discoveries in archives. While conducting research for my short paper on Morgan le Fay, I came across an article in the journal of Arthurian Literature by a fellow who discovered a short letter purportedly written by Morgan to a bachelor in her household.

In translation, the letter says:

"[Salutation: ] Morgan, by the grace of God empress of the wilderness, queen of the damsels, lady of the isles, long time governor of the waves (of the) great sea; to our royal bachelor Pomelyn, guardian of the Perilous Point: Greeting.

[Text: ] When Piers the Fierce was peer to peers, then Piers forgot all his peers. Now is Piers without peer and peers. By the man one is able to learn, for he loses this plainly who does not want to wait his time. Suddenly he begins to fly and greatly he pains [himself] to change his place [i.e. his station in life] when he wants to take the moon, because he makes his flights at will without avail. Now to explain to you: It is much better to wait for Fortune than hastily to ascend and suddenly to descend.

[Closing: ] Issued at our Castle of Diamond, on the Rock of Gold, above the Ruby Road, alongside the Plain of Sapphire."

Piers Gaveston was a "special friend" (probably a lover) of Edward II, and suffered a particularly nasty downfall in 1312.

This letter is significant because of when it was written and how it portrays Morgan, within a context of increasing character assassination by the Church and later writers.

To excerpt from my short paper:

"Although the origins of the character of Morgan le Fay are unclear, it is clear that she did not become a problematic figure in Arthurian literature until the Vulgate cycle in the early 13th century. In Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Vita Merlini, Morgan is Morgen, a “priestess who rules the Blessed Isle ‘under a system of benign laws’ and teaches her followers ‘how to cure sickness.’” This portrayal of Morgan as a benevolent, wise healer continues in Chretien de Troyes’s 12th-century romances. In Erec et Enide, she makes the ointment that heals Erec’s wounds. Although the demonization process begins in the early 13th century, there exists a mock letter by Morgan le Fay that portrays her as a wise empress and “lady of the isles” advising a bachelor on the power of Fortune. The letter is tentatively dated to the first half of the 14th century, but its existence demonstrates the existence of a tradition of Morgan as wise and benevolent even as it was threatened and, eventually, suppressed by her demonization.

In the early 13th century, a series of Grail tales appeared, known to us as the Vulgate Cycle, in which the demonization of Morgan le Fay began in earnest. She became “‘the most lustful woman in all of Great Britain,’ a jealous and malicious queen, ‘inspired with sensuality and the devil,’ who is hateful towards Guinevere especially” (Carver 36). Carver attributes this blackening to misogynistic Cistercian monks who “took these popular tales and edited them to suit their own didactic purposes” (David Day, qtd. Carver 36). These purposes included the desire to condemn not only women as sexual temptresses who threatened the spiritual lives of men but also to condemn magic and healing as a devilish force. These Cistercian monks and other clergy were “inclined to share the misogynist views current in the medieval church. Thus when they write about enchantresses, they often use them as vehicles for the critique of dominant values” (Larrington 3). The clergy united two contemporary religious problems with Arthuriana and targeted Morgan as a figure in which they could ‘hit two birds with one stone’: demoting both women and extra-Church mysticism and healing. By condemning Morgan as an evil, malicious female sorceress, the monks ‘re-wrote’ the Arthurian mythos to their own time, removing from it the lone strong, educated female healer who wasn’t affiliated with the Church. This re-writing continued in Sir Thomas Malory’s 1485 Le Mort Darthur, as Morgan plots to kill Arthur, steals his scabbard and enchants Lancelot into a deep sleep, entrapping him in her castle. However, Malory’s Morgan is not entirely bad — she reconciles with Arthur at the end, on the boat to Avalon. Furthermore, the plot element of Morgan as Arthur’s lover and Mordred’s mother didn’t emerge until latter-20th-century Arthurian literature (Carver 40); in Le Mort Darthur and even T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, it is Margawse/Morgause who mothers Mordred. In a twist of irony, modern women writers, including Marion Zimmer Bradley, who seek to redeem Morgan’s character continue this process of negative re-writing by continuing to cast her as Arthur’s lover and Mordred’s mother."

It is interesting, indeed, that the image of Morgan as wise adviser continues into the fourteenth century. I wonder whether this image was preserved in oral re-tellings of Arthurian tales after the mid-1300s, but could not be written down because most writing was done in monasteries. It would be nice if we somehow could pinpoint when the nice Morgan disappeared from the Arthurian legend altogether.

Twomey, Michael. “’Morgan le Fay, Empress of the Wilderness’: A Newly Recovered Arthurian Text in London, BL Royal 12.C.IX.” Arthurian Literature XXV. Eds. Elizabeth Archibald and David F. Johnson. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2008. 67-91.

In case anyone is interested...

Here is a website that has a nice thorough description of that wonderful show, "King Arthur and The Knights of Justice." This is too awesome: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/KingArthurAndTheKnightsOfJustice

It makes me think once again about why sports have (at least in a few cases) become a new way of demonstrating knightly behavior or adventures. The whole team aspect and competition is pretty apparent, but is there anything else that makes sports appealing? It sure does make it fun!

And here is the glorious intro. After watching this, I do not see how Arthur can ever NOT be relevant to modern ideas and preferences: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNjhbOH8m2U

King Arthur, King of Time & Space

Ah, bittersweet! I wanted to post a link to the webcomic Arthur, King of Time And Space, which tells the stories of Arthurian characters in their native Arthurian context, a modern context and a future SPACE ADVENTURE context. See the FAQ and this update for an idea of how that plays out.

This Lancelot one is my favorite.

Lancelot's Weeping

I just wanted to get in one final thought on the passage in Malory where Lancelot weeps. Honestly, I hadn’t given it that much consideration until we looked at the passage in class. However, the metaphor of Lancelot weeping “like a child being beaten” has been on my mind since we all talked about it. I found an interesting article on the subject by Stephen C. B. Atkinson entitled “Malory's "Healing of Sir Urry": Lancelot, the Earthly Fellowship, and the World of the Grail” (Studies in Philology 78. 4, Autumn, 1981, pp. 341-352). Basically, Atkinson lays out a few different readings of the scene: Lancelot weeps for mercy because his secret remains intact; Lancelot weeps for joy; Lancelot weeps because he is successful at this task, unlike the Grail quest; Lancelot’s weeping is actually Malory interjecting his own emotion into the text, crying over the forthcoming destruction of the Round Table society, etc.

In his own reading, Atkinson suggests that Lancelot weeps “like a child being beating” because he experiences a severe spiritual mercy. Lancelot demurs from healing Urry because he recognizes that it is a spiritual and not earthly quest, like the grail quest. Thus, he feels morally unworthy because of his secret relationship with Guinevere. As Atkinson writes,

“The real origin of Lancelot's concern lies in the Grail quest. If we recall the words of the recluse who interpreted for Lancelot the allegory behind the tournament of the black and white knights-which Lancelot, significantly, entered "in incresyng of hys shevalry" (931.25)-we can see that Lancelot's hesitation here stems from his recognition that this adventure demands spiritual, not earthly, resources. On the earlier occasion, the recluse told him: "as longe as ye were knyght of erthly knyghthode ye were the moste mervayloust man of the worlde, and moste adventurest. Now ... sitthen ye be sette amonge the knyghtis of hevynly adventures, if adventure falle you contrary . . . yet have ye no mervayle . . (933.9-14). Lancelot sees the healing of Urry not as a question of worldly fellowship but as a test of heavenly chivalry, and the presumption he seeks to avoid is not that of claiming to be the noblest of the earthly fellowship but of claiming to be a knight of heavenly adventures. Hence his speech to Urry: "For I shame sore with myselff that I shulde be thus requyred, for never was I able in worthynes to do so hyghe a thynge" (1152.13-15). The key here is the word "hyghe," which Lancelot used at the opening of the seventh tale to refer to the demands of the Grail quest-"the hyghe servyse in whom I dud my dyligente laboure" (1046.14-15)…. As evidence of God's mercy, both to Urry and to himself, the healing brings home to Lancelot the supreme benevolence of the power he has rebelled against.”

I find Atkinson’s interpretation of the scene convincing. Certainly, Lancelot experiences an intense, and intensely personal, moment in the healing of Urry. Reading Lancelot’s tears and the violent metaphor as a mercy from God that is so benevolent it hurts certainly elucidates the metaphor, and is in keeping with the other spiritual elements in the text.