‘hyder he cometh as faste as he may to fetche my cors, and besyde my lord kyng Arthur he shal berye me.’ Wherefore the quene sayd in heryng of them al, ‘I beseche Almyghty God that I may never have power to see syr Launcelot wyth my worldly eyen!’
And so Guinevere was carried back to the chapel near Glastonbury, and there she was buried.
Thereafter Lancelot would eat and drink so little that ‘he dryed and dwyned awaye’, and before long he died. After a journey of fifteen days his body was brought according to his wish to the castle of Joyous Garde, and was buried in the choir of the chapel there.
*
The alliterative Morte Arthure (ii)
From the moment when the sails of Arthur’s fleet were seen from the coast my father turned away from the tradition embodied in English in the stanzaic Morte Arthur and Malory’s Tale of the Death of Arthur and turned to the alliterative Morte Arthure, whose narrative I left at the point where Arthur learned from Sir Cradoc of Mordred’s treachery and his wedding to Guinevere (see here).
In the stanzaic Morte Arthur and in Malory there was no confrontation at sea to Arthur on his return, but in the alliterative poem it was a part of Sir Cradoc’s ill news that Mordred had raised a fleet against him (see here):
Att Southamptone on the see es seuene skore [s]chippes,
frawghte fulle of ferse folke, owt of ferre landes.
The author conveys in a few lines the speed of the return of Arthur, who
Turnys thorowe Tuskayne, taries bot littill,
Lyghte noghte in Lumbarddye bot when the lyghte failede;
Merkes ouer the mowntaynes full mervaylous wayes …
‘and within fyftene dayes his flete es assemblede’ (in The Fall of Arthur, II.76–88, Radbod gives to Mordred a vivid account of Arthur’s preparations).
But now in the alliterative Morte Arthure the poet devoted some hundred lines to the evocation of a violent sea-battle that followed, to which there is nothing comparable in mediaeval English literature. There is a furious onset of words, conveying (one might say, as much by their form and conjunctions as by their meaning) the roar of the battle, the splitting of timbers, ships crashing together, trumpets blowing, arrows flying, masts falling …
It was from this poem that my father derived his portrayal of a great sea-battle off the coast of Kent on Arthur’s return. In earlier works of the ‘chronicle’ tradition there was fierce fighting when Arthur’s fleet came in, but it was a battle between invaders from the sea opposed by Mordred’s host defending the cliffs. In Laȝamon’s Brut (see here, here) this is made very plain, and that my father had the passage in mind when he wrote of the sea-battle is seen from the words in the Brut telling that Arthur ‘hehte [ordered] þat his scip-men brohten hine to Romerel’, whence he took the name Romeril (Romney in Kent, already referred to, see here).
In the sea-battle in The Fall of Arthur there are echoes no doubt of the alliterative Morte Arthure in such lines as (IV.180–2)
Beak met bulwark. Burst were timbers.
There was clang of iron and crash of axes;
sparked and splintered spears and helmets …
but there is no trace, naturally enough, of the triumphant, exultant tone of the old poem, where ‘our’ lords are seen laughing loudly at the foreigners in Mordred’s fleet who leap in terror into the sea (‘when ledys [men] of owtlonndys leppyn in waters, / All oure lordes one lowde laughen at ones’).
It is convenient here to give an account, in some parts more condensed than in others, of the conclusion of the alliterative Morte Arthure.
The battle of the ships was won, but ‘Yitt es the traytoure one londe with tryede knyghttes’, awaiting the attempt by the incomers to force a landing against them; and from this the king was prevented, for the tide had by now gone out, leaving great slushy pools. But Gawain took a galley [a large open boat] and with a small band of men came ashore, sinking to his waist in his golden garments (‘to the girdylle he gos in alle his gylte wedys’) and then racing across the sands, where they hurled thselves against the host of Mordred arrayed before them. Gawain struck down the King of Gothland, and then crying ‘Fy on the, felone, and thy false werkys!’ made for Mordred ‘among all his men, with the Montagues and other great lords’; but he and his band were surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered (‘We are beset by Saracens on all sides!’).
Gawain fell then into a crazed recklessness, as the poet repeatedly declares: ‘all his witte faylede’; ‘alls unwyse, wodewyse’ [as one reckless and mad]; ‘he fell in a fransye for fersenesse of herte’; ‘wode [mad] alls a wylde beste’. Finally in a hand-to-hand encounter with Mordred he was worsted, and fell dead from a blow that pierced his helmet. Mordred was questioned by King Frederic of Friesland, who saw Gawain’s deeds:
Qwat gome was he this with the gaye armes
With this gryffoune of golde, that es one growffe fallyn?11
And Mordred named him, and greatly praised him:
Had thow knawen hym, sir kynge, ‘in kythe thare he lengede,
His konynge, his knyghthode, his kyndly werkes,
His doyng, his doughtyness, his dedis of armes,
Thow wolde hafe dole for his dede the dayes of thy lyfe!’
Yit that traytour alls tite teris lete he falle,
Turnes hym furthe tite, and talkes no more,
Went wepand awaye, and weries the stowndys,
That ever his werdes ware wroght, siche wandrethe to wyrke.12
‘Repenting of all his grievous deeds’ he went away westwards, to Cornwall, and pitched his tents by the river named Tambire (Tamar). From there he sent a messenger to Guinevere at York, telling her of all that had taken place, and bidding her flee ‘with her children’ to Ireland; but she leaving York in the deepest despondency went to Caerleon, and there took the veil:
Askes thare the habite in the honoure of Criste,
and all for falsede, and frawde, and fere of hire loverde [lord]!
But Arthur seeing the madness of Gawain rushed from his ship with many knights, and searching the battlefield found his body ‘in his gaye armes, umbegrippede the girse, and on grouffe fallen’ (clutching the grass, fallen on his face). In an extremity of grief he uttered a passionate lament for Gawain (on this see here), whose body was taken to a monastery at Winchester. The king was advised to stay a while in Winchester to assemble his forces before pursuing Mordred, but Arthur would have none of it, expressing his hatred of Mordred in violent words, and vowing to ‘ever pursue the payganys that my pople distroyede’. He departed at once from Winchester and went west to Cornwall, where he came upon Mordred encamped in a forest. Challenged to battle, Mordred’s huge host, vastly outnumbering that of the king, emerged from the forest.
Then follows the battle of Camlan (but it is not named in the poem), a ferocious fight to the death of ‘the bolde Bretons’ [i.e. Britons] against such foes as ‘Peghttes and paynymes [Picts and pagans] with perilous wapyns’ and ‘ethyns [giants] of Argyle and Irische kynges’, told in some two hundred lines, with many individual encounters; many knights who fell are named, among them Marrac, Meneduc and Errac (who are named in The Fall of Arthur, I.48–9) – and Lancelot (on his presence and death at Camlan see here). The battle ends with the fight to the death of Mordred and Arthur, with a graphic description of each hideous sword-thrust. Though he had received his death-wound, Arthur wielding his sword Caliburn slashed off the sword-hand of Mordred and ran him through as he lay on the grass.
But the king still lived.
Thane they holde at his heste hally at ones
And graythes to Glasschenberye the gate at the gayneste;
Entres the Ile of Aveloyne, and Arthure he lyghttes,
Merkes to a manere there, for myghte he no forthire.13
A surgeon of Salerno examined his wounds, and Arthur saw that he would never be healed. On his death-bed he ordered that Mordred’s children should be killed and drowned (‘Latt no wykkyde wede waxe, ne wrythe [flourish] one this erthe’), and hi
s last words were of Guinevere:
I foregyffe all greffe, for Cristez lufe of hevene!
Yife Waynor hafe wele wroghte, wele hir betydde!
King Arthur was buried at Glastonbury, and with his burial the alliterative Morte Arthure ends.
Thus endis kyng Arthure, as auctors alegges,
That was of Ectores blude, the kynge sone of Troye,
And of Pyramous, the prynce, praysede in erthe;
Fro thethen broghte the Bretons alle his bolde eldyrs
Into Bretayne the brode, as the Bruytte tellys.14
At the victorious end of the sea-battle, with Arthur on his ship off Romeril, gazing at his own land in doubt of his best course, my father ceased to work on The Fall of Arthur: in my view, one of the most grievous of his many abandonments.
*
THE UNWRITTEN POEM
AND ITS RELATION TO
THE SILMARILLION
THE UNWRITTEN POEM
AND ITS RELATION TO
THE SILMARILLION
The abandonment of The Fall of Arthur is qualified by the existence of manuscript notes of various value that indicate my father’s thoughts and intentions for the continuation and conclusion of the poem, and of some of these it must be said that their content is both extremely interesting and extremely tantalizing. There are also scraps of further verse, though almost all are written so rapidly as to be in places beyond certain interpretation. Among these papers is a sketch of the narrative to follow the last part of the finished text, where Arthur, pondering the nature and outcome of an assault on the cliffs, opens his thought to Gawain that they would best postpone further conflict, and ‘trusting to the wind and the ebb-tide’ sail west along the coast ‘to other landing’ (V.61–3).
I give here this sketch: clearly contemporary with the concluding passage of the poem, it takes up no more than a single page, written in a manner somewhat but not greatly above my father’s most impenetrable. I have expanded contractions and introduced trivial corrections for clarity.
Counsel. Arthur does not wish to risk his knights. He calls Gawain and proposes to turn west and run with wind and ebb down the channel west to other landing – ere Mordred could follow in power, to Cornwall of unkindly coast by kind people or to fair Lyonesse.15
But Gawain says we planned to attack Mordred right away. There he is. Sooner or later we must attack him. Every day adds to his strength and leaves the East open to the [? heathen].16
They gaze till the sun sinks. Gawain gazed in fretted wrath. [Written in the margin: Arthur insists on leaving.] As the suns westers the tide turns again. Gawain leaps into a light boat with his dearest friends, and bidding all that dare follow him they drive their craft with oars and ground it on the white beaches. Gawain leaps overboard and under a hail of arrows wades ashore and up the river course, seeking to win a passage to the cliff tops. Mordred eggs on his men. That day Gawain missed Gaheris and Gareth and dour-handed Agravain his brethren.17
But he slew many men, …. level with those that stood on higher ground. He reaches the top but few are with him, though many are following. There he clears a way to Mordred. They fight and Gawain [?? falters]. The sun is sinking on his left hand [written above: lights his shield]. A red ray strikes on his shield and lights up the griffon [on the shield]. Galuth [Gawain’s sword] breaks Mordred’s helm and he falls back among his men, but snatches [a bow] from Ivor and turning shoots Gawain through the breast. Gawain falls, calling upon Arthur. Geryn, Gawain’s esquire, slays Ivor, and Gawain’s household fall on so fiercely that they win the cliff-top and stand about his body until Arthur’s host comes [?? pressing] up. Arthur comes as Gawain dies, and the sun sinks beyond Lyonesse.
Here this outline ends. Another, evidently somewhat earlier, projects the narrative for the whole of the rest of the poem from the beginning of the fourth canto; but from Arthur’s lament for Gawain it is reduced (if written at the same time as the outline, which is not certain) to hasty notes on two sides of a single page, and there are no other clues to my father’s thoughts for the remainder of the poem.
Bright sun shines over Britain. Mordred’s men are beating the woods for Guinevere, and they cannot find her. In the meanwhile sending men to the land of Leodogrance (Camiliard in Wales) he goes east and assembles his host joining with the Saxons and Frisians. Wind blew fair from the south and the sea lay green beneath the white cliffs. Mordred had beacons built on cliff tops and hills, so that his host might assemble to whatever point Arthur came.
The ships of Arthur are seen approaching. A white lady with a child in her arms is Arthur’s ensign. Before Arthur’s ship sails a great white ship with a banner of a golden griffin. The sun is embroidered on its sails. That is Gawain. Still Mordred hesitates and will not have fire set in the beacon. For he thought in his heart, if Lancelot and Ban’s kindred were in the navy he would draw off and make peace. For if he hated Lancelot the more he was of him now afraid. But the white lily on the black field of Lancelot was not seen, for Lancelot awaited the Queen’s summons. Then at last the beacon flamed and Mordred’s host held the shore. Thus Arthur came to Romeril.
The Saxon ships before Romeril were driven away or sunk and set on fire, but Arthur could not land and was held back. So Gawain thrust forth his ship Wingelot (?)18 and others of his vassals, and they ground upon the white beach, which is soon stained red. The battle is fierce. Gawain leaps overboard and wades ashore. His yellow hair is seen towering above his dark foes. He slays the King of Gothland, and hews his way to Mordred’s standard. Duel of Gawain and Mordred. Mordred driven back, but he catches a bow from a henchman and turns and shoots Gawain. [Written in margin: Mordred saved by Ivor.]
Gawain falls and dies by the rim of Ocean, calling for Arthur. In the meanwhile the fury of Gawain’s men clears the shore and Arthur comes and kisses Gawain farewell.
Arthur’s lament.
I give here, for a reason that will quickly be apparent, both King Arthur’s lament from the alliterative Morte Arthure and its form in The Fall of Arthur.
Than gliftis the gud kynge, and glopyns in herte,
Gronys ful grisely with gretande teris;
Knelis downe to the cors, and kaught it in armes,
Kastys upe his umbrere, and kyssis hym sone,
Lookes one his eye-liddis, that lowkkide ware faire,
His lipis like to the lede, and his lire falowede.
Than the corownde kyng cryes fulle lowde:
‘Dere kosyn o kynde, in kare am I levede,
For nowe my wirchipe es wente and my were endide.
Here es the hope of my hele, my happynge of armes,
My herte and my hardynes hale on hym lengede,
My concelle, my comforthe, that kepide myne herte!
Of alle knyghtes the kynge that undir Criste lifede,
Thou was worthy to be kynge, thofe I the corown bare.
My wele and my wirchipe of all this werlde riche
Was wonnen thourghe sir Gawayne, and thourghe his witt
one!
Allas!’ saide sir Arthure, ‘nowe ekys my sorowe!
I am uttirly undon in my awen landes!
A! dowttouse derfe dede, thou duellis to longe!
Why drawes thou so one dreghe? thow drownnes myn
herte!’19
The lamentation of King Arthur for Sir Gawain in The Fall of Arthur papers is at once in the very earliest stage of composition and unhappily in my father’s most inscrutable hand. After much study this is the best rendering that I have been able to produce.
Then gloom fell grey on the good king’s heart
and he groans amid gliding tears
looking upon his eyes now closed for ever
and his lips like lead and [? lily faded].
Then his [? crown] he cast down crying aloud
‘Dear kinsman in care am I left
now my glory is gone and my grace [written above: good]
ended.
Here lies my hope and my help and my helm and my swo
rd
my heart and my hardihood and my ..... of strength
my counsel and comfort
of all knights the [?? noblest].
of all [?kings] the ............. Christ lived
To be king .............. I the crown bore.
I am ...... [?utterly ruined] in mine own lands.
Ah, dread death thou dwellest too long,
thou drownest my heart ere I die.
In the Alliterative Morte Arthure the king is reproved by his knights for his indecorous display of grief:
‘Blyne’, sais thies bolde men, ‘thow blondirs thi selfen;
This es botles bale, for bettir bees it never.
It es no wirchipe iwysse to wryng thyn hondes;
To wepe als a woman, it es no witt holden.
Be knyghtly of contenaunce, als a kyng scholde,
And leve siche clamoure for Cristes lufe of heven!’20
My father dashed down a few words here, with a heading ‘Sir Iwain comforts him with Beowulf’s words’:
to weep as a woman is not wit holden
better vengeance than lament
The passage from Beowulf in my father’s mind is I think certainly Beowulf’s words to Hrothgar, King of the Danes, in lines 1384–9 of the poem:
Ne sorge, snotor guma! Selre bið æghwæm,
þæt his freond wrece, þonne he fela murne.
Ure æghwylc sceal ende gebidan
worold lifes, wyrce se þe mote
domes ær deaþe; þæt bið drihtguman
unlifgendum æfter selest.