The Revelation of King Arthur

The allure of Arthurian stories has held people spellbound since before the time of the printing press. Thomas Malory brought King Arthur and the Round Table to English readers in the 15^th century with his famous Le Morte D' Arthur, but the stories are much older than he and known in many other lands and languages. Today, the list of stories and poems that have taken King Arthur and his knights as their subject is inexhaustible. The fascination has led Robert Bruce Fruehling to write a book that equates the enduring appeal of the “once and future king” with the appeal that the Antichrist will have in the future. Fruehling's book, The Revelation of King Arthur: Deceit, Intrigue, and the Guards' Account explores the possibility of the future Antichrist aligning himself in the popular imagination with the messianic King Arthur.

The Revelation of King Arthur opens by explaining the innate need of humanity for a hero-king to look up to and follow. This need historically has led entire nations to be deceived into following men who claim to be the hero and national leader the people are looking for. Adolf Hitler in Germany is an example of someone able to deceive “even the elect.”

But the great deception of the Antichrist during the end-times and how this deception will be accomplished is the focus of the book. A principle part of the deception, according to Fruehling, is to de-legitimize the messiah-ship of Jesus and his status as the hero who has come to save us. If Christ is not our savior then we still need “another Christ,” the Antichrist, to save us. One popular heresy that is seeing a reemergence today is that Jesus did not die on the cross but instead married Mary Magdalene and fled Judea. In this heresy Jesus himself becomes unimportant and instead the “Holy Grail” takes on significance. Those familiar with The Da Vinci Code know that in this heresy, “the 'Grail' became a code word for the womb of Mary Magdalene, who carried the 'holy child of Christ.' The quest itself was the search for the holy bloodline” (60). What better leader to elevate to the status of Antichrist than one who claims to be a living descendant of Jesus?

The real meat of the book starts on page 51 when Fruehling describes this heresy and traces some of the subsequent stories about where the supposed descendants and relatives of Jesus settled. According to one of these legends, Mary Magdalene traveled to France where the Merovingian line of Frankish kings were descended from her. In true Da Vinci Code style, Fruehling includes photos of religious artwork depicting Mary with the Fleur-de-lys—the French emblem of the royal line—on them. Laugh if you will, but the point is that even the most ludicrous deceptions are believed by some.

Where does King Arthur fit into all this? Robert Fruehling quotes a published genealogist of Scottish royalty, Laurence Gardner. Writing about the house of Steward, Gardner makes the incredible claim: “this senior Steward descent goes all the way back to King Arthur's father, King Aedan of the Scots (notice not Uther Pendragon of England or Wales), on the one hand and to Prince Nascien of the Septimanian Midi on the other... The Midi succession stems from the Merovingians' male ancestral line through the Fisher Kings to Jesus and Mary Magdalene (104). Fruehling explains what this means: “amazing as it sounds, the whole legend of King Arthur and the Holy Grail refers to Arthur himself! He is in the Grail lineage, as we will see, and is known as the Grail King... the story of the Holy Grail connects the bloodline of Jesus to King Arthur and on through Arthur's descendants” (103). It is important to remember that the author does not believe any of these heresies about descendants of Jesus, he is merely warning that people are being deceived by heresies such as this one about the descent of Arthur and the related one in The Da Vinci Code.

What Fruehling does believe is that the prophesies about “the once and future king” Arthur are disturbingly similar to the prophesies about the Antichrist in the book of Revelation. Anyone familiar with their Malory knows that Arthur's last wound is a wound to the head. Compare to Rev. 13:3, 12, 13. The “red dragon” of Rev 12: 3 was embossed on King Arthur's standard as it still is on the flag of Wales today. When Arthur was born the midwife exclaimed: “Here is a Dragon!” Fruehling notes: “Coupled with the surname 'Pendragon' or 'Chief dragon' the prophetic significance will become apparent” (98). “He once was, now is not, and yet will come.” Rev. 17:8 “The once and future king.” Coincidence? Maybe. If you ask Fruehling, the similarity is more than coincidence (127-128).

When I received my copy of the book from WinePress Publishing, I was overjoyed to see—tucked away near the end of the book—a chapter on two of my favorite authors: C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. Not surprisingly in a book that equates Arthurian myth with the end-times and Antichrist, the treatment of Lewis and Tolkien is not as blindly enthusiastic as most Christian readers. Fruehling examines their interest in the Arthurian legends in light of their friendship with the heterodox authors Charles Williams and Owen Barfield. Charles Williams, whose supernatural thrillers have a small but ardent readership, had an unhealthy interest in the occult. The influence of these men—particularly on Lewis—is a little mentioned fact and I was pleased to see it addressed in the book.

Fruehling explores what he finds to be a disturbing openness to the pagan elements of the Arthurian legends on the part of Christians. Christians are proud to heap accolades on C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams, and Steven R. Lawhead for their novels and poems in the Arthurian genre; however, Fruehling warns that these “Christian” authors veer dangerously into the pagan and occult in their writings on the theme. Speaking of Lewis's novel That Hideous Strength, which tells of a reincarnated Arthur and a magical Merlin in twentieth century England who save the world from a diabolical evil, he states his opinion that, “combining Christianity with esoteric thought and myth destroys the message rather than makes it easier to take” (145). Such a view about myth and story is completely opposite to that of Lewis himself who thought that myths could be used to convey valuable truths.

Fruehling accurately pegs the important contribution of That Hideous Strength to the corpus of Arthuriana and raises a valid argument about the use of pagan elements in a “Christian” book, but why he includes The Lord of the Rings in that corpus is not clear. To classify it as Arthurian literature is a stretch, although it would be hard for any fantasy writer to entirely escape the shadow of the Round Table. There are bound to be superficial similarities and Fruehling gives but three. Perhaps strongest of the three is the mentor/apprentice relationship of Gandalf and Aragorn compared to Merlin and Arthur (147). What Mr. Fruehling fails to mention, however, is that the motif of a mentor guiding a hero is common throughout heroic literature and could be equally applied to many works in the genre. Theorist Joseph Campbell points this out as one of the defining features of mythic quest stories.

Anyone interested in Arthuriana or the end-times will find The Revelation of King Arthur very interesting. At only 164 pages it is a quick read but the 8 pages of endnotes makes it feel like a full meal rather than an appetizer. Not all of Fruehling's points convinced me, but the mystery around King Arthur has always intrigued me and he offers a thought provoking scenario to tie up the mysteriously open-ended story of King Arthur.

Robert Bruce Fruehling, The Revelation of King Arthur: Deceit, Intrigue and the Guard's Account. WinePress Publishing, 2009.

Literature in the High Middle Ages

This post and the last one are parts of a paper on the intellectual and artistic achievements of the High Middle Ages I worked on in my Western civ. class. I included the missing footnotes in my last post in case anyone cares. This fragment ends somewhat abruptly because it was part of a longer essay I worked on. You'll just have to use your imagination to envision a nice concluding paragraph that wraps the topic up.

The High Middle Ages also placed great importance on books. Medieval historian C. S. Lewis shows that culture in, “the Middle Ages depended primarily on books. Though literacy was of course far rarer then than now, reading was in one way a more important ingredient of the total culture.”1 Literature from the past—particularly Greek and Latin—was looked upon reverently by the authors of the Middle Ages. Consequently, they modeled much their own work on previously written manuscripts. They embellished familiar stories, expanded on old subjects, and wrote down the legends of their fore bearers. To lend credence to their writing, authors from the Middle Ages would often claim they got their subject from an “auctour”--an author from Greek or Roman antiquity.2

The greatest work of literature from the High Middle Ages shows this tendency. The Divine Comedy of Dante not only borrows from earlier authors but goes to the extreme of actually including the Roman poet Virgil as one of the Characters who inhabit the Inferno. All the other characters Dante meets on his dream journey are also from history or legend. There is ample space in this huge poem about the after-life to retell the well-known stories of the people he meets.

One of the most easily recognized types of literature from the High Middle Ages is the epic romance. The tales of King Arthur and the Round Table are the most famous of these. Again, the earliest authors of these stories, such as the Frenchman Christien De Troyes, did not try to claim credit for inventing the tales but tried to show that they were ancient histories with just a little embellishment. The Arthurian stories were picked up by numerous authors in the middle ages. Intellectual property rights were not what they are today nor was this "plagiarism" seen as anything but flattery. Besides the “Matter of Britain” dealing with King Arthur, numerous other romances of chivalry were written. The “Matter of France” is another cycle of stories dealing with another king; this time the French Charlemagne. Called “chanson de geste,” these epic poems written by mostly unknown authors extolled the mythical exploits of Charlemagne against the Muslim invaders of Europe in the Early Middle Ages. The Song of Roland written around 1100 3 retells the simi-historical ambush on Charlemagne's rear-guard in the pass of Rounceval.

In Northern Europe a similar body of national epic literature was being developed during the same period. The German Nibelungenlied has been compared to The Song of Roland or even the Greek Iliad.4 The tragic death of Sigfried and the terrible revenge of his wife Kriemhild set among the forests and mead-halls of Germany has been the inspiration for stories and operas even into recent times. This corpus of German literature borrows from the same legends as the thirteenth century Eddas and tales of Scandinavia.

An important development in literature during the High Middle Ages came with the troubadour poets. The troubadours wrote and performed lyrical songs--often about love. Practicing a form of oral literature, delivered much like the famous bards of antiquity, troubadours usually had a rich patron who payed a troubadour to entertain his guests although some troubadours were nobles themselves. An important aspect of troubadour poetry that is characteristic of the literature of the High Middle Ages was “courtly love.” This term is both a literary and a real life characteristic of the period. The literary meaning is a lyrical poem written to an idealized lady whom the poet loves. But C. S. Lewis points out that this poet, “is no light-hearted gallant: his love is represented as a despairing and tragical emotion.” (sic)5

1. C. S. Lewis. The Discarded Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature. (Canto Books, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1995). 5

2. Ibid. 5

3. Jackson J. Spielvogel. Western Civilization: A Brief History, 3rd. ed. (Thomson-Wadsworth, 2005). 166

4. Arthur Thomas Hatto, editor. The Nibelungenlied. (Penguin Classics, Penguin Books, 1669). 8

5. C. S. Lewis. The Allegory of Love: A Study in Medieval Tradition. (Oxford University Press, 1968). 3

13th. Century Literature: Part I

Among the small backlog of unreviewed books on my desk, The Mabinogion is probably most obscure. This collection of ancient Welsh tales and Arthurian legends was written down around the 13th century but is, like Beowulf and many other early European manuscripts, derived from a much older source, probably oral. The authors or compilers (most likely many) are likewise veiled in obscurity. Mabinogi are the traditional stories of the ancient Celtic people that all bards and most people would have known; something like what the legends of Johnny Appleseed and George Washington chopping down the cherry tree are to Americans.

The nearest definition I can give of these stories as a whole would be fantasy. About half of them in some way mention Arthur or are versions of the better-known Arthurian canon. Having just read Chretien De Troyes a few months ago helped in navigating the maze of outlandish adventurers. Unfortunately, names in my edition are translated with what is evidently a near approximation to their Gaelic originals so even a comparatively easy to recognize name like Guinever is spelled Gwenhwyvar. Among the many long lists of names are ones like: “Adaon the son of Taliesin, Llary the son of Kasnar Wledig, Fflewddur Fflam, and Greidant Galldovydd, Gilbert the son of Kadgyffro, Menw the son of Teirgwaedd,” and so on, and on, and on.

My high expectations were tolerably met in the first story or “branch” of The Mabinogion that recounts the tale of Pwyll, prince of Dyved who exchanges kingdoms for one year with another king he meets while hunting. As I continued reading, though, my interest waned. Long lists of funny names (spanning multiple pages Old Testament style), events that lacked any verisimilitude, and flat undeveloped characters that all appeared the same, must have been what did it for me. I am, however, being unfair to a book from the Middle Ages. Of course it is not going to compare to a novel by Dickens or Austen. But it did little good to tell myself this while drifting into a doze.

More Old French literature

Chretien De Troyes and what I posted about his stories got me thinking about another Old French classic I read. Although on the surface The Song of Roland has similarities (like jousts and sword fights) to Chretien De Troyes, they are really quite different in tone. Chretien's heroes are shiftless men with nothing better to with their time than pick fights with other knights and fall in love with every damsel that crosses their path. The Song of Roland, on the other hand, has men fighting with all their strength to defend themselves from an invading foe who would like nothing more than to strike their king and blaspheme their God. Then too, the battle of Roncevaux is historical while the Round Table is, at best, a dim shadow of history.

The Song of Roland, like Chretien's works, was originally written in verse. With over 4000 lines (the equivalent of 150 pages), however, it is not your typical little "Ode to a Sunset." Nor will you find any of those cute phrases and pretty descriptions common to poetry in the Roland, only the thunder of charging horses, the flash of swords unnumbered, and the smell of dust and death.

It was written around the 11th. century, or roughly a hundred years before Chretien De Troyes wrote. The unknown poet wrote it to celebrate the already legendary deeds of Charlemagne and his paladins. As you know it was Charlemagne who defended Europe against the Muslim aggression that had threatened it since the time of Charlemagne's grandfather, Charles Martel.

The Roland poet has only a cursory concern for these historical facts; his main goal as Dorothy Sayers says in an excellent introductory essay to her translation, is to portray in this French war of dubious historicity a greater ideological conflict between "Cross and Crescent" (25). But do not think such a treacherous ambush as killed Roland did not take place. A 9th. century chronicler describes such a battle and includes among the short list of the slain: "Roland duke of the marches of Brittany, together with a great many more" (7).

I need hardly say that I think the Roland superior in plot and sentiment to anything by Chretien. It is a great conflict of ideologies. Muslim and Christian worlds clashing in an epic war to decide the future of Europe.

This is probably more than you ever wanted to know about Old French history and literature. Unluckily for you, I am not done yet. In a day or two I plan (God willing) to post a synopsis of The Song of Roland that I wrote some time ago. It is rather long and needs to be typed, which explains why I am not including it in today's post.

The Song of Roland. Translated by Dorothy L. Sayers. Penguin Books 1957. 1960.

Chretien De Troyes

"Chretien De Troyes has had the peculiar fortune of becoming the best known of the old French poets to students of medieval literature, and of remaining practically unknown to anyone else." So begins the introduction to my old Everyman's edition of Chretien De Troyes' Arthurian Romances. Judge for yourself if it is true. Since I think it is true with possible exceptions (myself being one exception), a little background is called for.

Almost nothing is known of Chretien except that he was from the French town of Troyes (or wrote at Troyes, or in some other way was connected to Troyes) and that he lived during the 12th. century. His subject is the Arthurian legends, of course, of which he is the first writer we have of "the matter of Britain." Although he is the first known writer, the theme was already old and Mr. De Troyes (er, Mr. Chretien?) assumes his reader is familiar with the subject.

The subject, despite the name, has little to do with king Arthur. His court is a sort of ideal or inner circle that everyone wants to imitate or be a part of. Chivalry and knight errantry being prerequisites for membership, everyone takes to horse and sets off on a perilous quest. Among the many knights going hither and thither, Chretien follows the adventures of four: Erec, Cliges, Yvain, and Lancelot. Each character has an independent book titled after its respective hero.

To try and explain the plot of each book would just make me more confused than I already am. Besides, in many places the "plot" is just a sequences of adventures strung together. The Cliges and Erec were totally new to me and I am unaware of other versions (but there probably are some). The Lancelot, on the other hand, I thought I know a little about, but aside from the name and an infatuation with Guinever, the story could have been completely new, so unsimiliar was it to anything I had previously read about him.

No post is complete without a quote from C.S.Lewis (yes, Lewis is the only reason I know who Chretien De Troyes is). According to Lewis, Chretien "was one of the first explorers of the human heart, and is therefore rightly to be numbered among the fathers of the novel of sentiment" (29).


Lewis, C.S. The Allegory of Love: a Study in Medieval Tradition. Oxford University Press. 1968

Great Authors of the Past

When a writer cuts out all the superfluous details and stays fixed on what he really wants to say, then you know a master is at work. So consider this passage from Chretien De Troyes, a 12th. century Frenchman writing about Arthur and the Round Table. "The Vavasor [a baron's vassal with tenets under him] summons his wife and his beautiful daughter, who were busy in a work room--doing I know not what." Here, rather than tediously trying to describe their labor of sewing or spinning or cooking--whatever it was--the author quite honestly claims ignorance, saying simply: "doing I know not what." Instead he mentions the important thing, namely, that the daughter is beautiful.

Notice how the mother is not described. She is mentioned in the next sentence as "coming out with her daughter," after that she is completely dropped from the narrative. Not so the "beautiful daughter," the next 17 sentences are devoted to describing her personal appearance.

Well, maybe there is a reason people don't write like the classic authors anymore.