Biblical and Theological Commentary on The Fall of Arthur

(avg. read time: 9–18 mins.)

Background

In Tolkien’s essay “On Fairy-Stories,” he mentions how he is more interested in the product of fairy-stories than the intricate histories of their development and sources, saying in the words of Sir George Webb Dasent, “We must be satisfied with the soup that is set before us, and not desire to see the bones of the ox out of which it has been boiled.”¹ In contrast with Dasent, though, Tolkien means by the soup, “the story as it is served up by its author or teller,” and by the bones, “its source or material – even when (by rare luck) those can be with certainty discovered.”² When he later returns to the metaphor, he extends it by saying, “Speaking of the history of stories and especially of fairy-stories we may say that the Pot of Soup, the Cauldron of Story, has always been boiling, and to it have continually been added new bits, dainty and undainty.”³

As an example of the same, he considers the story of Arthur: “It seems fairly plain that Arthur, once historical (but perhaps as such not of great importance), was also put into the Pot. There he was boiled for a long time, together with many other older figures and devices, of mythology and Faërie, and even some other stray bones of history (such as Alfred’s defence against the Danes), until he emerged as a King of Faërie.”⁴ The entry today concerns Tolkien’s own contribution to the Cauldron, particularly in the form of The Fall of Arthur.

I have commented previously on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Tolkien’s work on the same here and here. His Arthurian works show that he was not simply negative about Arthurian stories, but he is well-known for critical comments on the subject. In commenting on the apparent anachronism in his short story Farmer Giles of Ham, he says this is “not really worse than all mediaeval treatments of Arthurian matter” (Letter #122; cf. Letter #211). In a comment in Letter #131 written in 1951 to Milton Waldman that we have mentioned on multiple occasions, he mentions how he wanted to write English stories on par with what he found in Greek, Celtic, Romance, Germanic, Scandinavian, and Finnish sources, and ones that would be better fitting than the Arthurian world, since, powerful as it is:

it is imperfectly naturalized, associated with the soil of Britain but not with English; and does not replace what I felt to be missing. For one thing its ‘faerie’ is too lavish, and fantastical, incoherent and repetitive. For another and more important thing: it is involved in, and explicitly contains the Christian religion.

For reasons which I will not elaborate, that seems to me fatal. Myth and fairy-story must, as all art, reflect and contain in solution elements of moral and religious truth (or error), but not explicit, not in the known form of the primary ‘real’ world. (I am speaking, of course, of our present situation, not of ancient pagan, pre-Christian days. And I will not repeat what I tried to say in my essay, which you read.)

The same letter features him describing Frodo and Bilbo’s end as “an Arthurian ending, in which it is, of course, not made explicit whether this is an ‘allegory’ of death, or a mode of healing and restoration leading to a return.” But he will clarify in Letter #154 to Naomi Mitchison, “In this setting the return of Arthur would be quite impossible, a vain imagining” because the kind of mortals cannot be changed so as to make them immortal. He says elsewhere that he dislikes Charles Williams’s “Arthurian-Byzantine mythology” (Letter #259) and its influence on C. S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength (cf. Letter #276).

Such comments should clearly not be taken to indicate his lack of interest in Arthurian matters, any more than his criticisms about Lewis’s fantasy. One can see this in his “Notion Club Papers” (contained in Sauron Defeated), but the prime contrasting evidence is The Fall of Arthur itself, to which Tolkien devoted much work between approximately 1934 and 1937. A letter written to him by R. W. Chambers (dated 9 December 1934) commenting on the poem tells Tolkien, “It is very great indeed … really heroic, quite apart from its value in showing how the Beowulf metre can be used in modern English…. You simply must finish it.”⁵ As late as 1955 in Letter #165 to Houghton Mifflin Co., Tolkien said, “I still hope to finish a long poem on The Fall of Arthur in the same measure [as The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth].” Sadly, as is true for so much of his work, he never finished it.

Particularly tantalizing are hints of Tolkien’s intention to link this story of Arthur with his own mythology. Tolkien had at least outlined the rest of the story he planned to write, and he noted where he wanted to link Arthur’s being sent into the west (and Lancelot’s journey after him) with an “Eärendel passage.”⁶ He had at least partially written this, and it refers to sailing “past the hills of Avalon.”⁷ This land was associated, albeit in different ways over time, with Tolkien’s Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle near Valinor, which in later texts is memorialized in how a port therein is named Avallónë. The relationship of the two lands appears to have changed over time, but that they were related and Tolkien planned to link them in some way is clear from his son Christopher’s analysis.⁸ Once again, though, we will never know for sure the truth of these matters because Tolkien did not finish this work.

But what he has left still gives us material to explore for this commentary series. Although Tolkien might have objected to the explicit presence of the Christian religion in Arthurian tales as being anachronistic, at this point he nevertheless respects it as a feature of such without trying to rid his own contribution of the same. Thus, between the explicit references and the implicit modes of expressing certain beliefs on par with what we have seen elsewhere, there are some elements worth focusing on for our interests in this commentary series.

Commentary

One of the basic motifs that makes the Christian framework of this story clear is the reference to Arthur’s enemies as “heathens” (as we also commented on here and here):

“heathen to humble” (I.6; p. 17)

“Halls and temples of the heathen kings his might assailed” (I.41–42; p. 18)

“neath his hand were humbled heathen chieftains” (I.175; p. 24)

“Men were calling, / to their gods crying with grim voices” (II.12–13; p. 26)

“Radbod the Red, rover fearless, / heathen-hearted to hate faithful, / died as his doom was.” (II.89–91; pp. 29–30)

“Saxon chieftains / at their stems standing sternly shouted; / blades they brandished and broad axes, / on their gods calling with grim voices.” (IV.173–176; p. 52)

“heathen standards” (IV.205; p. 53)

“Princes faithless / on shore their shield shameless marshalled, / their king betraying, Christ forsaking, /to heathen might their hope turning” (V.14–17; pp. 55–56)⁹

To reiterate what I have said previously, this term has largely fallen out of use, but it broadly has the same sense as “pagan” in referring to polytheists adhering to traditional religious practices. In other words, anyone who could not be considered a Christian, a Jew, or a Muslim would be considered a “heathen” (the notions of atheism, agnosticism, and broader non-religiosity in some form or another were not unknown in this time, but they were distinctly exceptional, and such terms as we tend to define them would not apply to entire people groups as anything but a polemical label on par with “godless”). The obvious implication is that Arthur and his troops are Christians fighting in defense of Christendom. This is not to say that the war itself was a religious one per se, but wars in this time inevitably had some religious overlay applied to them by the participants. Such had been the case since ancient times, not least with the entanglements of priests and politicians, cult and state, so that gods were considered, in some way or another, involved in earthly battles between humans.

Of course, in this particular story, we do see reference to something like crusading in the targeting of “halls and temples of the heathen kings.”¹⁰ In contrast to some other portrayals of Arthur, this one fits with those that present Arthur as one who is at the service of Rome because of it being central to Christendom in the West. Even at the beginning of the poem, we see Arthur purposing to make war on Saxon lands “from the Roman realm ruin defending” (I.4; p. 17). Christopher sees a reference to such an allegiance elsewhere when we read in the poem, “Time is changing; / the West waning, a wind rising /in the waxing East. The world falters” (II.147–149; p. 32). Christopher asserts, “It is surely the fall of Rome and Roman Christendom that they see approaching in ‘the tides of time’.”¹¹

There is here an expression of the northern spirit of courage, in some ways like Beowulf’s last deed in his elder days, when Tolkien describes Arthur’s war in this fashion:

As when the earth dwindles in autumn days

and soon to its setting the sun is waning

under mournful mist, then a man will lust

for work and wandering, while yet warm floweth

blood sun-kindled, so burned his soul

after long glory for a last assay

of pride and prowess, to the proof setting

will unyielding in war with fate. (I.10–17; p. 17)

This is yet another resemblance that we see with The Battle of Maldon and Tolkien’s sequel The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth, Beorhthelm’s Son, and it also links with the story of Beowulf (as we have seen here, here, and here). As these stories show, this spirit of courage could be put to good use, especially as it prepared well for a life of perseverance in devotion to Christ. However, it could turn destructive when motivated by pride, as with Beowulf, Beorhtnoth, and Arthur. The virtue is a grace-gift of God given to humans, but like other such graces, it can be misused.

Here, it is Mordred who takes advantage of this quality with malicious exploitation to have Aruther go to war, which allows him opportunity to usurp Arthur in his absence (p. 18). Thus, Cradoc later warns Arthur,

Trust not Mordred!

He is false to faith, your foes harbours,

with lords of Lochlan league he maketh,

out of Almain and Angel allies hireth,

coveting the kingdom, to the crown reaching

hands unholy. Haste now westward! (I.165–170; p. 23)

This dialogue sets the stage for the conflict that drives the rest of the narrative, and so a few features bear noting. One, this is one case among many of using the term “faith” in contexts not explicitly to do with the divine, Christian religion, or the like. But it well illustrates what we have seen elsewhere about “faith” terminology, particularly in the NT (among others, see here and here). The terms for “faith” in the NT signify, among other things, “trust,” “loyalty,” “fidelity,” “faithfulness,” “allegiance,” and so on.¹² And so it is here with this reference to faith. Sometimes it is used in negative ways for devotion to evil, as in the aforementioned phrase “to hate faithful.” Other places we see the terminology used in either way include the following:

“their tryst keeping, true to Mordred, / faithful in falsehood” (II.103–104; p. 30)

“faith was refused him who had faith broken, / by leagues of sea from love sundered.” (III.17–18; p. 36)

“that friends had felled, faith had broken” (III.91; p. 39)

“now they need would know of knights faithful” (III.150; p. 41)

“were her faith renewed firm and steadfast” (III.164; p. 41)

“for faith earning / the death and darkness, doom of mortals” (V.30–31; p. 56)

Two, some of these references refer to a breaking of a relationship of trust that also drives the story. We learn in Canto III of how Lancelot had broken faith with Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table by slaying some of them to rescue Guinevere from the sentence of burning. While some agreed with Lancelot in this, Arthur did not think he could receive him as a knight again because hostility would remain between him and other knights, particularly Gawain, whose brethren Lancelot slew. Moreover, this action had been motivated by an adulterous affection shared between Guinevere and Lancelot. Although Arthur reconciled with Guinevere, he never did with Lancelot. The breach of faith lends yet more tragedy to the story, as each of these characters wants reconciliation, but they never communicate with each other. Arthur wants Lancelot to join him in his war and assist him voluntarily, but he never sends him word of his need. Guinevere wonders if Lancelot will rescue her from the threat of Mordred, but he never comes because he is never summoned. Lancelot awaits summons from Arthur and/or Guinevere and, because of the broken relationship between them, will not act in the absence of a summons. There is a possibility here for repentance, forgiveness, and reconciliation, but the possibility can never be realized without communication. This shows the machinations of fate that can work through human choices and (in)action. For lack of Lancelot, more will die in the coming war than might have otherwise. Among them will be Gawain. Thus, this element illustrates the importance of faith in human relationships, the difficulties created when it is broken, and the ways fate/providence incorporates choices that lead to certain ends (as we have observed elsewhere in Tolkien’s fiction).

Three, the descriptor “unholy” is also significant here. It characterizes Mordred’s action in terms of sin and of defiance to God. The descriptor “holy” is elsewhere used of the crown (III.151), the vales where Guinevere fled (IV.67), the arms of Mary (IV.127), and a realm of Christendom said to be “beside Heaven’s gateway” (V.11; p. 55). None of these cases refer to the divine, as such, but the term does refer to who/what is sanctified. For the king in particular, this is linked with traditional notions of divine providence in the appointment of kings (and perhaps even the notion of the divine right of kings). The sanctification more generally is for serving some purpose of God. In Mary’s case, it is for serving as the mother of the Messiah, the Son of God, and thus being the Theotokos. Similarly, the realm of Christendom is, in this understanding, supposed to be an extension of the kingdom of heaven and one that in some way anticipates it in earthly terms. This shows some influence of ideas like we see in Augustine’s The City of God. In this same vein, when Arthur pardons Guinevere, we are told that this averted, “war unholy /among Christian kings” (III.109–112; p. 39). It is not for nothing that the “princes faithless” noted above are described as “Christ forsaking” in turning against Arthur to ally with pagans in war against the Christian king. Again, whatever one may think of these various marks of Christendom, they are part of the Arthurian tradition, and Tolkien has retained them as such.

After Arthur has received the news from Cradoc and considers what to do next, Gawain speaks. He questions the need for summoning Lancelot,¹³ for he says of Arthur’s forces, “never and nowhere knights more puissant, / nobler chivalry of renown fairer, / mightier manhood under moon or sun / shall be gathered again till graves open” (I.205–209; p. 25). This is an implicit reference to a subject I have written a thing or two about: resurrection. This a prominent element of Christian expectation, not something that would have been a holdover from a pre-Christian Britain. It is the extreme canon for which to compare any gathering, as none other will surpass it. The reference to it by graves opening has become common in tradition, though some root texts for such an image include stories of Jesus’s own empty tomb and Ezek 37:1–14 (of course, there was also an interpretation of Zech 14 that linked it with expectation of resurrection as well).

We also see various references to other terms for Providence, including in forms like we have noted in the aforementioned Beowulf commentaries (such as reference to “fate”). Sometimes, this is as simple as Gawain’s invocation, “May God keep us / in hope allied, heart united, / as the kindred blood in our bodies courseth, / Arthur and Gawain” (I.212–215; p. 25). This is something like the internal operations of Providence I have noted elsewhere in Tolkien’s fiction. Others appear among statements about fate and doom:

“On your errand hasting / the Frisian captain from France cometh / on wings of wind, his word keeping,/ fate defying. Fate hath conquered.” (II.59–62; p. 28) [earlier, it was said, “Doom o’ercame them.” II.17; p. 27]

“Radbod the Red, rover fearless, / heathen-hearted to hate faithful, / died as his doom was.” (II.89–91; pp. 29–30)

“Gaheris and Gareth Gawain’s brethren / by the fire fell they as fate willed it.” (III.82–83; p. 38)

“Now his glory shone / as the star of noon stern and cloudless / o’er the heads of men to its height climbing /ere it fall and fail. Fate yet waited.” (IV.223–226; p. 54)

The concept of the Wheel of Fortune is not explicitly referenced in this version of the story, but it is part of the background of at least one Arthurian tradition that as the ending of Arthur draws near he has a dream of the Wheel of Fortune.¹⁴ Though this was a pre-Christian pagan concept, we see it in the medieval era incorporated into Christian thought, most influentially by Boethius in his Consolation of Philosophy, including in how he related the concept to Providence. This is reflected here in how concepts like fate, fortune, doom, chance, or “the tides of time” are used in this text as operations subservient to the will of Providence which frame the tragedy of the story.

Another Christian element invoked ironically comes from a statement by Ivor, Mordred’s comrade, when he tells Mordred, “Time is spared us / too short for shrift” (II.52–53; p. 28). As Christopher himself explains in a comment, “The original meaning of ‘short shrift’ was a short space of time in which to make a confession (shrift) before death; hence, a brief respite.”¹⁵ This is ironic in light of the characterization of Mordred and his fellows. In fact, Radbod, Mordred’s ally, is characterized in this way before delivering his last message, “At early day/ the red rover the rings of gold / repayed to his patron, ere he passed to hell; shrift he sought not, nor shaven priest” (II.65–68; p. 29). Ivor appears to use it simply as what had become a common expression (albeit, in a time later than this is supposed to take place in, befitting the anachronisms of Arthurian stories). Radbod’s paganism, and that of his fellows, is also conveyed by the lack of pious care for his body, for, “To sea they cast him, of his soul recked not / that walks in the waters, wandering homeless” (II.92–93; p. 30).

When we see Arthur in battle, he shows a sign of his allegiance in his very ensigns:

On his shrouds there shone sheen with silver

a white lady in holy arms

a babe bearing born of maiden. (IV.126–128; p. 50)

A similar description of his ensigns was planned to be referenced later as well.¹⁶ The design is a reference to Mary and the Christ-child, of which there have been multitudinous depictions. Christopher notes that Geoffrey of Monmouth, an important source of Arthurian tradition, said that “there was painted on the inside of Arhtur’s shield Prydwen … an image of the Virgin Mary, so that he might never cease to think of her.”¹⁷ I have mentioned a similar example in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight stanza 28 in my post on the text. Yet again, a common mark of Christendom was such images of devotion in implements and ensigns of war, as well as various signs of the kingdoms.

That same thinking animates Arthur’s thoughts reflecting on his kingdom:

in kindly Christendom the clear ringing

of bells to hear on the breeze swaying,

a king of peace kingdom wielding

in a holy realm beside Heaven’s gateway. (V.8–11; p. 55)

We have already noted how this is linked with such ideas as one can see in Augustine’s The City of God. It was thus a common image of Christendom in the medieval world, and so it is here, anachronistically, in the stories of Arthur. But the tragic nature of this story means that we do not end with such an ideal, for sides will force the issue of war, wherein “hell’s gate was wide and heaven distant” (V.25; p. 56). This is not an eschatological story, after all, nor one to end on a hopeful note. For that, one must look beyond the realms of Christendom to the evangelion, “the good story,” which takes up stories like this one and leads them to their proper end.

1. J. R. R. Tolkien, “On Fairy-Stories,” in The Monsters and the Critics, ed. Christopher Tolkien (London: HarperCollins, 2006), 120.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid., 125.

4. Ibid., 126.

5. J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fall of Arthur, ed. Christopher Tolkien (Boston: Morrow, 2013), 10.

6. Ibid., 136.

7. Ibid., 138.

8. Ibid., 137–39, 149–63.

9. Cf. also, “Hear now ye hills and hoar forest,

ye awful thrones of olden gods

huge and hopeless, hear and tremble!” (I.102–104; p. 21)

10. Correspondingly, it is said that foes fled before Arthur’s armies “as the face of God” (I.63; p. 19).

11. Ibid., 88.

12. Cf. Tolkien, Sauron Defeated, 341, 358, where the faithful relationship with Eru is defined as “allegiance.”

13. “If Lancelot hath loyal purpose

let him prove repentance, his pride foregoing,

uncalled coming when his king needeth!

But fainer with fewer faithfulhearted

would I dare danger, than with doubtful swords

and tarnished shield of truant lieges

our muster swell.” (I.195–201; p. 25)

14. Tolkien, Fall of Arthur, 82–84.

15. Ibid., 64.

16. Ibid., 128.

17. Ibid., 68.