There is a
lesson I’ve learned at least twice:
first, when I was first doing Mathematics seriously and again when I
returned to fencing. The lesson is to be
particularly wary of what you want to be true.
In Maths, you’ll have an algorithm or a strategy for proving a theorem
that seems so good, so natural, so clever, it has to work. But it doesn’t and it can keep you for days or months from seeing the less
attractive or essentially more complicated route which is necessary to solve
the problem. In fencing, beware the
opponent who makes that one perfect, subtle mistake which happens to fit your
best attack. It’s a bait, not a mistake
and he’ll kill you with it.
This is the
third episode reporting on my personal quest to make sense of the eccentric and
dramatic life of Sir Thomas Malory and his great work Le Morte d’Arthur. The
immediate question I’m facing is whether he was born in 1415 (Field 1993) or
1401 (Hardyment 2004). The particular evidence
in question, referenced by both, is William Dugdale’s assertion in his 1656
history of Warwickshire that Malory served in the retinue of the Earl of
Warwick at the siege of Calais in King Henry V’s time.
More than
one Thomas Malory is mentioned in the extant early 15th century
records. Field’s careful, detailed
chapter summarizes all ten references and offers a self-acknowledged “risky”
hypothesis that they refer to 3 different men.
Most importantly, he notes that with the exception of the siege of
Calais reference, none specifically refer to Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold
Revel, the author. Field then turns to
demographic evidence. Malory’s father
was born in 1385, his mother about 1380, making them 15 and 20 respectively
when Thomas was born. Further, in 1437,
Malory’s mother is formally named executrix of Malory’s father from which Field
infers that Sir Thomas was a still a minor and hence couldn’t have been born in
1401. If Malory, was born in 1401 he
would have written Le Morte d’Arthur in his sixties. On that point Field quotes George Lyman
Kittredge, “Nothing is impossible but…recalling the vitality, energy and even
occasional gaiety of Le Morte Darthur and the long, persistent labor that it
represents, one needs hardly to be skeptical to doubt that the work was written
by an ancient of seventy-five.” Field’s
solution: throw out Dugdale’s
controversial evidence. The Thomas Malory in the muster roll was a different
Thomas Malory. Dugdale wasn’t as careful
an historian as he should have been.
Convinced? Ready to make that lunge to the exposed
shoulder?
Hardyment
disagrees. She accepts that Dugdale was
referring to the right Sir Thomas Malory, argues convincingly that a timeline
commencing with a birth in 1401 is far from the realm of possibility and,
indeed that some of the later events make better sense in the context of the
earlier date. She writes,
“…(Field’s)
book makes Malory’s life more, not less mystifying. It does not explain the emergence of a
clever, forceful writer who evidently had ideals for which he was willing to
risk his life, a man whom the Lancastrian King Henry VI feared enough to
imprison without trial for almost a decade, and who was one of a tiny handful
of men excluded from pardon by Henry’s usurping Yorkist successor, Edward
IV. To achieve this, Malory’s birth
needs to be returned to around 1400.”
Convinced? Ready to make that lunge to the exposed
shoulder?
Actually, I
am, with qualifications, but I wouldn’t expect you to be: these are imperfect summaries of the authors’
arguments, not the arguments themselves.
But here’s my view. Field’s
chapter on Malory’s birth does good service in presenting the details of the
contemporary references. But they are
insufficient and not all pertinent for deciding Dugdale’s Calais siege
reference is to someone other than Sir Thomas Malory, the author. The most compelling aspects of Field’s
argument, the absence of other specific references to Sir Thomas Malory of
Newbold Revell in 1400-1415 and his mother’s acting as executrix in 1437 for
his father can be rationalized as easily as Field rationalizes his alternative
timeline.
William Dugdale’s
book is remarkably carefully written and illustrated. He documents the lost church windows of All
Saints Grendon which depicted Sir Thomas Malory’s parents, for example. He may even have seen parish records, now lost,
documenting Malory’s birth though he doesn’t say so. Field’s assertion that Dugdale incorrectly
attributed the Calais siege reference to Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold Revell
requires stronger justification. At the
worst, Field is editing his data to fit his hypothesis.
So, I’m
going with 1401 as Malory’s birth year whilst keeping an eye out for further
evidence supporting or contradicting it.
(For example, a larkish superficial search of Newgate prison records
turned up nothing.)
A few final
comments, the longer and more carefully I read Hardyment, the more impressed I
am with her biography at multiple levels and would highly recommend it which means of course I’ll be reading her
with continued care and skepticism as I continue. And, I must express appreciation to the
Dugdale Society of Stratford-upon-Avon for their assistance in deciphering
dates and genealogical tables in his book.
The fine and
terrible mystery continues, of course. I
have a yellow legal pad filling with scrawled questions, such as why wasn’t Sir
Thomas included in the windows of All Saints Grendon? Why didn’t William Dugdale note that Sir
Thomas was the author of Le Morte d’Arthur?
Episode 4 is here
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