When we lived
in Massachusetts we walked in the Weston Woods that were close by. The conservation lands were dense and diverse with
White and Pitch Pine, Black Maple, and full of brush: Hairy Wood Mint, Green Dragon, Prickly Rose
and occasional Dwarf Mistletoe. The trails
were sometimes ambiguous, especially when featureless clouds deprived us of any
sense of direction from the sun. It was
very different from hiking in the mountains of the west where the only problems
are avoiding occasional snakes or bears or finding a way down. The Weston Woods was the first place I was
ever properly lost.
And the
Weston Woods are small. The woods of medieval
England were vast. I suspect T. H. White
had it right when he characterized them as wild, dangerous places. I’ve hiked in the Amazon rain forest. There even trees are aggressive: they want to poison you or enable their
symbiotic insects to bite you so that you’ll die over their roots and provide
nourishment. I expect the woods of 15th
century England were a bit like that.
The second probable reference to Thomas Malory’s young life is in the Codnor muster roll, dated March 1st, 1418. Actually, two Thomas Malory’s are listed. Field barely mentions it and suggests they’re the same person; Hardyment interprets the first to be the author’s uncle who died shortly thereafter and the second to be the author himself. Record keeping in the 15th century was notoriously irregular, nevertheless, muster rolls had important, formal consequences, particularly payment. While documenting ghost soldiers was a common ruse for fraud, including the same name on a single roll seems a bit much even by 15th century standards. I concur with Hardyment: there were two. She then takes a large leap. She posits that Malory probably accompanied Henry on his second great campaign between 1417 and 1420 and the seminal experiences Malory had then led to his deep interest in Chivalry. I was skeptical until I thought about my own uncles, and Lynn’s father, who fought in World War II and their attitude about going.
One uncle even lied about his age and enlisted when he was fifteen. They saw it as the great adventure of their time which they couldn’t bear to miss. Henry V’s second invasion was much the same. In that context and given his social position, it seems more likely Thomas Malory was with Henry than not.
Hardyment’s description of Henry V’s second campaign was a real pleasure. I haven’t read a more engaging narrative of a period of Henry V’s life after Agincourt which is often given short shrift. It compares very favorably with Ian Mortimer and Juliet Barker, which is no small praise. Most importantly, she conveys the scope, the cultural importance and logistical complexity of the undertaking.
Yet that leads to a problem that has moved to the top of my list: why does Malory himself deal so casually with the complexity of medieval warfare and medieval life in general? Peter Hoskins detailed memoir of hiking the Black Prince’s Poitiers campaign and describing in detail how the French countryside has changed since the 1350s gives you an immediate sense of the problem, yet Malory is remarkably casual about it. His knights easily take horse, “dress their shields,” “couch their spears” and are off into the forest (those forests) for adventure. But it wasn’t that easy. Part of the answer, I know, is that Malory was translating older works. But even early on he emends his sources to deal with issues such as Pellinore’s rape of Sir Tor’s mother to bring them more into alignment with his own probable Chivalric values. If he was with Henry V, the Chivalric world he observed was very rich and complex indeed.
A curious personal aspect of this endeavor are the forgotten memories it’s wakened. When I was about 5 years old, my uncle, the one who had enlisted in the Navy at 15, managed a lumber mill and for Christmas made amazing wood swords for my cousins and me. The slightly swirled hilts were particularly fine. Yet mine sat forgotten in a corner of my room until one day the following summer when I went outside and discovered a gang of neighborhood boys, mostly older than me, making crude wooden swords out of disused one-by-twos and playing at knights using aluminum garbage can lids. I ran back in, found my own sword and went back out and grabbed our garbage can lid so that I could join them. You’d have thought I’d brought Excalibur out to play.
Later, when I was called home for lunch the gang had moved far up the wooded street. Now when I think of the boys scrapping in the distant yards and street under the trees I see bright surcoats, pennoncels and polished helms.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.
The second probable reference to Thomas Malory’s young life is in the Codnor muster roll, dated March 1st, 1418. Actually, two Thomas Malory’s are listed. Field barely mentions it and suggests they’re the same person; Hardyment interprets the first to be the author’s uncle who died shortly thereafter and the second to be the author himself. Record keeping in the 15th century was notoriously irregular, nevertheless, muster rolls had important, formal consequences, particularly payment. While documenting ghost soldiers was a common ruse for fraud, including the same name on a single roll seems a bit much even by 15th century standards. I concur with Hardyment: there were two. She then takes a large leap. She posits that Malory probably accompanied Henry on his second great campaign between 1417 and 1420 and the seminal experiences Malory had then led to his deep interest in Chivalry. I was skeptical until I thought about my own uncles, and Lynn’s father, who fought in World War II and their attitude about going.
One uncle even lied about his age and enlisted when he was fifteen. They saw it as the great adventure of their time which they couldn’t bear to miss. Henry V’s second invasion was much the same. In that context and given his social position, it seems more likely Thomas Malory was with Henry than not.
Hardyment’s description of Henry V’s second campaign was a real pleasure. I haven’t read a more engaging narrative of a period of Henry V’s life after Agincourt which is often given short shrift. It compares very favorably with Ian Mortimer and Juliet Barker, which is no small praise. Most importantly, she conveys the scope, the cultural importance and logistical complexity of the undertaking.
Yet that leads to a problem that has moved to the top of my list: why does Malory himself deal so casually with the complexity of medieval warfare and medieval life in general? Peter Hoskins detailed memoir of hiking the Black Prince’s Poitiers campaign and describing in detail how the French countryside has changed since the 1350s gives you an immediate sense of the problem, yet Malory is remarkably casual about it. His knights easily take horse, “dress their shields,” “couch their spears” and are off into the forest (those forests) for adventure. But it wasn’t that easy. Part of the answer, I know, is that Malory was translating older works. But even early on he emends his sources to deal with issues such as Pellinore’s rape of Sir Tor’s mother to bring them more into alignment with his own probable Chivalric values. If he was with Henry V, the Chivalric world he observed was very rich and complex indeed.
A curious personal aspect of this endeavor are the forgotten memories it’s wakened. When I was about 5 years old, my uncle, the one who had enlisted in the Navy at 15, managed a lumber mill and for Christmas made amazing wood swords for my cousins and me. The slightly swirled hilts were particularly fine. Yet mine sat forgotten in a corner of my room until one day the following summer when I went outside and discovered a gang of neighborhood boys, mostly older than me, making crude wooden swords out of disused one-by-twos and playing at knights using aluminum garbage can lids. I ran back in, found my own sword and went back out and grabbed our garbage can lid so that I could join them. You’d have thought I’d brought Excalibur out to play.
Later, when I was called home for lunch the gang had moved far up the wooded street. Now when I think of the boys scrapping in the distant yards and street under the trees I see bright surcoats, pennoncels and polished helms.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.
Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot
As I write this I’m listening to “Forest” by the composer/cellist Zoe Keating.
As I write this I’m listening to “Forest” by the composer/cellist Zoe Keating.
Episode 6 is here
2 comments:
"Hit befel in the dayes of Uther Pendragon, when he was kynge of all Englond and so regned"... I was inspired. sitting here with a wee dram of Lagavulin, listening to Zoe Keating and dusting off my old copy of Morte Darthur....the pairing is superb.
Excellent. I can recommend Dalwhinnie as well, by the way. Particularly, glad that you're looking at Malory again. I think you'd find Hardyment worth a look as well. Well deserved after your heroic struggle with the snow gods.
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