The following article I had published last winter in Health & Happiness U.P. Magazine. It is reprinted with permission from the magazine owner, Roslyn McGrath:
Why King Arthur Matters Today
As the winter solstice approaches, I always think of King Arthur. Arthur was a light in the darkness of his times, and Tennyson’s Idylls of the King equates Arthur with the rising of a new sun. Arthur is aligned with the light, with creating the “brief, shining moment” as the musical Camelot proclaims.
My love for King Arthur stems back to age fourteen when I first read Sidney Lanier’s The Boy’s King Arthur with N.C. Wyeth’s fabulous illustrations. The story of Arthur’s building a great society like Camelot and the tragedy of how it was brought down by Lancelot and Guinevere’s adultery and Mordred’s treachery was a pivotal moment in my love of great literature. Years later, I discovered Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon, which told the tale from the women’s point of view and made me realize how rich the legend was, how full of possibilities, and how it was ever adaptable to today’s concerns.
I soon decided to write my own King Arthur novel. In the process, I did a great deal of research that resulted in my recently published nonfiction book King Arthur’s Children: A Study in Fiction and Tradition—my novel is still in the works.
I became interested in King Arthur’s children because I was surprised by many obscure references to Arthur having children other than the well-known Mordred, son of incest, who slew his father. Welsh legends referred to other sons, and modern novelists were creating new children for the storyline. Who were these forgotten children, and why this recent trend to create new children for Arthur?
I came to the conclusion that the legend eventually deleted earlier references to Arthur’s children to enhance the tragic ending. However, modern readers wanted a more hopeful conclusion so novelists were creating new children for Arthur to connect the legendary king to our own times. For example, Arthur might have had a daughter, ignored by history because she was female, whose descendants live today.
My fascination with genealogy and DNA reinforced for me the significance of this possibility. Scientists have shown through mathematical calculations that everyone alive today of European descent would be descended from anyone in Europe born before 1200 A.D. who had children. Since King Arthur lived about 500 A.D., if he had children, then most likely all Europeans—as well as a good number of Africans and Asians—are his descendants. Arthur may physically be in our genes.
Scholars will debate for centuries to come whether Arthur ever lived, but either way, Arthur is in our genes—if not in our actual DNA, then in our human nature to dream of a better world. Arthur is remembered because he strove to create an idyllic world, a Round Table—an early form of democracy where justice prevailed—and for a short time, he succeeded. In the end, we might fail like he ultimately did, but we cannot aspire to anything grander ourselves, and so we carry on Arthur’s legacy of hope.
At the holidays, it’s good to be reminded of King Arthur’s final request in Camelot: “each evening from December to December…ask every person if he’s heard the story, and tell it strong and clear if he has not, that once there was a fleeting wisp of glory called Camelot.”
Tyler Tichelaar is the author of King Arthur’s Children and My Marquette. Visit him at www.MarquetteFiction.com and www.ChildrenofArthur.com.
I don’t remember if I mentioned it in my review of your book or not, but I love the idea that we all could be related to King Arthur in some way. Somehow it seems appropriate that a king whose legend has grown larger than life could be a father to us all.
Congratulations on the article, by the way!
Thanks, Nicole. I love the idea as well. I’m glad you enjoyed the book.
Le Morte Darthur mentions a son conceived out of wedlock before Arthur even met Guinevere. It says he later becomes a knight of the Round Table. A survivor from the old tales, maybe?
Yes, Christie, in Malory the son is named Borre, son of Lyoners, more commonly called Lisanor in other versions. I mention him in my book. I suspect he’s a later version of Llacheu, whose mother probably was Guinevere. Or possibly of Gwydre, both children of Arthur’s in the Welsh traditions.
As Llacheu and the son of Guinevere, he would have had to be relegated to an illegitimate station so as to keep any question of inheritance out of the story, right? I know I just need to buy the book, but I keep putting it off and the more I put it off, the less money I have!
I share your passion in the conviction that King Arthur is real. Have you read any G.K. Chesterton? His book A Short History of England inspired Geoffrey Ashe to find the “grave” of Arthur in Glastonbury/Avalon.
Hi Christie,
I’ve read some of Chesterton’s Father Brown stories and also a couple of his nonfiction books about Christianity, but not his history of England. I didn’t know it had inspired Geoffrey Ashe. That’s interesting. I’ll have to look into it now.
Wow this is exciting to hear, my last name is MacArthur, which means ‘son of Arthur’ and I have always wondered if King Arthur was real and if I was somehow descended from him. I know it seems crazy but I just really feel strongly about this, the meanings of my fathers name (Neale Eric MacArthur) literally translates to ‘Champion King son of Arthur’. Which was a total coincidence unplanned by my grandparents. I’m very interested to learn more about the significance of King Arthur’s story.
Thanks for the comment, Rebekah. I would be very proud of that name if I were you. Believe what you want, I say.
Thanks for your words of encouragment, God bless you.