wb01539_.gif (682 bytes)Avalon & Shalott wb01539_.gif (682 bytes)
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The Lady of Shalott, Waterhouse

INDEX

Isle of Avalon
Glastonbury Abbey
The Quest for the Holy Grail
Lady of Shalott - Poem
The Lady of Shalott
Pictorial Interpretations

 

 
Isle of Avalon

by Anthony Roberts 

i4.gif (3914 bytes)n the far south-west of the British Isles, situated between the sea of the Bristol Channel and two low ranges of hills called the Mendips and the Poldens, there lies an enchanted area of land. It is an area that generates and guards a powerful magic. The county that contains this land is Somerset and the geographical designation of this sacred place has come to be known as the Isle of Avalon.

This romantic and mysterious tract of country has a long historical pedigree, stretching back over countless millennia into eras of strange dreams and endless mystical revelations. Human beings who come to Avalon strong in the disciplines of the Old Knowledge are strangely transformed. They are fused into a form of cosmic consciousness that reflects the patterns of esoteric memory that are shaped into the very landscape itself. The focal point for the area and its arcane forces is Glastonbury, both the name of a town and the symbol of a great and holy mystery.

redwoo.jpg (13139 bytes)The roots of this mystery have nothing to do with Christianity, which came late to the area, first as an inheritor, then as a usurper, finally as a destroyer. They are found through a synthesis of pagan ritual and natural, magical intuition, and they are so old, deep and strong as to be inviolable to all forms of fleeting desecration. The key to the secrets of Glastonbury and the whole Avalonian complex lies within the contours of the landscape.

Once this is realized the pattern assumes its correct perspective and balances into a satisfying coherence: magic and mysticism form a delicate equilibrial harmony that fluctuates between microcosm and macrocosm. This of course needs some elucidation. As in most tales of esoteric complexity, it is best to begin at the beginning, for the whole panorama is more important and beautiful at its start than in its later misunderstood manifestations.

The aura that surrounds the Isle of Avalon radiates a potent vibration, a vibration first stemming from the personalities and skills of those human beings who came to its environs during the so-called prehistoric days. Millennia before the advent of the Celtic Druids (c.500s BC) there existed at Glastonbury a race of men who shaped the whole terrain to form certain mystical and astrological patterns. In the mid-1920s these patterns were rediscovered through the single-minded researches of a brilliantly intuitive woman, Katharine Maltwood. Mrs Maltwood was a student of the Arthurian mysteries and Grail legends (both integrally woven into Glastonbury’s later history) and she made her redis- covery while studying large-scale maps of the countryside around Glastonbury Tor.

The Tor is a 522ft high mound that dominates the town of Glastonbury, which is built upon and around its lower slopes. The hill is strongly pyramidal in shape and has upon its green slopes the remnants of a seven-tiered labyrinth, while its summit is crowned with the ruined tower of a fourteenth century church. The Tor and its attendant companion, Chalice Hill, will be discussed later, but they are relevant here because they make up part of the Aquarian effigy in that stupendous group of prehistoric monuments known as the Glastonbury Zodiac.

It was this example of ancient technology and magic that Mrs Maltwood found laid out upon the ground in giant forms, revealed only to those minds fired with the spirit of mystical revelation. She published several books on the subject (including an aerial survey) and the true proportions of this beautiful earth sculpture were made graphically apparent. The Glastonbury Zodiac is one of those great ’hidden works’ that lies at the roots of all countries’ lore and religion, blending physical and metaphysical into a divine coherence.

The form of this terrestrial zodiac, as Mrs Maltwood (and countless later researchers) have uncovered it, is circular with a circumference of thirty miles. Some of the effigies are two or three miles long (eg. Leo, Sagittarius and Pisces) and they are all shaped geomantically from natural features of the land. The effigies are delineated by hills, earthworks, mounds, artificial water courses, old roads, footpaths, streams, and rivers. Notwithstanding this, they all tally with the appropriate star constellations that shine in the sky above them. In other words there was an organically real, natural formation of topographical features forming the basic outlines of the astrological signs which were adapted by shaping through geomancy to make the finished effigies realizable.

Both mystically and physically the earth was moulded to conform to the harmonies of the terrestrial and celestial energy patterns. The grand design is fully apparent only at heights of 20,000 feet and it is obvious that an elevated form of spiritual technology was used to create it. An aerial perspective would have been essential to the logistics of the scheme. The date of this supreme achievement of antiquity is obscure. Some researchers push it as far back as the Atlantean era (10,000 BC) while others, with reference to such works as the Dendarah Zodiac from Egypt, date it to 7000-8000 BC. Mrs Maltwood suggested 2700 BC as a recognition point.

Whatever the date of its initial shaping, the Glastonbury Zodiac set a permanent mystical mark on this area of the British Isles that was the fountainhead for all that followed. The later legends of the Round Table, giants, Arthurian quests for revelation and the secrets of a lost coherence and sanctity, all stem from the memory of this great work carved upon the face of Somerset by men of a forgotten era. They linked earth with heaven in a direct cosmological unity that created the harmony of a now-vanished Golden Age.

With the permanent sanctity of the Glastonbury area secured by the zodiacal figures, it follows that down through the centuries men would be drawn to its lingering atmosphere of magical potency. Sometime around 2000 BC a race of astronomer-priests came to Glastonbury and erected various earthworks and standing stones within the precincts of the Zodiac’s hallowed ground. Legend recounts that they constructed some form of stone monument upon the summit of the Tor and that lines of single, free-standing menhirs were laid out on the surrounding slopes of adjacent hills.

Recent work by Professor Alexander Thom, the foremost living expert on megalithic geometry, has shown that the men of 2000 BC were capable of creating complex structures in earth and stone that reflected precise mathematical, geometrical, astronomical and astrological knowledge. Professor Thom, a laconic Scotsman who was Professor of Engineering Science at Oxford, has examined the Glastonbury landscape and reached the conclusion that it was laid out to form a lunar observatory where eclipses could be predicted with great accuracy. He has computed that the positions of the stones fixed the declinational and azimuthal passing points of the moon as it rose and set behind the Black Mountains of distant Wales.

This exact knowledge shows that the human beings who lived and worked at Glastonbury, at least in 2000 BC, had high cultural standards that must have been inherited from earlier people, handed down as a mystical-scientific system from a time when the two were co-terminous, not hopelessly fragmented as they are today.

Professor Thom’s detailed analysis of Glastonbury’s megalithic complexities are fascinating. He has produced significant data to the effect that the hills around the Tor were definite sighting points for long range observation into Wales. The moon’s inclination of orbit as it passed behind various peaks of the Black Mountains was meticulously noted by the Glastonbury megalithic astronomers. Its major standstill point and even the complex perturbation wobble could all be worked out from stone observatories strategically placed upon the slopes of the Isle of Avalon. Writing in the book Glastonbury: A Study in Pattems (RILKO, 1969), Professor Thom states:  

On the higher ground in and around Glastonbury the earlier Ordnance Survey showed about 30 ’stones’ but there is not much at present to show that these were Megalithic. A line of 5 stones is shown passing through the point 51003900 on the NationaI Grid at an azimuth of about 298 degrees. If it can be shown that this line is clear (or rather was clear) locally to the West then with the far horizon altitude of -0, 2, it shows a declination of +16’4. We find this delination at many Megalithic sites. It is that of the Sun at May Day and Lammas, two important days in the Megalithic calendar.

Evidence that the orientational line giving a declination of +16’4 was clear about 2000 BC has recently been forthcoming. Climatologists and botanists studying the ecological conditions of the Bronze Age are now generally agreed that there was less afforestation than was once presumed and the atmosphere was free of all pollution, allowing sharper definition for the human eye.

The sacred connotations of Chalice Hill have always been indicative of hidden or buried treasure, even in their Christian manifestation (Grail or Chalice buried there) and this again is significant. Hidden treasures in or on hills are commonly found in numerous West Country myths. It is possible to interpret some of these myths in an astronomical context, as the work of Kenneth Knight shows, so it is not improbable that a stone observatory was once situated upon the carefully rounded summit of the Tor’s nearest neighbour.

At the foot of Chalice Hill lies the chalybeate spring named by the Christians as Chalice Well, the elaborate cover of which is carved with the major religious symbol of the Vesica Piscis. This curving, fish-like symbol forms the spring-point of religious architecture and it is used in the geometrical construction of all the more significant buildings of antiquity, including major prehistoric monuments like Stonehenge and Avebury. Chalice Well is more than a healing spring, however. Its sides are carefully constructed from great slabs of stone in the non-mortared style of masonry known as cyclopean.

The bold megalithic construction of these stones was said by the archaeologist Sir Flinders Petrie to be of ancient Egyptian influence, while most modern researchers date it to at least the Bronze Age (2000 BC). Behind the central shaft, the stones form a perfectly polygonal chamber, and it is thought that ritual and sacrifice were carried out here at the correct seasonal times. Some authorities suspect that a willing victim was placed within the chamber, which was then quickly flooded from the main spring via a sluice. There are precedents for this in various European cultures in the Bronze and Iron Ages.

That eminent astro-archaeologist, Sir Norman Lockyer pointed out that Chalice Well has been found (by measurements he carried out on midsummer day) to be orientated towards the summer solstice sunrise. This was (and is) a precise time of fervent religious celebration and ritual sacrifice in all lands.

Another ancient geomantic monument that has many odd, mystical connotations is the huge linear earthwork and ditch known as Ponter’s Ball. It lies to the south-east of Glastonbury Tor on raised ground between what were once marshes, and it is nearly one mile long running exactly from marsh edge to marsh edge. Ponter’s Ball neatly straddles the narrow isthmus of land that links the Isle of Avalon with the main high ground [Pennard Hill] that rises eastward towards Shepton Mallet. The monument is so constructed that it seems to form an outward-facing boundary to the Sacred Isle and this is where its age and purpose become of great interest to the student of Glastonbury lore.

There are two interpretations of Ponter’s Ball, one strictly orthodox in form, the other of a more speculative nature, but both are highly complementary when they are studied comparatively. Even in the eyes of conventional historians, Ponter’s Ball marks the outer boundary limit of a tremendous sacred enclosure. These earthwork enclosures, known as temenos, are found on the fringes of all the noteworthy pagan sanctuaries and the fact that the ditch of Ponter’s Ball is dug on its eastern side (away from the Tor) enhances the possibility that the ridge was indeed a temenos of considerable importance.

The earthen bank has spread a good deal over the centuries but is still thirty feet across and twelve feet high in places. The deep eastern ditch is now heavily silted up but its depth must once have been comparable to the mighty trenches that surrounded the stones and mounds of Avebury and Stonehenge. The whole structure could never have been purely defensive, for any reasonably intelligent invading army could have simply outflanked it.

The precise dating of Ponter’s Ball is still somewhat ambiguous. That tenacious Somerset archaeologist, Dr Arthur Bulleid, excavated beneath the bank early this century and uncovered Iron Age pottery shards which he dated to about the third century BC. These finds at least secure the reputation of the Glastonbury area as a Celtic Avalon, but do not necessarily mean that the Celts who left their culinary expertise as a calling card actually erected the mound. The ditch also threw up shards of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries AD, but no one suggests the edifice was built by the industrious monks of the then thriving community at Glastonbury Abbey.

Because of its size and careful geomantic positioning it is more reasonable to set Ponter’s Ball in the Bronze Age or earlier, for adaptation by succeeding cultures is one of the key aspects of understanding the mystique of all the famous ancient sites, particularly the stones and earthworks. It is this adaptive aspect that brings us to the more speculative answer to the riddle of this old straight embankment. Research into the mysteries of the Glastonbury Zodiac has found that the long, single horn that graces the head of the Capricorn effigy is perfectly delineated by the earthy orientational line of Ponter’s Ball.

Locally the earthwork has been alternatively termed the ’Golden Coffin’, and it is in December (Capricorn’s time) that the sun symbolically dies at the winter solstice. The link with the sun is important because Ponter’s Ball is thought by some researchers to be a corruption of Pontes Bel or Baal, meaning the ’bridge of the sun’; Bel being a Celtic name for the sungod and Baal being a millennia-earlier term for the perpetually regenerating life force symbolized by the golden sun. If the elongated, grassy embankment was originally the horn of the goat effigy among the Glastonbury Giants, it is obvious that its later adaptation as a Bronze Age or Celtic temenos line would be perfectly in keeping with a form of ritually handed-on religious continuity.

The cultural ebb and flow around the Isle of Avalon has been spectacular to say the least, but it begins to appear that however socially diverse the incoming populations might have been, they always inherited the geomantic magic that lay in immortal stasis, graven into the landscape around them. When the Bronze Age religio-scientific civilization waned, it was gradually replaced by the fiercer social patterns of the Iron Age (800 BC). With the mass arrival of the Celtic warriors into the lagoons and hillsides around the Tor (c. 500 BC) recorded history begins.

Because of its vast antiquity and constantly preserved religious sanctity the Glastonbury area continued to attract, and incidentally mystically adapt, numerous tribes and cultures. Lake villages have been excavated at Meare and Godney (both only a few miles from the Tor) and the workmanship of the jewelled ornaments and terracotta utensils used in these villages again shows a high level of technological and artistic achievement. The warrior Celts received guidance, both religious and philosophical, from the Druid priesthood and here many see the first codification of certain rituals and practices akin to natural witchcraft (wicca). It is the Druids who were thought to have laid out the turf-banked maze, traces of which can still be seen winding up the steep face of the Tor. This seven-tiered processional path denotes the sacred importance of the Tor to the Glastonbury mystical schema and it is time to look at this artificially adapted mound in some detail.

If the Zodiac is the key to the whole Avalonian complex., then the Tor is the locus, the focal point, of the inner Glastonbury power centre. In Celtic myth the entrance to the land of the dead, known as Avalon, was always a high hill surrounded by water. It was also linked to Caer Sidi, the Fairies’ glass mountain or spiral castle, where the supernatural power inherent in death met the natural energies that blended from terrestrial and cosmic interaction. Glastonbury in the Iron Age made a perfect Avalon. The low-lying levels between the Tor and the sea would have been largely under water, with numerous ranges of hills and large, grass-grown mounds rising from the shiny surfaces of interlinked lagoons. In Celtic mythology, Avalloc or Avallach was a deity associated with guardianship of the underworld (Avalon) and here the etymology of the name clarifies a little.

The Tor would have made a natural centre of worship, especially if a ruined stone temple then existed upon its summit. The sharply angled sides of this hill are shaped into a series of rounded steps, rather like the step pyramid at Saqqara, Egypt, and this is the legacy of the geomancers who created the whole zodiacal pattern millennia before. The name Glastonbury is thought to stem from the old British words Ynys-witrin, which mean Isle of Glass (ie. Caer Sidi, the glass mountain), the Tor dominating the whole of the high ground that rose above the waters in the form of an elongated, tree-clad island.

The ritual importance of the Tor lingered long in local memory and a church dedicated to that fearsome slayer of the pagan dragon, St Michael, was first built on the summit in the twelfth century. Traces of the megalithic stones that preceded it can allegedly be seen in the foundations of the subsequent church’s remaining tower. The main body of this church was thrown down by a severe earthquake in the thirteenth century.

Legend again has it that fragments of the original prehistoric stones were also used to hallow the foundations of the nearby abbey. The Fairy king, Gwynn ap Nudd, Lord of Annwn and sometime leader of the Wild Hunt, a cosmic manifestation that is universal throughout European mythology, was a localized Tor spirit. He was said to have a palace on the summit from where he rode out with magic dogs and spectral warriors on his regular collection of souls. Obviously a daunting spectacle to those not attuned to cosmic consciousness.

Another key event that linked the Tor to ancient ritual was the famous Tor Fair. The fair was held on the second Monday in September and it encompassed horse, sheep and cattle trading as well as drinking, games and general merrymaking. In 1127 King Henry I granted a charter to the abbot and monks of Glastonbury to hold the fair at the church of St Michael on the Tor. But the event was immeasurably older than this because the charter mentions that for two days the festivities had to take place at the site of the ’original’ fair. This in fact was on the lower western slopes of the Tor’s east-west axis, and just above the field used there still remain the large, broken fragments of an old megalith.

This is a power stone that activates erratically early in the morning and late at night. Its power has been personally verified by the author, its manifestation being rather like a mild electric current running through the palms of the hands and spiralling up the arms. On the twenty-five-inch Ordnance Survey map this still very active stone is marked and named, significantly enough, as the Living Rock!

The Tor Fair was a major local festival and in its earliest days the records state it lasted at least a fortnight. In 1850 the fair was removed to a site nearer the town, in fact to a large field behind an old public house which is called the Fairfield Tavern today [now called the King Arthur, on Benedict Street]. Although the date now varies between September and October this true festival of the people is celebrated in Glastonbury even now. Its earliest recorded mention is in a Saxon edict of King Ine; the Celtic observance and the broken stone seem satisfyingly to locate a Bronze Age perspective.

Two other points can quickly be mentioned. First, the old fairs of England were often located near or utilized mazes, and the labyrinth on the Tor is now an established fact. Second, the axis of the Tor (on which the power stone directly lies) is orientated on a major ley line that runs across Britain from St Michael’s Mount, Cornwall, through St Michael’s, Burrow Mump, the Tor, Avebury circle, Ogbourne St George, and countless other minor sites linked to the dragon and his saintly slayer. Glastonbury Tor is the predominant earthwork along this straight line of mainly elevated holy sites.

This sacred hill is recognized as a vast repository for both free-flowing psychic power and symbolic psychological stability, a realized unity between life and death. Its brooding strength radiates a dual purpose: generation of direct magical forces and reconciliation between the many states of consciousness that fertilize the basic impulses of human metaphysical perception. As the architect and psychic Bligh Bond realized, it is indeed a ’hill of vision’.

Haunted by spirits, the abode of fairies and demons, the Tor casts an awe-inspiring ’shadow of heaven’ across the surface of the earth. Fairy fairs or gatherings are always cropping up in folklore and there is a large body of tales recounting the adventures of farmers, cowherds, milkmaids, etc., who come upon these events by accident. The Fairy fairs were held at certain sites that were traditional to the ’good people’, a well-known West Country venue being that near Pitminster in southern Somerset. At these seasonal fairs the Fairies danced, sang, ate, drank and sold livestock just like any normal human gathering. The sites are all adjacent to either mazes, mounds, stones, hill-forts or earthworks, and the later human fairs at such places were probably another directly inherited esoteric tradition.

The Tor fair, linked as it was to a maze and megalithic stones, not to mention the hill’s association with Gwynn the Fairy king, culturally fits into its magically topographical surroundings in a completely satisfying manner. The memory of Fairy fairs at places of proven historical importance magnifies the magical and ritual aspects of the sites themselves and sets them firmly in the context of a carefully applied geomancy.

The supernatural Pitminster Fair actually manifested itself on the slopes of Black Down Hill, situated between the villages of Pitminster and Chestonford near Taunton, and this hill still bears traces of ancient barrows and earthworks. The Fairies who frequented this fair were described as being of ’man-like’ stature, and the most common sighting by mortals was at the crucial time of the midsummer festival. A significant time if one thinks of the antique summer solstice celebrations, recognized even now by the numerous adherents of what is sometimes termed the Old Religion.

Trezidder Lane, near St Levan, Cornwall, is also remembered as the site of a seasonal Fairy fair. This lane is part of a ley orientation as well as being surrounded by numbers of standing stones, cromlechs and barrows in its immediate environment of the megalith-packed Penwith peninsula. There are no definite connections in folklore between the Tor fair and the Fairies (except that the fair’s oldest site was on the slopes of Gwynn ap Nudd’s Caer Sidi, or Fairy Mountain). But when the maze and the megaliths are blended into the pattern, the importance of this hallowed mound is made physically clear in a historical yet decidedly geomythic frame of reference.

The maze on the Tor and the rituals of the Druids mark the end of Glastonbury’s organically spiritual purity. The long interregnum since then has been led first by the Christians, then by the ’reality-trip’ materialists, and now by the neo-Christian cults that proliferate there today. When Christianity first tentatively approached Glastonbury during the first century AD, it came in the form of thinly disguised pagan legend; eg. the tales of Joseph of Arimathea, the planting of his staff on Wearyall Hill, the burying of the grail/chalice containing Jesus’ blood on Chalice Hill, etc.

The embryonic Christian ethos was forced to embrace much pagan ritual to survive, so strongly were the old ways of thought and worship planted in the brains and souls of the people. The Joseph of Arimathea legend is remarkable both for its tenacity in local memory and its weaving together of various pagan/Christian themes. In the Glastonbury region, 17 March was always celebrated as St Joseph of Arimathea’s Day and a church in Langport (All Saints) has a stained glass window depicting the aged saint on his way to founding the first Christian church in Britain. The absorption of fertility themes is seen in the tale of Joseph’s thorn staff (the thorn was a foremost symbol of pagan magic and mythology), his carrying of the Holy Grail, and in the little-known rhyme associated with St Joseph’s Day itself. This rhyming couplet carries a simple incantational force ideal for oral chanting:

If Saint Joseph’s day is clear, We shall get a fertile year.

The famous thorn still grows at Glastonbury, and it burgeons forth on at least three religious sites. There is a large tree in the parish churchyard of St John’s on the High Street. Another tree lies in the Abbey grounds, and a small bush is in the original place on the upper slopes of Wearyall Hill (the Pisces effigy in the Glastonbury Zodiac). This thorn is a genuine Levantine variety, and is a freak hawthorn or applewort. It actually stems from the Near East and only flourishes in the immediate vicinity of Glastonbury.

Its botanical name is Crataegus oxyacantha. Normally it cannot be struck, only budded. It flowers around 5 January (old Christmas Day) and blossoms are still sent to the reigning monarch in a continuation of a truly old tradition of magical and ritual recognisance. The legend that Joseph of Arimathea was sent by St Philip to bring the Gospel to Britain is well-established in local folk-lore but has little extant historical documentation. The complexities of its origin are too involved for any elaboration here, but there seems to be a lot of circumstantial evidence in favour.

This peripatetic ’uncle’ to Jesus was supposed to have left the Holy Land sometime after 60 AD and to have ended up at Wearyall Hill (for the thorn-planting miracle) in 63/64 AD. The local king, Arviragus, supposedly gave Joseph and his followers twelve hides of land around Glastonbury and they then built the first temple to the new religion in the British Isles. The building was circular and from its alchemical fluidity of dimension great magic grew. In the author’s opinion, it must have replaced a pagan shrine of even greater cosmic efficacy, for it was established early Christian practice to build churches, etc., on the sites of those potent monuments to past religious devotion.

One of the most important geomantic aspects of the Joseph legends lies in the journey (quest) made by the man and his twelve disciples across the Somerset landscape. Most of the myths state that final landfall was made in the vicinity of what is now Bridgwater Bay [12 miles W of Glastonbury] (after a disastrous excursion into Wales) and that from there the small band was ’called’ across the marshes to the looming majesty of Avalon’s holy Tor.

As if this was not enough for intuitive geomantic divination there is an almost unknown reading of the legend peculiar to the area around Crewkerne [20m SW of Glastonbury]. This reading is quite specific in its imagery. The old folk-tale was collected by K. J. Watson and told afresh in his locally famous work The I.egend of Crewkerne. The story was actually printed in full in the Somerset County Herald of 1920. In essence the myth relates how Joseph and his disciples were led to a straight track that marched across country following a route of antique ancestry, a route originally used by Phoenician tin traders. This old straight track was marked by small grassy mounds (barrows?) and in one place ran directly through an earthwork known as Cunnygar.

Every five miles the pilgrims rested and one of their number thrust his staff into the ground to sanctify the line and mark the way. At certain unspecified points they erected crosses and on one hill Joseph set the Holy Grail on a standing stone; its light blazed out, illuminating all the surrounding woodlands. When they finally reached Wearyall Hill only Joseph retained his staff which, when thrust into the ground, burst forth as an instantly flowering thorn tree. It was then recognized as a mystical reconciliation between the magic of the old gods and the miracles of the new. That briefly is the Legend of Crewkerne; all the facts are exactly as given in the tale, only the richness of writing has been of necessity removed.

The ritualistic perambulation of Joseph and his people bears much relevance for students of ley hunting and even has metrological overtones in the placing of the staves at five-mile intervals. It is interesting that Joseph planted his staff on Wearyall Hill, not the Tor. As stated above, Wearyall is part of the triple Piscean effigies in the Zodiac and it must be noted that the sign of the fish was one of the first Christian symbols linked to the magic of the Vesica Piscis.

Equally fascinating is the knowledge that with the inception of Christianity, the world entered the zodiacal age of Pisces, an age now in the process of violently dying from self- inflicted wounds induced through spiritual treason. By planting his staff on such a geomantically and astrologically apt spot, Joseph of Arimathea was recognizing the zodiacal signature that permanently sealed the sanctity of the whole Glastonbury land- scape. Even if the legend is not strictly ’true’ it has a symbolic, metaphysical strength that transcends physical reality and reaches directly towards an understanding of Glastonbury’s more ethereal cosmic correspondence.

The area has always been seen to have a zodiacal or heavenly ambience, linking the stars with their patterns reflected on the earth. The star-like aura of the Zodiac lingered in Christian consciousness in a variety of ways, few of them really overt. The mystical dimensions of the great Abbey incorporate certain zodiacal/astronomical symbolisms in their numerology and the east-west line of orientation, which forms the Abbey’s main axial alignment, is part of a major ley line that links Glastonbury with Stonehenge (a solar and lunar temple) and Canterbury Cathedral (site of another megalithic astronomical observatory).

gnwood.jpg (13773 bytes)A certain subtle corroboration is found in a suitably mysterious passage contained in the history of the Abbey, written by William of Malmesbury in the twelfth century. William was a famous scholar and historian of mixed Norman/Saxon descent. He was a native of Somerset and his books are models of well-marshalled facts, succinct clarification and good historical judgement. In his definitive work on the subject, De Antiquitate Glastoniensis Ecclesiae, William of Malmesbury includes the following short passage:  

This church, then, is certainly the oldest I know in Engtand, and from this circumstance derives its name (vetusta ecclesia)... In the pavement may be seen on every side stones designedly inlaid in triangles and squares and figured with lead, under which, if I believe some sacred enigma to be contained, I do no injustice to rely on.

This guarded statement was obviously designed to protect William from any charges of heresy, a continuously favourite pastime among the squabbling clerics of ’full-steam’ Christianity. The passage refers to a mosaic pattern that was drawn into the stones of the St Mary Chapel (originally St Joseph’s Chapel, for Arimathea), a building of great mystical importance that marked the site of the original foundation by the Christians of the early first century AD. This pattern must have been a direct reflection of esoteric Christianity and it seems to have enshrined a memory of the overall geomantic schema that dictated the correspondences between the Abbey’s dimensions and the surrounding design of zodiacal, prehistoric and Celtic landscape geometry, i.e. effigies, mounds, stones, leys, etc.

The continuous psychic reminiscence of the above surfaced again during the early years of this century through the researches and archaeological work conducted at the Abbey ruins by Frederick Bligh Bond. This erratic Bristol architect and mystic made some astounding cabbalistic discoveries during the course of his excavations, tying the dimensions of the building into numerous explicit interpretations of ancient science, mathematics and astronomy. The technique of automatic writing was employed by Bligh Bond (to the hysterical disapproval of the dry ecclesiasts) and ‘contact’ with a fifteenth century brother of the Abbey led to a passage in Bligh Bond’s book Gate of Remembrance that bears a remarkable resemblance to the words of William of Malmesbury. If Bligh Bond’s findings are valid the zodiacal aspects are here totally proven from an apparently unimpeachable source! The astrally-contacted brother stated:

That which the brethren of old handed down to us, we followed, ever building on their plan. As we have said, our Abbey was a message in ye stones. In ye foundations and ye distances be a mystery - the mystery of our faith, which ye have forgotten and we also in ye latter days.

All ye measurements were marked plain on ye slabbes in Mary’s Chappel, and ye have estroyed them. So it was recorded, as they who builded and they who came after knew aforehand where they should build. But these things are overpast and of no value now. The spirit was lost and with the loss of the spirit the body decayed and was of no use to (us).

There was the Body of Christ, and round him would have been the Four Ways. Two were builded and no more. In ye floor of ye Mary Chappel was ye Zodiac, that all might see and understand the mystery. In ye midst of ye chappel he was laid; and the Cross of Hym who was our Example and Exemplar.

Braineton, he didde much, for he was Geomancer to ye Abbey of olde tyme.

Glastonbury’s early links with Christianity are always of an ambiguous nature, with many of the saints and mystics associated with the area showing marked undertones of strange powers, origins and practices. For instance there is a tale tha the Irish St Bridget came to Glastonbury around 488 AD and that she passed some years in meditation on the ‘island of Beckery’ [just off the Glastonbury island], where there was an earlier chapel dedicated to St Mary Magdalene. When St Bridget returned to Ireland she left the ancient chapel with her name and certain personal relics - her wallet, her rosary and her oak staff. These then became imbued with miraculous powers. The ‘island’ of Beckery is located due west of the Tor and is a low, mounded ridge lying near the gently meandering River Brue. It has always been associated with religious magic, and Arthurian myth states that the great king had a potent vision of the Holy Grail in its tiny chapel. St Bridget was reputed to possess many powers over natural things: it was said that ‘animals and birds obeyed her call’ and that she could work miracles with milk and butter that paralelled Christ’s feeding of the five thousand. The legends of Beckery remain, but alas, all traces of the chapel (and much of the mound itself) have been systematically destroyed by the relentless march of progress and industry over the last couple of centuries.

The Bridget legends are particularly interesting when it is remembered that St Bridget was the Christian incarnation of the mighty pagan fertility goddess Bride. The cult of Bride or Brigantia was solidly tied to childbirth, sacred wells, crops and the vegetation cycle throughout pagan Ireland, England and western Scotland. The goddess was also guardian of the hearth fires, which linked her symbolically to that life-giving furnace, the sun. Those British sacred centres that are situated on mounds or hills are usually connected with some form of sun ritual, be they pagan, Christian, or intermediary through the Culdees and the heretical Gnostics. The obvious fact that St Bridget was ‘Bride’ Christianized reveals yet again the new religion’s debt to the centuries of complex worship that had developed at Glastonbury in a more natural and all-embracing manner – in fact, via a vast pagan cult that fulfilled every psychic, religious and ecological need through its ever-changing, but ever constant pantheon of archetypal gods and goddesses. These prime elemental forces are always symbolic of highly practical applications of a strange but realizable power. It is a power that is miraculously in tune with the rhythms and energy flows inherent throughout nature; a power that links stones and stars, earth and heaven, man and cosmos. It is the unifying power of a holistically geomantic magic – the living pulsations of the spirits in and around the earth.

After Joseph the Arthurian mythos became entwined in the pattern, for the quest for the Grail stemmed subconsciously from the memory of Glastonbury’s earlier marvels, back to thorn magic, the maze on the Tor and the Great Round Table of the Zodiac itself. The Arthurian knights traced the barbed but sacred paths toward achievement of the Grail, and the hidden symbolism of this is self-evident in the light of what is written above. At the summit of the Tor the achievement of the Grail is still possible for the dedicated and spiritually enlightened seeker.

In this brief study of Glastonbury folk-lore and legendary history, we have discovered, hidden deep at its roots, the poetically coded messages that have filtered down from the lost eras. They have manifested themselves through the constantly recurring patterns of myth, magic and the intuitive insight that once illumined the minds of the ancient seers. From this insight, handed down through the generations as oral tradition and written wisdom, couched in poetry, ritual, music and prose, the geomantically active ’presence’ in the British Isles is enshrined and perpetuated as a regenerative dream in the consciousness of men. The highly developed intuitive sciences of the past pose a perpetual enigma to the closed minds of our own era, which resound with empty materialist bravado. This results in the constant decrying of the sacred mysteries as a desperate defence mechanism against ultimate truth. When these mysteries are approached with an open mind, strong in its understanding of the psychic realities of psychological and metaphysical interaction, the veils of the mysteries can be lifted, and the natural structure of the ancient world can be revealed in bright patterns that illumine the soul and transform the basic contours of human consciousness. The esoteric tradition native to the British Isles was carefully preserved by the various mystical orders who succeeded the megalithic and Bronze Age wizards, to be finally codified in incantation, ritual and poetry by the ancient order of Druids. They then transmitted much of it to the early Christians who gradually replaced them at the beginning of the last astrological age. In this way, there was preserved into modern times some of the vital magical heritage so carefully developed by the giants of the past, which is so essential now to our understanding and resurrection of a nearly ruined world.

It can safely be assumed that the Glastonbury region is one of the holiest centres on the face of the earth because so many religions and cultures have met and meshed around its fields and streams. The true Glastonbury atmosphere, embracing zodiac (astrology), maze (psychology) and Grail (cosmology) is defiantly universal, never dogmatic or parochial. These triadic images symbolize respectively heavenly glory, earthly complexity and a linking gateway to the wonders of the Higher Worlds. They all combine to form a psychic representation of the Cosmic Temple on earth and this is physically realised in the landscape geomancy around the Isle of Avalon, with Glastonbury Abbey and the Tor as the key sites.

The strengths of the Avalonian mythos remain because they are based on the energies and harmonies contained within the original structure of Creation. Something vibrant and beautiful watches over the hills of Glastonbury, for this section of the English landscape is the Dream of the Gods made real.

  
tordst2b.jpg (6624 bytes)G
lastonbury Abbey
A Hasty Story of the Abbey and a
Descriptive Guide to the Abbey Ruins
Compiled and written by Albert E Webb

 The Celtic Paradise?

To the reader unacquainted with the history of Glastonbury it may not be out of place to give a hasty outline of its story - legendary and historical. Probably to some the name of Glastonbury has little or no significance, yet its sacredness, dating for us from the first years of the Christian era, would seem to be older than Christianity. For in very ancient times Glastonbury - Ynys Witrin - Isle of Avalon - was known throughout Europe as the 'Happy Isle of the Blest', the abode of departed spirits; and from being a fabled Paradise in pre-Christian days, Glastonbury became the spot most hallowed by Christian tradition of any within this realm.

The Wattle Church

Tradition or history - the two bearing a near affinity to each other - says that while Christianity was in its earliest infancy Joseph of Arimathaea landed in the Isle of Avalon, then isolated from the surrounding country by the sea, and built a little Church of Wattles, and that from this primitve building arose, in later ages, that glorious pile whose ruin in our modern days commands our astonishment and admiration. Although it is customary to regard this time-honoured tradition of Joseph of Arimathaea as mythical, it is curious that the mission of Joseph has more than once received high ecclesiastical mention as a fact of some weight in the history of the English Church, for the English bishops at the Council of Basle in 1434 claimed precedence over those of France and Spain on the ground of 'Britain's conversion by Joseph of Arimathaea'.

That Christianity existed in Britain at a very early period there can be no reasonable doubt. Bede, a historian of singular credit and veracity, says that while Eleutherius filled the papal chair, about 166AD, two missioners named Phaganus and Dervianus came to Britain, baptising King Lucius, who had embraced Christianity. They repaired the Wattle Church and established a community of anchorites on the spot. The Britons over whom Lucius presided peacefully preserved the faith until the period of Diocletian's persecution. It is an unquestioned historical fact that for two years the British Christians suffered fearful persecution by Diocletian at the close of the third century. Diocletian died AD 304. But in time the Church began to enjoy a greater tranquility and to gain many powerful adherents. The emperor Constantine, who had embraced Christianity, summoned bishops of the British Church to the Council of Arles in the year 314. Afterwards St Patrick came and introduced a regular monastic life among the anchorites living here, and a tradition persisted throughout the ages that St Patrick's bones rested at Glastonbury.

King Arthur

Fortunately hidden away in the West, the old Wattle Church escaped the attentions of the early invaders, and when the rest of England returned to paganism the Light continued to shine at Glastonbury. The ancient Welsh Triads mentions Glastonbury as one of the three chief perpetual choirs in Britain, and it was the channel through which there ran into Emglish monasticism all the treasured legends and beliefs of the earlier Celtic Church. Glastonbury became the local habitation of the abundant legends of the Arthurian Cycle - that body of stories which Geoffrey of Monmouth first codified, which Malory enriched and Tennyson popularised with the Idylls of the King.

According to Leland King Arthur was a constant visitor to Glastonbury. Here he was brought, mortally wounded, to the Happy Island of the Blest - but the belief was very generally entertained that he was not dead but would return again to restore the kingdom of the Kymri. History and legend appear in an amazing jumble, for with the legend of the 'Passing of Arthur' there comes to light a piece of genuine history in the Charter of King Ine of Wessex, who built and endowed a church and monastery here, which in spite of preceding establishments may almost be considered as a new foundation. The Charter of Ine, signed in the Wattle Church in 704, still exists, and confirms to the Church certain rights that had previously existed. The Glastonbury monks were Benedictines, the order having been introduced here in the time of St Augustine. King Ine's monastery maintained a great reputaion until the coming of the Danes, who ravished but did not utterly destroy.

St Dunstan

The real greatness of the abbey began with its greatest abbot, St Dunstan. Dunstan was born at Baltonsborough, four miles from Glastonbury. Through one or both parents he was connected with the royal house. We learn from Dunstan's first biographer that his father's property actually adjoins what he speaks of as 'the royal isle of Glastonbury'. King Edmund was an intimate friend of Dunstan and made him abbot of Glastonbury about 943. Dunstan not only reformed the very lax life of the monastery, and also rebuilt the eastern church which King Ine had erected. In the time of king Edgar Dunstan passed into the greater world of England as archbishop of Canterbury. King Edgar held his court at Glastonbury, and his name still lingers in the adjacent hamlet of Edgarley.

All through the centuries from 704 to the Norman conquest privileges, gifts and estates had been conferred on the Abbey, and at the time of the Doomsday survey Glastonbury was one of the richest and most influential monasteries in England, possessing altogether 818 hides of land. It possessed estates in Wiltshire, Dorset and Berkshire, whilst in Somerset it possessed a huge estate through the centre of the county containing 442 hides, and on which a full tenth of the population of Somerset resided.

Glaston Twelve Hides

At the Domesday survey the monastery of Glastonbury held the ancient lordship called Glaston Twelve Hides, which had never paid tax because of its sanctity and peculiar privileges. Within this lordship the King's Writ ceased to run, and the bishop might not celebrate a solemn mass, nor dedicate an altar, nor ordain a priest without leave of the Lord Abbot. The wealth of the abbey was so great that Fuller said it was commonly reported "that if the Abbot of Glaston might wed the Abbess of Shaston (Shaftesbury) their heir would have more land than the King of England".

At the Conquest Saxon abbots had to give way to Normans. The first Norman abbot, Thurstin, was a great builder and a good steward . But the monks had all an Englishman's prejudice against the foreigner, and their rebellion ended in a fight in which two monks were killed and fourteen wounded. The next abbot, Herelwin, was another great builder. Then in 1126 Henry of Blois, brother of King Stephen, became abbot and ruled until 1171, the monastery flourishing under his powerful influence. It was under his direction that William of Malmesbury wrote the history of the abbey. As early at least as the beginning of the 11th the tradition that King Arthur was buried at Glastonbury appears to have taken shape, and in the reign of Henry II, according to Geraldus Cambrensis, who was an eye-witness, the abbot, Henry of Blois, causing a search to be made, discovered at a depth of 16ft a massive oak trunk with the inscription: Hic jacet sepultus inclitus rex Arthurus in Insula Avalonia (here lies interred in the Isle of Avalon the renowned King Arthur). The remains then discovered were evidently believed to have been those of the ancient British king and were treated accordingly as sacred relics and reverently placed within the church.

The Great Fire -
the old Wattle Church destroyed

On St Urban's day, May 25th 1184, the whole of the church and the greater part of the monastery, including the old Wattle Church, was destroyed by fire, and the work of centuries had to be undertaken afresh. Henry II determined to rebuild the whole at his own and his family's expense, and committed the work to his chamberlain Radulphus Fitzstephens. Rebuilding was at once taken in hand, the first portion to be commenced being the Chapel of the Blessed Virgin at the west end. It was dedicated by Bishop Reginald on June 11th 1186. Fitzstephens repaired the offices of the monastery and laid the foundations of the ecclesia major, the beautiful ruin of which we look upon today.

The death of Henry II in 1189 put an end to building for 50 years, and it was not until the time of Abbot Geoffrey Fromond, 1302-22, that the roof was put on and the church dedicated. Thus between the laying of the foundations by Ralph Fitzstephens and the dedication 120 years elapsed. Between the years 1193 and 1219 Glastonbury was distracted by a strange dispute caused by the death of Savaric, the ambitious Bishop of Bath, to make himself master of the abbey. The conflict came to an end in Bishop Jocelin's time - he relinquished his claim to Glastonbury for the valuable consideration of diverse rich manors given up to him by the monks of Glastonbury, which went to subsidise the See of Wells.

The Tomb of King Arthur

In finishing the Choir they erected a stately black marble mausoleum in the midst of the Feretory, at the east end, in which were placed the relics of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. We learn from Froissart, the court chronicler, of the romantic pilgrimage which King Edward I and his young Queen Eleanor made to Arthur's tomb at Glastonbury at Easter 1278. King Edward III and Queen Philippa spent Christmas at the abbey in 1331, being entertained by Abbot Adam of Sodbury.

Although Glastonbury wa s the largest, certainly the most magnificent, of all the monasteries of England, yet few abbots could refrain from an addition of their own to the vast complex of edifices over which they presided. In the 14th century the cloisters, dormitory and fratery were rebuilt and the Abbot's Kitchen constructed. Up to the verge of the final catastrophe the masons were busy. Abbot Beere built the Edgar Chapel at the extreme east end and Abbot Whiting was able to add some final touches before the hand of the destroyer came down to kill him and ruin Glaston forever.

Richard Beere, the last great builder, was elected on January 30th 1493. He was a great scholar and possessed the most distinguished gifts of any abbot since Dunstan. When King Henry VII visited the abbey on October 1st 1497, the princely abbot entertained him right royally. The king occupied the new chambers which Abbot Beere had built, and the apartments henceforth bore the name of the King's Lodgings. Abbot Beere died on 20th January 1524, being followed by Richard Whiting, the sixtieth abbot, the last and most unfortunate of them all.

The Last Abbot of Glastonbury

The monks in sacred orders, forty-seven in number, agreed to leave the selection of the abbot in the hands of Cardinal Wolsey, who named Richard Whiting for th vacancy. On the morning of March 8th 1524, in the presence of a vast multitude who filled the great abbey church, a notary public proclaimed in English, from the steps of the high altar, the due election of Brother Whiting. Thus was inaugurated the rule of the last abbot of Glastonbury.

Leland, who visited the abbey in Abbot Whiting's time, tells how he rejoiced at the sight of the literary treasures of the monastery, and it is certain that in the 14th century Glastonbury was the centre of culture,morality and religious zeal. In the summer of 1539 the abbey stood in unrivalled magnificence. All the other monasteries had been suppressed, and from April 1539 to November in that year Glastonbury stood alone. It is interesting to note that just as Glastonbury was the first monastic foundation to appear in England, so it was the last to fall.

The Blackest Page of the Reformation

Henry VIII, having cast off the Pope's authority and declared himself supreme head of the Church of England, named Thomas Crumwell his vicar-general, and a loot of all the religious houses in England began. In 1534 there was the breaking up of the smaller monasteries, 383 in number, whose income did not exceed £200. In that year Abbot Whiting and the monks of Glastonbury had accepted the Act of Supremacy "as far as the law of God permitted". From the lesser to the larger monasteries was but a step, and the year 1539 witnessed the fall of the larger monasteries and abbeys, 645 in number. Richard Pollard, one of Crumwell'sagents sent into Somerset to inspect the monasteries, on his first arrival here had described it to his employer as "a house so great, goodly, and so princely that we have not seen the like", whilst in another letter he adds, "It is a house meet for the King's majesty, and no one else".

A general intimation had now been given to all the religious houses how acceptable a surrender would be to the king. Abbot Whiting's refusal to surrender, indeed, cost him his life, but tradition fondly cherishes his memory, and the inhabitants of Glastonbury invariably refer to his execution as murder. On September 19th the commissioners Layton, Pollard and Moyle arived at the abbey. Abbot Whiting being at Sharpham Manor, they proceeded thither and brought him back as a prisoner. Then the real tragedy begins, which Froude calls "the blackest page of the Reformation". Whilst the 'visitors' were rummaging at Glastonbury, Abbot Whiting was safely lodged at the Tower of London, charged more or less indefinitely with high treason. Crumwell, however, had written in his Remembrance book "that the Abbot of Glaston should be tried at Glaston and also executed there, with his two accomplices".

In the absence of Abbot Whiting the valuables of the church were sent up to the Treasury - gold, silver and precious stones - described as the possessions of the attainted persons. Abbot Whiting was condemned secretly in London and conveyed to Wells, where Lord Russell was about to hold assizes. The abbot and his two monks, John Arthur and Roger Wilfrid, were arraigned in the now-ruined banqueting hall of the Bishop's Palace in Wells on a charge of robbing Glastonbury Church. The sentence of death was confirmed by a specially elected jury, as Froude says: "Already condemned at a tribunal where Crumwell sat as prosecutor, jury and judge". The murder of Abbot Whiting is thus described in a letter written to Thomas Crumwell by Richard Pollard, one of the 'visitors' and published by the Camden Society: "Since my last letter to your lordship the late Abbot of Glastonbury went from Wells to Glastonbury, and there was drawn through the town upon a hurdle to the hill called the Torre, where he was put to execution... The late abbot would accuse no man but himself of any offence against the King's Highness, nor he could confess no more gold nor silver nor any other thing more than he did before your lordship in the Tower. From Wells, 16th of November".

Not content with the judicial murder, the tribunal decided that the remains of the abbot should be prominently exhibited in the county. His head, white with the touch of eighty years, was fixed upon the abbey gate, the rest of his body being quartered and sent to Bath, Wells, Bridgwater and Ilchester. The monks and dependents were driven out into the world to find refuge where they could, whilst the revenues poured into the royal coffers! When everything of value had been carried away the venerable pile eventually became a common quarry!

The abbey of Glastonbury is, in its own special aspect, something more even than the royal minster of St Peter, Westminster, the crowning-place of Harold and William, which came to supplant Glastonbury as the burial place of kings - for the church of Glastonbury was already older when the Conqueror landed than it would have been now if he had founded it. Unlike any oter monastery, Glastonbury has handed down from the earliest times the record of a national faith, which endured through the British, Saxon and Norman times.

The Ruins pass to the English Church

In the year 1906 the abbey ruins, having been offered for sale by Mr Stanley Austin, came into the possession of the English Church through the instrumentality of Dr Kennion, the then bishop of the diocese. To celebrate the acquisition a Thanksgiving service was held in the ruins on June 22nd 1909, being attended by King George and Queen Mary (then Prince and Princess of Wales). Bishop Kennion was proud to have had some share in restoring Glastonbury Abbey from its position as a private possession to the guardianship of the trustees, and in placing the power of directing the uses of which it may be put in the hands of a council of representative churchmen. The trustees, to safeguard the condition of the ruined buildings, placed it in the care of one of the most experienced of our architects, Mr Caroe of Westminster, under whose guidance much preservation work has been carried out by the local firm of ecclesiastical builders, F Merrick & Son, of which the late Alderman Merrick was the head.

   
The Quest for the Holy Grail

Kenneth Knight

Most contemporary students of Glastonbury lore have heard of the Temple of the Stars existing in the environs of the Isle of Avalon. It is a supposedly prehistoric Zodiac said to be hidden within the countryside and to have been carved out of the living soil over 4000 years ago. This claim was first made by a Canadian lady in 1929 when she published a book of the title above quoted. She tentatively dated the Zodiac to 2700 BC, but how she was able to determine such a date is quite impossible to say. Her claims were received with mixed feelings.

Archaeologists generally appear to have been hostile: zodiacs of such a nature were taboo, for one thing, and the site lacked any stone circles suggesting possible astronomical associations. Research has since uncovered that a series of stone circles similar to Stanton Drew may have once stood on St Edmund’s Hill and also along the northern slopes of Glastonbury Tor. Such stones were in place as recently as 1880 but, alas, for the most part they have completely disappeared. The Zodiac, according to Katharine Maltwood, author of the book in question, was about ten miles in diameter and thirty miles in circumference, with the church of St Leonard at Butleigh marking a centre line with Park Wood. Fountain’s Wall to the north of Glastonbury, Queen Camel to the south, Compton Dundon to the west, and Pilton to the east, covering an area of some one hundred square miles, represents the landscape of the Temple of the Stars. Whatever proof is lacking, there is little doubt that the idea is interesting. It has opened up a new avenue of thought in the whole question of the Somerset legends associated with King Arthur, his Round Table and his Quest for the Holy Grail.

Parallel with Mrs Maltwood’s study, an interesting book on the astronomical alignments of Stonehenge and other prehistoric monuments in Britain was published by the late Sir Norman Lockyer in 1901. It was entitled Stonehenge and Other Ancient British Monuments Astronomically Considered. This clearly indicates that all stone circles were orientated to particular points of the horizon, and for the most part, faced the sunrise at the equinoxes and solstices. Other circles were orientated to the opening of the four seasons when the Pleiades rose or set at the time the sun rose or set. The myth associated with the disappearance of the continent of Atlantis became part of a Christianised version of King Arthur being ferried to the west, to the Isle of Avalon, on his healing voyage to the underworld.

Sir Norman revealed that the siting of many monuments created a regular geometrical pattern in the form of a rhombus. This system of landscape arrangement and orientation as well as linear proportion is common to all temples, whatever time in the history of man they may have been built. The measurements are all found to be solar/lunar in intent. The diameter of Stonehenge in its inner circle corresponds to the length in English feet of the choir at Bristol Cathedral for instance, i.e. 104 feet.

Glastonbury Abbey has long enjoyed the reputation of being the first Christian church in Britain, reputedly being founded as early as 37 AD by Joseph of Arimathea. Not until the eleventh century, however, do we hear anything of King Arthur and his knights emerging as historical personages, and still after, of King Arthur being buried in the choir of the great church. This event was observed by King Edward 1 in 1278 when he re-buried the earlier excavated bones of ’Arthur’ at the high altar amid great pomp and ceremony. There is little doubt that Edward’s action was tinged with dynastic and political overtones. At this time the ancient Order of the Knights of the Round Table was still in existence but it was not until 1349 that the order was transferred to Windsor Castle by Edward III under the title of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.

There is a span of some 600 years between the historical Arthur and the multifarious Arthur of legend. The Arthur of history is associated with the time of the Roman departure from Britain and the incoming Saxons’ eventual victory over the indigenous Celts. But like other men of great stature in our past history, Arthur then became a heroic god. Similarly, in Bristol there is a mythical memory that the twin gods Belin and Bran established the city. Belin and Bran as historical figures lived in the first century BC, but their earlier personifications as gods flourished about 700 BC. Thus a reversed dual analogy may be drawn.

Bran and Belin, being in the first instance nature gods, had the Druids as their priests. The Druids were well informed in subjects such as astronomy, geometry, mathematics, astrology, etc., and accurately interpreted the motion of the heavens through their rituals. Not until the sixteenth century was any further attempt to interpret architecture and its relevant proportions ever seriously considered. Sacred architecture as an image of the universe presented innumerable mystical propositions, all exceptionally difficult to unravel. It may not have occurred to the layman that far from being haphazardly built on any piece of ground which happened to be handy, temples and the like were carefully sited and orientated in relation one to another. Local legends and folklore became an indirect system of preserving them. Local legends around Wedmore are as relevant to the greater Arthurian cycle as are the legends woven around Wells Cathedral, the Tor, or Glastonbury Abbey. Again, Cadbury Hill, more commonly known as the ’Castle of Camelot’, has its quota of myths and legends which are relevantly astronomical in intent, and always in an Arthurian context.

Temples, churches and cathedrals all possess measurements which form careful ratios and are in fact microcosms of the macrocosm. In other words they are by design and proportion a scale of the solar system as well as of solar lunar time-cycles, marking the planets’ passage through the twelve signs of the zodiac over specified periods of time.

Computations were made as to the regularity of these motions, the conjunctions of some or all the planets and the prediction of eclipses. Capping this there is one particular date which has been the basis of all modern astronomical calculations since, and that is midnight of the autumn equinox, with the full moon resting between the horns of the bull (Taurus) at 4004 BC. This date falls within the zodiacal age of Taurus the Bull and is also of vital importance as a mystical foundation point in Christian chronology.

Although it has been known for a very long time that sacred temples were a miniature copy of the solar system, the measurements of which are to be found in the British metrological system, the means of determining these measures had never been made public knowledge. This was due chiefly to difficulties in communication. Everything had to be written by hand, for one thing, making education on a nationwide scale impossible. Even if it were possible, knowledge was considered sacred, or secret – not to be divulged to the common man or the unenlightened. Although this attitude is unacceptable nowadays, there is an element of wisdom in the opinion, ’a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’. Not everyone is qualified mentally or intellectually to cope with the mysteries of higher mathematics which are necessary to understand the science of flights into outer (or inner) space. That is really what the Quest for the Holy Grail is all about!

A book published in 1897 by an anonymous author was probably the first architectural study of modern times to attempt an understanding of the involved writings of a famous Roman architect, Vitruvius, who lived in the first century. An attempt had been made in the sixteenth century by an Italian architect, Caesariano, who translated his predecessor’s book into Latin, but Vitruvius’s writings still remained obscure. The original book has apparently long-since disappeared.

In the nineteenth century, William Stirling, a friend and patron of William Morris, spent a great deal of time on architectural research, having to undertake mountains of calculations in order to prove his point. In essence, he showed that there was a link between the seasons, the motion of the heavens, the distances of the planets from the sun, earth and moon, and that their respective cycles around the sun had some significance in all architectural proportion and measurement. Furthermore, he also showed that myths and legends often concealed important celestial events, such as the end of a major edipse, or a conjunction of planets in a particular part of the heavens. The birth of Christ was heralded and recorded in the temple at Jerusalem in this manner. Moreover he discovered that the finger width, palm width, length from finger-tip to elbow, as well as length of arm from finger-tip to arm-pit, all had some source of sacred measure. The length of the pace and step also had some bearing on calculating the length of the lunar and solar months in days, the average pace being slightly more than twenty-nine inches, corresponding in this instance to a lunar month.

The rhombus was discovered to be the key to the mysterious medieval sign of the Vesica Piscis, the sign of the fish. This was found to be derived from the cube unfolded, producing the sign of the Cross with the three horizontal and four vertical bars, which when cubed, produce twenty-seven and sixty-four. All other numbers in ratio are found in the square of seventy-four, the circle of 231, and a rectangle of 37 x 64. Such is the external measure of the Lady Chapel at Glastonbury Abbey – 37 feet by 64 feet. This was the site of the first ecclesiastical building to be erected there. Architecture down the ages, in all climes, through all races and civilizations, conforms to one set of rules only, and indicates the basic Unity of God and therefore of all religions. It is canonical and eternal and its interpretation has always been recognized in a metaphysical context.

We have now to consider two important facts:

a) Architectural proportions are the same throughout all civilizations.

b) These proportions are to be understood as the means of interpreting astronomy and astrology through various myths.

It is interesting to note that the knowledge which the ancients possessed coincides with the knowledge of the solar system and universe we have today. This knowledge has been gained through use of the most scientific instruments and is of such a complex nature that even now it has not been fully interpreted. How this knowledge was obtained before is a mystery, but the ancient astronomers knew the distances of the planets from the earth and sun and also the time it took them to move round the sun. They computed the planet Pluto (apparently) even though it was not visible to them. They also computed Saturn and Jupiter as well as how often they conjoined and in which sign of the zodiac they lay.

It takes Pluto 248 years to move through the twelve signs of the zodiac. The length of the nave to the high altar in Bristol Cathedral is 248 feet. The height of the central tower of Wells Cathedral is given at about 164 feet. It takes Neptune some 164 years to pass through the twelve signs. There are eighteen periods of thirty-seven lunar eclipses which total 666 years and are called a ’saros’. The overall length of Glastonbury Abbey was 666 feet. This number is also associated with the ’magic square’ of the sun.

Although I have not carried out an on-the-spot survey of the parish church of St Mary at Wedmore, nevertheless a rough estimate may be attempted that the overall length of the church will be in the region of 222 feet. This is also the measure of St Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, whose spire is also about 222 feet in height. The correspondences might appear vague but they are correspondences. The system adopted by the antique architects appears to have been called the ’Canon of Proportion’, which relates all the seven sciences of the ancients and interprets them through use of the Hebrew grammar. Hebrew is a very old tongue and was in reality the sacred tongue of the Church until it was removed and Latin adopted in its place. The Hebrew alphabet, like the Latin (and Greek for that matter), has numerical values for each of the letters. When a group of letters are placed together they give a total which in turn, when grammatically considered, produce a word or a phrase. Such a system is known as ’gematria’. Only consonants are considered; they give the root-origin to a word or a phrase. When transferring such words and phrases to the heavens it is of some significance to discover that the main star groups are mentioned in Hebrew and to this day many retain their original Hebrew names. Astrologically of course yet another system or canon develops and this in turn reveals that stars not only changed their names but their nature, according to the time of year and day in which they moved across the sky. This is where the renewable nuances of myth enter the picture.

The Hebrew root-origin of ’King Arthur’ is MLKARTh with a gematric value of 691. Transferring this to the heavens, it corresponds with the number of diameters of the earth in the earth’s orbital path round the sun. In the light of the Hebrew Cabbala (upon which the whole basis and system of the seven sciences or arts collectively depends) Arthur becomes an earth-related wanderer across the starry firmament. In Hebrew the word ’cabbala’ means ’to receive’, in the sense that what can be related by the seven sciences one to another is acceptable in the method of interpretation. Thus we find that King Arthur, by veiled allusion, is, in the cabbalistic sense, a figure symbolizing the sun as well as in some instances the king of the earth. The tenth Sephiroth on the cabbalistic Tree of Life is called ’Malkuth’ (which is a derivative of ’Malkurth’).

It is to Glastonbury and the Isle of Avalon that the wounded king is taken, and long before the Christian era the area was known to the Celts as the Isle of the Dead (or Blessed). A book written about 1200 at the library of the Abbey was presented to King Edward I on his visit there in 1278. This book has been preserved and was popularized in the early part of this century when it was published under the title of The High History of the Holy Grail. It is so obscure and full of symbolism that only one acquainted with subjects such as astronomy, astrology, grammar, archicecture, etc., could hope to get even a glimmer of its inner meaning. However, this glimmer reveals a series of ancient initiation rites always in a cyclical, zodiacal context.

There is an indirect reference to an actual zodiac which is only seen through the mind’s eye, in other words through the power of inner perception. The legends associated with Cadbury Castle, not far from Glastonbury [20km SE], also suggest that there is a zodiac in the immediate vicinity. There is reference to buried treasure and anyone who tries to dig for it will never find it because it will only sink deeper into the ground the deeper they dig. The celestial inference is obvious. Although there is visible evidence of what the Round Table looked like at Winchester, yet, in its deeper aspects at Cadbury, the table, being also a pattern of the heavens, sinks from view. One does not have to look to tangible evidence in order to understand its purpose and function. Thus it is with the legends as a whole: the real understanding comes on the mental plane. The late Carl Gustav Jung, the famous Swiss psychiatrist, appreciated the true sense of the Cabbala and the psychic function of the Arthurian legends, for he had divined their intimate interrelation as symbols.

According to an ancient Egyptian tradition, when the soul of the departed had to undertake its long journey to the Land of the Blessed, a guide book was presented to it so that the journey would be more tolerable. Called The Book of the Dead, it was in fact a book of initiation into the mysteries of death, as the Morte d’Arthur indicates. As the Great Pyramid in Egypt was the same theme in stone, revealed by its hidden symbolism, so too The High History of the Holy Grail had its counterpart in the dimensions and proportions of Glastonbury Abbey as a whole. The High History is but a copy of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. It is a cultural counterpart, bridging the gateway of death.

Despite the apparent circuitry contained in the theme of this writing, it is hoped that the subject as a whole may stimulate a wider interest. Much work has still to be undertaken and this particular approach to archaeology has yet to be accepted as an integral part of future diggings. Careful work needs to be done when noting the site’s axial direction and points on the horizon and the distances between different buildings and their respective angles. What is lacking at the moment is the interpretation of these ancient buildings and monuments, particularly Glastonbury Abbey and Wells Cathedral. Only when this becomes an accomplished fact will historians be able to present a true picture of the purpose and intention of such sacred buildings. The Quest for the Grail continues.

   
"The Lady of Shalott"

  by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

shalott.jpg (10553 bytes)
The Lady of Shalott, Waterhouse

 

Part I

On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The Island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs forever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott

By the margin, willow veil'd
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her waver her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott"


Part II

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hands before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the curly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights,
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half sick of shadows" said
The Lady of Shalott.

woods.jpg (10396 bytes)

 

 

 

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells sang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra." by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.


Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Through the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
The heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon thw wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."

   
The Lady of Shalott

Elisabeth Nelson

The Lady of Shalott", one of the most popular of Tennyson's poems, inspired painters throughout the nineteenth century and well into the twentieth. The five most popular subjects for illustration were:

-the embowered lady by a window longing for love after she sees the "young lovers, lately wed" in the mirror;
-the climactic moment she first sees Lancelot;
-the Lady leaving her island;
-the Lady in her boat dying for love or because of it; and
-the dead Lady in her boat floating on the river.

These five subjects reveal a great deal about the Victorians' conception of love and women.

William Holman Hunt, who remained interested in the poem throughout his career, created the most famous visual portrayal (now in the Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford) of its subject, but many other artists, including John Williams Waterhouse, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Sidney Harold Meteyard, Arthur Hughes, and John Atkinson Grimshaw, created their own versions. The designs that Hunt and Rossetti made for "The Lady of Shalott" in Moxon's edition of Tennyson's poetry (1857) produced a new awareness of the poem's pictorial potential. After the Moxon edition the publication of many illustrated books of Tennyson's poetry provided such artists as Walter Crane and Howard Pyle (who created luxurious books illustrating the single poem) the opportunity to create atmospheric and exotic images by representing various scenes from the life of the Lady, as well by representing analogous subjects, such as Doré's Elaine and Millais's Mariana, of which he did both a wood engraving and a painting. Each artist interpreted the poem in his own way, drawing upon the imagery of the poem itself, prior interpretations and related subjects, current literary interpretations and his own predilections. As documents of popular opinion and attitudes, these works reveal much about the Victorians' conception of love and women, a subject that this essay will explore. In order to appreciate the different visual interpretations of "The Lady of Shalott," one must address its literary source, the relationship of the poem to its historical period, and the different artistic interpretations it has generated -- critics and artists having interpreted the poem in a number of ways, the most popular of which include variations on the themes of the embowered lady isolated from life and love and the conflict between the artist's own sensual vision and his need to experience life directly.

The poem's popularity rests, more than anything else, on its embodiment of the highly complex Victorian conception of woman, and the correlative Victorian attitude toward the home. The overwhelming problems Victorian England faced created a psychological need to retreat into the safety of the home where delicate spiritual values could be protected and preserved. Thus the home became a special place set apart; it assumed the nature of the sacred enclosed garden or hortus conclusus, and the woman as center of the home -- responsible for the spiritual well-being of the family -- assumed an importance previously inconceivable. She became the guiding light to her husband, the means by which his very soul could be saved, and at the same time her enshrinement as the pure woman enhanced her sexual desirability. Tennyson's Lady of Shalott, who could not be more unattainable, perfectly embodies the Victorian image of the ideal woman: virginal, embowered, spiritual and mysterious, dedicated to her womanly tasks.

The tension Tennyson establishes between the interior room and the exterior world, between the natural, material world and the shadow of that world reflected in the Lady's magic mirror, gives expression to the Victorian preoccupation with the contrast between the exterior and the interior worlds. The concomitant ambiguity of space and realities -- the realities of the exterior world, the Lady's interior world, the reflections of both worlds in the mirror, and the reality of the material work of art -- provided artists with an interesting aesthetic play of space and reality.

  
Pictorial Interpretations of
"The Lady of Shallot"

Elisabeth Nelson

Pre-Raphaelite artists found a rich source of pictorial inspiration in "The Lady of Shalott" It attracted them in part becaus it emphasized the spiritual nobility and the melancholy of the more sorrowful aspects of love, such as unrequited love, particularly the embowered or isolated and therefore unattainable woman; the woman dying for love; the fallen woman who gives up everything for love; the special "tainted" or "cursed" woman; and the dead woman of unique beauty.

Undoubtedly an element of escapism figured in the popularity of Tennyson's poem. It offered temporary freedom from worry about a world threatened by such major social problems as hunger, disease, alcoholism, prostitution, and inhumane living conditions, all of which orginated in or were exacerbated by the urban and the industrial revolutions. Tennyson's romantic narratives provided an escape to a simpler, happier, and more exotic world uncontaminated by the problems of modern life. The appeal of the medieval world Tennyson portrayed does not derive from mere love of archaic patterns and forms or nostalgia for a more colorful way of life. Instead, according to Humphrey House, the attraction rests on the fact that medieval art did not betray any division between daily visible fact and accepted truth and values (Pre-Raphaelitism, ed. Sambrook [1974], l 79.). Archaeological accuracy therefore mattered little to the illustrators of Tennyson's Arthurian poetry.

The popularity of the image of a figure at a window, such as Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Girlhood of Mary Virgin., reflects the characteristic nineteenth-century separation of woman's interior world from the exterior one that man inhabited. Rossetti's portrayal of Mary seated at her embroidery frame carefully rendering the lily that an angel is presenting her all while under the supervision of her mother represents his conception of the Virgin as the "symbol of female excellence." The window beside her, through which the spectator can see Mary's father pruning a grape vine, brings the confinement of interior space into immediate contrast with the vastness of the outside world. The window, both a threshold to the world and a barrier, confines the woman to her protected place in the home. The two worlds meet at the window in the form of the cultivated, pruned grape vines and the rose on the window sill. To Rossetti Mary represented the ideal woman that was also exemplified by the Lady of Shalott. Unquestionably pure and totally unattainable, Mary remains content within her sheltered environment and devotes herself to feminine pursuits related to the home.

Although William Holman Hunt made a few drawings of the Lady of Shalott seated at her loom and in her boat, all of the versions that he offered to the public portray the Lady, standing, at the climactic moment when she sees Lancelot. A study of Hunt's different versions of the subject suggests that he developed his interpretation thoughtfully and that his interpretation changed subtly between his first drawing of the subject in 1850 and the final painting, which he completed in 1905. Since Timothy Rodgers and Miriam Neuringer discuss the developing conception of Hunt's Lady of Shalott at length, I shall confine my remarks on Hunt to his interpretation of the theme and how his conception relates to that of other artists.

As The Shadow of Death (discussion) and The Awakening Conscience (plate) demonstrate, throughout his career Hunt's interest focused upon climactic moments of truth and revelation.'¡ Hunt was therefore consistent in choosing to depict the psychological moment of insight or illumination when the Lady realizes the consequences of her actions, the moment when she knows that the curse has come upon her -- not the moment when she sees Lancelot or the exterior real world, but the moment when she realizes her fate, when "destruction and confusion overtake her."

In Hunt's drawing, the reflection of Lancelot and the Lady in the cracked mirror overshadows the Lady and the unraveling web. Attempting to free herself from the web, the Lady raises an outstretched hand in a gesture that wards off some unseen threat -- the curse, love, or Lancelot himself. The viewer cannot see Lancelot, who occupies a space outside the picture, literally positioned in the viewer's space. However, the distortion of the mirror behind the Lady presents a different picture in which the two, strangely enough, appear together. In the mirror the Lady appears to be leaving her tower as she advances into the exterior world with Lancelot, even though the column between them emphasizes their separateness, thus underscoring the unrequited love she feels for Lancelot.

Hunt's design for the Moxon edition of Tennyson's poetry (I857) presents a more dramatic version of The Lady of Shalott; her hair tosses wildly about, revealing her internal emotional state as she realizes that the curse has come upon her. The unraveling yarn twined around the Lady also frames and encircles the image of Lancelot in the mirror, underscoring her romantic entanglement with him. Interestingly, here as in Hunt's other versions, Lancelot rides away from the Lady whereas other painters show him in profile riding past her.

The innocence and caution of Hunt's first Lady of Shalott contrasts with the sensuality of the Wadsworth Atheneum's version, which reflects the Lady's earthly, sexual love for Lancelot. The placement of Lancelot in a bright landscape, framed by two columns almost in the center of the picture plane, leads the eye directly to him, accentuating the Lady's erotic longing. As in all of Hunt's versions, he shows the tension between the Lady's desires and reality, each with a sightly different connotation. The reflection in the first drawing shows them almost advancing into the world together, but they are separated by the column; in the Moxon Tennyson Lancelot rides away from her at the same time that their mutual entanglement in the unraveling web almost unites them. In the Wadsworth version the mirror's reflection of the grail embroidered on the web, which emphasizes Hunt's religious interpretation of her task, separates the Lady from Lancelot.

Hunt juxtaposes the various realities in his painting just as Tennyson does in his poem. Although the individual details seem intensely real, the subject of the painting itself is an unrealistic story told in an unnatural setting. The placement of the mirror in back of the Lady creates a tension between the reality of the claustrophobic room and the reflection of the world outside. As in The Awakening Conscience, Hunt uses the mirror to contrast the artificial interior around the woman and the exterior world.

In January 1848 Henry Sutton wrote "The Poet's Mission,"an article for Howitt's Journal in which he interpreted Lancelot as "fame" and "popularity."" According to Sutton, as soon as the Lady prostitutes the pure vision of her own soul in order to achieve fame and popularity, physical and spiritual death overtake her. Sutton's interpretation may have influenced Hunt, who explained that the "parable . . . illustrates the failure of a human Soul towards its accepted responsibility.... She is to weave her record, not as one who mixing in the world, is tempted by egoistic weakness, but as a being 'sitting alone'.... Having forfeited the blessing due to unswerving loyalty, destruction and confusion overtake her."This interpretation turns the Lady of Shalott into a fallen woman who has forsaken the sacred trust she had been assigned for the carnal desires of the flesh. As Hunt further explained, "Seeing the happiness of the common children of men denied to her," she "casts aside duty to her spiritual self" in the pursuit of love (or perhaps of fame) (PRB 19I3, 2.401-2). In either case the Lady is presented as a fallen woman, and as such, destruction overtakes her; "her work is ruined," whatever "other possibilities remain for her are not for this service; that is a thing of the past" (PRB 19I3, 2.402.). Such an interpretation of The Lady of Shalott relates the painting directly to his earlier painting The Awakening Conscience, which presents the moment of illumination in which a kept woman remembers her childhood innocence and (presumably) determines to return to the purity of that righteous life.' Hunt presents both of these embowered women at the moment of realization of their fallen state and of acknowledgment of the consequences of their actions.

They are, however, in contrasting positions. In The Awakening Conscience the woman looks up and out from her sordid bower to the purity of a golden spring whereas the Lady, having looked out the forbidden window, turns and looks back at the world that she has sacrificed. Whereas the kept woman in The Awakening Conscience is depicted as a woman who suddenly realizes her fallen state and determines to return to a life of virtue, the Lady of Shalott has decided to leave her state of grace in order to satifsy her desire for Lancelot. Although Hunt implies that the fallen woman in The Awakening Conscience will be redeemed, he does not allow such optimism for the Lady of Shalott.

Waterhouse's 1894 version of The Lady of Shalott (plate), another variation on the climactic moment, presents the instant when the Lady whirls around to look at Lancelot through the window. She has left the loom, crossed the room, and now leans forward, staring into the world with the golden yarn of the web wrapped around her knees. Her hand rests upon the headboard of a bed, a gesture perhaps inspired by the line "she leaneth on a velvet bed" from the 1833 version of the poem. The cracked mirror behind her reflects the figure of Lancelot, who rides past her window, as he does in the poem, without making any gesture in her direction.

Waterhouse appears to have painted this version in accordance with Tennyson's own interpretation that "the new-born love for something, for some one in the wide world from which she has been so long secluded, takes her out of the region of shadows into that of realities." The climactic moment that he chose to illustrate is that supreme one for which the Victorians yearned -- when the lover meets the one person predestined for him or her to love forever in life and death. The Victorian ideal conceived the noblest experience of life to be the acceptance of the risk and responsibility of this overwhelming love, even if unrequited or bereaved, and to keep faith with that loved one until perfect union was ultimately achieved in this world or the next.


A few painters chose to paint the moment when the Lady leaves her island. Hughes and Waterhouse portray her in her boat, and Meteyard portrays her leaving her castle prison. In each of these paintings the Lady appears with the chain that binds the boat, and symbolically herself, to the island. Meteyard's Lady of Shalott, which emphasizes the castle the Lady leaves, shows his Lady escaping the imprisonment of the "four gray walls." Although the painting stylistically resembles a Burne-Jones, the manner in which the Lady is escaping is reminiscent of the escaping lovers in Hunt's Eve of Saint Agnes. Meteyard's scene puts one in mind of a fallen woman, a woman running away to a clandestine meeting with a lover.

These lines from the poem tell of the Lady's trancelike, down-river gaze, caused by thoughts of the object of her desire and indicating perhaps that she is not responsible for her actions.

Paintings representing the Lady in her boat were as popular asinterior scenes. The Lady setting out for Camelot, alive in her boat, allowed artists like Waterhouse and Hughes to portray the pathos of the "cursed" Lady, who follows her heart knowing she is going to die doing so. Mario Praz has perceived throughout the literature of Romanticism "the inseparability of pleasure and pain and, on the practical side, a search for themes of tormented, contaminated beauty" (The Romantic Agony, 1970). The Victorian artists seemed to have agreed with Edgar Allan Poe, who explained in "The Poetic Principle" that a "certain taint of sadness is inseparably connected with all the higher manifestations of true Beauty." Exterior scenes provided the artist a different subject, mood, and set of circumstances with which to work.

The subject, the Lady's demise in the boat as she floats down to Camelot, by its nature demands an outdoor setting, which treatment allows the artist to use nature as a poetic ally reflecting the Lady's death, just as Tennyson did. The mood can best be summarized as that of eloquent tragedy when compared with the wistful longing of the embowered Lady.

Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott of 1888 reveals his careful faithfulness to the setting of the poem. At the close of the day "robed in snowy white" and seated in the boat with her name written on the prow, the Lady loosens the chain that binds her to the island, symbolically freeing herself from her self-imposed imprisonment. As in Meteyard's painting, the Lady sets out in a trancelike state with a "glassy countenance." Departing from the poem, Waterhouse has placed a crucifix and three candles in the prow of the boat, by which means he reinforces the funereal tone of her embarkation. She takes with her the tapestry representing her prior life, which she has surrendered for love, and decorated with scenes of the world that she has determined to join. The single leaf that has fallen into her lap poignantly tells her story: her life is over; she is the "fallen leaf," fallen, dying. For love of Lancelot, she has renounced her life; she is a martyr for love -- and a fallen woman.

The dense forest wall of muted earth tones and the subdued gray sky that provide a solemn and mournful background for her funeral barge contrast with the richness of color in the tapestry, which depicts the colorful life she had seen in her magic mirror. Light, shining through broken clouds, highlights the broken reeds in the foreground, another symbol of her death, and the reflections of the tapestry.

Arthur Hughes made a study for The Lady of Shalott in which he captures the fearful, hopeful qualities that one can easily imagine in connection with a young Victorian lady's first tryst. The weeping willow behind her forms a natural bower out of which she leans to look down to Camelot. The impressionistic rendering of light reflecting on the river, the leaves of the willow, and the Lady's dress imparts an enchanted, fairytale quality to the picture.

In 1854 John Everett Millais made a drawing The Lady of Shalott with the Lady recumbent in a tiny boat, hair trailing through the water. This drawing is closely related to Millais's 1851 painting of the drowning Ophelia, the Shakespearean heroine abandoned by Hamlet, whose unrequited love caused her to go insane and drown herself. Millais depicts Ophelia in the act of drowning; her hair and dress partially visible on the water surface merge with the water weeds as she is pulled down.

Millais, who concentrates upon the death itself as a beautiful and romantic event, represents both women in the last moments of life, just as they merge with the watery landscape that envelops them, ending their life for love. In both works Millais juxtaposes life and death. In Ophelia he contrasts the bright green of new grass and spring anemones with a fallen tree trunk positioned threateningly over Ophelia's head whereas in The Lady of Shalott he juxtaposes the flock of young swans floating within the protection of the driftwood with the single swan in the foreground.

The subject of the dead Lady in a boat or barge floating down the river inspired Edward Robert Hughes, William A. Breakspeare, John La Farge, and John Atkinson Grimshaw. This theme interested artists because of the sensuality suggested by dead Lady's recumbent body and the decadent attraction of the union of death and beauty, sensuality and spirituality. One finds the same sentiment in the decadent literature of the period, such as D'Annunzio's Trionfo della Morte in which Giogio, the protagonist, thinks, "How her beauty becomes spiritualized in sickness and in weakness! I like her better when she is thus broken.... I think that in death she will attain to the supreme expression of her beauty. " '

John Atkinson Grimshaw painted the dead Lady of Shalott floating down the river in her funeral barge after having done a similar painting, Elaine, in 1877. Both paintings convey the atmospheric stillness of the dead lady as she floats through the night. The Lady of Shalott ( 1878 ) portrays the dead Lady recumbent in an exotic barge set against a wooded background and moonlit sky whereas Elaine, who also died of unrequited love for Lancelot, is accompanied by the shadowy figure of a boatman as she glides into Camelot.

Edward Robert Hughes, who assisted Hunt in completing the Wadsworth Lady of Shalott, combines an atmospheric wooded scene with an exotic barge and boatman in his own version (plate). Although the boatman in Grimshaw's Elaine fits Tennyson's poem in which Elaine instructs her father to send her body to Camelot on a funeral barge with a boatman, there is no boatman in Tennyson's "Lady of Shalott," in which the Lady sets out for Camelot desiring to participate (however briefly) in life and love. Hughes's addition of the boatman signifies either that his painting should be titled Elaine or that he has assigned a new meaning to the poem by including the symbolical figure of Charon, the surly Greek god who ferried the dead across the river Styx to Hades.

Rossetti, the only painter who shows the Lady's arrival at Camelot, depicts Lancelot looking at her. The subject of the wood engraving, the last quatrain of Tennyson's poem, seems much more in keeping with Rossetti's inevitable association of love and death, union and separation. Although this association of death with love concurs with Edgar Allan Poe's statement in The Philosophy of Composition "The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world," Robert Johnston has shown that the roots of Rossetti's association of love and death can be traced back to his translation The Early Italian Poets, which he began in 1846 and finished in 1861. The association of love and death, union and separation, and the intense desire for reunion with the beloved after death found in The Early Italian Poets and Dante's Vita Nuova (which Rossetti began translating about 1846) crystalized in his personal identification with Dante and his later identification of his wife, Lizzie Siddal, with Beatrice.

The feeling of tension between love and death, union and separation, clearly evident in Rossetti's illustration reflects the emotion that Tennyson's poem elicits in the reader. The Lady has given up everything, even her life, for love, and when she finally meets her love, her life is over. Finally together, physically in the same exterior world, they are apart. Rossetti captures the essence of Tennyson's juxtaposition of interior and exterior realms, the separation or isolation of the unattainable embowered Lady and the Lady who gives up everything for love in his design. The Lady is still symbolically contained by the canopy of the boat, and the chain that once held it, still with her and prominently shown, seems to become one with the clasps of the cloak around her neck. She is still imprisoned, now by death, like the figure in his much later Beata Beatrix, whose subject, in heaven, mourns her separation from her lover.

These works present different aspects of the story of the Lady of Shalott, each shaped by the interpretation of the individual artist who "allegorized on his own hook." Tennyson complained that the Pre-Raphaelites' illustrations for the Moxon Tennyson, especially Hunt's, did not accurately represent the content of the poem. Perhaps Ruskin made the most accurate statement about the poem and all the representations of it when he told Tennyson in a letter, "Many of the plates are very noble things, though not, it seems to me, illustrations of your poems. I believe, in fact, that good pictures never can be; they are always another poem, subordinate but wholly different from the poet's conception, and serve chiefly to show the reader how variously the same verses may affect various minds" (Ruskin, 36:165).


The isolation of the embowered woman, which carries the theme of the woman at the window to a further extreme, became a major subject for artists during the nineteenth century (See Lorenz Eitner, "The Open Window and the Storm-Tossed Boat: An Essay in the Iconography of Romanticism," Art Bulletin 37 [1955]). Often she appeared as the romantic victim of love in paintings like Millais's Mariana (plate), in which the disconsolate heroine of Tennyson's Iyric "Mariana" waits, cut off from the world, for her lover.to come to her. In Millais's painting, like Waterhouse's I915 representation of the Lady of Shalott (and unlike either poem), the woman weaves her tapestry in a richly appointed, artificial bower cut off from the world. As Martin Meisel points out, in Millais's painting a stained-glass window, which depicts the Annunciation, separates Mariana from the natural world of life outside while stylized, artificial animals and floral motifs decorate the wall behind her, emblematic of the artificiality of her existence ("'Half Sick of Shadows': The Aesthetic Dialogue in Pre-Raphaelite Painting," in Nature and the Victorian Imagination 1977, 309--40). In Tennyson's poem the Lady's view of the world is restricted to reflections of the exterior world she sees in the large circular mirror in the background. Tennyson's Lady of Shalott is further removed from nature and the pageantry of life than Rossetti's Mary or Millais's Mariana. The Lady sees the exterior world, not through a window that opens onto real space and nature, but only as the shadow of that reality reflected in the magic mirror. Her curse does not allow her to appear at the casement where the exterior and interior worlds can meet and merge; she is totally cut off. The emphasis upon love and confinement of the woman becomes intensified in the fictional Lady of Shalott, a subject that allowed the artist's imagination more freedom of interpretation.

Artists like Waterhouse and Meteyard who wished to concentrate upon the emhowered Lady's desire for love usually illustrated part of the poem, when she sees the "young lovcrs lately wed." The full title of Waterhouse's painting I Am Half-Sick of Shadows," Said the Lady of Shalott (cat. no. 66) refers to the Lady's newly aroused desire to share in the experience of life and love, which is what the "young lovers, lately wed" represented to her in her mirror. Waterhouse's Lady leans back from her loom with a wistful, girlish, and indecisive expression and contemplates the "pagent of life" and the "young lovers."

The embowered woman's erotic appeal is suggested by the fact that both women stretch to relieve muscles cramped from long and tedious hours of weaving, a position that displays the female figure. Mariana's posture, which expresses the boredom of her self-imposed imprisonment and the frustration that resulted from her intense longing, contrasts with the more relaxed position in which Waterhouse placed his Lady, who contemplates renouncing the shadows in her mirror in order to participate in life and love. Mariana's table in the background, which has been converted into an improvised altar with candles and triptych, and the stained-glass windows standing between her and the outside world suggest the withdrawn, isolated life one associates with a nun. Millais's painting reminds one of Newman's admonition that young women should enter convents rather than yield to the "temptation of throwing themsclves rashly away upon unworthy objects, transgressing their sense of propriety, and embittering their future life."'J Newman's dire forewarning, however, closely approaches the impending fate of the Lady of Shalott. In Waterhouse's painting, the Lady has not yet come to that fate; she is just becoming aware of the inadequacy of her life as she contemplates the young lovers she sees in the mirror.

The reflections of the young couple, the river, and Camelot in the mirror exist at a remove from the Lady's consciousness. The mirror reflection, the shadow of which she is "half-sick," serves to heighten the tension between the Lady's cloistered existence and the exterior world by opening up the space in the painting and providing a view of an island, a river, Camelot, and a bridge connecting that island with Camelot.

Sidney Harold Meteyard's painting of the same subject and title, "I Am Half-Sick of Shadows," Said the Lady of Shalott, differs entirely from Waterhouse's; Meteyard emphasizes the sensual mood of the Lady's newly awakened sexual desire. Meteyard confines his embowered Lady in a narrow, cramped space in which her semireclining figure, her tapestry, and her mirror fill the picture plane. His use of predominantly blue hues, the color of the mirror in the poem, further heightens the intense sensual atmosphere. Leaning back against satin pillows, with closed eyes and head turned away from the viewer, the Lady appears lost in erotic reverie. Her tapestry contains a picture of Lancelot, whom she has not yet seen. The magic mirror in the background, with its blue-gray tonality, has the characteristics of a crystal ball in which the young lovers appear as in a vision, an imaginary bridge between the picture of Lancelot and herself. The mirror does not reflect an image of the real world as a mirror should; and in fact since Meteyard makes no reference to the exterior world or to the world of nature in the mirror, he apparently reverses the original meaning and function of the mirror so that it reflects the Lady's thoughts rather than cause them.

Lizzie Siddal, whose long courtship and unhappy marriage to Rossetti ended in suicide, seems to have identified with the more negative aspects of the embowered woman dying for love. Siddal's drawing The Lady of Shalott, one of the first known representations of the Lady of Shalott, illustrates the penultimate moment of the poem -- the Lady is seated at the loom, looking over her shoulder through the window into the exterior world as the web bursts and the mirror cracks. The mirror, in which the reflection of Lancelot can be seen, appears on the opposite wall. Like Waterhouse's version, this work clearly defines the interior world of the woman and the exterior world of the man.

Siddal's presentation of the Lady's environment as an austere room with a bare wooden floor contrasts with the warm sensuality of Waterhouse's "I Am Half-Sick of Shadows," Said the Lady of Shalott. Whereas Waterhouse and William Maw Egley depict the Lady as a princess embroidering a tapestry to entertain herself in the luxurious surroundings of her castle bower, Siddal portrays her as a worker within "four gray walls." Siddal seems to define her by what she does whereas Waterhouse defines the Lady by her room appointments and her romantic longings and Meteyard defines her as a sensual being whose whole existence centers upon erotic desires.


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