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imperial Englishman who,‘like the Romans before them, justified their exploitative
world-wide practices by the imperatives of “civilization” and a “peace” suitable to
their interests.’*96
The heroic individualism of Collingwood’s historiographical Arthur is
matched in the heroism o f the contemporary defender of Empire: T.E. Lawrence,
whose life and writings are surrounded by allusions and parallels to the Arthurian
story, and who became, in some senses, a modern-day Lancelot for a post-war society
starved of individual war heroes. The letters Lawrence wrote as an Oxford graduate
are filled with quotations from Tennyson’s Idylls when describing the Arabian
desert.97 He famously carried a copy of the Morte Darthur in his saddlebags
throughout his experience in the Arab Revolt (1916-18),98 alluded to Malory several
times in his memoir, The Seven Pillars o f Wisdom (1926) and also saw the nomadic
Bedouin as the equivalent of Arthur’s knights, with their own codes of chivalry.^99
Some scholars have argued - persuasively - that The Seven Pillars is itself modelled
on the Morte
, 100
though its denouement at the fetid hospital at Damascus more closely
resembles the conclusion of Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s Court
(1889) than Malory’s Camlan. Indeed, Lawrence’s memoir suggests many of the
difficulties in using the Arthurian legend as a myth to make sense of the war: the book
* By the time Graves adopted Collingwood’s hypothesis, however, the idea of Arthur as a heavy
cavalry commander was already being challenged. Kenneth Jackson wrote of Collingwood’s theory in
1959: ‘Nothing is certain about the historical Arthur, not even his existence; however, there are certain
possibilities, even probabilities. There may have been a supreme British commander-of genius in the
late fifth century who bore the Roman-derived name of Arthur, though it would be wrong to deduce
anything about his background from his name. There is little reason to think he held any definite sub-
Roman office, whether dux bellorum or otherwise, and his supposed cavalry tactics are an illusion.’
(‘The Arthur of History’, in Arthurian Literature in the Middle Ages, 10-11.
+ Apart from direct references to Malory, themes of Arthurian largesse and heroism form a template for
Lawrence’s descriptions of his Arab companions: ‘There entered a tall-strong figure, with a haggard
face, passionate and tragic. This was Auda [...] His hospitality was sweeping; except to very hungry
souls. His generosity kept him always poor, despite the profits of a hundred raids. He had married
twenty-eight times, he had been wounded thirteen times; whilst the battles he provoked had seen all his
tribesmen hurt and most of his relations killed. He himself had slain seventy five men, Arabs with his
own hand in battle [...] O f the number of Turks he could give no account.’ Such a list of kills would
not be out of place in the Historia Brittonum, in which Arthur is said to have killed nine hundred and
sixty men in a single charge.
106
is caught somewhere between a Boy’s Own adventure of imperial derring-do (‘purest
jingoism and Morning Postliness’, he later wrote)101 and the repugnance felt at such
an endeavour (its inherent imperial glory subverted by the infamous scenes of
homosexual rape, atrocity and the scenes at Damascus).102
Angus Calder has claimed that the fame of Lawrence’s exploits in Arabia is
predicated on the fact that while there ‘were lots of VCs’ awarded to soldiers fighting
in France and Flanders, there were ‘no epic heroes’.103 In Lawrence there was a
modern-day knight of romance, whose experience of war - fought on horseback
across an expansive sandy peninsular, dressed in resplendent samite Arab dress (a
personal gift from Prince Feisal) - was a compelling alternative to the poetry of
Owen, Sassoon and Rosenberg, as well as the experiences of millions of young men
who had fought on the Western Front. Whereas the millions of entrenched troops had
been machine-expendable, the myth of Lawrence glorified individualism - the
tenacious genius capable of leading and uniting a foreign, disparate people through
sound British qualities.* While Germany and the USA had overtaken Britain
economically and militarily, Lawrence could still signify the justice of Britain’s
imperial mission - even if he rejected it personally. In post-Great War Britain the
myth of Lawrence signified what Arthur had symbolised in medieval Britain; it was
only fitting that Lawrence should chronicle his own career in Malorian terms.
However, post-war Arthuriana was generally a much more sombre affair than
the medieval romanticism of Lawrence of Arabia’s public persona. Laurence
Binyon’s Arthur: a tragedy, for example, is as much a memorial to the dead of the
* The American journalist Lowell Thomas, who described Lawrence as ‘Britain’s modem Coeur de
Lion’ and did much to initiate his fame, wrote in a contemporary account of Lawrence’s officers: ‘Each
man had his own task and went his own way. Each was a free-lance and conducted himself with much
the same freedom as did knights of old’ (James, Golden Warrior, 279).
107
First World War as is his most famous poem, the Remembrance Day favourite, ‘For
the Fallen’ (1914):
The day goes to the night,
And I to darkness, with my toil undone,
Yet something, surely, something shall remain.
A seed is sown in Britain, Guenevere;
And whether men wait for a hundred years
Or for a thousand, they shall find it flower
In youth unborn. The young have gone before me,
The maid Elaine, Gareth, and Gaheris - hearts
Without reproach, poured out. But now I know
The tender and passionate spirit that burned in them.
To dare all and endure all, lives and moves,
And though the dark comes down upon our waste,
Lives ever, like the sun above all storms;
This old world shall behold it shine again
To prove what splendour men have power to shape
From mere mortality.104
In an unusual conclusion to the story, these last words of Arthur are spoken, not to
Bedivere, but to Guinevere, to whom the king is reconciled. Distraught, the queen is
comforted by Lynned, a nun, whose words end this mournful play:
Love, only love, that knows no measure, love
That understands all sorrows and all sins,
Love that alone changes the hearts of men,
And gives to the last heart-beat, only love
Suffices. Come we apart and pray awhile
For the noble and great spirits passed from us.105
First performed at the Old Vic in 1923 with incidental music by Edward Elgar,
Binyon’s Arthur was one of the last, and perhaps the finest, of the Tennysonian plays.
Binyon, however, had been bom in the midst of the Victorian era (1869),~and was
well into middle age when he wrote this play. Few younger poets were interested in
maintaining the Tennysonian tradition, or would turn to the Idylls, as Binyon had
done, when they came to retell the Arthurian story.
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