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A Tale of Two Swords

19 Wednesday Jun 2019

Posted by Ollamh in Fairy Tales and Myths, Imaginary History, Military History

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Charles X, Crusades, Excalibur, French Revolution, Gesta Henrici II et Gesta Regis Ricardi, Glastonbury, King Arthur, King Tancred, Lady of the Lake, Lecce, Lionheart, Louis IX, Louis Philipe, Louis XIV, Louis XV, Louis XVI, Louis XVIII, Medieval, mosaic, Napoleon, Norman, Otranto, Rex Arturus, Richard I of England, Roger of Howden, swords, Third Crusade

So we were reading this really interesting book, Christopher Tyerman’sngcce How to Plan a Crusade, when, on pages 244-5, we came across this:  “While Louis prayed to the relics of the Passion, Richard had carried the sword Excalibur.”  And we said, “What?  Excalibur?”

Welcome, as always, dear readers.  In this post, we want to talk a bit about two historic—or mythical– swords, inspired, as we were, by that reference and by two kings involved with them.

The “Louis” in the passage above is Louis IX (1214-1270) of France,

image1sealoflouisix.jpg

aka St Louis, a saint of both the Catholic and Anglican churches, who led several crusades in the mid-13th century, but not very successfully, being taken prisoner during the first (1250) and dying of a fever during the second (1270).

The “Richard” is Richard I of England (1157-1199), also called “Lionheart”.

image2rich.jpg

He was also a crusader, having been one of the dominant figures in the earlier Third Crusade (1189-1192).

image3crus.jpg

But how do we know that Richard had “Excalibur”?  And how did he acquire it?

We begin with the passage from a contemporary of Richard’s, Roger of Howden (?-1201?), who has left us a history known as Gesta Henrici II et Gesta Regis Ricardi, “The Deeds/Acts of Henry II and the Deeds/Acts of King Richard”.  This begins in the 8th century and covers the period up to 1201, which is presumed to be the year of Roger’s death.  Roger went on the Third Crusade with Richard, although he left it early.  He either observed or heard about this event, which took place in 1191:

“Et contra rex Angliae dedit regi Tancredo gladium illum optimum quem Britones Caliburne[m?] vocant qui fuerat gladius Arthuri quondam nobilis regis Angliae.”

“And, in return, the King of England gave to King Tancred that best of swords, which the Britons call ‘Calibern’, which had been the sword of Arthur, the one-time noble king of England.”

(The Latin text comes from page 392 of a collection of earlier English historians, entitled “Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores Post Bedam Praecipui”,–something like, “Writers of/on English Affairs in Particular After Bede”–which was published in London in 1596).

“King Tancred” (1138-1194) was the Norman ruler of Sicily from 1189-1194, just when Richard and his fellow Crusaders had reached that part of the world on their way eastward.

image4tanc.jpg

Tancred gave Richard a number of ships to help with transport and we might suppose that this was part of a reciprocal process.  Remarkably for this early time, we have what appears to be concrete evidence not only that King Arthur was a well-known figure in southern Italy, but perhaps known to Tancred himself.

Tancred had been born in 1138 in Lecce (on the right-hand side of the map, just inland)

image5map.jpg

and just a few miles south is Otranto, with its cathedral (below Lecce on the map).

image6otrantocathedral.jpg

The main floor of that cathedral is covered by an enormous mosaic, installed between 1163 and 1165.

image7mosaic.jpg

image8mosaic.jpg

In that mosaic is a figure labeled “Rex Arturus”.

image9rexarturus.jpg

We’ve answered our first question, sort of:  “How do we know that Richard had Excalibur?”  But, again, how did he acquire it?  Unfortunately, the only reference to Richard and the sword is the one we’ve quoted.

One thought, however.  About 1191, the monks of Glastonbury Abbey

image10glastonbury.jpg

excavated a grave which

image11tombsite.jpg

supposedly included a lead cross which read:

“Hic jacet sepultus inclytus rex Arthurius in insula avallonia cum Wennevereia uxore sua secunda”

“Here lies buried the renowned king Arthurius on the Avalonian island with Guinevere his second wife”

(Latin text from Giraldus Cambrensis, Speculum Ecclesiae, Chapter IX.)

Giraldus himself had been shown this cross by the Abbot, as he tells us.  (For a more complete version of this story, in an English translation, please see this LINK.)

Modern research suggests that this was a fake, intended to boost the fortunes of a fading religious site, badly damaged by fire in 1184, but suppose that, to increase their patronage, the monks had added another level to their sham and “found” a sword, which they had then sent to Richard, who carried it off on his journey to the East.

(For more on the fakery, see, for example, this LINK.)

Louis IX, as we mentioned, died on campaign in 1270.  His son, Philip, was with him at the time, but sailed back to France after his father’s death and was crowned Philip III in 1271.  Our sources are vague here (they don’t always get the year right, for example), but all report that, for the first time, a special sword was used in the coronation ceremony.  This was the so-called “sword of Charlemagne”, named “Joyeuse” (the “happy one”), which is mentioned in the 11th-century Chanson de Roland:

“Si ad vestut sun blanc osberc sasfret,
Laciet sun elme, ki est a or gemmet,
Ceinte Joiuse, unches ne fut sa per,
Ki cascun jur muet.XXX. clartez.”

“[Charlemagne] was wearing his fine white coat of mail and his helmet with gold-studded stones; by his side hung Joyeuse, and never was there a sword to match it; its colour changed thirty times a day.”

(The translator for this was not identified at the site and we would make one small change—“clartez” might be better as “sheen/brightness” instead of “colour”.)

image12sword.jpg

This, one of the few remaining pieces of the royal regalia, is, in fact, a mixture of a number of different periods, all the way up to Charles X (reigned 1824-1830), and experts argue over whether it is actually possible to date any part of it as early as Charlemagne’s time (see this LINK for more).

What isn’t questioned is that some version of this sword, at least, was used as part of the crowning ritual of French kings for centuries and its association with Charlemagne was as important for French history as linking something to King Arthur for English.

We haven’t managed to locate any medieval manuscript illustration which depicts a French coronation with the sword in place, but, when it comes to “The Sun King”, that is, Louis XIV, you can see that’s its hanging from his left side.

image13louisxiv.jpg

The same is true for Louis XV

image14louisxv.jpeg

and for that most unwarlike monarch, Louis XVI.

imagexvlouisxvi.jpg

The French Revolution brought the crowning of kings to a halt, of course,

image16execution.jpg

but Napoleon, all too aware both of the past and of his need to establish himself as the legitimate heir to the previous kings, brought it back, as you can see in this really over the top portrait.

image17nappy.jpg

When the younger brothers of the executed Louis XVI, Louis XVIII (1755-1824)

image18louisxviii.jpg

and Charles X (1757-1836)

image19chas.jpg

became king successively in 1814 and 1824, one can still see the sword—although apparently Napoleon’s craftsmen had fiddled with it, as did those of Charles.   His successor, Louis Philipe (1773-1850), who belonged to a cousin branch of the royal family, broke the tradition for good and the sword disappeared into history—and the Louvre, where it’s now on display.

And this brings us back to Excalibur.  The tradition is a little murky, but the medieval sources are pretty clear that Excalibur had come from “The Lady of the Lake” and, as Arthur lay, gravely, perhaps fatally wounded, he commanded one of his knights, Griflet or Bedivere, according to the tradition, to return it to the Lady, which he finally, and very reluctantly, did.

image20lake.jpg

With this, Excalibur disappears from the story—until Richard is reported giving it to the king of Sicily and our story—briefly—begins again.

Thanks, as always, for reading and

MTCIDC

CD

Theme and Variations.2

27 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by Ollamh in Artists and Illustrators, Fairy Tales and Myths, Films and Music, Literary History, Military History

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Arthur Rackham, Baron Friedrich de la Motte Fouque, Brothers Grimm, Charles Dickens, Charles Perrault, Charles S Evans, Cinderella, Disney, Dornroeschen, Edgar Taylor, ETA Hoffman, French Revolution, George Cruikshank, German Popular Stories, Hans Christian Andersen, Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passe, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, James Robinson Planche, Kinder und Hausmaerchen, La Belle au Bois Dormant, Little Briar-Rose, Louis XIV, Louis XVIII, Mariinski Theatre, Napoleon, Robert Samber, Sleeping Beauty, St Petersburg, Tchaikovsky, The Little Mermaid, Undine

Welcome, as ever, dear readers.
In our last, we began talking about the fairy tales of Charles Perrault (1628-1703), originally published under the rather vague title, Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passe, (“Stories or Tales of the Past”) in 1697.
image1perrault.jpg
Among his stories was one entitled “La Belle au Bois Dormant”—literally “The Beautiful Girl in the Sleeping Woods”, which we English-speakers call “Sleeping Beauty”. We had said that we thought it would be interesting to look at various treatments of that story over time and, so far, we’ve discussed James Robinson Planche’s (plawn-SHAY) two works, an 1840 “extravaganza” (a kind of very early musical comedy) and his 1868 story-in-verse version (here’s the first edition).
image2planchesleep.JPG
Planche could read the French original, but those whose knowledge of French was confined to menus could find English translations dating all the way back to the first, that of Robert Samber, in 1729.
image3samber.jpg
(This image, by the way, explains not only why English-speakers call this story “Sleeping Beauty”, but also why we call the stories as a group “Mother Goose Tales/Stories”. Please see our previous posting for where Mother Goose came from in Perrault.)
In the early 19th-century, a competitor to Perrault appeared. In 1812, two German scholars, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (1785-1863, 1786-1859,)
image4grimms.jpg
began publication of a work which they would enlarge numerous times through the first half of the 19th century, Kinder und Hausmaerchen (something like “Children’s and Domestic Wondertales”), the first volume of which first appeared in 1812.
image5kinder.jpg
“Sleeping Beauty” appears as #50, under the title Dornroeschen, “Little Briar-Rose”. This is like the Perrault story, but not the same, providing an alternate version of the tale. For those without German, an English translation was published in 1823.
image6kinder.jpg
Although their names aren’t on the title page, this is a collaboration between Edgar Taylor (1793-1839), translator,
image7taylor.jpg
and George Cruikshank (1792-1878), illustrator.
image8cruick.jpg
Of the two, Cruikshank is the better-known. Originally, he was famous as what we now call an “editorial cartoonist”, creating images critical of politicians and political events of his time. Here is his 1823 caricature of Louis XVIII of France (reigned 1814-1824 with a little gap in 1815 when Napoleon came back briefly from exile on Elba).
image9louis18.png
His public relations people wanted Louis to look like this:
image10louis.jpg
to remind them that he was the direct descendant of Louis XIV, the famous “Sun King”, a grand and heroic figure in recent French history.
image11louis.jpg
In reality, Louis was old and fat and looked more like this—
image12louis
It wasn’t about Louis per se, weak and temporary monarch though he was, so much as the long-standing English/French rivalry/hostility, which went back for centuries and which had intensified during the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, stretching almost without a break from 1792 to 1815. Napoleon, as representative of what the English of the time saw as revolution-which-led-to-chaos-and-worse, was a regular target from the later 1790s on and Cruikshank certainly aimed his pen and brush at him—as in this mocking depiction of the fate of Bonaparte after his first abdication in April, 1814.
image13bonaparte.jpg
Political commentary aside, Cruikshank, as we see in his illustrations for the Brothers Grimm (and isn’t it odd that we never say, in English “the Grimm Brothers”—which sounds either like a menacing secret society or perhaps an old, established firm of teakwood importers), was involved in all sorts of illustrating, including a second volume of the Grimms, in 1826. This is the 1868 reprint which the editor says duplicates in one volume the text and illustrations of the original two. (We include a LINK so that you can download your own copy.)
image14reprint1868.jpg
As well, he illustrated the original serialized version of Charles Dickens’ (1812-1870) Oliver Twist (1837-1839). This is a famous scene near the end of the novel, where the main villain, Fagin, is in the condemned cell, awaiting dawn and his execution. Dickens was famous for his performance of this.
image15fagin.jpg
On a more cheerful note, here’s Cruikshank’s sketch of Dickens himself from 1836.
image16sketch.jpg
The Grimms’ version of the “Sleeping Beauty” story is combined with that of Perrault in our next example. It’s the 1920 The Sleeping Beauty,
image17sb.jpg
text by Charles S. Evans (1883-1944), of whom we have found no picture, and Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) of whom this may be our favorite picture.
image18ar.jpg
The year before, Evans and Rackham had collaborated on a version of Perrault’s “Cinderella”—and we’ll talk about that in our next. The Sleeping Beauty is anything but sleepy—its illustrations practically dance off the page. (Here’s a LINK for your own copy.)
image19ar.jpg

image20ar.jpg

image21ar.jpg
And dance itself is the basis of our last example.
In 1888, Pyotr/Peter Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)

image22tchai

was offered a commission for a ballet. Originally, the subject was to be a famous early German Romantic novella, Undine (un-DEE-neh), written by the Baron Friedrich de la Motte Fouque (foo-KAY) (1777-1843),
image23baron.jpg
and published in 1811. It’s the story of a knight and a water spirit and shares the basic plot of HC Andersen’s later “The Little Mermaid”. Here’s an illustration from Rackham’s 1909 version.
image24undine.jpg
As things developed, however, this story was replaced by the Perrault/Grimms’ “The Sleeping Beauty”, which first appeared at the Mariinski Theatre
image25mariinski.jpg
in St Petersburg in January, 1890. We are lucky to have a number of photos of the original production and cast.
image26sleep.jpg

image27sleep.jpg

image28sleep.jpg
And here’s a LINK to a suite (selection) of music from the ballet—but the full ballet is available on YouTube and we hope that you like this suite so much that you’ll try the whole thing.
In our next, we’ll move on to a second Perrault story, “Cinderella”.
Thanks, as always, for reading.
MTCIDC
CD
ps
If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know that we can rarely resist adding something more. In fact, in this ps, we add two somethings more.
First, before Undine was proposed for a ballet, it was the subject of an opera by the strange and wonderful German Romantic author and composer ETA Hoffmann (1776-1822).
image29hoffmann.jpg
Here’s a LINK to the overture. In a future post, we’ll have more to say about Hoffmann…
Second, as people who grew up on Disney, we can’t close without mentioning Disney’s 1959 Sleeping Beauty, with its attempt at a new style of visual presentation—as well as its use of Tchaikovsky’s music as the basis of its score. If you haven’t seen it, we certainly recommend it, especially for its combination of elements of the older look of such films as Cinderella (1950) with a newer, simplified one.
image30disney

One for All…

24 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by Ollamh in Films and Music, Literary History, Military History, Narrative Methods

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Tags

Alexandre Dumas, Aramis, Athos, battle of Fontenoy, Cardinal Richelieu, D'Artagnan, French Revolution, Garde Republicaine, Harpers Ferry, La Rochelle, Louis XIII, Louis XIV, Louis XV, Louis XVI, Louis XVIII, Musket, Musketeers, Porthos, Richard Lester, Royal Heralds, tabard, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, Vicomte de Bragelonne

Dear Readers,

Welcome, as always.

In our last, we said that we were having a little holiday from the works of JRRT and we’re continuing that break in this posting, as well. After all, although we have a deep affection and admiration for them, we began this blog with the intention of focusing upon adventure in general.

In this, we want to look at musketeers—three, in fact, plus a fourth, who, although he lacks an official position in their company, has the heart of one.

A musket is now a generic word for a pre-breech-loading long arm, like this one—

harpersferry1809

made at the Harpers Ferry arsenal in 1809.

harpersferryearly

Once upon a time, however, a musket was a specific weapon, a heavier firearm which was supported on a wooden rest.

Musketeer

Such weapons were inaccurate at any distance and, in time, soldiers were gradually trained to load and fire in groups, to have more effect upon the enemy.

Manual_of_the_Musketeer,_17th_Century

military-musketeers-thirty-years-war-1618-1648-drawing-by-anton-hoffmann-bjn61w

Certain cavalry were issued lighter versions of such muskets and, in 1622, one company—later two—was formed as a bodyguard for the young Louis XIII.

0_Louis_XIII_en_costume_de_deuil_-_Frans_Pourbus_le_Jeune_(2)

At this time, the idea of uniforms was only beginning to appear and so these men would have worn whatever they wished (probably a fancier version of period civilian clothes—they were guarding the king, after all).

e7670396c9d2d92bdb277a8dd2fbfdc9

To identify them as belonging to the king’s household, however, they were issued with a kind of loose overgarment called a tabard, which we can still see today as worn by the Royal Heralds of Elizabeth II.

Pursuivant_tabardHeralds-at-the-Garter-Service-Julian-Calder-1024x681fae2a692a2dfd52e3931b64ed85bf5ab

One of these musketeers was named D’Artagnan (1611-1673)

invalides-mousquetaires-portrait-du-vrai-dartagnan-mais-aucune-preuve-dauthenticitc3a9

and, in 1700—27 years after his death at the siege of Maastricht in 1673—a well-known French author of the period, Courtilz de Sandras (1644-1712), published a semi-fictionalized “memoir” by D’Artagnan, supposedly based upon D’Artagnan’s papers.

Courtilz_Mémoires_titreWP

It depicted his adventures in a complex world of king and the man behind the king, Louis XIII and his prime minister, Cardinal Richelieu, and the court politics and foreign wars of the era.

Philippe_de_Champaigne_-_Louis_XIII_Crowned_by_Victory_(Siege_of_La_Rochelle,_1628)_-_WGA4712

index

And, in this equestrian portrait, you can see the Cardinal literally behind the king.

Louis_XIII_Richelieu_devant_La_Rochelle

In 1844, there appeared a totally fictionalized account by Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870),

000101

The Three Musketeers,

h-1200-dumas_alexandre_les-trois-mousquetaires_1850_0_34725

which proved so successful that Dumas produced two sequels, Twenty Years After (1845), and The Vicomte de Bragelonne (1847). The success of the first book was such that, since its publication, well—just google “The Three Musketeers in film”! The story of a young man from an impoverished noble family coming to Paris and how, through luck and bravery, he becomes a musketeer, is clearly irresistible—certainly for us! (And Dumas had the gift to do this more than once—he is also the author of the equally-irresistible The Count of Monte Cristo—google that to see its history.)

We have read various versions of this since childhood, from comic books to school texts in French, but, of all of the film versions, our favorite is the 2-part Richard Lester adaptation (script by one of our favorite historical novelists, George Macdonald Fraser—more about him in a future posting) of 1973-1974.

Three_Musketeers_1974

This is a version which keeps some of our favorite scenes—the duel in the convent courtyard, where D’Artagnan proves his courage to his new friends-to-be among the Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis,

TheThreeMusketeers099

and the wager of the four friends to defend the bastion at the siege of La Rochelle while having breakfast there,

e988a9ce178db360466105fc18acd73d

but is, on the whole, a very light-hearted telling of the story (after all, Lester was famous for being the director of several earlier films starring the Beatles—the original idea even being that John, Paul, George, and Ringo were to be the Musketeers), set against a very grainy depiction of the world of the 1620s (which we find very convincing).

As for the real Musketeers, they had a long career as part of the King’s household guards, from the time of Louis XIII

68f4383f6ba85134f5c8c8b58a9d4613

through that of Louis XIV

musketeerlouisxiv

through a famous charge at the battle of Fontenoy (1745) in the time of Louis XV.

15bba6ef186f1f2774c2be4c1f2761c2

They were swept away at the time of the French Revolution, along with their master, Louis XVI,

executionlxvi

but restored in 1814 by his royal successor, Louis XVIII.

louisxviiimusket

In this new edition of the Musketeers, there appeared for a short time a recruit named Dumas,

Alexandre_Dumas_par_Achille_Devéria_(1829)

but, unlike his father (1762-1806), a famous general of the French revolutionary period,

generaldumas

he had another career waiting for him…

Thanks, as always, for reading.

MTCIDC

CD

PS

That last reincarnation of the Musketeers was a brief one: they were finally abolished in 1816. We can’t resist, in this ps, showing you a kind of descendant, however—at least in looking French and splendid. Here is the Garde republicaine in Paris. Its name tells you that, although monarchy might be dead in France, guards are certainly not.

la-musique-de-la-garde-republicaine

 

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