Literature Review
Chapter 1:
Morgan le Fay: Origins and Evolution
Of the various women found in the Arthurian legend, Morgan le Fay is perhaps the most interesting and definitely the most complex. At times, she is benevolent to Arthur and his knights, and she uses her supernatural powers to heal. In other instances, she is the main threat to Arthur and the Round Table and utilizes her powers in negative ways. She is a woman portrayed quite inconsistently throughout medieval texts, which calls into question what her origin may have consisted of. We must first examine and understand Celtic mythology and Celtic religious beliefs in order to account for Morgan’s possible origination. After exploring Morgan’s possible origin, it is important to observe how her character was portrayed in medieval texts by various authors, such as Geoffrey of Monmouth, Chretien de Troyes, and Sir Thomas Malory.
Celtic History
The Celtic people probably were composed of numerous ethnic groups who resided in much of central and western Europe. The Celtic language is thought to be akin to “the family of Indo-European languages” and was similar to the Italic languages (Cunliffe 21). The Celts created a “rich oral history in cycles of epic narrative,” which served as a means of Celtic identity (Cunliffe 25). They were superstitious people who possessed a rich, elaborate religious system. The Greek and Roman authors have provided us with a view of the Celts that continues even today. The Celts were considered brutal and fearless warriors who were “unpredictable and unreliable” and who were “easily aroused to battle fury” (Cunliffe 5-6). Essentially, the Celts were considered to be barbarians: “people of alien behavior, cruel, and prone to such savagery as human sacrifice and even cannibalism” (Cunliffe 6). However, some of these views regarding the Celts could have been greatly exaggerated by the authors.
What we know today regarding the Celtic people remains questionable. All of our evidence for Celtic myth and religion is for the most part indirect; therefore, we cannot rely on this evidence as our sole means of depicting the Celtic people and their beliefs system. Because the Celts were “virtually non-literate” people, they did not establish their beliefs in writing (Green 8). As a result, much of the Celtic belief that is associated with the Celts comes from other people, such as the Greeks and Romans, and is often skewed in some manner. Moreover, many of the vernacular sources cannot affirm the beliefs and attitudes of the Celts because they are written later and “compiled within a Christian milieu” (Green 9). In addition, there are also problems with surviving archaeological evidence when trying to interpret the beliefs of the Celts (Green 12).
While much of the evidence surrounding the Celts remains indecisive and indirect, three particular types of evidence exists today and are our only means of studying the Celtic people: the “chronicles of contemporary commentators from the Classical world,” the “later vernacular documents of Ireland and Wales,” and archaeological evidence (Green 8). The chronicles of the Greeks and Romans commented on the beliefs and manner of the Celtic people (Green 8). Because their views of the Celts contain “bias, distortion, misunderstanding and omission,” we cannot take these attitudes toward the Celts at face value (Green 8). While writing about the Celts, both the Greeks and the Romans were attempting to portray a certain image of history (Cunliffe 6). Their representation of the Celts was altered because they sought to illustrate that their culture and beliefs could triumph over those from the outside (Cunliffe 6). Cunliffe describes this approach as “the rational, civilised order of state control contrasted with the wild, savage, chaos of the primitive barbarians” (6). Basically, the Greeks and Romans wanted to show that their civilization remained prominent and superior to any other culture. As a result, it is the direct opposite to the principles of the Greek and Roman civilizations that were highlighted in the accounts of the Celts (Cunliffe 6). Unlike the Celts, the Greek and Roman cultures emphasized the importance of cities and these cities were significant to their civilization (Green 8). In addition, Green states that “Mediterranean culture possessed an organised state religious system, based upon these urban centres” (8). As a result of this emphasis placed on cities and religion, these Classical commentators were observers of a tradition that they were not familiar with and a religion that seemed less refined (Green 8). Overall, the texts written by these Classical commentators are “at best anecdotal, offered largely as colourful background by writers whose prime intention was to communicate other messages” (Cunliffe 183).
The early stories written in Irish and Welsh incorporate a large part of information regarding the Celtic tradition. However, like the Classical commentators, we cannot rely solely on these vernacular sources because the sources are “late in their extant form” and “compiled within a Christian milieu” (Green 9). In addition, these stories relate only to the areas that bordered the Celtic world, namely Wales and Ireland (Green 9). Because these sources do not come directly from the interior of the Celtic world, we cannot make the statement that these were the precise ways or beliefs of the Celts.
While the first Irish sources began to be kept in writing during the sixth century AD, most of the remaining manuscripts “date from no earlier than the twelfth century” (Green 9). The value of these sources is that they refer to an earlier time in history, possibly during the pagan period or before the fifth century AD (Green 9). There are three particular groups of Irish prose tales that involve various supernatural elements of Celtic belief: the Mythological Cycle, the Ulster Cycle, and the Fionn Cycle (Green 9-10). The Mythological Cycle includes the tales called Book of Invasions and History of Places, which both originate in the twelfth century AD (Green 9). The Book of Invasions “has its origins in much earlier compilations of monastic scholars construction a ‘History of Ireland’ in the sixth and seventh centuries AD” (Green 9). The intention in writing this tale was to possibly come up with an account of Ireland’s creation and the presence of the Celtic people (Green 9). The History of Places remains less important; however, it encompasses “a collection of topographical lore, in which the names of places are explained in terms of myth” (Green 9).
Furthermore, the Ulster Cycle includes the most influential collection of stories, which are known as the Tain Bo Cuailnge or the Cattle Raid of Cooley, and is limited to only the region of Ulster (Green 9-10). These particular stories incorporate many supernatural elements: superhuman heroes, druids, queen-goddesses, and “the destiny of the two kingdoms rests in the hands of the great war- and death-goddesses, the Morrigan and the Badbh” (Green 10). The oldest manuscript that contains an incomplete and imperfect text and includes the Cattle Raid of Cooley is called the Book of the Dun Cow, which originates from the twelfth century (Green 10). The date of the Cattle Raid of Cooley is thought to be much earlier than this manuscript. Moreover, the language of the Cattle Raid of Cooley seems to point out that it belongs to the eighth century; however, some scholars believe that certain portions of the text are much earlier than this (Green 10). Compiled in the twelfth century, the Fionn Cycle contains less material of myth and “chronicles the activities of the hero Finn and his heroic war-band, the Fianna, all of whom are of supernatural status” (Green 10). Green states, “The interest of these stories lies in their close affinity with the natural world and in the supernatural creatures which inhabit it” (10).
Because these Irish sources were arranged in the medieval era and within a Christian context, a wealth of controversy regarding their contribution to Celtic myth surrounds these texts (Green 10). In addition, the language employed in these texts indicate an origination date no earlier than the eighth century (Green 10). While the time and space gap between the Celtic Europe of the later first millennium BC and the early historical era of Ireland remains vast, there is evidence that some of these sources incorporate accounts of a pre-Christian Celtic tradition (Green 10). Green states the overall problem with the Irish sources is that “redactors who were either ignorant of or hostile to Irish paganism may have deliberately redefined or restructured the world of the supernatural in order to neutralize it” (11).
The early Welsh sources disclose many elements of a great mythological background; however, in comparison to the Irish sources they are crudely documented and illustrate even greater alterations (Green 11). God constantly appears in these stories and pagan divinities are absent from them. They contain international story-motifs and there are links between the mythological elements of Wales and the medieval Arthurian romance (Green 11). There is a limited connection between the early Welsh myths and the pagan Celtic religion because the surviving Welsh manuscripts are not early enough to make this immediate connection (Green 11). The myths in these sources are not easily recognizable because they have been shaped within a Christian context (Green 11). The most relevant material is contained within the Four Branches of the Mabinogi or the Mabinogion, the Tale of Culhwch and Olwen, The Dream of Rhonabwy, and Peredur (Green 11-12). The earliest of these stories is Culhwch and Olwen, which dates to the tenth century in its present form, but relates to traditions that were centuries earlier than this (Green 12). The Mabinogion is a compilation of the eleventh century, but like Culhwch and Olwen there are indications that it conforms to an earlier era (Green 12). Overall, there is a definite residue of pre-Christian Celtic myth; however, reconstructing these myths becomes the main problem.
While we must question the reliability of the Classical commentators and the vernacular sources, archaeological evidence seems to be directly pertinent to the pagan Celtic era. Much of this evidence is the material culture of the Celtic people, which includes sanctuaries, sacred places, burial customs, rituals, epigraphy, and iconography (Green 12). However, this group of evidence can be a problem because archaeologists can only examine what still exists (Green 12). Also, interpreting the beliefs of people who lived thousands of years ago solely on what exists in the form of material objects can become a complicated, extensive problem (Green 12). In addition, another major problem with this evidence is that the existing iconography was created around the same time the Romans held authority in Celtic areas, which means that Roman and Celtic traditions could have been intertwined (Green 12). The interweaving of the Roman and Celtic traditions does pose a problem; however, there is archaeological evidence that comes from a pre-Roman period: Celtic religious space (Green 13). These sacred spaces included “open-air enclosures, holy lakes, woods and springs,” and deep pits served as a way to communicate with the Underworld (Green 13). Before Greek and Roman influence of Celtic lands, evidence of the Celtic belief system remains indecisive (Green 13).
Because Celtic art was more of a “production of abstract design,” religious imagery was not prominent (Green 13-14). However, a few examples of Celtic stone iconography exists in the form of reliefs and statues and can be traced to two main areas: the Lower Rhone Valley and central Europe (Green 14). One particular piece of Celtic religious iconography, that possibly dates to the second or first century BC, is the “gilt-silver cult-cauldron from Gundestrup in Jutland” (Green 14). The imagery depicted on the cauldron are definitely Celtic: “the torc-bearing antlered god and the ram-horned serpent belong to the religious repertoire of Gaul � and the soldiers depicted bear Celtic Iron Age arms” (Green 14). While the images are clearly Celtic, the controversial issue that surrounds this piece is where it was originally manufactured (Green 14). There is speculation that the cauldron may have been crafted by foreign silversmiths that heard of these unusual images and decided to incorporate them in their art (Green 14). Another definite problem that exists is that artifacts are context-less unless some sort of caption exists, which is not usually the case. We cannot truly know what we are looking at with these pieces of evidence.
Of these three groups of evidence, archaeology and the vernacular sources prove most valuable in helping to shape what Celtic myth may be comprised of. While these two groups of evidence cannot be considered “part of the same continuum of evidence” due to differences in the time periods and locations, there are clear connections that exist (Green 14). These links include “the sanctity of ‘three’; the symbolism of cauldrons; the supernatural power of the human head; beliefs in an Otherworld similar to earthly life” (Green 14). Overall, we must consider what each group of evidence provides us regarding Celtic religion and myth. By analyzing the specific evidence of these three groups, we can obtain a general view of what the Celts may have believed in and what their world was possibly like.
General Features of Celtic Myth
While they must undoubtedly be questioned in some respects, the Classical commentators provide much evidence of Celtic beliefs. One of the sources that alluded to Celtic religion was Posidonius, a Greek philosopher whose writings are lost but “whose observations were quarried by a number of later commentators” (Green 8). Other main sources include Caesar, Strabo, Diodorus, Siculus, Lucan, and Dio Cassius (Green 8). These commentators furnish a great deal of evidence that relates to Celtic sacramental practices, such as “druidism, divination, human sacrifice and head-hunting,” and they comment on death, the Celtic Otherworld, and rebirth (Green 8).
The druids played an integral role in the religion of the Celts. Many Classical writers mention the druids, but Caesar provides the fullest account of the druids. According to Caesar’s comments, there were essentially two prominent classes of people within Celtic society: the druids and the knights (Cunliffe 107). The druids were mediators that “had control over all sacrifices, both public and private” and who ruled on religious type cases and criminal cases (Cunliffe 190). The Druidic class in Gaul selected one man as supreme among the druids and this particular man held this position for life (Cunliffe 190). Their training was rigorous and could take many years to complete because it involved “committing to memory oral traditions passed on through the generations” (Green 64). Various benefits came along with being a druid: “they were exempt from tax and were not required to offer military service” (Cunliffe 191). Because of these benefits, many people sought to become a part of the druidic class.
Furthermore, the vernacular sources also refer to the presence of the druids. In the Book of Invasions there are several references to druids. The central characters of the story, called the Tuatha De Danann, are said to be “skilled in magic and in druid lore” (Green 15). Also, a previous invader of Ireland, Partholon “came from Greece with his family and a large retinue, including three druids” (Green 15). Moreover, the central character of the Fionn Cycle, named Finn mac Cumhaill, is “reared by a druidess” (Green 20). In the Ulster Cycle, King Conchobar “had a druid, Cathbadh, who enjoyed great influence” (Green 65). The Irish bull-myths seem to show the prominence of druids in ritual practices (Green 62). The druids were supervisors of the tarbhfhess, which was “a divinatory rite involving a bull sacrifice” or a kingship ritual (Green 62). Irish mythology indeed mentions the druids in several instances; however, the druids must have inevitably lost much of their power under Christian doctrine (Green 65). After the adoption of Christianity in Ireland, the religious class called the filidh or the seers basically took over the job of the druids (Green 66). Green states that active druidism probably deteriorated under Roman influence, and while some emperors put up with the presence of the druids, other sought to completely exterminate them (65).
While the presence of druids is evident in comments of the Classical writers and in the Irish vernacular sources, there is really no archaeological evidence that denotes a druidic presence (Green 65). Green states that “the excavators of the Celtic sanctuary of Gournay in northern Gaul suggest the presence of a permanent staff of religious functionaries to maintain the ritual activity evidenced there;” however, these people cannot be absolutely identified as druids (Green 65). One of the earliest surviving pieces that depicts the written Celtic language, the first-century-BC Gaulish Coligny Calendar is thought to have been “drawn up by the druids in order to calculate propitious times for important religious and secular activities” (Green 64-65). The assumption is that because the druids had the task of attending supernatural matters, they created the calendar in order to be able to keep track of these auspicious days. Indeed this may have been true, but because there is a general absence of archaeological evidence, we can only rely upon what others have written down and hope that this information is reliable enough to accurately portray the druids.
On the other hand, we do know that one of the druid’s duties was “to officiate during sacrifices to the gods” (Cunliffe 191). Most Graeco-Roman sources state that the main concern of the druids was “the control of supernatural forces by means of divination,” which involved some sort of sacrifice; sometimes human sacrifice (Green 64). Human sacrifice took the form of “stabbing, strangulation or other means, and the examination of the death struggles or the victim’s innards in order to foretell the future” (Green 64). Diodorus Siculus writes, “They devote to death a human being and stab him with a dagger in the region of the diaphragm and when he has fallen they foretell the future from his fall and from the convulsions of his limbs” (Cunliffe 192). Similarly, Strabo states, “that Druid augurs read the omens by killing a human victim with a sword stroke in the back and noting the way he fell, the nature of the convulsions, and the flow of blood” (Sharkey 15). This prediction of the future aided the Celts in deciding when to plan certain events, such as “going to war, sowing or reaping, election of a new king and so forth” (Green 64).
It is important to note that two types of human sacrifice were prevalent. According to Classical writings, human sacrifice was performed in order to predict the future or for divination (Cunliffe 192). Also, human sacrifice could have been a means of appeasing the gods. Because the Celts were supposed to offer the gods something of value, humans occasionally became this precious offering (Green 67). Green states, “The more valuable the offering, the more powerful the act of propitiation” (67). As a result, human sacrifice was not an everyday ritual rather it became an act that occurred in times of need or to express gratefulness to the gods (Green 68).
Human sacrifice can be found in many of the Classical writer’s commentary. As mentioned above, Classical writers such as Diodorus Siculus and Strabo mentioned human sacrifice and its connection to forecasting of the future. Lucan’s writings suggest that different gods preferred different modes of death: “the victims of Taranis were burnt, those of Teutates were drowned, while those of Esus were hanged” (Cunliffe 191). These modes of death were also reported by other writers, such as Poseidonius and Strabo, but did not specifically name the preference of the gods that performed the deed. In addition, Caesar remarks that burning victims alive was a ritual among the Gauls, which probably originates from the early comments of Poseidonius (Cunliffe 192).
Unlike the Classical sources, the vernacular sources provide limited evidence for human sacrifice. Green states that one Irish tradition “involved the ritual triple killing of a king, by burning, wounding and drowning, at the feast of Samhain” (69). Irish vernacular literature does mention the threefold death; however, there is no evidence that this had anything to do with human sacrifice. For the most part human sacrifice was not predominant in the vernacular sources.
Like the vernacular sources, there is very little archaeological evidence that proves the ritual of human sacrifice did occur. The problem with examining this type of evidence is that some bodies were “subjected to ritual after natural death,” which means that they were not sacrificed at all (Green 68). On the other hand, a few instances do seem to indicate that this type of death did possibly occur. A noteworthy example is Lindow Man, “a young male of Iron Age date (first century AD), who suffered blows to his head, was garotted and has his throat cut before being thrust face-down in a shallow pool in Lindow Moss, Cheshire” (Green 68-69). Green explains that before this man died, he may have eaten what was considered a ritual meal of “wholemeal bread made of many different species of cereal grain and seed” (69). While this man’s death holds some certainty of ritual death, other cases are not as promising because it’s difficult to distinguish whether the sacrifice occurred before or after the actual death.
Moreover, some Celts emphasized the importance of the human head. The Classical sources definitely allude to the significance of the human head. Livy, Diodorus, and Strabo mention the “decapitation of war victims, whose heads were either kept as trophies or offered in shrines” (Green 71). Diodorus Siculus’ comment illustrates a typical disapproving view of this aspect of Celtic tradition when he states,
They cut off the heads of enemies slain in battle and attach them to the necks of their horses. These blood-stained spoils they hand over to their attendants and carry off as booty, while striking up a paean and singing a song of victory, and they nail up these first fruits upon their houses just as do those who lay low wild animals in certain kinds of hunting. They embalm in cedar-oil the heads of the most distinguished enemies and preserve them carefully in a chest and display them with pride to strangers (Cunliffe 209).
The basic belief was that by owning and displaying the head of a distinguished enemy, the Celts could “retain and control power of the dead person” (Cunliffe 210). The significance of the head was that it illustrated that person’s power, and the Celts may have believed that parting with the enemy’s head could result in the head doing them some sort of harm or “working against them” (Cunliffe 210).
Likewise, the prominence of heads is also found in the vernacular sources. In the Ulster Cycle, the hero Cu Chulainn “collected the heads of his enemies and placed them on stones” (Green 71). As illustrated in a tale of the Ulster Cycle, the head also possessed magical qualities. The heads of superhuman heroes were particularly enchanted (Green 71). Green states, “In was prophesied that the Ulstermen, smitten by Macha’s curse of weakness, would regain their strength if they drank milk from the huge severed head of Conall Cernach,” one of the Ulster heroes (71). In addition, in the Four Branches of the Mabinogi the head also takes on magical powers (Green 32). In the Second Branch of the Mabinogi, the central character named Bendigeidfran is wounded and commands his men to decapitate him (Green 32). The magical qualities of his head are apparent when the head talks and assures his men, and essentially becomes their good luck piece on the journey from Harlech to London (Green 71).
Furthermore, the significance of the human head is apparent in Celtic iconography. Most of the iconography that deals with human heads are found in sanctuaries. The Celto-Ligurian sanctuaries of southern Gaul affirm illustrate the ritual practice of head-hunting (Cunliffe 200). This particular type of sanctuary is known from two particular sites: Roquepertuse and Entremont (Cunliffe 200). At Roquepertuse there are “the famous Janus-heads, a stone bird of prey, a frieze carved with simply delineated horse heads, and stone pillars carved with niches to take several human heads” (Cunliffe 200). At Entremont, where some of the same elements are found, heads are incorporated in architectural characteristics (Cunliffe 202). These features include “a vertical pillar carved with severed heads” and “a carved severed head flanked by niches for real severed heads … some still bearing nail holes for attachment” (Cunliffe 202). Moreover, heads were sometimes seen as protectors in Britain (Green 71). At hillforts such as Bredon Hill, the heads were “mounted on poles” in order to protect the entrances of the forts (Green 71). Strange rites concerning the head took place in some areas where “the bodies of old women were beheaded and the lower jaws removed” and certain individuals were decapitated after death, but prior to entombment (Green 71). The constant emphasis of the head in Celtic iconography clearly represents its importance in the Celtic world.
Another prominent feature of Celtic religion is the sacredness of ‘three’. Triplism is most prevalent in the Irish vernacular sources that mention goddesses such as Macha, Badbh, and the Morrigan. In the Ulster Cycle, these three particular goddesses are deemed the “battle-furies” and often take on triple forms (Green 27-28). Macha can take on three different personality types and identities (Green 28). One Macha is “a prophetess who foresees the destruction of the country wrought by the Tain conflict” (Green 28). A second Macha appears in the form of a “warrior-ruler of Ireland” (Green 28). Her third form is “a divine bride, the wife of a human, Crunnchu” (Green 28). Basically, Macha takes on very distinct roles as “prophet, warrior, ruler and goddess of sovereignty and fertility” (Green 28). The second goddess of the group of three is the Badbh, which appears to be more of a battle goddess (Green 28). While she can appear as both a single and triple goddess, Badbh seems to be more of a single goddess because she adheres mostly to one particular identity: goddess of battle and death (Green 28). She seems to be the goddess of all destruction, such as in death and war (Green 28). The third goddess, the Morrigan, appears in several distinct forms. She is the beautiful girl that appears before the hero Cu Chulainn (Green 28). When Cu Chulainn “spurns her advances,” the Morrigan instantly turns into more of an evil goddess and seeks revenge (Green 28). In other instances, the Morrigan becomes an “old woman,” a “death-crow, prophesying death on the battlefield,” or a “fertility-goddess” (Green 28). Like the Morrigan, most divinities of Celtic Europe functioned as “providers of fertility” (Green 54). The Celtic concept of divinity in nature helped to produce these myths associated with fertility (Green 50). The mother goddess was to fulfill the role of “provider of abundance,” and several Irish and Welsh goddesses, such as Macha and Modron, performed this role (Green 54). The divine mother was “depicted most frequently as a triad … referring to the goddesses as the Deae Matres or Deae Matronae” (Green 54).
As with the triple aspect of the goddesses, the vernacular sources provide most of the information regarding the Celtic Otherworld. There are two main classes of Otherworld legends (Wentz 353). One is the beautiful and peaceful place across the seas where “its fairy inhabitants are principally women who lure away noble men and youths through love for them” (Wentz 353). The other class consists of a “Hades world … in which great heroes go on some mysterious quest” (Wentz 353). Green tends to agree with this general perception of the Otherworld. The perception of the Celtic Otherworld is very ambiguous. It is sometimes seen as the “Happy Otherworld” where the dead are able to live again and “here there is neither pain, disease, ageing nor decay; it is a world full of music, feasting and beauty” (Green 72). On the other hand, the Otherworld can also be seen as “a sombre place and full of danger, especially if visited by humans before death” (Green 72). The location of the Otherworld is also unclear. In Irish tradition, it could be located “on islands in the western ocean, beneath the sea or underground” (Green 73). The Otherworld could be reached in various ways: “by boat across the sea” or “by a lake or a cave” (Green 73). Earthly time is not relevant in the Otherworld; as a result, visiting humans remain young during their stay (Green 73). The Otherworld was also seen as a place of feasting and regeneration (Green 73). The prominence of the Otherworld feasting ritual is mainly connected with the Celtic perception of death.
Both literary and archaeological evidence acknowledge that the Celts had an involved and positive disposition toward death. Several of the classical writers comment on the Celtic belief of death. The Celts basically believed in some sort of rebirth. Caesar remarks that the druids promoted the idea of the soul passing after death from one person to another in order that “Gaulish warriors would not be afraid of death” (Green 72). Similarly, the Roman poet Lucan explains that “the Celts regarded death merely as an interruption in a long life, as a stage between one life and another” (Green 72). Moreover, Diodorus Siculus comments that the Celts believed that men’s souls were immortal and after many years people lived again, “their souls inhabiting a new body” (Green 72). The general idea was that the soul would re-emerge at some point in another form, which was usually another person’s body.
Furthermore, archaeological findings provide us with evidence that the Celtic people adhered to this idea of death and the afterlife. Cunliffe states “the burial tradition most widely practised in continental Europe from the seventh to the first centuries BC was inhumation” (208). This basically means that the dead people were provided with the goods that were suitable to their status as discerned by the “lineage responsible for burial” (Cunliffe 208). Goods found in graves could indicate a ritual that suggested the anticipation of an afterlife. The Celts may have believed that these “grave-goods” would assist the person in the next life (Green 74). In the seventh to sixth centuries BC, the type of goods placed in a grave often hinted at that person’s status (Green 74). People of high status were buried with large, luxurious objects, which was the case when in the sixth century BC a German prince was “laid on a bronze couch, accompanied by his cart, a vessel capable of holding 704 pints (400 litres) of mead and several drinking-horns” (Green 74). Many graves indicate the perception of the funerary or Otherworld feast and include such objects as wine cups and meat (Green 74). Basically, the Celtic belief of the Otherworld and death includes the idea of rebirth and regeneration. While certain aspects of the Celtic Otherworld remain very ambiguous, the idea regarding death seems to be that the soul will re-emerge in a different form at some point in time.
Chapter 2 : Speculation on Morgan’s Origin
As has been pointed out in discussing certain aspects of Celtic religion and mythology, there are gaps in the information we have on-hand; as a result, the origin of Morgan cannot be clearly defined. However, Paton and Loomis propose that Morgan’s character is closely connected with certain characteristics of two Celtic goddesses. Paton claims that Morgan is linked to the Irish battle-goddess, the Morrigan. Basically, Paton’s theory is that Morgan and the Morrigan are connected because they share similar attributes and take part in similar incidents in Irish mythology. Like Morgan, the Morrigan is connected with strife of some sort. Paton claims that the Morrigan retains certain magical powers, such as “knowledge of the future” and “versatility in shape-shifting” (12). Also, both the Morrigan and Morgan live in some sort of fairy dwelling (Paton 150). Adding to Paton’s list of similarities, Loomis points out that Morgan was both Arthur’s enemy and healer in Avalon; similarly, the Morrigan is “at times Cuchulainn’s watchful protectress; at others she is his enemy, seeking to destroy him” (Loomis, Wales, 123).
Paton also suggests that “minor incidents, too, here and there in Morgain’s life faintly reproduce episodes told of the Morrigan” (148). An episode in the Tain Bo Cuailgne with the Morrigan clearly parallels an episode in the Suite du Merlin with Morgan. In the Tain, when the Morrigan meets up with the mythical warrior hero Cuchulinn, she demonstrates her shape-shifting abilities. In this scene, Cuchulinn hastens from his sleep to find a woman driving away a cow that does not belong to her, but that Cuchulinn says belongs to him. As a result, Cuchulinn voices his disapproval and attempts to threaten the woman with his spear, but is met with resistance from the woman. Instantly, she disappears and Cuchulinn “perceived that she had been transformed into a blackbird on a branch close by him” (Paton 24). Finally, when Cuchulinn realizes that the woman is actually the Morrigan, she quickly threatens to prevent his victory in combat and states that she can “transform herself at her pleasure” (Paton 24). An incident in the Suite du Merlin with Morgan and Arthur resembles this particular scene. Wanting to avenge Accolon’s death, Morgan steals Arthur’s scabbard and flees into the countryside. After rising from his sleep, Arthur chases Morgan, and just as he is about to overtake her, she throws the scabbard into the lake and changes into a stone. It is then that Morgan tells Arthur that while she can transform herself, she will not fear him.
Structurally, the episode with the Morrigan bears a resemblance to the story of Morgan and Arthur. Both women steal property of the men because they seek revenge for some reason. Also, both Cuchulinn and Arthur “rise from their sleep to hasten out in pursuit” (Paton 24). When they seem to be in danger, both the Morrigan and Morgan change their shape and threaten their opponents with future destruction. While these incidents seem to parallel each other, Paton also suggests that “the differences in detail are too great for much importance to be attached to the parallel” (24).
Loomis, in his structuring of Morgan’s origin, agrees with Paton’s theory; however, he also believes that Morgan is connected in some manner to the Welsh mother-goddess, Modron (Loomis, Wales, 119). One similarity between the two women is that their fathers nearly share an identical name (Darrah 79). Morgan is said to be the daughter of Avallo or Avalloc; likewise, Modron is said to be the daughter of Avallach, (Darrah 79). In addition, both Morgan and Modron are identified as the mother of Owein (Darrah 78). Foster explains that a tradition in the early thirteenth century Welsh mythological story called Rhonabwy’s Dream parallels a certain tradition related to Morgan in the Suite du Merlin. This particular story brings in a tradition common to both the Irish and Welsh: “of the wife or mistress or mother, with her companions, bringing timely assistance in the shape of birds in the stress of conflict” (Foster 43). Rhonabwy’s Dream “embodies the tradition that Owain was the son of Urien by Modron daughter of Avallach” (Foster 42). Similarly, in the Suite du Merlin, Morgan was said to be the daughter of Avallo or Avalloc and the mother of Yvain by Urien (Foster 42). Moreover, like with the Morrigan, Modron and Morgan are similar in that they both take on a dual nature: they are seen as beautiful women in one instance and frightful women who foretell death in another (Loomis, Wales, 123).
Paton’s case for Morgan’s origin seems to reveal the strongest connection to the goddess and seems more plausible. Paton basically makes four arguments for the connection of Morgan’s origin and the Morrigan. She believes that “both were supernatural women with powers of shapeshifting” and “both displayed discordant attitudes toward the hero” (Paton 281). While these arguments are not totally convincing, they offer us the best possible explanation for Morgan’s origin after considering the very little information we have today. Despite these similarities between Morgan and the Morrigan, the remaining problem is that we really do not know about Morgan’s true origin because Celtic mythology and religion are sketchy and questionable. There are definite holes in the information and evidence we have today; as a result, we cannot make any definite arguments for or even against Morgan’s beginnings in the Celtic era.
Chapter 3 : Morgan le Fay in Medieval Texts
Many Arthurian scholars agree that the earliest reference to Morgan le Fay occurs in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Vita Merlini, written around 1148. Geoffrey is thought to have been born at Monmouth, which is in southeast Wales (Lacy 36). He was of Celtic ancestry and greatly interested in Brittany and Breton affairs (Lacy 36). As a cleric, between 1129 and 1151 Geoffrey taught at Oxford and “was consecrated bishop of St. Asaph in Wales but probably never went there” (Lacy 36). His first work to emerge was a Latin series called Prophetiae Merlini or Prophecies of Merlin, which were attributed to an “obscure wanderer mentioned in Welsh legend as an inspired madman” (Lacy 36).
Geoffrey later incorporated the Prophecies of Merlin into his major work called the Historia Regum Britanniae or the History of the Kings of Britain (Lacy 36). In this influential book of the Middle Ages, Geoffrey “traces the imagined British monarchy through a long series of kings, and a queen or two” through the beginning of the Roman invasions (Lacy 36). He traces the history of the Britons through the course of nineteen hundred years, starting with the mythical Brutus and ending with Cadwallader, who “finally abandoned Britain to the Saxons in the seventh century” (Monmouth, History, 9). In the History there are three particular personalities that dominate: “Brutus himself, the imaginary founder of the nation …; Belinus, who, with his brother Brennius, is supposed to have captured and sacked Rome; and Arthur of Britain, with his beautiful wife Guinevere, Mordred who betrayed him, and his four brave knights” (Monmouth, History, 19-20). The most influential section of this particular work was the Arthurian portion, which constituted about one-quarter of the entire text (Lacy 39). Also, Arthur is included in over a fifth of the History himself (Monmouth, History, 20).
While Geoffrey’s works are deemed very influential, they cannot be considered true facts of history. Much of his historical information does not match up with known history, especially the Roman period (Lacy 39). However, Geoffrey cannot be labeled a total fantasist because this same checking against known history “shows that he uses history, exaggerating, inflating, contorting, inverting, but seldom fabricating at any length out of nothing at all” (Lacy 39). It is thought that he utilized the Historia Brittonum and the possibly the Annales Cambriae and drew upon Roman authors and on Gildas and Bede (Lacy 39-40). Another possible source that Geoffrey mentions came from Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford (Chambers 53). Walter was “a learned rhetorician and student of foreign history” and gave Geoffrey an ancient book written in the British language that told of the matters of kings “from Brutus down to Cadwallader” (Chambers 53). It is this particular book that Geoffrey claims to have translated to come up with his History (Lacy 40). However, the essential problem is that we do not possess this book, and as John Lloyd states, “no Welsh composition exists which can be reasonably looked upon as the original” (Monmouth, History, 15).
In his Vita Merlini, Geoffrey mentions several details of the land Morgan inhabits and of Morgan herself. The island of Avalon, which is later distinctly connected to Morgan, is not explicitly mentioned in this work; however, Monmouth does refer to Morgan’s paradise as the “Island of Apples” or “The Fortunate Island,” which takes on acutely similar characteristics of the actual Avalon seen in later works (Monmouth 101). This land “produces all manner of plants spontaneously. It needs no farmers to plough the fields. There is no cultivation of the land at all beyond that which is Nature’s work” (Monmouth 101). In this land “men live a hundred years or more” and women inhabit this island (Monmouth 101).
It is directly after the description of this prospering, mystical land that Monmouth refers directly to Morgan as one of the rulers of the land and mentions her healing abilities. Monmouth claims that “The one who is first among them has greater skill in healing, as her beauty surpasses that of her sisters. Her name is Morgen, and she has learned the uses of all plants in curing the ills of the body” (Monmouth 101). Not only is Morgan capable of healing, but she also takes on the trait of shape-shifter. Morgan “knows, too, the art of changing her shape, of flying through the air, like Daedalus, on strange wings. At will, she is now at Brest, now at Chartres, now at Pavia; and at will she glides down from the sky on to your shores” (Monmouth 101). In addition, Morgan becomes a teacher to her sisters on “The Fortunate Isle” when she is said to have “taught astrology to her sisters” (Monmouth 101).
In the Vita Merlini, Monmouth’s portrayal of Morgan as a generous, magical healer remains prominent in the scene directly following her description where Arthur is taken to the island after being wounded in the battle of Camlan (Monmouth 103). Morgan “received us with due honor. She put the king in her chamber on a golden bed, uncovered his wound with her noble hand and looked long at it” (Monmouth 103). Morgan tells the knight who bore Arthur to “The Fortunate Isle” that “he could be cured if only he stayed with her a long while and accepted her treatment” (Monmouth 103). It is important to note that not only is Morgan capable of healing Arthur, but she is entirely trusted to do so and Arthur’s safety is never questioned. Monmouth states, “We therefore happily committed the king to her care and spread our sails to favourable winds on our return journey” (Monmouth 103). Monmouth’s portrayal of Morgan in the Vita Merlini clearly illustrates a shape-shifter, a wise woman, and an untainted, trustworthy healer that desires to heal Arthur’s wounds. It seems that Monmouth was adhering to Celtic tradition, rather than creating a character entirely distant from her possible origin.
Morgan’s second appearance occurs within Chretien de Troyes’ Erec and Enide, written around 1150. Chretien is said to have taken “most of his characters and incidents from the oral Celtic Arthurian tradition” (Wright 5). As a result, like in Monmouth’s Vita Merlini, positive characteristics of Morgan are employed in Chretien’s work. Chretien de Troyes, during the period of French verse romances, “stresses her remarkable healing powers” (Spivack 18). In this particular work, Morgan’s healing powers are mentioned when Erec arrives near the tent of King Arthur and is in desperate need of healing ointments (Chretien, Arthurian Romances, 89). In Erec and Enide, Erec has endured many hardships in his journey with his wife Enide, and, when King Arthur notices Erec’s wounds, he suggests using Morgan’s healing ointment (Chretien, Arthurian Romances, 89). Chretien states that,
The king sighed deeply, then had an ointment brought which his sister Morgan had made. The ointment that Morgan had given Arthur was so wonderfully effective that the wound to which it was applied, whether on nerve or joint, could not fail to be completely cured and healed within a week, provided it was treated with the ointment once a day. They brought the ointment to the king and it brought great relief to Erec (Arthurian Romances 89).
From this passage, it remains evident that Morgan’s healing powers are limitless in their abilities to heal. Chretien points out that the amount of time it takes for the ointment to cure is about a week if applied daily, which when compared with the long-term healing process needed in the Vita Merlini seems like a fairly short time. This shorter healing time mainly illustrates Morgan’s remarkable healing abilities. In addition, not only does Chretien view Morgan as a positive figure, but Arthur also seems to respect and turn to Morgan for her ability to heal or cure the wounded. Morgan’s healing powers are not limited to Arthur, rather her powers have been extended to other knights in need.
The relationship between Arthur and Morgan remains positive and unblemished in Erec and Enide. More importantly, the relationship between Arthur and Morgan is one of kinship in Chretien’s work: Morgan is said to be Arthur’s sister. The reasoning behind generating the kinship between Morgan and Arthur is unknown, and “we find nothing before Chretien that gives any trace of her mundane kinship” (Paton 136). However, Lucy Paton suggests that Morgan’s connection with Arthur is “primarily romantic and mythical” (136). Their relationship may have been the result of “some scrupulous narrator” that transformed Arthur’s journey to Avalon and stay with a “beautiful fay” into a visit with his sister who tended his wounds, which created an unsatisfactory depiction of Arthur as a king (Paton 137). On the other hand, the creation of kinship between Morgan and Arthur may have been merely an invention of Chretien himself.
In Chretien’s Yvain, Morgan also appears as a healing figure of Yvain’s madness. In this particular work, a maid finds Yvain laying naked in the forest, as if he has gone mad, and reports this news to her lady (Chretien, Arthurian Romances, 331-332). The lady recalls the ointment of Morgan and says,
Now don’t worry, because if he doesn’t run away I feel sure that with God’s help we can drive all the madness and turmoil from his head. But we must set off at once, for I recall an ointment given me by Morgan the Wise; she told me that it could drive from the head any madness, however great (Chretien, Arthurian Romances, 332).
Again, we see that Morgan’s healing powers are limitless. The healing tradition of Morgan has grown since her portrayal in the Vita Merlini. Her power can cure anything, including Yvain’s insanity. Not only does Morgan possess healing powers, but she is portrayed as a considerate woman in Yvain. When the lady and the damsel arrive in Morgan’s town, Morgan generously furnishes them with the ointment, offers them directions on how to use it, and “sent along a bright-coloured gown, a coat, and a mantle of red-dyed silk” (Chretien, Arthurian Romances, 332). In both Erec and Enide and Yvain, then, Morgan possesses the power of healing ointments and uses them to cure knights other than Arthur. The healing tradition is “by now firmly established and will remain one of the most integral parts of her character down to the time of Malory” (Morgan 20).
Furthermore, written between the 12th and 13th century and the first English treatment of the Arthurian legend, Layamon’s Brut includes a character that closely resembles that of Morgan. Layamon’s Brut was based on a French translation of Geoffrey’s History of the Kings of Britain by Wace and called the Brut (Weiss XIII). Essentially, Layamon seems to borrow from Wace’s Brut the idea of Arthur going to Avalon to be healed and of Arthur’s eventual return sometime in the future (Weiss 333). Layamon also probably could have borrowed from Geoffrey the idea of Arthur being taken to “the Isle of Avalon, so that his wounds might be attended to” (Monmouth, History, 261). However, we cannot tell whether Layamon borrowed the name Queen Argante from Geoffrey or Wace; therefore, it may be considered Layamon’s contribution. Even though Layamon’s character, named Argante, is not kin to Arthur in any way, various other similarities to the figure of Morgan remain evident. Argante, like Morgan, is said to be the ruler of the Island of Avalon and nurtures Arthur with her healing powers (Layamon 215). Arthur, after being gravely wounded in battle, explains to his successor Constantine that he will “go to Avalon, to the fairest of maidens, the beautiful elf Queen Argante. She will make my wounds whole, heal me completely with a potion to drink, and afterwards I will return to my kingdom to dwell in joy with the Britons” (Layamon 254). In addition, Argante is introduced as “the beautiful elf Queen,” which emphasizes her ties with the fairy world (Layamon 254). This link to the fairy world undoubtedly seems to connect her even more with the character of Morgan.
Layamon, like Chretien, introduces something unique to the traditions of Morgan le Fay. In his Brut, Layamon creates the motif of the barge of women bearing Arthur to Avalon (254). After Arthur’s statement that he will journey to Avalon and be healed, “two beautiful women approached in a small boat floating on the waves. They took Arthur, placed him gently in the boat, and went forth” (Layamon 254). It is this addition to Morgan’s tradition that appears in later works and that is commonly associated with the figure of Morgan.
The fundamental traditions correlated with Morgen le Fay were primarily entrenched by the end of the twelfth century. Morgan is considered a fay and lives in an Otherworld called Avalon. She is Arthur’s sister, retains a mystical healing power, and possesses great beauty. Of the traditions associated with Morgan, except the idea of kinship with Arthur, all can be connected to the Celtic fairy queen (Morgan 22).
The development that occurred after 1200 can possibly explain Morgan’s transformation in character. Henry Grady Morgan explains that this development,
systematically attempted to humanize the character of Morgan le Fay by making her an integral part of the society and by supplementing her traditional Celtic fairy characteristics with more human characteristics and motivations (23).
The most significant works written after 1200 of this development came from the group of prose romances that are collectively called the French Vulgate cycle. The Vulgate cycle dates around 1215-1235 and “consists of five distinct but interrelated works:” Lancelot, La Queste del saint Graal, La Mort Artu, Estoire del saint Graal, and Merlin (Lacy 82). While the authorship of the Vulgate cycle is unknown, the technique of interlacement utilized throughout provides evidence that each work of the Vulgate cycle was composed by a single author, rather than by multiple authors (Lacy 82). The Vulgate cycle “incorporates an elaborate web of connections, extending backward and forward and tying together numerous characters and stories” (Lacy 82).
In the Vulgate cycle, Morgan loses some of the Celtic fairy traditions that once were integral to her character; as a result, her character “degenerates both in her purposes and in her powers, becoming a malicious master of the black arts, using her magic both to harm others and, somewhat pathetically, to conceal her own advancing age” (Spivack 18). The Celtic fairy traditions that were once connected with Morgan, such as her link to the mystic island of Avalon and the positive use of her healing power, no longer appear in the depiction of her character in the Vulgate cycle. Morgan now lives in a castle, instead of the Otherworld of Avalon. Her magical powers suddenly become tools that are used for evil or manipulative purposes, rather than healing which is seen in earlier works. From this point forward, Morgan also plays more of an integral role in the sequence of events. She is not merely alluded to by characters, but she becomes more active in the plots of the stories.
Part of the Vulgate cycle is the work Lancelot, which “tells at great length and with many divagations the story of his [Lancelot’s] early years and of his passion for Guenevere” (Loomis, The Development, 93). According to Loomis, the Lancelot “is a frank glorification of idealized adultery” (The Development 92). While Morgan’s beauty is commended, she also is portrayed as “ugly, hot (the bodily quality medievals associated with sexuality) and lecherous” (Fries, “Female Heroes,” 69). Fries explains that “Since physical beauty is a coefficient of moral goodness in medieval literature, her darkness emerges as spiritual as well as corporeal;” however, this depends on the context of the work (“Female Heroes,” 69). As Morgan’s beauty diminishes her intents become more and more evil. This particular work portrays Morgan as a character that seeks to unveil the love affair between Lancelot and Guinevere through the manipulation of evil measures.
In the Lancelot, it remains evident that Morgan hates both Arthur and Guinevere and intends to make revenge on Queen Guinevere in some manner. Morgan’s hatred toward Guinevere primarily arrives from the fact that Guinevere separates Morgan from her lover Guiomar, whom is the cousin of Guinevere (Paton 13). Before the Lancelot, Morgan and Guiomar are never brought together in any single occasion. However, the love between Morgan and Guiomar and the trouble that this love affair brings about remains evident from a passage in the Lancelot which illustrates Morgan’s situation and what happens as a result of this love affair.
Morgain is Arthur’s half-sister, lady in waiting upon Guinevere. She cherishes a secret passion for Guiamor de Camelide, a fair and valiant knight, the nephew of Arthur. One day they have a quarrel, and thus attract the queen’s attention. She succeeds in surprising them together, and wishing to turn Morgain from folly, and to avert shame from the lovers and from Arthur, she warns Guiamor that his life is in danger, if Arthur learns of his love for Morgain. He readily renounces the maiden, but she, seeing that he had deserted her for love of the queen, is greatly distressed. Knowing that Merlin can aid her, she goes in search of him, and since he loves her, he teaches her many enchantments. By Guiamor Morgain has a son who becomes a knight of great prowess. Thus begins Morgain’s hatred of the queen (Paton 61).
Because Guinevere has separated Morgan from Guiomar and Arthur would definitely disapprove of his sister’s love affair, on numerous occasions the embittered Morgan seeks to harm Guinevere. Guinevere clearly becomes Morgan’s target of vengeance in many instances.
Morgan imprisons Lancelot numerous times in the Lancelot; however, it is during one of these imprisonments that Morgan seeks to shame both Lancelot and Guinevere by exposing their secret faithlessness. Basically, Morgan performs the act that Guinevere threatened to do to her. During one of his imprisonments, Lancelot “paints pictures of himself and Guinevere on the walls of Morgan’s palace” (Wright 9). Because Morgan thinks that this will unmistakably reveal the secret of Lancelot’s love for Guinevere, Morgan shows Arthur the painting of adulterous love on the palace walls, which makes Arthur aware of Guinevere’s infidelity (Wright 9).
Another such instance where Morgan seeks to reveal Guinevere’s infidelity is seen when Morgan takes a ring from Lancelot (Morgan 31). While imprisoned, Morgan notices a ring that Lancelot wears, which was given to him by the queen, Guinevere (Morgan 31). Morgan asks for the ring, but Lancelot refuses to hand it over to Morgan (Morgan 31). As a result, Morgan waits until Lancelot is asleep, steals the ring, and “sends it to Arthur’s court by a damsel who is instructed to give the ring to Guinevere when all the court is present” (Morgan 31). Moreover, the damsel carries out her duties and “tells Arthur and the court that she has come at the request of Lancelot, who is dead, but who repented of his adultery with the queen, Guinevere” (Morgan 31). When the ring is thrown at Guinevere, she then “admits that it is true that she has given her love to Lancelot,” but claims that her love for Lancelot is solely because of his renown as a knight (Morgan 32). The na�ve Arthur believes Guinevere’s justification, and Morgan’s deceitful act remains unsuccessful.
Many times, as in both cases described, Morgan’s acts of revenge against Guinevere tend to be unsuccessful. Her plans are fruitless in that each plan does not achieve exactly what Morgan wants to accomplish. However, Morgan does succeed, as a whole, in exposing the relationship that remains present between Guinevere and Lancelot. While Morgan does not succeed in getting rid of Guinevere, she does seem to delineate the character of Guinevere in a way that produces a more deceitful, dishonest queen.
Moreover, Morgan makes yet another appearance in the Lancelot when she and two other enchantresses conspire to take Lancelot as a prisoner in order to win his love. Morgan decides to use her enchanted powers to imprison Lancelot; on the other hand, her intention is not to hurt Lancelot, but to almost force him to become her lover. This scheme against Lancelot probably resulted from the fact that Morgan abhorred Guinevere. Morgan’s plans with Lancelot were another way for her to get back at Guinevere. In the prose Lancelot,
Lancelot lies sleeping beneath an apple-tree. The queen of Sorestan, Morgain la fee, and Sebile l’enchanteresse come riding past in state. Morgain, though she is not attended with so much pomp as the queen of Sorestan, is apparently the leading spirit of the trio. Their eyes are keen enough to espy the sleeping knight, and when they detect his beauty, each desires him for her love, and disputes her chances with the others. At Morgain’s suggestion they cast him into an enchanted sleep, and have him carried on a litter to the Chateau de la Charrette which belongs to the queen of Sorestan. There they confine him in a strong and beautiful chamber, where he wakes from the spell. In the morning they bid him choose one of them for his love, or remain a prisoner. Lancelot without embarrassment or gallantry declines to obey. In a rage they leave him. He makes his escape through the agency of a damsel of the castle (Paton 51-52).
From this passage, it remains evident that Morgan is the leader of the enchantresses or “the leading spirit of the trio,” which relates back to the triple goddess aspect of Celtic mythology (Paton 51). Morgan does suggest that they use an enchantment on Lancelot; however, she does not perform the act alone, rather two other women accompany her. Even though Morgan does not specifically harm Lancelot, her actions still seem rather manipulative and removed from the role she once played as a healer.
Similarly, in another part of the prose Lancelot, called the Livre d’ Agravain, Morgan attempts to imprison Lancelot to make him her lover. Once again, she uses some sort of magic to confuse Lancelot and seeks to win his love. Lancelot turns her down again, but leaves her a message that reveals his true feelings about Morgan. In this scene, Lancelot is lured to her castle, she uses a magic potion to put him to sleep, and keeps him prisoner while hoping to win his love. Lancelot refuses all her advances and escapes from prison, “leaving for his would-be love the message that Lancelot du Lac greets the most disloyal woman in the world” (Paton 54). Again, we see that Morgan uses her powers to beguile Lancelot and her success seems to be unavailing. We don’t have to look any farther than the text to find out Lancelot’s feelings towards Morgan: he can’t stand Morgan’s disloyalty.
Other works in the Vulgate cycle that mention Morgan include the prose Merlin and the La Mort Artu. In the prose Merlin, Morgan appears as the prime incarcerator of knights and is portrayed as extremely sexual. She is “the moste hotest woman of all Breteigne, and moste luxuriouse” (Goodrich 97-98). It is also in the prose Merlin that the love affair between Morgan and Guiomar begins to develop. Moreover, in the La Mort Artu Morgan is portrayed as the captor of men and is determined to reveal the love affair of Lancelot and Guinevere by showing Arthur the paintings that Lancelot made while in prison (Frappier 296). She is also one of the ladies on the barge that emerges to bear Arthur away to be healed (Frappier 308).
Furthermore, this same pattern of impeded love appears in the prose Tristan, written around 1230. The Tristan cycle is “to all intents and purposes, a sequel to, and an elaboration of, the French Vulgate cycle” (Vinaver, “Prose Tristan,” 339). Vinaver claims that “The similarities of style and manner are such that, but for the subject-matter, considerable sections of either work could have been incorporated in the other” (“Prose Tristan,” 339). The Vulgate and Tristan cycles also remain comparable in their depiction of Morgan. In the main story of the prose Tristan, “Morgan’s revenge pursues the hero [Tristan] … for having slain her lover Huneson” (Friedman 268). Barton explains that the actions Morgan takes remains the “first time in the romantic tradition where Morgan bears explicit ill will against the hero, and desires to inflict actual harm upon him; and even in this case she is motivated by thwarted love rather than sheer malevolence” (Barton 22).
In the prose Tristan, Morgan employs her magical powers in order to manipulate Alisander Orphelin, a young hero of Cornwall (Paton 55). Like in the Vulgate cycle, Morgan takes on the role of a detainer of men. In the supplementary story of Alisander Orphelin, Morgan seeks to acquire the love of Alisander; however, she must resort to manipulation of him by utilizing her supernatural powers.
After a maiden tells Morgan about Alisander’s “valor and beauty,” Morgan decides that Alisander must be her lover (Paton 55). Morgan proceeds with her plan after Mark “asks Morgain’s aid against him [Alisander]” (Paton 56). Morgan travels to the castle where Alisander has been a victor of a tourney, and she tries to prevent the potential marriage of Alisander to a certain maiden (Paton 56).
Morgan arrives at the castle only to find that Malagrin has lost his head and Alisander has “sixteen great wounds” (Paton 56). Morgan volunteers to heal Alisander’s wounds, but “when she bandages them she applies an irritating salve” (Paton 56). This salve “causes him a night of such torture that … he gladly promises to do all her will provided she will heal him” (Paton 56). Morgan heals Alisander, forbids him to marry the maiden, and after persuading him to follow her she “takes him to a litter before the door, gives him a draught of drugged wine, and within three days brings him safely to Bele Garde, a former castle of her mother’s” (Paton 56-57).
While Morgan “completes his cure” at this castle, she also is fooled by one of her maidens (Paton 57). Morgan’s maiden “promises for his love to betray the castle by night to her uncle who will destroy it by fire; thus Alisander shall be freed” (Paton 57). Alisander promises to defend the castle if the maiden remains true to her word, and when the events work out as predicted, Alisander is freed and “proceeds with his defence of the site of Bele Garde” (Paton 57). Finally, Morgan finds out about the devastation of the castle and “disappears from the story enraged at the tidings of her loss” (Paton 57).
Like in the Vulgate cycle, Morgan has been integrated into a human society, rather than a mystical, fantastic Otherworld. She does not miraculously capture Alisander and win his love instantaneously, but she forces him to accept her love through inflicting pain upon him. Also, Morgan does not transport Alisander by some sort of unknown enchanted means, but she drugs him and takes him away. Furthermore, Alisander’s escape is the result of the help from an ordinary maiden of Morgan’s, not through any sort of supernatural means. Morgan seems to become more human when her supernatural powers are limited. One trait that Morgan displays in the prose Tristan that is not typical of the Vulgate cycle is the characteristic of a healer; however, she uses her healing abilities in order to gain the benefit of Alisander’s love, which is not typical of her role as a traditional healer.
Following the French Vulgate cycle and written around 1215, the Suite du Merlin illustrates more clearly Morgan’s destructive actions against Arthur (Morgan 33). The Suite du Merlin was often referred to as the Huth Merlin, because of its origination in the Huth manuscript (Bogdanow 325). It was “composed to fit into a larger whole”: it refers to the Estoire del Saint Graal and forecasts several events in the Queste del Saint Graal and the Mort Artu (Bogdanow 328-329). The Suite was also a continuation of the prose Merlin, and it “recounts such events as Arthur’s acquisition of Excalibur, Mordred’s birth, and the enchantment of Merlin by Niniane” (Lacy 79). The Suite du Merlin “repeatedly claims Robert de Borron as its author;” however, the author of the Suite is actually anonymous (Bogdanow 326 and 334).
With the character of Morgan, the Suite du Merlin creates a new tradition: Morgan’s embittered, unmerciful hostility toward Arthur. In this particular work, Morgan not only works against Arthur, but aspires to take his life. Her motives for harming Arthur appears to come from the events that unfold in the prose Merlin. When the love affair between Morgan and Guiomar becomes known to Arthur and Guinevere, they demand that Morgan and Guiomar dispel the love affair; as a result, Morgan becomes extremely violent and vengeful. Basically, the Suite reiterates the conflict in the prose Merlin, and this hostility is the main reason why Morgan now seeks to kill Arthur. Morgan’s maliciousness reaches its highest level in the Suite du Merlin. In addition, the Suite goes into more detail on the already established tradition of Morgan’s shape-shifting capabilities.
In the Suite, Morgan not only endangers Arthur’s life, but she causes the death of her lover, Accolon. The events leading up to the battle scene illustrate Morgan’s powers of enchantment. In her summarization of a scene of the Suite, Paton says,
In the course of a stag-hunt, Arthur, Urien (Morgains’s husband), and Accalon of Gaul, her lover, are separated from their companions. Toward nightfall they find the wounded stag on the bank of a river, an easy victim for the king’s blow. Suddenly they espy a beautiful vessel, silken-hung, speeding toward them down the stream. As soon as it touches shore they go aboard, and are gladly welcomed by twelve damsels, who lead them to luxurious couches for the night (14).
When the three men awake in the morning, they find themselves separated in three different places: Urien remains in Camelot with Morgan, Accolon remains in “a meadow near a sparkling fountain not far from a great tower,” and Arthur is imprisoned in a tower with other knights (Paton 14). Accolon is given the authentic Excalibur by one of Morgan’s dwarfs and is told to “use it in a certain battle that she appoints for him on the following day” (Paton 14). Meanwhile, Arthur is given a replica of Excalibur, which Morgan manufactured herself (Paton 14). Arthur offers to fight for the lord of the tower in which he is imprisoned and does not realize that the plan has been devised by Morgan (Paton 14).
On the morning of the battle, Arthur and Accolon do not seem to recognize each other and begin to fight. As a result of obtaining the true Excalibur, Accolon attains the upper hand and almost slays Arthur, but the Dame du Lac intervenes and “casts an enchantment upon Excalibur” which causes the true Excalibur to fall out of Accolon’s hands (Paton 14). After retrieving his sword, Arthur begins to overcome Accolon, but eventually “learns his opponent’s name and the part that Morgain has played in the affair” (Paton 14). While both Arthur and Accolon have their wounds cared for, Accolon ultimately dies and Arthur “sends his body to Morgain, with the message that he has Excalibur in his own possession” (Paton 15).
Wanting revenge on Arthur, Morgan “hastens to the convent where Arthur is staying; she makes her way to his chamber, and finds him sleeping sword in hand” and steals Arthur’s scabbard because she knows that while he possesses the scabbard he can lose no blood (Paton 15). Morgan’s knowledge of this scabbard comes from the fact that she made this scabbard in Avalon and knows what kind of power it holds. When Arthur eventually realizes what Morgan has done, he chases Morgan across the country to retrieve the scabbard (Paton 15). Knowing that she is being tracked by Arthur, Morgan “flings the scabbard far into the depths of a lake near at hand” (Paton 15). Likewise, Morgan’s shape-shifting abilities become apparent when she then turns herself and the maidens with her into stone to escape Arthur (Paton 15). Arthur “recognizes her in her altered form and looks with horror on the fate that has overtaken her” and “When he has passed by, she breaks the spell and goes on her way” (Paton 15). Later, Morgan sends Arthur a letter that says “she is a shapeshifter and would have done something worse to him but for the protection that the Dame du Lac exercises over him” (Paton 15).
These particular scenes of the Suite du Merlin clearly show Morgan’s manipulative, evil intents. Morgan uses her powers to lure Arthur, Urien, and Accolon to the enchanted barge and persuades them to stay aboard by the enticement of beautiful damsels. Morgan’s intent on killing Arthur seems evident when Arthur awakes to find himself in prison and when she provides Accolon with the genuine Excalibur and leaves Arthur with an imitation Excalibur. Even though Morgan fails to harm Arthur in the battle scene, she does succeed later in seizing and discarding Arthur’s scabbard, which serves as his protection from being killed.
Moreover, the Suite du Merlin also emphasizes a third tradition connected with Morgan: prophecy. Before the Suite du Merlin, no other work assigns the power of prophecy to Morgan, with the slight exception of her predicting Arthur’s restoration in the Vita Merlini. Henry Grady Morgan speculates on the reason Morgan assumes the powers of prophecy in the Vita Merlini and the Suite du Merlin by saying,
Perhaps, the presence of the prophetic power of Morgan in these two works can be attributed to the fact that both works, as their titles suggest, are devoted to Merlin, the chief prophet in all the Arthurian works, and that the prophetic power was hence at the front of the minds of the writers of these two works (35-36). Because there are no surviving works that explain the reasoning for allowing Morgan to take on prophetic powers, a definite answer cannot be conveyed for this problem. Morgan’s prophetic powers become evident in one particular scene in the Suite du Merlin. After Arthur’s pursuit of Morgan, “Morgan turns herself back into her former shape and returns to Gore. There she places a book which foretells the manner of the deaths of Gawain and Arthur into a tomb” (Morgan 35). Prophecy becomes part of the tradition that is associated with Morgan’s character but it is not as prominent as other traditions that are connected to her. Basically, the Suite du Merlin contributes two particular aspects to Morgan’s tradition: the love affair with Accolon and her overwhelming hostility toward Arthur, which causes the death of Accolon.
In the English romance called Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Morgan’s intentions are not as evil as in the Suite du Merlin; however, the malevolence of her character that emerged in the French romances obviously exists within the poem. In the poem, Morgan is the instigator of the trouble in King Arthur’s court and part of her goal is to frighten Guinevere to death through the image of the fantastic Green Knight (Friedman 260). It is important to note that in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Morgan wishes to shame Arthur and his court, not to entirely destroy them. While Morgan is certainly hostile to Arthur and his court, the hatred that Morgan had for Arthur in the Suite du Merlin does not seem to exist in the poem. However, Morgan does intend to frighten Guinevere to death, which illustrates the bitterness that Morgan still has for Guinevere.
The opening lines of the poem do not reveal the vindictive scheme that has been created or even who is behind the events occurring. During the festive Christmas time, a Green Knight appears in Arthur’s court and essentially states that he wants to challenge a knight of the Round Table in a beheading game (Sir Gawain 27-28). When the Green Knight says “there is no man here to match me � their might is so feeble,” Arthur instantly jumps to defend his court, but Gawain then implores that he should take on the challenge (Sir Gawain 27-29). Gawain succeeds in beheading the Green Knight and is then told by the severed head to “go as thou vowedst, and as faithfully seek till thou find me, good sir, as thou hast promised in this place in the presence of these knights” (Sir Gawain 32-33). From this point on, Gawain finds himself endlessly searching for the Green Knight. Finally, Gawain reaches the point where he pleads for some sort of lodging and instantly a castle appears before him (Sir Gawain 41-42). Gawain’s quest is then interrupted when he stays at Sir Bertilak’s castle to rest, and it is at this castle that Gawain’s honesty, courage, and piety are tested.
After Gawain fails these tests, he finds out that the Green Knight is actually Sir Bertilak, the lord of the castle, under an enchantment by none other than Morgan le Fay (Sir Gawain 95). Sir Bertilak says “Bertilak de Hautdesert hereabouts I am called, [who thus have been enchanted and changed in my hue] by the might of Morgan le Fay that in my mansion dwelleth, and by cunning of lore and crafts well learned” (Sir Gawain 95). Bertilak then explains the origin of Morgan’s powers when he says, “The magic arts of Merlin she many hath mastered; for deeply in dear love she dealt on a time with that accomplished clerk, as at Camelot runs the fame; and Morgan the Goddess is therefore now her name” (Sir Gawain 95). Likewise, Bertilak also claims that Morgan’s powers cannot be challenged by stating that “None power and pride possess too high for her to tame” (Sir Gawain 95). Morgan’s grand scheme is then revealed with Sir Bertilak’s words to Gawain:
She made me go in this guise to your goodly court to put its pride to the proof, if the report were true that runs of the great renown of the Round Table. She put this magic upon me to deprive you of your wits, in hope Guinevere to hurt, that she in horror might die aghast at that glamoury that gruesomely spake with its head in its hand before the high table. She it is that is at home, that ancient lady; she is indeed thine own aunt, Arthur’s half-sister, daughter of the Duchess of Tintagel on whom doughty Sir Uther after beget Arthur, who in honour is now (Sir Gawain 95).
This scene clearly exposes the intent of Morgan le Fay; however, there are other instances where her character emerges without the reader actually being informed. When Gawain first enters the castle, he is treated to a feast and meets a fair lady and “leading her by the left hand another lady was there who was older than she, indeed ancient she seemed, and held in high honour by all men about her” (Sir Gawain 48). When describing the old lady, the Gawain poet attempts to illustrate the profound difference that she displays from the younger lady. He states, “But unlike in their looks those ladies appeared, for if the younger was youthful, yellow was the elder” (Sir Gawain 48). The older lady had “rough wrinkled cheeks rolled on the other” and “was clad with a cloth that enclosed all her neck” (Sir Gawain 48). Moreover, he asserts that “enveloped was her black chin with chalk-white veils, her forehead folded in silk, and so fumbled all up” (Sir Gawain 48). In addition, the lady was “so topped up and trinketed and with trifles bedecked that naught was bare of that beldame but her brows all black, her two eyes and her nose and her naked lips, and those were hideous to behold and horribly bleared” (Sir Gawain 48). Also, the old lady’s status is disclosed when the poet says, “the old ancient woman was highest at table, meetly to her side the master he took him” (Sir Gawain 49).
The older lady described in these particular scenes is later introduced as Morgan le Fay. The Gawain poet clearly emphasizes that the woman is old, yet stately. Being highest at the table and adorned with trinkets, it seems that Morgan clearly takes on a high status among the people of the castle. While this description of Morgan seems to make clear her old age, we also can detect that the Gawain poet is highlighting her dark qualities somewhat. The Gawain poet states, “but her brows all black, her two eyes and her nose and her naked lips, and those were hideous to behold and horribly bleared” (Sir Gawain 48). We do not necessarily see that Morgan’s intentions are destructive and manipulative at this point, and the Gawain poet does not point out that her appearance affects her actions; however, it is important to note that the Gawain poet is more concerned with deceptive appearances.
Some scholars have suggested that Morgan’s actual role in the structure and development of the story is not essential to the poem. Many argue that Morgan appears too late in the story and her lack of appearance within the story takes away from the fact that the whole plot is attributed to her. Such critics include Albert Friedman, G.L. Kittredge, and many older commentators. In other words, because she hides behind the scenes, some scholars believe that she plays much more of a minor part in the story.
Yet, in the end Sir Bertilak reveals that Morgan is the grand conspirator behind the scenes. Therefore, Morgan’s role is integral to the entire story. Though Morgan is not actually seen throughout the story, her presence seems to be enduring because she does arrange the events that take place. A possible reason for the Gawain poet not making Morgan mentioned more in the story could be that Morgan’s continual physical appearance within the story was not needed. Fisher claims that the Gawain poet “deliberately leaves Morgan aside, positioning her at the end of the narrative when she is, in fact, its means: the agent of Gawain’s testing” (78). The poem, by merely mentioning Morgan as the instigator, did not need more of an explanation for the ending. Possibly the Gawain poet believed that Morgan’s reputation would be enough to warrant the ending of the poem when she is attributed with being the sole agitator of the problems of King Arthur’s court. However, it is important to remember that there are several instances in the poem where Gawain sets eyes on Morgan and does not recognize her, even though she is his aunt. Keeping this in mind, it seems that the Gawain poet sought to play upon the deceptive element in the poem, which is also seen with the disguise of Sir Bertilak. Morgan’s traditional reputation was well-known by this point, so the Gawain poet did not need to improve upon this already established view of her character. Her integrity had been indicated in previous texts and the Gawain poet sought to play on tradition.
There are several traditions that the Gawain poet adhered to in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. We know by Bertilak’s statement to Gawain that Morgan is the half-sister of Arthur. Bertilak states, “she is indeed thine own aunt, Arthur’s half-sister” (Sir Gawain 95). That Morgan is related to Arthur is no surprise because previous texts, such as Chretien’s Erec and Enide and the Vulgate Lancelot, alluded to some sort of relationship also. Moreover, Morgan is cast in the testing role in the poem, which is also seen in the prose Tristan when Morgan attempts to send the magic drinking horn to Arthur’s court. Her purpose in sending the Green Knight to Arthur’s court is to test the prestige of the Round Table. Bertilak’s statement clearly proves this claim true when he says that Morgan wanted to “put its pride to the proof, if the report were true that runs of the great renown of the Round Table” (Sir Gawain 95). Thirdly, Morgan’s hatred for Guinevere is apparent. Bertilak unveils Morgan’s goal when he states, “She put this magic upon me to deprive you of your wits, in hope Guinevere to hurt, that she in horror might die aghast at that glamoury that gruesomely spake with its head in its hand” (Sir Gawain 95).
Lastly, we see that the Gawain poet acknowledged that Morgan had powers to heal and change the shape of people. Morgan’s healing powers are seen in previous texts, such as Monmouth’s Vita Merlini, Chretien’s Yvain, and the prose Tristan. Also, Morgan’s shape-shifting abilities are previously seen in the Suite du Merlin. When Bertilak is disguised as the Green Knight and Gawain decapitates him, Morgan’s powers allow Bertilak to conveniently recover. Morgan’s ability to change the shape of people is obvious with Bertilak’s changing from “this great man guised all in green” and “the largest man alive” into a courteous, loving, mortal host who accepts Gawain into his castle (Sir Gawain 23-24). Because all of these traditions were firmly attached to Morgan before the emergence of the Gawain poet, Morgan’s role and motivation in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight would have been self-explanatory to most readers.
Written around 1469 or 1470, Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur adopts the character of Morgan that resembles the Morgan developed in the French tradition. Vinaver points out that many of Malory’s works were based upon French works, such as the Prose Lancelot and the Prose Tristan (“Sir Thomas” 544-545). As a result, we see parallels between specific scenes in Malory’s works and scenes depicted in the French works. In addition, Vinaver says of Malory that, “With great consistency, though with varying degrees of success, he endeavored to disentangle from his sources a series of self-contained stories” (“Sir Thomas” 545). Malory’s romances may have been written as several separate stories, and not one complete work (Barton 35). As a result, the overall depiction of Morgan in the Le Morte D’Arthur remains inconsistent (Barton 35). While in one instance Morgan plays the role of the evil enchantress, in another instance she may display her benevolent healing powers. Likewise, Barton explains, “All her different guises, however, can be explained as resulting from the variety of Malory’s sources” (35).
While in the Le Morte D’Arthur Malory’s “chief emphasis is upon heroic life and the affairs of men,” women are also idealized and placed in a position of authority (Olstead 128-129). These women provide the main incentives for the men to perform such great deeds; as a result, the women must be “larger than life” and “worthy of such high aspirations” (Olstead 129). Because of this necessity, many are portrayed as supernatural women and remain “extremely suitable for the testing of champions” (Olstead 129). In several of the episodes of the Le Morte D’Arthur, Morgan fulfills the role of a tester. Morgan’s actions are linked to the main themes in the work, and her purpose is to threaten Arthur’s realm (Olstead 130-131).
Several episodes clearly illustrate Morgan’s role in the Le Morte D’Arthur. The first episode that involves Morgan is the fight between Arthur and Accalon, which is taken directly from the Suite du Merlin. Olstead claims, “the importance of the episode is that it introduces narrative and thematic tensions having broad implications for the entire legend” (134). In this episode, Malory adheres to his source, the Suite du Merlin; however, there are parts that are clearly different from the Suite: Accalon is seen as “more of a traitor for fighting against his liege lord” and Morgan is provided “with the additional motivation for her scheme of jealousy of Arthur’s power” (Barton 36). Olstead states that because Arthur’s “reign is secure” and “the Order of the Round Table, is established,” Malory decided that new conflict was necessary (132). As a result, Morgan was able to fulfill this need but also in a way that did not “bring Arthur’s achievements into question” (Olstead 132). In Malory’s version of the conflict, Morgan appears as the strongest and most persistent threat to Arthur’s Round Table (Olstead 132).
In later episodes in which Morgan appears, her role is mainly the captor of knights and her purpose is death, not love for the knight (Olstead 135). However, a particular episode where this is not the case is seen in the episode of the drinking horn. The drinking horn is supposed to be sent to Arthur in order to test the fidelity of and shame Guinevere; however, Lamorak intervenes and has the horn sent to King Mark in order to shame Sir Tristram and reveal his love affair with Isoud (Malory 363-364). The drinking horn episode is significant for two reasons: “it shifts the object of Morgan’s hatred from Arthur to Guinevere and Lancelot and allies her with the degraded King Mark” (Olstead 135-136).
Moreover, by including the contrasting figures of Morgan and the Lady of the Lake, Malory adds more of an evil element to Morgan’s character. The contrast of these two women is not a new idea: the prose Prophecies suggests the existence of an opposition between the women (Olstead 133). However, because Malory includes the Lady of the Lake into the episode and contrasts their magical skills in such a direct manner, “they become more clearly than ever before symbolic embodiments of evil and good” (Olstead 133). The opposition between Morgan and the Lady of the Lake and their actions within the plot make the reader more interested in the individual character and create suspense within the episodes (Olstead 136). Basically, the extreme opposition that Malory creates between the two women makes Morgan seem much more evil, especially when compared to and seen alongside the virtuous Lady of the Lake.
While Malory indeed borrows much of his material for the Le Morte D’Arthur from the French tradition, he also makes several alterations in order to select those episodes and themes that would best suit his own work. Malory’s main intention was to give Morgan a functional role in his work and to try to eliminate some of the inconsistencies in her character. Morgan’s actions were tied directly to the central themes and her assignment was clearly defined: to serve as a threat to Arthur’s realm. While Morgan definitely fulfilled her assignment throughout the Le Morte D’Arthur, the ending of the work fails to adhere to Malory’s intentions with her character. In the closing chapters, Morgan comes to Arthur in his greatest need and takes him away to Avalon to be healed (Malory 517). Morgan suddenly becomes “Morgan the Wise, Arthur’s sister, the magical lady of healing” in this scene, which is quite the opposite of Malory’s depiction of Morgan in all the prior episodes (Olstead 137). Perhaps, Morgan’s change in character occurs because “blood is thicker than water” or because “tradition decrees it” (Olstead 137). Whatever the case may be, it is clear that Malory was faced with many inconsistencies in the traditions regarding Morgan le Fay.
The traditions attached to the character of Morgan le Fay over many years have essentially created the character we know today. In Monmouth’s Vita Merlini and in Chretien’s Erec and Enide and Yvain, she is a benevolent healer who lives in the magical Otherworld paradise. However, through the process of humanizing her character in the French Vulgate Cycle, Morgan changes drastically. She becomes the sister or half-sister of Arthur and utilizes her magical powers in evil ways. She is depicted as a woman who pursues love but in the wrong ways, such as in the case of Lancelot. Her character is one that is more human-like in attitude and motivation. For example, she hates Guinevere only because of her interference in Morgan’s love affair with Guiomar. Furthermore, in the Suite du Merlin she aspires to kill Arthur, and in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight she attempts to bring about Guinevere’s death. Finally, in Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur Morgan is placed within the text only to threaten Arthur and to test the men within Arthur’s kingdom. Tracing Morgan’s origin back to the Celtic goddess is just as problematic as unraveling the traditions that are attached to her character. We can only speculate why these authors portrayed Morgan in these various ways, and we can only rely on speculation in discovering her origin. However, something we can say about Morgan is that her character seems to have greatly evolved over time and has been shaped and determined by the authors who have included her in their works.
Weiss, Judith. Wace’s Roman de Brut: A History of the British. University of Exeter Press, 1999.
Wentz, W.Y. Evans. The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries. England: Colin Smythe Ltd., 1977.
Wright, Richard N. “The Development of Morgan Le Fay’s Character in Arthurian Literature.” Bachelor’s thesis, Emory University, 1986.
Chapter 4 : Morgan Le Fay by Susa Morgan Black , FSA Scot. Medieval Story
The contemporary stories of Morgan le Fay are based on Christianized versions found in the Medieval writings of the Vulgate and Malory. She is depicted as an evil and lusty enchantress who tricks her brother, good King Arthur, into an incestuous relationship with her, resulting in the unnatural birth of their son, Mordred. She tricks Arthur’s wizard, Merlin, into divulging his magical secrets to her, then disposes of him inside the trunk of a tree, or a crystal cave. She sows the seeds of discontent with gossip against Lancelot and Queen Guinevere, steals the magical sword, Excalibur with it’s healing scabbard, plots the death of Arthur with her various lovers, and ultimately contributes to the dissolution of the Round Table. Yet, even in this version, Morgan was one of the three queens that retrieved Arthur’s fatally wounded body from the Battle of Camlan on Salisbury Plain, and returned with him to the holy Isle of Avalon to heal him, for he is the Once and Future King, destined to return from the timeless fairy island when Britain is in need of him. Marian Zimmer Bradley rescues Morgan le Fay from the Medieval sources, and tells the story from Morgan’s own point of view, as recently seen in the excellent movie, The Mists of Avalon, based on her novel. Celtic Story Morgan was a Celtic Queen. One of the definitions of the name Morgan is “Great Queen” (Mohr Righan), which may have been an ancient royal title. The early Celts were matriarchal, and during the transition from matriarch to patriarchy, they went by Druidic tanist law, meaning the kingship was inherited by the King’s eldest sister’s son (according to Evangeline Walton’s version of the Mabinogian). Mordred was the true heir to the throne by ancient law, not because he was Arthur’s son, but because he was Arthur’s nephew. (After all, if Guenevere had given birth, whose child would it have been – Arthur’s or Lancelot’s?) The Christian clerics, who supported the patriarchal law of primogenitor (direct inheritance from father to eldest son within the bonds of marriage), changed the facts of the story, making Mordred the product of an unholy, incestuous union between brother and sister in order to invalidate Mordred’s legitimacy and destroy the remnants of the once powerful matriarchal system. Celtic Triple Goddess But Morgan is far older than the Medieval Arthurian legends. Her name appears in all Celtic lands – Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England, Mann, Cornwall, and Brittany. As far away as Italy, She is called Fata Morgana which describes the mirages seen near the Straights of Messina. Morgan’s castle is said to be located under the water. I believe She is the one of the oldest Celtic Goddesses, who traveled with the Celtic people across the continent of Europe. There is even a vampire character in Polish folklore called “Morgano” which may be a distant remnant of Her. Morgan is the third aspect of the sacred triad of the Triple Goddess, the essence of the powerful Crone, Warrioress, Seductress. Although She is an elder Goddess, she is still magnificent in appearance – often beautiful but frightening. In many of the tales, such as Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight, she can change her appearance from an ancient hag to a beautiful maiden. Irish Goddess of War and Death In Ireland, She is called Morrighan (or Morrigu), the Goddess of Battles and Death. She is a Queen among the Tuatha de Danaan. She is a shapeshifter who can take the shape of a raven or crow at battle sites, where She is Chooser of the Slain. In legend, She trained and armed some of Ireland’s greatest warriors, including Chuchulain. She is said to have mated with the Irish God Dagda while straddling a river. The sensuous Battle Goddess seduced many Irish heroes and Gods. The Morrigan is also known as the Washer at the Ford or the Washer of Shrouds. She is seen washing the armor of warriors in a stream, wailing and prophesying their deaths. (Many of Her legends take place near water). She is associated with the bean sidhe (banshee), the wailing women who prophesy death and sometimes take the shape of ravens. The Morrigan was also a Seer, who prophesied the future. She is sometimes called the Triple Goddess – with Her other aspects being Badb, Macha, and Nemain. Scottish Tales The treacherous whirlpool in the Inner Hebrides, commonly known as the Corryveckan, is also known as “Morrigan’s Cauldron”. Manx Tale In Manx, there is a legend of a mermaid who lived in a creek on the Isle of Man. A young boatman fell in love with her and brought her an offering of apples, even planting an apple tree near the shore for her. It is said that he eventually left, and she wandered the shores looking form him in vain. Apples and Mermaids are both signatures of Morgan’s many folktales. Lady of the Lake In Breton, France, Morgens are sea-women, water spirits or mermaids. The name Morgan has also been translated as “of the sea” (muirgen) and is one of the names for the Lady of the Lake. She is associated with both Vivianne and Nimue, who are also known as the Lady of the Lake. The western sea (the Atlantic Ocean) is where Her island of Avalon (also known as Ynys Avallach, the Isle of Apples and the Fortunate Isle) is located – where She receives the dead and heals them of their earthly pains. Could the names morgue, mortuary and morte also be related to this Goddess of Death? Avalon is associated with Glastonbury Tor, which some legends say was once a magic island surrounded by water. Morgan is one of the three queens that takes King Arthur’s body to Avalon to heal. As a witch and healer, she is said to know the power of both healing and poisonous herbs. In Avalon, She presided over nine priestess’s who were prophetesses and healers. Avalon is known to have been an oracular center. Some believe that Avalon was a Druidic college for priestesses of women’s mysteries. Certain healing wells are also sacred to Her in Britain – known as Morgan’s wells. In one Arthurian legend, King Uther Pendragon was obsessed with lust for Morgan’s mother, Ygraine. With Merlin’s help, Uther tricked her into sleeping with him by taking on the shape of Ygraine’s husband, the Duke of Gorlois, after he had already murdered the Duke. Her new stepfather could not abide Morgan since she suspected him of his ignoble deed, so Uther sent Morgan to Ygraine’s sister, Viviane – the abbess at the convent on Avalon. Here, safe among the nuns, Morgan was taught the art of sorcery. She furthered her education in magic as a student of Merlin’s when she came to King Arthur’s court. During this transition time between the old religion and the new, the convent could well have been a Druidic college for women.
The Morrigan as Morgan Le Fay, Lady of the Lake, Lady of Avalon and similar identities. I’ll offer this in the form of a conversation – the conversation I so often find myself having when the subject comes up. Here’s how it usually begins:“Morgan Le Fay is obviously a guise of the Morrigan, because their names are so similar, so I work with them as the same Goddess.”Actually, their names only appear similar; they’re actually completely distinct. You see, the Celtic languages branched into two separate families fairly early in their development: the Gallo/Brittonic languages, also known as P-Celtic and including Gaulish, Brittonic and later Welsh, and the Goidelic languages, also known as Q-Celtic, and including Irish and Scots Gaelic (both families also including minor Celtic forms such as Manx, Cornish, Breton, etc.) The name Morrigan comes to us from the Irish Gaelic branch, whereas the name Morgan comes via the Welsh/Brittonic branch. Being manifestations of Celtic language, both branches do retain many related and mutually intelligible word constructions, but Morgan/Morrigan isn’t one of them.The name ‘Morrigan’ comes to us from the Irish Gaelic branch, and is composed of the terms mor (connoting phantom, terror, or the dead) and rígan (queen). The name is also sometimes given a long accented ó: mór (great). Her name can thus be constructed ‘Phantom Queen’ or ‘Great Queen’.The etymology of ‘Morgan Le Fay’, on the other hand, comes from the Welsh/Brittonic branch, and it has nothing to do with queenship. It derives from môr (sea) and gen, from genos, a common Gallo-Brittonic name-suffix meaning ‘born of’ or ‘child of’. Thus Morgan is ‘Sea-Born’, and refers to a spiritual being or Goddess connected with the sea. We see this surviving in folklore about the Morgens or Mari-Morgens, a class of Otherworldly sea-beings from Breton folklore.“But doesn’t Morrigan also translate as ‘Sea Queen’?”No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. The name Morrigan doesn’t appear in Welsh, it appears in Irish. And neither mor nor mór means ‘sea’ in Irish. The word for sea is muir, but there is no evidence at all identifying this as the etymological root of Her name. Nor is the Morrigan anywhere directly linked to the sea in any of the source texts in which Her name appears. Unfortunately, this false etymology has been published in a number of places, and people often assume if it’s in print it must be correct.What about Avalon? Isn’t Avalon the Celtic Otherworld, and so wouldn’t the Morrigan be linked to it?There have been many names for the Celtic Otherworld (or it might be more accurate to say Otherworlds; a topic for another time). Avalon derives from a much later stratum of mythology than the Iron Age period referenced in the Irish mythological literature that describes the Morrigan. Avalon is a British Arthurian literary concept that does not appear until late medieval Grail romances, a fusion of medieval British and French mythologies containing traces of earlier Celtic concepts fully intermixed at that stage with Christian mysticism. Earlier and more Celtic-influenced literature refers to Ynys Afallon, or ‘Isle of Apples’; this may in fact be loosely linked to the Irish Emain Ablach; an island associated with Manannan, a God of the sea and of magic and illusion, among other things.So yes, there are concepts of a Celtic Otherworld appearing in Welsh and Irish lore and linked to the sea (or lakes) and to apples. But nowhere is the Morrigan directly associated with this Isle of Apples concept. And the image of Avalon, as a mysterious lake-bound isle of magic associated with priestesses veiled in blue, pseudo-Druidic symbolism, and a mythical Celtic Goddess-cult… IS NOT FOUND in the late Iron Age Celtic tradition that describes the Morrigan. That Avalon, while beautiful and inspiring, is a fiction. Marion Zimmer Bradley creatively imagined it based on late medieval Grail romance, mixed with some additional Celtic mythology, and liberal amounts of modern Wiccan-style theology and symbolism. I don’t mean to insult anyone – it’s really a lovely archetype and inspires much beautiful and effective spiritual practice today. But it’s not historic and it’s got no real connection to the Morrigan.“Well, the Morrigan is clearly connected to sorcery, and so is Morgan Le Fay.”Yes, the Morrigan is one of the primary Druidesses of the Tuatha De Danann, so of course She performs magic. The Tuatha, you see, are ‘the people of Art’. It’s right there in the first episode where they are introduced in the source texts: we are told that the Tuatha came to Ireland from islands over the sea, where they had learned wisdom and magic and sorcery, and they brought these arts to Ireland. As the Morrigan is one of their Druidesses, She performs all the classic Druidic functions: poetic recitation and incitement; prophecy and seership; recording of deeds and epics; and of course, battle sorcery. But show me a Celtic Goddess who doesn’t use sorcery or magic. That doesn’t make them all Morgan Le Fay.“But the Morrigan is referred to as a ‘Faery’, and that sounds like Morgan Le Fay.”The Morrigan being referred to as a ‘faery’ just means She is an Otherworldly being. This status applies to all of the Tuatha, the tribe of Gods to which She belongs. In their representations in the mythological literature, they are variously described as Gods, as faeries, or as heroes, depending I suppose on which Christian was writing down the lore and how they chose to interpret what they were receiving from the Pagan oral tradition. But regardless, being a faery isn’t a special quality of the Morrigan apart from all the other Tuatha. The lore is full of faery women, many of whom engage in actions reminiscent of Morgan Le Fay, such as healing, hexing, illusions, and transporting people between the earthly realm and the Otherworld. Again, this doesn’t make every faery woman in Celtic mythology an appearance of Morgan Le Fay (or the Morrigan). It means the world of the Celts was peopled with Otherworldly beings of all kinds!“But the Morrigan is associated with streams and rivers, so She’s a water Goddess, like the Lady of the Lake.”To begin with, the Morrigan has no particular association in the Iron Age lore with lakes or sea. We do see a very strong association with streams and rivers, but this doesn’t equate to making Her a water Goddess generally, nor to linking Her to lakes and seas. One of the reasons She frequently appears at rivers is that the rivers are boundaries between different provinces, and when She makes these appearances, it is most often connected to a battle occurring at these boundaries between factions or tribes. For the same reason, most of Cu Chulainn’s important combats take place at fords of rivers; but we wouldn’t on that basis conclude that he is a water God!In the Celtic imaginal landscape, bodies of water generally are liminal places – boundaries of sovereignty, as well as gateways to the Otherworld. Thus, a great many significant events in the mythological literature take place at river fords, lakes and the shores of the sea. This reflects into the stories of nearly all the Irish Gods. In addition, these bodies of water also carry life-giving qualities of watering the land and providing fertility, fish, and other aquatic produce. Rivers in particular are strongly connected with female power in much of the lore. Thus, throughout all the Celtic lands, we consistently find rivers named for Goddesses, and some lakes, too. Given the predominance of rivers and lakes named for Celtic Goddesses, there are actually remarkably few carrying any name connected to the Morrigan. Because, while water bodies are everywhere associated with female power and the Otherworld generally, they are not directly linked to Her particular functions.“But isn’t the Lady of the Lake a sovereignty figure, like the Morrigan? What about the sword?”Yes, clearly the myth of the Lady of the Lake offering the sword to King Arthur is a form of sovereignty myth. But you see, that’s not enough to equate her with the Morrigan. Sovereignty attributes can be traced within many Celtic Goddesses, and obviously no one would claim they all are the Morrigan. The sovereignty figure is a fundamental form of the Celtic conception of female divine power. It tells us that the Celts understood sovereignty as a power arising from the land, conferred through the action of a female divinity. That doesn’t mean all female characters who carry the power of sovereignty are the same Goddess. It means that relation to sovereignty is a crucial element of female divine power, and is therefore carried by many of the Celtic Goddesses, taking a distinct shape with each based on Her particular sphere of concern and mode of action. The Morrigan’s form of sovereignty is the form it takes when it is called upon to defend itself, when it becomes martial, protective, and warlike. She is female divinity and sovereignty in the shape of battle. But we cannot conclude from Her sovereignty connection that any female figure offering sovereignty in folklore is the Morrigan.“But I work with Morgan Le Fay as an aspect of the Morrigan, and She’s real to me. Are you telling me my practice is invalid?”No, I would never presume to judge what another’s personal spiritual practice should be for them, unless I’ve been asked my opinion. I see nothing wrong with Pagan folk venerating both the Morrigan and Morgan Le Fay, or any other combination of deities, within their personal practice if that works for them. I am saying that there is not significant historical or literary evidence to support interpreting Morgan Le Fay as an appearance or ‘guise’ of the Morrigan. I am saying that there is not evidence for the Morrigan having any direct or significant historical link to the medieval folklore of Avalon and the Lady of the Lake.I’m not here to tell anyone that their personal experiences are false if they’re experiencing these two as one deity. But I would like to suggest that if your personal experience is substantially at odds with the body of available evidence about the origins and nature of a deity, it might be wise to look more carefully at how you are interpreting your experiences. And I definitely think anyone teaching or publishing about these deities needs to take into account the whole body of evidence.
Part II: Lady of the Lake- Celtic Mythology
The birth of the Lady of the Lake is almost certainly ancient and pagan, and is usually referred to by variations on the names Nimue or Vivienne. The name Nimue is probably related to Mneme, the shortened form of Mnemosyne, one of the nine water-nymph Muses of Greek and Roman mythology who furnished weapons – as does the Lady of the Lake – to Perseus, the beheader of the Gorgon Medusa. Vivienne is thought to derive from the Celtic form Vi-Vianna, derived from Co-Vianna, a variant of the ubiquitous Celtic water-goddess, Coventina. Water deities were common in Celtic mythology, and offerings of weapons and valuable objects in rivers and lakes were extremely common. Even today these practices continue; however, the weapons are thrown into wishing wells, where the Lady of the Lake is called “Lady Luck”! The background stories for Arthurian material — and, thus, for the Lady of the Lake — are seen in the so-called French Vulgate, a prose compilation assembled in the first half of the thirteenth century. It is a collection of a number of other works written by such diverse authors as Geoffrey of Monmouth whose Historia Regum Britanniae of 1138 was then expanded by Wace in Norman French and Layamon in English; individual tales of various Arthurian heroes, as found for example in the romances of Chretien de Troyes; and incomplete works such as Robert de Boron’s Merlin. One lengthy section of the Vulgate cycle is called the prose-Lancelot, which tells the story of the future paladin’s childhood, his coming to King Arthur’s court, and his love for Guinevere. Lancelot is the son of King Ban of Benwick, a province in France. The King is forced to flee his lands with his wife and son when attacked by his neighbor, King Claudas, but when he sees his city in flames he collapses and dies. The queen puts the child down near a lake and runs to her husband, but when she returns for the child, he is no longer there. He has been kidnapped by a fey, a fairy. “The lady who took Lancelot, whose name is Niniane – the text tells us – is a fairy, by which is meant a woman with a knowledge of magic.” Niniane is, of course, another name for Viviane and for Nimue, the queen of Avalon: a good fey or a bad fey, according to the text we read. The tale Lancelot recounts is the first of the three stages that will lead him to his destiny, that is to say his initiation. In order to gain entry into Arthur’s court, the Lady of the Lake must teach the young child to become a knight; however, Lancelot’s emblematic space is not the land of his father — where a young man could prove his prowess and his mettle — but the Otherwordly Kingdom in which the Lady of the Lake has raised him. His weapons also attest his supernatural origins, since it is the Lady of the Lake who gives them to him. The text insists on the color of the other world, white, the color of innocence and purity: The Lady is dressed in white, Lancelot is always called “li blans chevaliers” or “li chevaliers au blanches armes.” Those weapons are no mere ornaments; they are presented as an essential attribute of the youth, and it is through them that he must win his knighthood. In providing Lancelot with those very weapons, the Lady of the Lake contravenes King Arthur’s authority, for it is the King himself who is to bestow the title of knight by dressing him with new weapons. Later the Lady of the Lake will send Lancelot three shields, all made of silver. The pattern of the first is a diagonal stripe or bendy; the second has two bendies; and the third has three. These shields also belong to the other world, having as colors (tinctures) “argent” and “gules,” that is to say silver and red, and magic powers – they double, triple and quadruple the strength of the one who holds them. Worthwhile noting is the fact that
that of raising Lancelot du Lac and preparing him to become a knight — regretfully, time does not permit me to discuss the Lady of the Lake’s role in the blossoming love between Lancelot and Guinevere; in exalting courtly love and, through their passion, thereby illustrate the most important courtly values: love and chivalry — she also has a fundamental role in the story of King Arthur. In Sir Thomas Malory’s La Morte Darthur, Nenyve – one of the spellings of Nimue – enters the male dominated political sphere whenever she feels that her guidance is warranted. As an advocate of feudal chivalry, she is a protector not just of chivalric virtues, but also of King Arthur, her chosen sovereign. It is the Lady of 1 See also Boiven 1984: 18-25. the Lake who, in the so-called post-Vulgate Merlin, by raising her arm up from the waters of her lake gives Arthur the sword that she calls “Excalibur, that is as to say as Cut-steel.” Many of you are acquainted with the story, and at this point I am sure you are thinking: Yes, but what about King Arthur and the sword in the stone? Wasn’t Excalibur set in a stone, and Arthur, as the legitimate King, the only one who could pull it from the stone? Yes, this is another version of the legend or, as other legends tell us, there were two swords. First and foremost though, the sword is the ultimate symbol of the power of the king, and it is loaded with symbolic meaning. The Lady of the Lake speaks: The sword which the knight has belted on has two sharp edges, and not without reason. Of all the arms, the sword is the most honorable and the most noble; the one, which has the most dignity, for you, can harm with it in three ways. You can thrust and kill by stabbing with the point, and you can cut right and left with the two edges. The two edges signify that the knight should be a servant to our Lord and to His people: and that one edge of the sword should strike those who are enemies of Our Lord and despisers of His faith: and the other should take vengeance on those who are destroyers of the human company, that is those who take from one another, who kill one another. Such should be the strength of the two edges, but the point is different. The point signifies obedience, for it stabs, and nothing so stabs the heart, not loss of land or of wealth, as being forced to obey. (qtd. in Dean 1993: 13)
These words are meant for Lancelot, but the same can be said for Arthur, whose sword is the symbol of his reign over Camelot. It is with this sword that he wishes to kill Lancelot, who has betrayed him with his wife Guinevere; however, after a three-month siege of Lancelot’s castle, the Joyous Guard – before the love between Lancelot and Guinevere it had been called the Sad Guard– mortally wounds Arthur in battle. As he feels the shadow of death shift over him, he commands Griflet, one of the first Knights of the Round Table, and one of Arthur’s chief advisers (in other versions Sir Bedivere is the one who is asked to do it) to throw Excalibur back into the enchanted lake. Griflet fails to do it twice, since he believes that so great a weapon should not be wasted. When he finally complies with the wounded King’s request and throws the sword into the lake, a hand emerges from the water to grab it, and disappears with it under the surface. When Arthur hears that the Lady of the Lake has re-
e Morte d’Arthur was written by Sir Thomas Malory in the late 15th century, and the text centralizes King Arthur of Camelot and his Knights of the Round Table, beginning with King Arthur’s birth and ending with his death and downfall. In Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, the Lady of the Lake (also known as the Damosel of the Lake or distinguished as Nyneve) is an enchantress who dwells at the metaphorical and literal margins and shapes the text through her magic and femininity, these traits influencing the other. For example, she protects herself from the sorcerer Merlin’s sexual predation by banishing him through her magic. Although there are multiple of these Ladies (as they respawn from deaths and occupy multiple places at once), they are rarely distinguished from one another and are rather addressed as a singular, collective figure. The Lady of the Lake glimmers in and out of focus to bestow magic upon the protagonists, such as by presenting enchanted gifts to King Arthur or acting as a decisive force in knightly battles through her intervening with her magical abilities. In Geraldine Heng’s “Feminine Knots and the Other: Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” (1991), Heng counters the dominant scholarly narrative that Morgan le Fay, an enchantress who is also Arthur’s half-sister, is a marginal figure in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and instead highlights Morgan’s “overarching authority” and asserts through a feminist lens that Morgan le Fay is central to the story (Heng, 508). Inspired by Heng’s approach to recognizing and the marginalized feminine figures’ critical influence, we can analyze the role of the Lady of the Lake’s magical identity in relation to the texts’ dominant, central narrative. The Lady’s magical skills allow her to overcome her marginalization and significantly affect the narrative. Simultaneously, the Lady’s influence and control through magic reflects a portrait of her literary character that would have been overlooked otherwise, her magical decisions revealing the complexity of her “moral compass.” For example, the Lady makes decisions that conflict against each other, therefore never necessarily easily defined as “always in Arthur’s favor.” She sometimes strikes “unfair” or “dishonest” bargains with Arthur that lack full disclosure for her own advantage, but she also sometimes saves his life. These impartial and partial decisions define the Lady as a complex character who operates on her own terms. Despite both the Lady of the Lake and Morgan le Fay being prominent, powerful enchantresses in Arthurian literature, scholarship on Morgan le Fay is much more robust and nuanced in comparison to that of the Lady of the Lake, the former becoming regarded as complex and significant and the latter depleted of critical attention, analysis, and thorough characterization. 1, 2 As an example of the Lady of the Lake being traditionally perceived as small or insignificant, the Lady of the Lake has her own entry in Robert H. Wilson’s catalog of minor characters, “Addenda on Malory’s Minor Characters,” which is a study of minor characters whoappear throughout Malory’s texts.3
The Lady’s place in this catalog symbolizes dominant scholarship’s broader assignment of the Lady of the Lake to a minor and marginal character. Despite receiving little scholarly attention, the Lady of the Lake is the subject of intense fascination beyond the realm of Arthuriana, inspiring major artistic works such as Sir Walter Scott’s poem “The Lady of the Lake” and Franz Schubert’s “Ellen’s Gesang III”4 (also known as “Ave Maria”). This phenomenon can be attributed to the narrowness of the Lady of the Lake’s perception by scholars. This perception portrays her as marginal, thereby further diminishing her as a character. To achieve a more comprehensive picture of the Lady of the Lake’s character in Le Morte d’Arthur, we must recognize and redefine the literary margins, the center, and their relation to one another within the context of magic. Beyond Le Morte d’Arthur, the Lady of the Lake’s character is often viewed as the morally purer counterpart to Morgan le Fay, who in Le Morte d’Arthur, is depicted as cunning and evil as she attempts to deceive and slay Arthur and his knights. In the article “Merlin and the Ladies of the Lake” (2000), Anne Berthelot compares the two Arthurian enchantresses Morgan le Fay and the Lady of the Lake, asserting that Morgan is often depicted negatively, while the Lady is described positively (Berthelot, 55).
The Lady is described to “not have such an important part to play either, but acts as substitute mother and protector to Lancelot, she must be above any suspicion. Accordingly, if she has learned magic, it has to be ‘white magic,’” or good magic, rather than Morgan le Fay’s black, or evil magic (Berthelot, 65). Although the Lady is categorized as minor or marginal by scholarship, she is highlighted for her goodness and purity. This is emphasized further in juxtaposition to Morgan. The enchantresses’ characters are contrasted in a passage from Prophesies de Merlin translated by Carolyne Larrington: Morgan was born in the fire of lechery. And I believe that the lovely Lady of the Lake was born somewhere near Paradise. Morgan plans and carries out wicked deeds. And she of the Lake does good deeds. The former has good knights killed, while the other gives them comfort and help. She brings help to orphans and Morgan destroys them, to spite their fathers and mothers. (Larrington, 97)
Through this comparison of the Lady of the Lake and Morgan le Fay, the perception of the Lady’s image as a generous, aid-giving character is heightened. In turn, she is reduced to only these qualities. Furthermore, the Lady of the Lake is also frequently analyzed with respect to the characters she “accompanies,” emphasizing her marginal role as the helper figure throughout Arthuriana. For example, S. E. Holbrook states that the Lady of the Lake is often studied and remembered by scholars by her relationship to Morgan, rather than as she appears in “the whole of Malory’s Arthuriad whether approached as a collection of assorted tales or as a unified narrative sequence” (Holbrook, 762). The Lady of the Lake, when appreciated, remains imagined only in comparison to the masculine narrative of Arthuriana and Le Morte D’Arthur, specifically mentioned by Holbrook as an “isolated, and in this case even paltry, Merlin affair” (Holbrook, 762). In appreciation of Heng’s work with Morgan le Fay and Holbrook’s recognition of the Lady of the Lake as a “luminary,” I hope to further expand scholarship’s understanding of the Lady of the Lake’s character by studying the Lady and her magic in their own contexts rather than in the narratives or characters she is frequently described to accompany. Magic is a source of mobility and visibility for the Lady in Le Morte d’Arthur. Her femininity is integral to how she uses magic, while magic also gives the Lady agency autonomy as a woman.
For example, she escapes Merlin’s sexual predation by using her magic to entomb him. I argue that magic and femininity are two forces in interplay that define the Lady of the Lake, who influences and shapes the crux of Le Morte D’Arthur through these aspects of her identity. The narrative would not hold without its magical framework, which the Lady provides from her unique position. Thus, despite the marginalization of the Lady by the context of the text and its existing scholarship, the entanglement and inseparability of femininity and magic in Le Morte D’Arthur reveals the Lady of the Lake as crucial to the narrative. The Two Variants of Le Morte D’Arthur The existing texts of Le Morte d’Arthur exist in two variants: the 1485 print published by William Caxton (circa 1422 – circa 1491), and the Winchester manuscript which was copied by two professional scribes between 1470 and 1483 (BL Add. MS 59678, The Malory Project). Both variants are derived from Sir Thomas Malory’s now-lost original holograph, which was written entirely by Malory’s hand.
The Caxton manuscript, a printed edition of Le Morte d’Arthur by William Caxton in 1485, was the first variant to become accessible. The Winchester manuscript was discovered in the Winchester College Library in 1934, and scholars agree that it is closer to Malory’s original holograph than the Caxton. The Winchester and Caxton differ from each other in both content and organization; the Winchester is composed of eight books while the Caxton is composed of twenty-one books with a total of five hundred and seven chapters. The Winchester is also significant in that it contains marginalia (markings in the margins of manuscripts such as comments, scribbles, or decorations) and colophons (statements at the end of a book that reveal information about its authorship), both of which the Caxton lacks or omits. However, the Caxton contains additional fragments of text that are not found in the Winchester, which modify the situations and contexts of events throughout the story. In this paper, I use the 1954 edition of The Works of Thomas Malory by Eugène Vinaver (which brackets words omitted by the Winchester) and the 2015 Canterbury Classics edition of Le Morte d’Arthur. In addition, I also use the digital Winchester and Caxton manuscripts through The Malory Project to provide extensive close readings and interpretations of Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur (The Malory Project). The historical identity of Sir Thomas Malory remains unclear but has been traditionally attributed to Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold Revel in Warwickshire, a knight who was jailed for a range of crimes including murder, rape, theft, and extortion (Vinaver, v). Another likely identity is Thomas Malory of Papworth, who has been attributed a rich collection of Arthurian literature through his connections with the Wydville library. However, he is unlikely to be a “knyght-presoner” (knight prisoner) as the author describes himself in the colophon at the end of The Tale of King Arthur in the Winchester manuscript discovered in 1934 (Lumiansky 882; fol. 70v). And yet while considering the identity of Sir Thomas Malory, it is important to note that the author references Le Morte d’Arthur as the “book of Arthur and his knyghtes,” emphasizing the centrality of King Arthur and his knights in the narrative. When studying the margins where the Lady of the Lake dwells, the margins are both literal and metaphorical. The literal margins of the text are where the marginalia dwell, serving as a “metatext” in Le Morte d’Arthur. In this context, the metatext presents itself as an
The Extrahuman Qualities of the Image of the Lady of the Lake The protagonists Arthur and Merlin are approaching a lake when the Lady makes her first appearance in Book I of the Winchester manuscript (fol. 20v). Arthur’s original sword (also referenced as Excalibur in Le Morte d’Arthur) was broken in battle, so Merlin guides Arthur to a lake and explains that the king may obtain a new sword. As they approach the lake, Arthur sees “an arme clothed in whyght samyte, that helde a fayre swerde in that honde” (Vinaver 41). From her arm, we can discern she is clothed in “whyght samyte” (white samite), a rich, silk fabric that is often interwoven with gold (OED, “Samite, N., Sense 1.”). Above the length of her arm, a “fayre swerde” (fair sword) protrudes from the grasp of her hand. The first appearance of the Lady of the Lake in the text is mysterious, yet alluring, and perhaps even glorious. Though only describing her arm, the descriptions of the Lady are rich and luxurious, producing an image of a gleaming sword and lustrous fabric emerging from the water. In another The Noble Tale of the Sangreal, one of the books in Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur that retells the quest for the Holy Grail, white samite is also mentioned in reference to another magical or divine – Holy Grail. Natforthan there was no knyght that myght speke one worde a grete whyle; and so they loked every man on other as they had bene doome. Than entire into the halle the Holy Grayle covered with whyght samyte, but there was none that myght se hit, nother whom that bare hit. (Shepherd, 503) In both contexts, white samite accompanies a divine entity–the Holy Grail and the Lady of the Lake–and the white, silken fabric serves to conceal or clothe the entities. Nearly fully submerged in the water, the only visible parts of the Lady are her uncovered arm, the white samite of her clothing, and Excalibur. Piecing these elements together, this fraction of the Lady’s image is radiant–provocative in its unnaturality and unsettling allure–a maiden underwater proudly displaying a weapon. Clothed in white, she even becomes extra-human through the insinuation of her supernatural ability to remain submerged underwater. In this moment, the Lady’s proximity to humanness is questioned, thus prompting a reevaluation of the Lady with respect to the divine instead. The Ambiguity of the Lady of the Lake’s Name, Title, and Identity It is also important to consider that “the Lady of the Lake” is a title for a multitude of Ladies who act as one, rather than a name for a singular individual. Perhaps, it is an appropriate descriptor for individual members of a larger group who can be attributed to the title. For example, there may be many ladies who are all individually referred to as “the Lady of the Lake,” as the instances of the Ladies’ deaths and reappearances suggest. Despite “the Lady of the Lake” functioning closer to a title than to a name (as there are multiple of these Ladies), the text conflates the two with its rare usage of distinction by names (such as in the case of Nyneve, the chief Lady of the Lake), and thus these two attributions combine. As a result, the name “the
Lady of the Lake” becomes synonymous with the title “the Lady of the Lake,” and thus the text insinuates an overlap between the external perception of the Lady and the role of the Lady. There is an inherent plurality to the “Lady of the Lake,” whom the text regards as both a name and title. Within this plurality of the Lady of the Lake, there is a curious combination of permanence and disposability that doubly exist for the Lady—while she dies twice through Le Morte d’Arthur, she also reappears and is consistently present throughout the text until the end. In another example, when the Lady first appears in the Le Morte d’Arthur, the text floods the scene with multiple Ladies of the Lake: there is the Lady going upon the Lake, the Lady in the lake with a sword in her hand, and the Lady who is speaking to Arthur. This multiplicity of the Lady of the Lake, which contains both her disposability by the text and her immortality, parallelize with the text that desires to marginalize the Lady and the Lady who overcomes this marginalization. In the Winchester manuscript, the names of important figures, such as King Arthur, Merlin, or King Arthur’s knights, are written in red ink in contrast to the rest of the text, which is written in black ink. When the Lady of the Lake makes her first appearance in the Winchester manuscript as the “damosell goynge uppon the laake” (fol. 20v), the word “damosell” is marked in black rather than red ink, undifferentiated from the rest of the text, unlike the names or titles of other characters. In the passage where she is introduced, the “Lady of the Lake” or other variants of her name are not mentioned, as the Winchester manuscript omits Arthur’s question and Merlin’s introduction of the Lady, which served as the singular instance of the Lady’s naming in that chapter. In these instances of the omission and lack of distinction of the Lady’s name like the other characters, the text fails to make the significance of the Lady explicit, underscoring her place in Le Morte d’Arthur as marginal. Margin to Margin, the Marginalia Acknowledge the Lady of the Lake Marginalia are embellishments, notes, or illustrations in the margins of a text. In Le Morte d’Arthur, a prominent form of marginalia are inverted triangles, or shield shapes, with text written inside. They are especially prevalent in the Winchester manuscript when the Lady of the Lake is present or about to appear. In the article Inks and Hands and Fingers in the Manuscript of Malory’s “Morte Darthur”, Whetter counts that there are “eighty red-ink marginal notes” across the Winchester manuscript, “some of which are enclosed in various shield-like shapes, some of which are not” (Whetter 433). For example, a shield is drawn to the left of the passage when King Arthur asks the Lady for her sword (fol. 21r). This particular shield is drawn in red ink and is inscribed with the text “here ys a mencion of the Lady of the Laake whan she asked Balyne le Saveage his hede,” foreshadowing how the Lady of the Lake will ask King Arthur for the head of the knight Balin. Whetter points out how these marginalia are unique from the usual marginalia occurring in medieval manuscripts, as they are “not, moreover, the usual sort of gloss identifying or explicating sources that appear in so many different kinds of medieval manuscripts, but very specific summaries of particular narrative events” (Whetter, 433). The marginalia serve as a metatext in Le Morte d’Arthur, as it adorns the body of the text with summaries and prophecies, such as predicting characters’ deaths. Erik Wade supports the theory of the prophetic function of the marginalia in the article Malory’s Marginalia
Excalibur as an Extension of the Lady, Therefore an Extension of Her Magic The Lady extends a part of her magic and power to Arthur through the sword Excalibur, which becomes an essential aspect of Arthur’s conquests, and thus the text. The sword Excalibur occupies a significant and central position in Le Morte d’Arthur, as this weapon is always with the protagonist Arthur. The sword is highly valuable in and to the story, as it helps Arthur win the war against King Lot and the battle against Lucius. The name “Excalibur” comes from the Old French Escalibor, and is also a corrupt form of Caliburnus (often shortened to Caliburn) which comes from the Latin word chalybs (or steel) (Helmut 152). The etymological roots of the sword come together to emphasize its strength. The sword’s strength and value are Published by JHU Macksey Journal, 2025 9 also recognized by others, such as by Morgan le Fay, who steals Excalibur from Arthur and replaces it with a counterfeit (Vinaver 103). Similarly, Merlin tells Arthur that the scabbard of Excalibur would prevent him from shedding any blood (Vinaver 43). When Merlin receives Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake, Merlin asks Arthur if he liked the sword or the scabbard better, to which Arthur replied the sword. To Arthur’s response, Merlin tells him “‘Ye are the more unwyse, for the scawberde ys worth ten of the swerde; for whyles ye have the scawberde upon you, ye shall lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded. Therefore kepe well the scawberde allweyes with you’” (Vinaver 43).
In a Freudian reading of the sword and the scabbard, the masculine sword would represent Arthur, while the protective scabbard would represent the Lady. Interestingly, Merlin compares the sword and the scabbard by saying the scabbard is worth ten of the swords, which may be an allusion to both the Lady’s multiplicity and disposability. The idea of the Lady’s disposability exists in parallel with the idea that there are multiples of the Lady–she becomes regarded as less important because there are many of her. This idea becomes visible through the Lady’s multiple deaths throughout the text. Imagining the Lady’s magic as manifested into a physical form, we can recognize the sword Excalibur as part of the Lady. Thus, a part of her that is always carried by the text’s hero; as such, she is able to enter and inhabit the central narrative. Interpreting the sword Excalibur as a part of the Lady, there is an inherent aspect of multiplicity and extension to the Lady of the Lake’s character. The Lady of the Lake Exercises Meaningful Influe
file:///C:/Users/SHWHITT/Downloads/isabelle_lee_final_manuscript.pdf
cl\