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Camelot and the Vision of Albion
Camelot and the Vision of Albion
233 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1975
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Geoffrey Ashe
99 books42 followersGeoffrey Thomas Leslie Ashe is a British cultural historian, a writer of non-fiction books and novels.
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March 21, 2017Another book I should really have been aware of sooner – I’d be amazed if it hadn’t influenced Robert Holdstock and Philip Purser-Hallard, yet I encountered it through, of all things, a reference in a crowdfunding site’s mailout regarding some new hagiography of Paul Weller’s second-best band*. Introduced as “my own small Golden Bough”, this book takes little trouble to deny being a very personal enterprise, an attempt at a unified field theory of one man’s passions. This becomes most clear in the second section when, after we’ve had a broadly fair effort to establish both the historical fact of Arthur and the reasons he’s become so much more than that, there’s a sudden swerve via Confucius and Rousseau to Zionism, Gandhi and the Third Reich. All of which, while undoubtedly more diffuse than the opening, still makes a decent fist of summing up something of which we've been so upsettingly reminded of late: that ideals of simple, steady progress may be logically appealing, but can rarely if ever summon the same passion as grand dreams of rebirth.
Still, it’s the first section which is most the book you’d expect from that title**. Ashe worked on the Cadbury excavations, and so can offer personal observations of how volunteers and visitors were far more excited by anything potentially Arthurian than objects from other eras – despite the fact that the shabby Dark Age truth of it all is so much less than the romantic, chivalrous visions into which the Matter of Britain was built. In his attempt to quantify the core of Arthurian Fact underpinning the myth, he's only a little seduced by fancy, but then I wouldn't trust anyone who wasn’t. Still, it seems fair to agree that yes, there was a leader whom we might as well call Arthur since nothing gives us a better name for him, and that whoever he was he had a base, and that Cadbury is as plausible a location for that base as any. In examining the roots of legend, while retaining always the longing to be enchanted, this section reminded me of Avram Davidson's Adventures in Unhistory, and if Ashe may not be quite the writer Davidson was, well, few are.
Even here, though, other strands are already present. Tying the myths to the peculiar qualities of Celtic Christianity seems legitimate, though when Ashe says that it’s hard to understand quite why the Synod of Whitby got so heated, hinting at some hidden dimension to the disagreement with Rome, you have to wonder whether he’s blissfully unaware of monotheism's normal conduct of abstruse doctrinal disagreements. But then you get a whole Britain as Atlantis riff that feels like it has something but never entirely resolves, and an identification of Blake’s Albion with the Titan Atlas, and a suggestion that Arthur is a mere echo on a more human level of this mythic giant. At times it feels like the half-grasped memory of an intoxicated late-night conversation which seemed incredibly insightful at the time but has left only fragments behind. And it was published in 1971, which means that when Ashe talks about the Glastonbury Festival he means GK Chesterton rather than Michael Eavis – but that coincidence of timing itself proves some version of his point, I think. Though as such it’s curious that he talks of Malory and Tennyson as the only ones to fit the whole Arthurian myth into a single work, despite White’s great The Once and Future King having come out 13 years earlier to sufficient success that you’d think it would register.
In the end Ashe returns to Blake, in particular his more esoteric, less-read books – which Ashe admits nobody fully understands, least of all himself, but holds in high regard as an overarching myth. And to some extent I sympathise - the great war down the ages has long seemed to me to be between those who would limit humanity by binding it to systems, and those who would break down the impediments. This is tied back to the Titans in their role as gods before the gods, Saturn’s return as marking the coming of the renewed golden age, and the faith that what was lost can perhaps be found again. It’s never wholly clear to what extent Ashe believes the world can be literally remade by this faith, though in Israel and India he offers two valid examples of its practical application – even if each has since begun to remind us how quickly the cycle of decline works to corrode any brief moment of Earthly rebirth. Regardless, it works as a personal statement of faith, even as Ashe offers a potential psychological explanation, suggesting that we trace the experience of our own individual decline and mortality on to the structure of world history, appending an ensuing rebirth for the sake of not going mad(der) (Compare the suggestion in Signal to Noise that the certainty of the impending end of the world develops because, for each of us individually, it’s undoubtedly true).
Of course, I picked an interesting time to read this one. Ashe is keenly aware of the problem that sometimes the sense of a national awakening can become horribly perverted; writing in the mid-20th century, he’d have been a fool not to register that. But it still hurts to read this visionary hymn right now knowing that a fair proportion of one’s compatriots are joyfully certain that Albion is on the verge of arising from slumber, while the rest of us fear that he’s just taken a potentially lethal dose of sleeping pills.
*The Jam, obviously.
**Which really, for words guaranteed to pique my interest, is up there with legendarily complicated board game Twilight Imperium, which I am going to play one of these days even if I have to lock my mates in to accomplish it.
Still, it’s the first section which is most the book you’d expect from that title**. Ashe worked on the Cadbury excavations, and so can offer personal observations of how volunteers and visitors were far more excited by anything potentially Arthurian than objects from other eras – despite the fact that the shabby Dark Age truth of it all is so much less than the romantic, chivalrous visions into which the Matter of Britain was built. In his attempt to quantify the core of Arthurian Fact underpinning the myth, he's only a little seduced by fancy, but then I wouldn't trust anyone who wasn’t. Still, it seems fair to agree that yes, there was a leader whom we might as well call Arthur since nothing gives us a better name for him, and that whoever he was he had a base, and that Cadbury is as plausible a location for that base as any. In examining the roots of legend, while retaining always the longing to be enchanted, this section reminded me of Avram Davidson's Adventures in Unhistory, and if Ashe may not be quite the writer Davidson was, well, few are.
Even here, though, other strands are already present. Tying the myths to the peculiar qualities of Celtic Christianity seems legitimate, though when Ashe says that it’s hard to understand quite why the Synod of Whitby got so heated, hinting at some hidden dimension to the disagreement with Rome, you have to wonder whether he’s blissfully unaware of monotheism's normal conduct of abstruse doctrinal disagreements. But then you get a whole Britain as Atlantis riff that feels like it has something but never entirely resolves, and an identification of Blake’s Albion with the Titan Atlas, and a suggestion that Arthur is a mere echo on a more human level of this mythic giant. At times it feels like the half-grasped memory of an intoxicated late-night conversation which seemed incredibly insightful at the time but has left only fragments behind. And it was published in 1971, which means that when Ashe talks about the Glastonbury Festival he means GK Chesterton rather than Michael Eavis – but that coincidence of timing itself proves some version of his point, I think. Though as such it’s curious that he talks of Malory and Tennyson as the only ones to fit the whole Arthurian myth into a single work, despite White’s great The Once and Future King having come out 13 years earlier to sufficient success that you’d think it would register.
In the end Ashe returns to Blake, in particular his more esoteric, less-read books – which Ashe admits nobody fully understands, least of all himself, but holds in high regard as an overarching myth. And to some extent I sympathise - the great war down the ages has long seemed to me to be between those who would limit humanity by binding it to systems, and those who would break down the impediments. This is tied back to the Titans in their role as gods before the gods, Saturn’s return as marking the coming of the renewed golden age, and the faith that what was lost can perhaps be found again. It’s never wholly clear to what extent Ashe believes the world can be literally remade by this faith, though in Israel and India he offers two valid examples of its practical application – even if each has since begun to remind us how quickly the cycle of decline works to corrode any brief moment of Earthly rebirth. Regardless, it works as a personal statement of faith, even as Ashe offers a potential psychological explanation, suggesting that we trace the experience of our own individual decline and mortality on to the structure of world history, appending an ensuing rebirth for the sake of not going mad(der) (Compare the suggestion in Signal to Noise that the certainty of the impending end of the world develops because, for each of us individually, it’s undoubtedly true).
Of course, I picked an interesting time to read this one. Ashe is keenly aware of the problem that sometimes the sense of a national awakening can become horribly perverted; writing in the mid-20th century, he’d have been a fool not to register that. But it still hurts to read this visionary hymn right now knowing that a fair proportion of one’s compatriots are joyfully certain that Albion is on the verge of arising from slumber, while the rest of us fear that he’s just taken a potentially lethal dose of sleeping pills.
*The Jam, obviously.
**Which really, for words guaranteed to pique my interest, is up there with legendarily complicated board game Twilight Imperium, which I am going to play one of these days even if I have to lock my mates in to accomplish it.
April 15, 2019
One of the most engaging books I’ve ever read. Ashe starts with the history and mythology of Arthur which is well-researched and fascinating and then transitions to the philosophy of Arthur and the concept of his golden age that has been used in modern social and political movements throughout Europe and beyond. I learned just as much about modern philosophical movements than I did past history and myth, and it’s caused me to branch out into a deeper study of both. My only gripe with Ashe is how quickly he dismisses Christianity as a solution to the human desire for a golden age and eternal life and how much he dotes on people like Blake and the Zionists. It’s almost as if he has a chip on his shoulder and is intentionally downplaying the hope and light that Christianity has brought to so many. At least he likes Chesterton.
January 25, 2019
I must have read 20 Pagan/Druid books that reference this so I was excited to finally pick it up. The first couple chapters, which focused on the historical figure who was likely inspiration for the Arthurian Legend, were pretty interesting.
However, I felt like things devolved from there. In my opinion, too many parallels were explored and this book ended up reading like a rambling thesis paper--perhaps one where the author felt obligated to hit a certain page count. Ashe's train of thought was not irrelevant but his tangents could have been tied in more closely; as they were, he often seemed to be ambling too far from the point.
All that being said, I did learn from this book--it just didn't meet my expectations. I was looking to read about the historical figure who inspired the stories of Camelot. I did get a bit of that. But only a bit.
This work was really more focused on evaluating mankind's historical preference for mystical explanations over grounded, logical, or scientific ones. Here, I discovered that one frequently recycled belief has been that a beloved hero (e.g. Arthur) or deity (e.g. Albion) is sleeping somewhere out-of-reach and will eventually return, bringing a golden age with him. And, on the topic of golden ages, Ashe also covers an array of philosophers and writers who have claimed/referenced/idealized golden ages of the past that probably never actually happened.
In reading this, I also learned a lot more about Blake than was covered in school. Blake apparently believed that reason and science were driving us away from religion and that loss of belief in an afterlife has caused us to focus on making the most of this life in a very base and materialistic way. This loss of spirituality has also caused us consider less the moral implications of our life's decisions. To some degree, Ashe seems to espouse this same perspective.
I didn't hate this book it just wasn't what I expected and I'm not confident that it has shifted or improved anything within me. I might consider reading it again, if it were for a book club or seminar or possibly in more digestible pieces than I consumed over vacation. But, either way, it definitely wasn't the historical survey of Arthurian Legend that I was anticipating.
However, I felt like things devolved from there. In my opinion, too many parallels were explored and this book ended up reading like a rambling thesis paper--perhaps one where the author felt obligated to hit a certain page count. Ashe's train of thought was not irrelevant but his tangents could have been tied in more closely; as they were, he often seemed to be ambling too far from the point.
All that being said, I did learn from this book--it just didn't meet my expectations. I was looking to read about the historical figure who inspired the stories of Camelot. I did get a bit of that. But only a bit.
This work was really more focused on evaluating mankind's historical preference for mystical explanations over grounded, logical, or scientific ones. Here, I discovered that one frequently recycled belief has been that a beloved hero (e.g. Arthur) or deity (e.g. Albion) is sleeping somewhere out-of-reach and will eventually return, bringing a golden age with him. And, on the topic of golden ages, Ashe also covers an array of philosophers and writers who have claimed/referenced/idealized golden ages of the past that probably never actually happened.
In reading this, I also learned a lot more about Blake than was covered in school. Blake apparently believed that reason and science were driving us away from religion and that loss of belief in an afterlife has caused us to focus on making the most of this life in a very base and materialistic way. This loss of spirituality has also caused us consider less the moral implications of our life's decisions. To some degree, Ashe seems to espouse this same perspective.
I didn't hate this book it just wasn't what I expected and I'm not confident that it has shifted or improved anything within me. I might consider reading it again, if it were for a book club or seminar or possibly in more digestible pieces than I consumed over vacation. But, either way, it definitely wasn't the historical survey of Arthurian Legend that I was anticipating.
September 7, 2021
Just finished re-reading this having read it in my early 20s, and I'm really glad I did. Like a few people, I came to it through Paul Weller and its influence on The Jam's Sound Affects. I admit to knowing v little about the Arthur myth itself, but the broader implications of this book about human nature - and British human nature, in particular, is fascinating. You can almost argue that events like Brexit, whatever you think of them, are kind of inevitable because of the same, persistent "rebirth" myth.
October 14, 2018
A fascinating book, basically about why the legends surrounding King Arthur are so enduring and enchanting. But it is much, much more than that. It's about the search for meaning in a post-enlightenment, post-industrial, post-religious world, and its psychological insight is stunning. Especially fascinating are the chapters about William Blake, who was undeoubtedly a genius of the first order.
June 26, 2017
Awe inspiring, thought provoking, eye opening. An excellent book on the nature of Arthur's legend and its impact globally and politically through the years. One star docked for the repetitive nature that creeps in past the half way point.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews