Rédigée dans le premier tiers du XIIIe siècle, La Mort le roi Artu dépeint un monde arthurien au bord du précipice, où l’envie et le ressentiment mettent en péril les valeurs chevaleresques traditionnelles, où l’amour interdit de la reine Guenièvre et de Lancelot du Lac risque à tout moment d’être révélé au grand jour et de détruire le fragile équilibre de la cour. Dernier volet du cycle du Lancelot-Graal, recopié sans cesse jusqu’au xve siècle avant d’être imprimé de nombreuses fois à la Renaissance, ce roman anonyme constitue la version la plus riche et la plus complexe de la chute du royaume d’Arthur, par le biais d’un récit choral où les héros d’antan sont la proie de leurs propres désirs et des caprices de Fortune. On trouve ici l’édition critique lachmannienne de Jean Frappier, avec une nouvelle traduction très réussie de Patrick Moran.
My first read in the Lancelot-Graal (Pseudo-Map) cycle, this work was the main element of my college syllabus this semester; studying the original text in depth along with Patrick Moran's commentary (ed. Jean Frappier, Paris, Droz, 2020) laid plain the mechanism that animates the Arthurian world. In a rigorously "post-apocalyptic" epoch, the search for marvels and transcendence, represented by the Holy Grail and making up the main intrigue of the Lancelot and the Queste, has now exhausted all possible outroads into the unknown. Abandoned by Providence and under the equally steady and mutable hand of Fortune, Arthurian civilisation falls prey to the internal contradictions which had laid dormant in the collective culture of such virtuous characters as Lancelot, Arthur and Gauvain. Lancelot's unfailing loyalty to his lord inevitably clashes with his love for Guenievre, once modest and properly courtly, but which deviates to become, in the endless search for intensity (or flight from stability) which drives the knightly court, mere adultery, in the process tearing apart the king and his best thane, despite the unblemished brilliance of both their hearts. La Mort le roi Artu depicts the inevitable catastrophe which arises when a civilisation founded on a centrifugal movement into the physical and spiritual unknown reaches the summit of its glory, exhausting earthly wonders; the eternal restlessness on which is built Arthur's world, the adventurous spirit of its personae, turns against its people like an ingrowing talon. Those we saw love and defend each other, becoming ideals of chivalry and honour, turn against their comrades despite the purity of all hearts (but one); weakened by the limits of the grounds such a society is built on, it is brought down on itself and returns to a primal state of uncertainty... Though the ending is undoubtedly tragic, and draws new tears at each new reading, this is nonetheless tempered by the sheer necessity of an end. Arthur's death was announced by the very title, his mortality was self-evident; and this collapse of an entire civilisation is, in a way, the only true means to return to a world where wonders and challenges may arise again. It's easy to see the parallels between this story and human life as it manifests itself in the 21st century; science having either dispersed or corrupted the awesome ghosts of spirituality, we seem to aspire endlessly to a progress which never comes, and society reeks of a stale and brackish status quo. Meanwhile, the famed ecological "limits to growth" are now knocking, already boding ill for our consumerist world.