Edited from The Notion Club Papers, by JRR Tolkien - Volume 9 of the History of Middle Earth - pages 266-8 (re-paragraphed):
'Well,' said Jeremy, 'we stuck to the west coasts as much as we could, staying by the sea, and walking as near to it as possible, when we did not go by boat. Arry is an able seaman, and you can still get small sailing craft in the West, and sometimes an old sailor to help who can still handle a boat without petrol. But after our wreck we did not sail again till we got round to North Devon. We actually crossed by boat from Bideford to South Wales in July, and then we went on to Ireland, right up the west coast of it by stages.
'We took a look at Scotland, but no further north than Mull. There seemed nothing for us there, no feel in the air at all. So we went back to Hibernia. The great storm had left more traces there than anywhere, and not only in visible damage. There was a good deal of that, but much less than you would expect, and it did not interest us so much as the effect on the people and the stories that we found going about.
'People in Galway - well, for the matter of that, from Brandon Hill to Slieve League seemed to have been pretty well shaken by it, and were still scared for weeks afterwards. If the wind got up at all, as of course it did from time to time, they huddled indoors; and some would begin to trek inland.
'We both heard many tales of the huge waves "high as hills" coming in on the Black Night. And curiously enough, many of the tale-tellers agreed that the greatest waves were like phantoms, or only half real: "like shadows of mountains of dark black wicked water". Some rolled far inland and yet did little damage before, well, disappearing, melting away. We were told of one that had rolled clean over the Aran Isles and passed up Galway Bay, and so on like a cloud, drowning the land in a ghostly flood like rippling mist, almost as far as Clonfert.
'And we came across one old man, a queer old fellow whose English was hardly intelligible, on the road not far from Loughrea. He was wild and ragged, but tall and rather impressive. He kept pointing westward, and saying, as far as we could gather: "It was out of the Sea they came, as they came in the days before the days". 'He said that he had seen a tall black ship high on the crest of the great wave, with its masts down and the rags of black and yellow sails flapping on the deck, and great tall men standing on the high poop and wailing, like the ghosts they were; and they were borne far inland, and came, well, not a soul knows where they came.
'We could get no more out of him, and he went on westward and vanished into the twilight, and who he was or where he was going we did not discover either. Apart from such tales and rumours we had no real adventures. The weather was not too bad generally, and we walked a lot, and slept pretty well. A good many dreams came, especially in Ireland, but they were very slippery; we couldn't catch them. Arry got whole lists of ghost-words, and I had some fleeting pictures, but they seldom fitted together.
'And then, when we thought our time was up, we came to Porlock. As we crossed over the Severn Sea earlier in the summer, Arry had looked back, along the coast to the south, at the shores of Somerset, and he had said something that I couldn't catch. It was ancient English, I think, but he didn't know himself: it faded from him almost as soon as he had spoken. But I had a sudden feeling that there was something important waiting for us there, and I made up my mind to take him back that way before the end of our journey, if there was time. So I did.
'We arrived in a small boat at Porlock Weir on Saturday, September 13th. We put up at The Ship, up in Porlock itself; but we felt drawn back shorewards, and as soon as we had fixed our rooms we went out and turned westward, going up onto the cliffs and along as far as Culbone and beyond. We saw the sun set, dull, hazy, and rather grim, about half past six, and then we turned back for supper. The twilight deepened quickly, and I remember that it seemed suddenly to grow very chilly; a cold wind sprang up from the land and blew out westward towards the dying sun; the sea was leaden. We both felt tired and anxious, for no clear reason: we had been feeling rather cheery.
'It was then that Arry turned away from the sea and took my arm, and he said quite clearly, and I heard him and understood him: Uton efstan nu, Treowine! Me ofthyncth thisses windes. Mycel wen is Deniscra manna to niht. And that seemed to break my dreams. I began to remember, and piece together a whole lot of things as we walked back to the town; and that night I had a long series of dreams and remembered a good deal of them.'
'Yes,' said Lowdham, 'and something happened to me at that moment, too. I began to see as well as to hear. Treowine, that is Wilfrid Trewyn Jeremy, and I seemed to have got into the same dream together, even before we were asleep. The faces in the hotel looked pale and thin, and the walls and furniture only half real: other things and faces were vaguely moving behind them all. We were approaching the climax of some change that had begun last May, when we started to research together.
'Anyway, we went to bed, and we both dreamed; and we woke up and immediately compared notes; and we slept again and woke and did the same. And so it went on for several days, until we were quite exhausted. So at last we decided to go home; we made up our minds to come back to Oxford the next day, Thursday.
'That night, Wednesday, September 17th, something happened: the dreams coalesced, took shape, and came into the open, as you might say. It seemed impossible to believe when it was over that years had not slipped by, and that it was still Thursday, September 18th, 1987, and we could actually return here as we had planned. I remember staring incredulously round the dining-room, that seemed to have grown strangely solid again, half wondering if it was not some new dream-trick. And we went into the post-office and a bank to make sure of the date!
'Then we crept back here secretly, a week ago, and stayed in retreat until yesterday, conferring and putting together all we had got before we came out of hiding.'
***
Comment: I love this section of The Notion Club Papers!
There has been a great storm, caused by the spiritual dream connection established by the Notion Club between the fall of Numenor and modern times. Lowdham and Jeremy stagger out into the great storm, having taken on the personae of characters from Numenor - and disappear for several months. The above is an account of their activities.
Why do I like it so much? I think the idea of two friends roaming the British Isles seeking... something: some breakthrough: they will know it - only - when they find it. They go to places where they have a hunch they will find it, and monitor their own states, especially their dreams...
It is rather like the children's game of seeking a hidden something, where the clue is 'getting warmer' as you walk towards the hiding place, 'getting colder' as you walk away from it.
I imagine that, if you really got stuck, this would have to be the way forward, the way to proceed.
Tuesday, 20 September 2016
Monday, 19 September 2016
The mystical materialism of Christianity in Albion - excerpted from GK Chesterton's A Short History of England (1917)
After that blessed crime, as the wit of mystics called it, which was for these men hardly second to the creation of the world, St. Joseph of Arimathea, one of the few followers of the new religion who seem to have been wealthy, set sail as a missionary, and after long voyages came to that litter of little islands which seemed to the men of the Mediterranean something like the last clouds of the sunset.
He came up upon the western and wilder side of that wild and western land, and made his way to a valley which through all the oldest records is called Avalon. Something of rich rains and warmth in its westland meadows, or something in some lost pagan traditions about it, made it persistently regarded as a kind of Earthly Paradise.
Arthur, after being slain at Lyonesse, is carried here, as if to heaven. Here the pilgrim planted his staff in the soil; and it took root as a tree that blossoms on Christmas Day.
A mystical materialism marked Christianity from its birth; the very soul of it was a body. Among the stoical philosophies and oriental negations that were its first foes it fought fiercely and particularly for a supernatural freedom to cure concrete maladies by concrete substances. Hence the scattering of relics was everywhere like the scattering of seed.
All who took their mission from the divine tragedy bore tangible fragments which became the germs of churches and cities. St. Joseph carried the cup which held the wine of the Last Supper and the blood of the Crucifixion to that shrine in Avalon which we now call Glastonbury; and it became the heart of a whole universe of legends and romances, not only for Britain but for Europe. Throughout this tremendous and branching tradition it is called the Holy Grail.
The vision of it was especially the reward of that ring of powerful paladins whom King Arthur feasted at a Round Table, a symbol of heroic comradeship such as was afterwards imitated or invented by mediæval knighthood. Both the cup and the table are of vast importance emblematically in the psychology of the chivalric experiment.
The idea of a round table is not merely universality but equality. It has in it, modified of course, by other tendencies to differentiation, the same idea that exists in the very word "peers," as given to the knights of Charlemagne. In this the Round Table is as Roman as the round arch, which might also serve as a type; for instead of being one barbaric rock merely rolled on the others, the king was rather the keystone of an arch.
But to this tradition of a level of dignity was added something unearthly that was from Rome, but not of it; the privilege that inverted all privileges; the glimpse of heaven which seemed almost as capricious as fairyland; the flying chalice which was veiled from the highest of all the heroes, and which appeared to one knight who was hardly more than a child. Rightly or wrongly, this romance established Britain for after centuries as a country with a chivalrous past.
Britain had been a mirror of universal knighthood. This fact, or fancy, is of colossal import in all ensuing affairs, especially the affairs of barbarians. These and numberless other local legends are indeed for us buried by the forests of popular fancies that have grown out of them.
It is all the harder for the serious modern mind because our fathers felt at home with these tales, and therefore took liberties with them. Probably the rhyme which runs, "When good King Arthur ruled this land He was a noble king, He stole three pecks of barley meal," is much nearer the true mediæval note than the aristocratic stateliness of Tennyson.
But about all these grotesques of the popular fancy there is one last thing to be remembered. It must especially be remembered by those who would dwell exclusively on documents, and take no note of tradition at all. Wild as would be the results of credulity concerning all the old wives' tales, it would not be so wild as the errors that can arise from trusting to written evidence when there is not enough of it.
Now the whole written evidence for the first parts of our history would go into a small book. A very few details are mentioned, and none are explained. A fact thus standing alone, without the key of contemporary thought, may be very much more misleading than any fable. To know what word an archaic scribe wrote without being sure of what thing he meant, may produce a result that is literally mad.
From A Short History of England, by GK Chesterton (1917)
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/20897/20897-h/20897-h.htm
He came up upon the western and wilder side of that wild and western land, and made his way to a valley which through all the oldest records is called Avalon. Something of rich rains and warmth in its westland meadows, or something in some lost pagan traditions about it, made it persistently regarded as a kind of Earthly Paradise.
Arthur, after being slain at Lyonesse, is carried here, as if to heaven. Here the pilgrim planted his staff in the soil; and it took root as a tree that blossoms on Christmas Day.
A mystical materialism marked Christianity from its birth; the very soul of it was a body. Among the stoical philosophies and oriental negations that were its first foes it fought fiercely and particularly for a supernatural freedom to cure concrete maladies by concrete substances. Hence the scattering of relics was everywhere like the scattering of seed.
All who took their mission from the divine tragedy bore tangible fragments which became the germs of churches and cities. St. Joseph carried the cup which held the wine of the Last Supper and the blood of the Crucifixion to that shrine in Avalon which we now call Glastonbury; and it became the heart of a whole universe of legends and romances, not only for Britain but for Europe. Throughout this tremendous and branching tradition it is called the Holy Grail.
The vision of it was especially the reward of that ring of powerful paladins whom King Arthur feasted at a Round Table, a symbol of heroic comradeship such as was afterwards imitated or invented by mediæval knighthood. Both the cup and the table are of vast importance emblematically in the psychology of the chivalric experiment.
The idea of a round table is not merely universality but equality. It has in it, modified of course, by other tendencies to differentiation, the same idea that exists in the very word "peers," as given to the knights of Charlemagne. In this the Round Table is as Roman as the round arch, which might also serve as a type; for instead of being one barbaric rock merely rolled on the others, the king was rather the keystone of an arch.
But to this tradition of a level of dignity was added something unearthly that was from Rome, but not of it; the privilege that inverted all privileges; the glimpse of heaven which seemed almost as capricious as fairyland; the flying chalice which was veiled from the highest of all the heroes, and which appeared to one knight who was hardly more than a child. Rightly or wrongly, this romance established Britain for after centuries as a country with a chivalrous past.
Britain had been a mirror of universal knighthood. This fact, or fancy, is of colossal import in all ensuing affairs, especially the affairs of barbarians. These and numberless other local legends are indeed for us buried by the forests of popular fancies that have grown out of them.
It is all the harder for the serious modern mind because our fathers felt at home with these tales, and therefore took liberties with them. Probably the rhyme which runs, "When good King Arthur ruled this land He was a noble king, He stole three pecks of barley meal," is much nearer the true mediæval note than the aristocratic stateliness of Tennyson.
But about all these grotesques of the popular fancy there is one last thing to be remembered. It must especially be remembered by those who would dwell exclusively on documents, and take no note of tradition at all. Wild as would be the results of credulity concerning all the old wives' tales, it would not be so wild as the errors that can arise from trusting to written evidence when there is not enough of it.
Now the whole written evidence for the first parts of our history would go into a small book. A very few details are mentioned, and none are explained. A fact thus standing alone, without the key of contemporary thought, may be very much more misleading than any fable. To know what word an archaic scribe wrote without being sure of what thing he meant, may produce a result that is literally mad.
From A Short History of England, by GK Chesterton (1917)
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/20897/20897-h/20897-h.htm
Sunday, 18 September 2016
The Light in Britain
Continuing in the same vein as my previous post on this blog I would like to draw readers' attention to another channelled message about the spiritual significance of Britain. I know that some people might roll their eyes at the idea of placing credence in any communication that comes in this fashion, but my view is that, if you exercise discrimination, there is wisdom to be found. I would never say that one should place full confidence in any channelled message. Indeed, I think that in the majority of cases channellings come from spirits not far removed from this physical world and so are not interesting in any way. Certainly not in any spiritual way. And that's just taking the ones that might be regarded as genuine into account and ignoring those that are fake, the product of delusion or even demonically inspired. But there are some that do carry the imprint of something higher, and I think the one I am looking at here falls into this category.
The medium in this case was a woman called Grace Cooke and the spiritual being that communicated through her was known as White Eagle which seems an appropriate sort of name for a spirit communicating from up on high. Most of the communications from White Eagle do have a real spiritual tone to them, I feel. There is a strong sense of goodness and purity even if some might find them a little sentimental on occasion, though that may be more of a comment on me than them.
White Eagle generally gave spiritual teachings describing the love and beauty of the higher worlds and teaching a simple way to conform oneself to those worlds whilst in this one. They are what might be called Christocentric in that, though not conventionally Christian, they place Christ at the pinnacle of creation and regard him as the supreme spiritual teacher for mankind. There are several small volumes of these teachings which came out in the 1960s and '70s. The one I am examining here was called The Light in Britain. It was published in 1971 and mostly describes trips made by the authors to certain ancient sites in England and Wales, Avebury, Maiden Castle, Wayland's Smithy and so on, together with some clairvoyant impressions of what may have taken place at these sites in the prehistoric past. But there are also a few messages from White Eagle, one of which, slightly abbreviated, I would like to quote here. With due acknowledgement to the authors of the book, Grace and Ivan Cooke, another husband and wife team.
From "The Light in Britain"
'The Brotherhood of the Great White Light is coming into full and glorious manifestation again. It will come into the hearts of tried and tested souls in groups of the White Brotherhood which will exist all over the world; but remember the origin of this Brotherhood of the Great White Light is here in the mystic isle of Britain. The spirit of the god-men who first came to this ancient land of Britain still lingers to inspire the people of this land. When as a nation you understand your great heritage, when you arise in the spirit of Christ, you will draw to yourself all the nations. And although your land may not again be mighty in temporal power, it will once again become the centre of a great spiritual power for it is its destiny to rise again to become a spiritual leader of the world.
Britain would at the present time appear to be in need of strength and help. Some pessimists may think that her power, her usefulness, is fading. But this is not so. We tell you that within the soul of Britain is a light which will raise your whole country to become a spiritual and moral leader of the whole world. Be true to the light in Britain. Rise in spirit and fight the battle of spirit over darkness, over the destruction of the lower mind and the ugliness which now prevails on the physical plane. Make your stand for truth.
Let all your prayer and spiritual effort be dedicated to this end for even thus you will hasten the coming of Christ's kingdom upon earth.'
What is one to make of this? Is it the product of wishful thinking, well-meaning but over-patriotic children of empire seeking new purpose in the world once their empire has gone? Or is there some substance to it? I am reminded that once the political glory of Rome had departed she became the centre of a spiritual empire that was probably the greatest the world has yet seen. That didn't always go as well as it might have done but still the spiritual impact on humanity was profound. Could there be something similar destined to happen here? My strong feeling is that this is not just spiritual patriotism but insight into a truth that finds a powerful resonance with many people on a level that far transcends petty nationalism. This doesn't mean that other countries may not have spiritual significance and destinies of their own but that of Britain does seem to be important at this time.
The future path of Britain is here connected in some way to her prehistoric past, and to the ancient stones and sacred sites that exist throughout the land which still speak to us in some indefinable but powerful way today. There is the idea that there is a light in Britain, a spiritual force, which is currently dormant but can be revived if we bend our hearts and minds and wills towards that end. But this is no easy matter. Merely wanting to do it is no use at all. There has to be a real spirit of dedication and desire to serve behind our motive. And there has to be proper sensitivity to what this light signifies not just some New Age search for higher consciousness. This means there must be devotion to Christ. If that is lacking then our search is going to be stained by self-interest for only Christ can really take us out of ourselves. And the light in Britain is directly linked to the light of Christ. This is the true meaning behind the metaphor of the Grail, I would say.
The quote mentions the White Brotherhood. This is a name for the company of saints who have kindled the Christ light within themselves and who now serve from the heavenly worlds as guides and mentors for those they think of as their younger brothers, us. In the distant past some of these beings may have lived among mankind but they have long since withdrawn so that we may progress and become fully conscious saints ourselves, not really possible if we are being spoon-fed our spirituality which, to be real, has to come from within. But these guides still serve as messengers from God to humanity for those who are able to raise their thoughts and hearts to the appropriate spiritual level. The law seems to be that we are all links in a chain and the higher serve the lower who, in turn, can learn from the higher so, even though we all have our personal connection to God, we can still call on those who have gone before for aid and guidance. This doesn't replace our relationship with God but can help it to grow.
The two passages I have quoted in this post and the previous one are not connected in any way but they offer a similar message. First and foremost, it is a message of hope. But it is also a call to work. There may be a light in Britain but it is not going to shine unless enough people, as the extract here says, let all their prayer and spiritual effort be dedicated to that end. This means people everywhere because if this light truly is linked to Christ then it may be in Britain but it is a universal light.
The medium in this case was a woman called Grace Cooke and the spiritual being that communicated through her was known as White Eagle which seems an appropriate sort of name for a spirit communicating from up on high. Most of the communications from White Eagle do have a real spiritual tone to them, I feel. There is a strong sense of goodness and purity even if some might find them a little sentimental on occasion, though that may be more of a comment on me than them.
White Eagle generally gave spiritual teachings describing the love and beauty of the higher worlds and teaching a simple way to conform oneself to those worlds whilst in this one. They are what might be called Christocentric in that, though not conventionally Christian, they place Christ at the pinnacle of creation and regard him as the supreme spiritual teacher for mankind. There are several small volumes of these teachings which came out in the 1960s and '70s. The one I am examining here was called The Light in Britain. It was published in 1971 and mostly describes trips made by the authors to certain ancient sites in England and Wales, Avebury, Maiden Castle, Wayland's Smithy and so on, together with some clairvoyant impressions of what may have taken place at these sites in the prehistoric past. But there are also a few messages from White Eagle, one of which, slightly abbreviated, I would like to quote here. With due acknowledgement to the authors of the book, Grace and Ivan Cooke, another husband and wife team.
From "The Light in Britain"
'The Brotherhood of the Great White Light is coming into full and glorious manifestation again. It will come into the hearts of tried and tested souls in groups of the White Brotherhood which will exist all over the world; but remember the origin of this Brotherhood of the Great White Light is here in the mystic isle of Britain. The spirit of the god-men who first came to this ancient land of Britain still lingers to inspire the people of this land. When as a nation you understand your great heritage, when you arise in the spirit of Christ, you will draw to yourself all the nations. And although your land may not again be mighty in temporal power, it will once again become the centre of a great spiritual power for it is its destiny to rise again to become a spiritual leader of the world.
Britain would at the present time appear to be in need of strength and help. Some pessimists may think that her power, her usefulness, is fading. But this is not so. We tell you that within the soul of Britain is a light which will raise your whole country to become a spiritual and moral leader of the whole world. Be true to the light in Britain. Rise in spirit and fight the battle of spirit over darkness, over the destruction of the lower mind and the ugliness which now prevails on the physical plane. Make your stand for truth.
Let all your prayer and spiritual effort be dedicated to this end for even thus you will hasten the coming of Christ's kingdom upon earth.'
What is one to make of this? Is it the product of wishful thinking, well-meaning but over-patriotic children of empire seeking new purpose in the world once their empire has gone? Or is there some substance to it? I am reminded that once the political glory of Rome had departed she became the centre of a spiritual empire that was probably the greatest the world has yet seen. That didn't always go as well as it might have done but still the spiritual impact on humanity was profound. Could there be something similar destined to happen here? My strong feeling is that this is not just spiritual patriotism but insight into a truth that finds a powerful resonance with many people on a level that far transcends petty nationalism. This doesn't mean that other countries may not have spiritual significance and destinies of their own but that of Britain does seem to be important at this time.
The future path of Britain is here connected in some way to her prehistoric past, and to the ancient stones and sacred sites that exist throughout the land which still speak to us in some indefinable but powerful way today. There is the idea that there is a light in Britain, a spiritual force, which is currently dormant but can be revived if we bend our hearts and minds and wills towards that end. But this is no easy matter. Merely wanting to do it is no use at all. There has to be a real spirit of dedication and desire to serve behind our motive. And there has to be proper sensitivity to what this light signifies not just some New Age search for higher consciousness. This means there must be devotion to Christ. If that is lacking then our search is going to be stained by self-interest for only Christ can really take us out of ourselves. And the light in Britain is directly linked to the light of Christ. This is the true meaning behind the metaphor of the Grail, I would say.
The quote mentions the White Brotherhood. This is a name for the company of saints who have kindled the Christ light within themselves and who now serve from the heavenly worlds as guides and mentors for those they think of as their younger brothers, us. In the distant past some of these beings may have lived among mankind but they have long since withdrawn so that we may progress and become fully conscious saints ourselves, not really possible if we are being spoon-fed our spirituality which, to be real, has to come from within. But these guides still serve as messengers from God to humanity for those who are able to raise their thoughts and hearts to the appropriate spiritual level. The law seems to be that we are all links in a chain and the higher serve the lower who, in turn, can learn from the higher so, even though we all have our personal connection to God, we can still call on those who have gone before for aid and guidance. This doesn't replace our relationship with God but can help it to grow.
The two passages I have quoted in this post and the previous one are not connected in any way but they offer a similar message. First and foremost, it is a message of hope. But it is also a call to work. There may be a light in Britain but it is not going to shine unless enough people, as the extract here says, let all their prayer and spiritual effort be dedicated to that end. This means people everywhere because if this light truly is linked to Christ then it may be in Britain but it is a universal light.
Problems in Christianising Albion - Christianity lacks spontaneous intuitive appeal for the non-religious
Christians are prone to suppose that the appeal of Christianity is obvious - but this is an error. Re-Christianising Albion is therefore going to be difficult - and perhaps something which can only be done indirectly, in steps...
It is necessary to recognise that (for most people, for average people) Christianity labours against the disadvantage of lacking a spontaneous appeal: being too complex compared with other monotheisms, and not complex enough compared with paganisms.
This comes especially in terms of the necessity and centrality of Jesus.
CS Lewis argued this superbly, from his own experience and knowledge.
Edited from Is Theology Poetry? by CS Lewis
Considered as poetry, the doctrines of Christianity seem to me to fall between two stools. It has neither the monolithic grandeur of strictly unitarian conceptions nor the richness of Polytheism.
The omnipotence of God is not, to my taste, a poetical advantage. Odin, fighting against enemies who are not his own creatures and who will in fact defeat him in the end, has a heroic appeal which the god of Christians cannot have.
There is also a certain bareness about the Christian picture of the universe. A future state and orders of superhuman creatures are held to exist, but only the slightest hints of their nature are offered.
Finally, and worst of all, the whole cosmic story, though full of tragic elements, yet fails of being a tragedy. Christianity offers the attractions neither of optimism nor of pessimism. It represents the life of the universe as being very like the mortal life of men on this planet — of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
The majestic simplifications of Pantheism and the tangled wood of Pagan animism both seem to me, in their different ways, more attractive. Christianity just misses the tidiness of the one and the delicious variety of the other.
For I take it there are two things the imagination loves to do. It loves to embrace its object completely, to take it in at a single glance, and see it as something harmonious, symmetrical, and self-explanatory. That is the classical imagination; the Parthenon was built for it.
The imagination also loves to lose itself in a labyrinth, to surrender to the inextricable. That is the romantic imagination; the Orlando Furioso was written for it.
But Christian Theology does not cater very well for either. If Christianity is only a mythology, then I find the mythology I believe in is not the one I like best. I like Greek mythology much better, Irish better still, Norse best of all...
http://www.samizdat.qc.ca/arts/lit/Theology=Poetry_CSL.pdf
Lewis is surely correct. From the perspective of a non-religious, post-religious person or society - Christianity occupies a middle ground - indeed the only reason for being a Christian is because it is true.
The truth of Christianity is much clearer to those who are already religious - both to 'simple' monotheists (with one God, no divine Jesus) and to polytheistic pagans; if these are serious in their religions, then they can fairly easily 'feel' the benefits of Christ - they can feel how Jesus solves the deep and intractable problems of both mono- and poly-theism.
This is why I talk of a 'spiritual' revival for Albion - I really can't imagine any way that the British can jump all the way, in one jump, from the nihilism we currently inhabit and all the way to Christianity.
I couldn't; although the several steps from postmodernist style New-Agey unbelief to Christianity probably took less than a year - nonetheless there were steps - as there were for CS Lewis himself.
So IF there is a mass spiritual awakening in Albion it would - necessarily - initially start-out as not-Christian; maybe it might be partially-Christian but certainly not fully-Christian.
It is necessary to recognise that (for most people, for average people) Christianity labours against the disadvantage of lacking a spontaneous appeal: being too complex compared with other monotheisms, and not complex enough compared with paganisms.
This comes especially in terms of the necessity and centrality of Jesus.
CS Lewis argued this superbly, from his own experience and knowledge.
Edited from Is Theology Poetry? by CS Lewis
Considered as poetry, the doctrines of Christianity seem to me to fall between two stools. It has neither the monolithic grandeur of strictly unitarian conceptions nor the richness of Polytheism.
The omnipotence of God is not, to my taste, a poetical advantage. Odin, fighting against enemies who are not his own creatures and who will in fact defeat him in the end, has a heroic appeal which the god of Christians cannot have.
There is also a certain bareness about the Christian picture of the universe. A future state and orders of superhuman creatures are held to exist, but only the slightest hints of their nature are offered.
Finally, and worst of all, the whole cosmic story, though full of tragic elements, yet fails of being a tragedy. Christianity offers the attractions neither of optimism nor of pessimism. It represents the life of the universe as being very like the mortal life of men on this planet — of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
The majestic simplifications of Pantheism and the tangled wood of Pagan animism both seem to me, in their different ways, more attractive. Christianity just misses the tidiness of the one and the delicious variety of the other.
For I take it there are two things the imagination loves to do. It loves to embrace its object completely, to take it in at a single glance, and see it as something harmonious, symmetrical, and self-explanatory. That is the classical imagination; the Parthenon was built for it.
The imagination also loves to lose itself in a labyrinth, to surrender to the inextricable. That is the romantic imagination; the Orlando Furioso was written for it.
But Christian Theology does not cater very well for either. If Christianity is only a mythology, then I find the mythology I believe in is not the one I like best. I like Greek mythology much better, Irish better still, Norse best of all...
http://www.samizdat.qc.ca/arts/lit/Theology=Poetry_CSL.pdf
Lewis is surely correct. From the perspective of a non-religious, post-religious person or society - Christianity occupies a middle ground - indeed the only reason for being a Christian is because it is true.
The truth of Christianity is much clearer to those who are already religious - both to 'simple' monotheists (with one God, no divine Jesus) and to polytheistic pagans; if these are serious in their religions, then they can fairly easily 'feel' the benefits of Christ - they can feel how Jesus solves the deep and intractable problems of both mono- and poly-theism.
This is why I talk of a 'spiritual' revival for Albion - I really can't imagine any way that the British can jump all the way, in one jump, from the nihilism we currently inhabit and all the way to Christianity.
I couldn't; although the several steps from postmodernist style New-Agey unbelief to Christianity probably took less than a year - nonetheless there were steps - as there were for CS Lewis himself.
So IF there is a mass spiritual awakening in Albion it would - necessarily - initially start-out as not-Christian; maybe it might be partially-Christian but certainly not fully-Christian.
Saturday, 17 September 2016
The Old Magic (from Alan Garner's Moon of Gomrath)
The Moon of Gomrath by Alan Garner is one of the great fantasy novels - and what raises it so far above the earlier Weirdstone of Brisingamen is its sub-plot about The Old Magic. Its wonderful climax and ending involves the saving of the world by the Old Magic and its liberation 'forever'.
The Old Magic is moon magic and sun magic, and it is blood magic, also, and there lies The Hunter's power and his need. He is from a cruel day of the world. Men have changed since they honoured him.
You keep saying the Old Magic has been woken, said Susan, but if it's as strong as this, how did it ever come to die out?
That is the work of Cadellin, said Albanac, To wizards and their High Magic of thought and spells, the Old Magic was a hindrance, a power without shape or order: so they tried to destroy it. But it would not be destroyed,: it would only sleep...
So there's nothing bad about it at all, said Susan. It just got on the way.
Yes, you may even say that the wizards acted without right. But then, as ages pass, the world changes; so it is true that the Old Magic is wrong fro these times. It does not fit the present scale of good and ill.
But it is more natural than all these spells, said Susan. I think I understand it better than anything here... What does the Hunter do?
Do? He is, Susan: that is enough. There you see the difference between the Old and the High. The High Magic was made with a reason: the Old Magic is a part of things. It is not for any purpose.
The Old Magic is moon magic and sun magic, and it is blood magic, also, and there lies The Hunter's power and his need. He is from a cruel day of the world. Men have changed since they honoured him.
You keep saying the Old Magic has been woken, said Susan, but if it's as strong as this, how did it ever come to die out?
That is the work of Cadellin, said Albanac, To wizards and their High Magic of thought and spells, the Old Magic was a hindrance, a power without shape or order: so they tried to destroy it. But it would not be destroyed,: it would only sleep...
So there's nothing bad about it at all, said Susan. It just got on the way.
Yes, you may even say that the wizards acted without right. But then, as ages pass, the world changes; so it is true that the Old Magic is wrong fro these times. It does not fit the present scale of good and ill.
But it is more natural than all these spells, said Susan. I think I understand it better than anything here... What does the Hunter do?
Do? He is, Susan: that is enough. There you see the difference between the Old and the High. The High Magic was made with a reason: the Old Magic is a part of things. It is not for any purpose.
Friday, 16 September 2016
The good in mass media depictions of Arthur, Merlin, 'Logres' &c
I, like most Britons, have long been fascinated with the story of Arthur, in its many versions. As a teen I was much influenced, for good and ill, by TH White's Once and Future King. Now I find myself going back often to look at C.S Lewis's That Hideous Strength - a book into which he packed just about everything he wanted to say, and which consequently almost bursts with the pressure: it is, indeed (for all its flaws), a prophetic and inspired book.
"The poison was brewed in these West lands but it has spat itself everywhere by now. However far you went you would find the machines, the crowded cities, the empty thrones, the false writings, the barren beds: men maddened with false promises and soured with true miseries, worshipping the iron works of their own hands, cut off from Earth their mother and from the Father in Heaven.
You might go East so far that East became West and you returned to Britain across the great Ocean, but even so you would not have come out anywhere into the light. The shadow of one dark wing is over all Tellus"...
The Hideous Strength holds all this Earth in its fist to squeeze as it wishes. But for their one mistake, there would be no hope left. If of their own evil will they had not broken the frontier and let in the celestial Powers, this would be their moment of victory. Their own strength has betrayed them. They have pulled down Deep Heaven on their heads. Therefore, they will die...
...Gradually we began to see all English history in a new way. We discovered the haunting...how something we may call Britain is always haunted by something we may call Logres. Haven't you noticed that we are two countries? After every Arthur, a Mordred; behind every Milton, a Cromwell; a nation of poets, a nation of shopkeepers. Is it any wonder they call us hypocrites? But what they mistake for hypocrisy is really the struggle between Logres and Britain...
...Did they really mean any great harm with all their fussy little intrigues? Wasn’t it more silly than anything else?”
“Och aye,” said MacPhee. “They were only playing themselves. Kittens letting on to be tigers. But there was a real tiger about and their play ended by letting her in..."
"...Of course, they never thought anyone would act on their theories! No one was more astonished than they when what they’d been talking of for years suddenly took on reality. But it was their own child coming back to them: grown up and unrecognisable, but their own...”<
"Those who have forgotten Logres sink into Britain. Those who call for Nonsense will find that it comes.”
That is why Arthur keeps returning to haunt us, and why almost all versions of the legend - even including the modern, distraction-orientated and politically correct ones - illuminate with beams of light peeping through the chinks.
Media depictions of the Arthurian legends are all limited by many deficiencies characteristic of our age. Yet so long as there is some basic decency behind it, some striving to be honest and get the subject across, there will be times when the spirit of Arthur and Merlin, the spirit of Logres, was apparent.
Much more cannot be expected in our times.
As Tolkien wrote in Smith of Wootton Major when Smith meets the Queen of Faery and found that:
"...His mind turned back retracing his life until he came to the day of the Children's Feast and the coming of the star, and suddenly he saw again the little dancing figure with its wand [stood on top of the sugary sweet icing of the Great Cake], and in shame he lowered his eyes from the Queen's beauty.
"But she laughed... "Do not be grieved for me...
"Better a little doll, maybe, than no memory of Faery at all."
"The poison was brewed in these West lands but it has spat itself everywhere by now. However far you went you would find the machines, the crowded cities, the empty thrones, the false writings, the barren beds: men maddened with false promises and soured with true miseries, worshipping the iron works of their own hands, cut off from Earth their mother and from the Father in Heaven.
You might go East so far that East became West and you returned to Britain across the great Ocean, but even so you would not have come out anywhere into the light. The shadow of one dark wing is over all Tellus"...
The Hideous Strength holds all this Earth in its fist to squeeze as it wishes. But for their one mistake, there would be no hope left. If of their own evil will they had not broken the frontier and let in the celestial Powers, this would be their moment of victory. Their own strength has betrayed them. They have pulled down Deep Heaven on their heads. Therefore, they will die...
...Gradually we began to see all English history in a new way. We discovered the haunting...how something we may call Britain is always haunted by something we may call Logres. Haven't you noticed that we are two countries? After every Arthur, a Mordred; behind every Milton, a Cromwell; a nation of poets, a nation of shopkeepers. Is it any wonder they call us hypocrites? But what they mistake for hypocrisy is really the struggle between Logres and Britain...
...Did they really mean any great harm with all their fussy little intrigues? Wasn’t it more silly than anything else?”
“Och aye,” said MacPhee. “They were only playing themselves. Kittens letting on to be tigers. But there was a real tiger about and their play ended by letting her in..."
"...Of course, they never thought anyone would act on their theories! No one was more astonished than they when what they’d been talking of for years suddenly took on reality. But it was their own child coming back to them: grown up and unrecognisable, but their own...”<
"Those who have forgotten Logres sink into Britain. Those who call for Nonsense will find that it comes.”
That is why Arthur keeps returning to haunt us, and why almost all versions of the legend - even including the modern, distraction-orientated and politically correct ones - illuminate with beams of light peeping through the chinks.
Media depictions of the Arthurian legends are all limited by many deficiencies characteristic of our age. Yet so long as there is some basic decency behind it, some striving to be honest and get the subject across, there will be times when the spirit of Arthur and Merlin, the spirit of Logres, was apparent.
Much more cannot be expected in our times.
As Tolkien wrote in Smith of Wootton Major when Smith meets the Queen of Faery and found that:
"...His mind turned back retracing his life until he came to the day of the Children's Feast and the coming of the star, and suddenly he saw again the little dancing figure with its wand [stood on top of the sugary sweet icing of the Great Cake], and in shame he lowered his eyes from the Queen's beauty.
"But she laughed... "Do not be grieved for me...
"Better a little doll, maybe, than no memory of Faery at all."
Wednesday, 14 September 2016
The Character of Merlin - roots in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Vita Merlini
For me, the character of Merlin is of much greater interest than King Arthur - since I can identify much more closely with Merlin. And Merlin seems to be the basis of most more recent wizards (and druids) such as Gandalf, Getafix, Catweazle and Dumbledore.
The major basis of this resemblance seems to be a Latin poem called Vita Merlini (Life of Merlin) written by Geoffrey of Monmouth in about 1150 and circulated among his friends: a single complete manuscript survived; and I recently read a literal prose translation.
The history of this poem is analysed by Count Nikolai Tolstoy in his wonderful book The Quest for Merlin of 1985. It came some 15 years after Geoffrey's blockbuster bestseller Histories of the Kings of Britain - which is the main medieval source for King Arthur and has a few references to Merlin.
Life of Merlin seems to be the product of considerable research and compilation of earlier, probably much earlier, sources. It has a rather rambling plot and structure - as if it was made by arranging and linking several existing works. There are large passages of teaching and prophecy, which I didn't find very interesting.
But there are two characteristics of Merlin which stand-out - irritability and madness.
Irritability, cantankerousness, a short-temper... this trait has survived into almost all of the modern depictions of Merlin, and is also a feature of Gandalf and Getafix. We expect old wizards (and Geoffrey's Merlin is said to be very old, more than a century) to be easily annoyed by the questions of others.
Geoffrey's Merlin is, however, prone to full-blown insanity - and much of the plot hinges upon this. He is, indeed, driven insane by grief and regret at the end of a bloody battle - having previously been a King as well as a prophet, Merlin then flees to hide in solitude in the Caledonian Forest.
Modern Merlins and other wizards are usually eccentric rather than insane; they may be considered 'mad' by other people, but are not really so. Whereas there is no doubt that Geoffrey's Merlin was really psychotic - and his cure from insanity brings a sort of closure at the end of the poem.
According to Geoffrey; Merlin does not return to being a King, but does return to contemplative life in the forest during the milder seasons - but this time with two companions, one of whom is the legendary Welsh poet Taliessin.
The major basis of this resemblance seems to be a Latin poem called Vita Merlini (Life of Merlin) written by Geoffrey of Monmouth in about 1150 and circulated among his friends: a single complete manuscript survived; and I recently read a literal prose translation.
The history of this poem is analysed by Count Nikolai Tolstoy in his wonderful book The Quest for Merlin of 1985. It came some 15 years after Geoffrey's blockbuster bestseller Histories of the Kings of Britain - which is the main medieval source for King Arthur and has a few references to Merlin.
Life of Merlin seems to be the product of considerable research and compilation of earlier, probably much earlier, sources. It has a rather rambling plot and structure - as if it was made by arranging and linking several existing works. There are large passages of teaching and prophecy, which I didn't find very interesting.
But there are two characteristics of Merlin which stand-out - irritability and madness.
Irritability, cantankerousness, a short-temper... this trait has survived into almost all of the modern depictions of Merlin, and is also a feature of Gandalf and Getafix. We expect old wizards (and Geoffrey's Merlin is said to be very old, more than a century) to be easily annoyed by the questions of others.
Geoffrey's Merlin is, however, prone to full-blown insanity - and much of the plot hinges upon this. He is, indeed, driven insane by grief and regret at the end of a bloody battle - having previously been a King as well as a prophet, Merlin then flees to hide in solitude in the Caledonian Forest.
Modern Merlins and other wizards are usually eccentric rather than insane; they may be considered 'mad' by other people, but are not really so. Whereas there is no doubt that Geoffrey's Merlin was really psychotic - and his cure from insanity brings a sort of closure at the end of the poem.
According to Geoffrey; Merlin does not return to being a King, but does return to contemplative life in the forest during the milder seasons - but this time with two companions, one of whom is the legendary Welsh poet Taliessin.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)