The Once and Future King
a lament
Toward the end of Thomas Malory’s Morte Darthur we come to the telos of the entire narrative: the death of King Arthur on the field of Camlann. The sword Excalibur returned to the Lady of the Lake, Arthur is then taken to the Isle of Avalon, as the king tells Bedevere: “For I muste into the vale of Avylon to hele me of my grevous wounde. And if thou here never more of me, pray for my soule!”
Malory, melancholic that he is, is ambivalent about what really happened to Arthur:
“Yet som men say in many partys of Inglonde that kynge Arthure ys nat dede, but had by the wyll of oure Lorde Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall com agayne, and he shall wynne the Holy Crosse. Yet I woll nat say hit shall be so, but rather I wolde sey: here in thys worlde he chaunged hys lyff. And many men say that there ys written uppon the tumbe thys:
HIC IACET ARTHURUS, REX QUONDAM REXQUE FUTURUS
As I’ve mentioned before, the Morte is for me the quintessential text for our times: times marked by melancholia, betrayal, and the collapse of something that held such promise. “Things fall apart, the center cannot hold.” Maybe it’s always like this.
Given this disposition of soul, it is no surprise that recent events in the United Kingdom have awakened in me the imagination of the Once and Future King who shall return and win the Holy Cross. The UK, from what it looks like, might be on the verge of a civil war, with actual Britons (and Scots and Welsh) on one side and agents of World Economic Forum chaos on the other, no one more so that Keir Starmer, who has openly professed that, if made to choose, he would choose the WEF over his countrymen. He is doing just that.
As I should have expected, following a few of my recent posts on happenings in the UK, I have heard from some people in the UK telling me, both here on the Stack and on my YouTube channel, that there is no problem in the UK and that I am falling prey to a psyop. But I have heard from far more who say just the opposite and even ask me to pray for their country. If I learned anything from Covid, it is that these monsters in Davos are hellbent (note the metaphor) on world domination, as was only too obvious to anyone not so traumatized by lockdowns and propaganda to still be able to pay attention and think clearly.
What we are faced with now is almost a kind of “Last Battle” situation, and it is without a doubt a spiritual battle in which we are embroiled. In the Morte the evil that creeps into and poisons Camelot is the product of human weakness, Original Sin, if you like. The evil there inhabits the soul and capitalizes on vulnerabilities of men and women. All the armor in the world can’t protect one from that kind of evil. The evil we face, however, is more an external evil, a battle with the Archons about whom St Paul writes when he reminds us that our struggle is not against flesh and blood—ours or anyone else’s—“but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12). There is simply no other way to think about it.
And here’s where the lament comes in.
Though most would describe me as idealistic and hopeful, a strain of melancholia still inhabits my blood. So I can get discouraged that there does not seem to be much will to resist the attacks of the spiritual evil in high places now enveloping us. My lament, as was Malory’s, is for the disappearance of a spiritual knighthood, in particular a Christian knighthood that takes on evil not only in the deserts of the soul but on what Dylan Thomas called “the fields of praise.” When I see great thinkers like Paul Kingsnorth retreat into the shadow of the monastery, it brings me great sadness, but not, alas, surprise. Maybe having Mars in the eighth house in Aries makes me more of a warrior than most (my last name certainly attests to that); but, even if it didn’t, I think there’s still something worth fighting for.
But where are the young warriors? I don’t see much evidence of them, I’m sorry to say. If they’re not immersed in porn, weed, or video games, they seem more content to argue in comboxes about whether or not Seraphim Rose was gay or whether on not the priest should face ad orientem than to awaken and confront the darkness surrounding them. I hope mine is a gross mischaracterization. At my most cynical moments, I conclude with Yeats that “the best lack all conviction / while the worst are full of passionate intensity.” Yet I have to believe that the spirit or the warrior still lives, that a true Sophianic Knighthood is possible.
So I’m still holding out for the return of Arthur, even if I have to go and get him myself.
A couple of clips from the end of the 1982 John Boorman film Excalibur.
I'm thinking that it's not exactly obvious what warriors are supposed to do at the moment, or what a fight would look like. Should they argue in the comboxes about something *else*? The enemy is nebulous, with no clear target to attack or plausible means to reach it. Seems like it's more of a season to shore up our own resources and let the system exhaust itself.
Or I guess there could be literal brawls in the streets—there's also that. Sounds like it might come to that on its own in places such as Britain, at this rate. They can pick out a nice lamppost to decorate with their traitorous PM.
Wonderful essay, and still leaves me with hope. I tell my son, now 8, everyday that our people’s lore says that the great heroes will return in their countries’ time of need, and that he’d better mind because I heard he’s one of them.
We may not be able to wait for Generation Alpha (and I’ve heard from other parents that the appellation fits these kids) to come of age. But I know I’d move the Earth to leave him (and all of his cousins in Christendom) a society to rebuild.