The Awntyrs off Arthure: Landscape of Lamentation
The Awntyrs off Arthure is today perhaps the most famous northern Middle English romance when it comes to environmental description. Its initial “adventure” focuses on Arthur’s court out hunting in Inglewood Forest, near Carlisle. When an eclipse and a storm send the hunters fleeing for cover, Gawain and Guinevere (here, Gaynour) encounter the queen’s dead mother, risen as an embodied spirit from the Tarn Wathelene. The romance’s second half, meanwhile, concerns Gawain’s contest against a Scottish knight, Galeron of Galloway, over landholding titles (and thus the colonial ambitions of Arthur’s court). During the opening scenes of hunt and storm, the romance emphatically delineates affective environmental soundscapes.
Keywords: forest; tarn or lake; hunting; ghosts
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Citation
Middle English passages on this page have been quoted from:
Anonymous. 1995. Sir Gawain: Eleven Romances and Tales, ed. Thomas Hahn. Medieval Institute Publications. Click here to access this edition.
All Modern English translations were done by the website author, with recourse to the Middle English Dictionary and glosses in the cited edition(s).
Possible Provenance:
The map of Great Britain above highlights the possible provenance(s) — that is, place(s) of composition — suggested by scholars for this romance. The numbered markers denote the areas depicted by 360-degree photos or videos I have included on this page, listed in the order that they appear in my discussions below.
In the map, click the box icon in the upper-lefthand corner to display the legend.
This map is based on information regarding provenance supplied in the cited edition(s) of this romance, along with the linguistic analysis found in: Purdie, Rhiannon. 2008. Anglicising Romance: Tail-Rhyme and Genre in Medieval English Literature D.S. Brewer.
Scene 1: Relaxing by the Tarn Wathelene
Al in gleterand golde, gayly ho glides
The gates with Sir Gawayn, bi the grene welle.
And that burne on his blonke with the Quene bides
That borne was in Borgoyne, by boke and by belle.
He ladde that Lady so longe by the lawe sides;
Under a lorre they light, loghe by a felle.
And Arthur with his erles ernestly rides,
To teche hem to her tristres, the trouthe for to telle.
To here tristres he hem taught, ho the trouthe trowes.
Eche lorde withouten lette
To an oke he hem sette,
With bowe and with barselette,
Under the bowes (ll. 27-39).
…
With solas thei semble, the pruddest in palle,
And suwen to the Soverayne within schaghes schene.
Al but Sir Gawayn, gayest of all,
Beleves with Dame Gaynour in greves so grene.
By a lorer ho was light, undur a lefesale
Of box and of berber bigged ful bene (ll. 66-71).
All [dressed] in glittering gold, gaily she glides
The paths with Sir Gawain, by the green well.
And that man on his steed abides by the Queen
That was born in Burgundy [?], by the Sacraments.
He led that lady so long by the hill sides;
Under a laurel tree they alight, low by a ridge.
And Arthur with his earls earnestly rides,
To assign them to their hunting stations, in truth.
To hear the stations he taught them, whosoever believes the truth.
Each lord without reservation
At an oak set himself,
With bow and with hunting dog,
Under the boughs.
…
With joy they assemble, the proudest in clothing,
And gather to the sovereign within shining groves.
All but Sir Gawain, gayest of all,
[Who] remains with Dame Guinevere in groves so green.
By a laurel she dismounted, under an arbor
Of boxwood and barberry fully well made.
When the royal court rides out to hunt in Inglewood Forest, Gawain and his Queen, Gaynour (i.e., Guinevere) break off to set up for the day beneath a laurel tree alongside the Tarn Wathelene. As Laura Howes has argued, the setting for this scene seems to describe a crafted bower, indicating an aesthetically designed place for pleasurable relaxation amongst the “working” royal forest. A path leads in to a “green well,” and their resting point is against a [low] “ridge.”
This image shows tangled tree limbs canopying a woodland path beside the Aira Beck stream.
The paired image here, with arched branches turning the hillside path into a natural hallway, conveys a sense of intimate space. The rushing stream alongside is different from the tarn, but the water nearby helps to highlight the rising topography behind the photographer. The rest of the world seems shut out here. In the text, similarly, the actions of the hunters take place in the thick of the wooded areas, “under the boughs,” while the bower sets Gawain and Gaynour in their own space – and thus prepared for the ecotonal encounter they are about to experience.
This photograph shows a metal gate in a stone wall that divides a small woodland from surrounding pasture that now covers the site of the former Tarn Wathelene.
The image of the modern-day “Tarn Wathelene” wood, meanwhile, although more explicitly agricultural in its surroundings than the space described in the romance, conveys a sense of forested space carefully designed for human recreation – here, a modern woodland preserve, nodding to the historical forest and now-drained Tarn. The sense of space now lost and ecological change also nicely anticipates themes in the tarn-ghost’s cautionary remonstrations.
Scene 2: Active Water and Cowering Deer
Then durken the dere in the dymme skuwes,
That for drede of the deth droupes the do.
And by the stremys so strange that swftly swoghes
Thai werray the wilde and worchen hem wo.
The huntes thei halowe, in hurstes and huwes,
And till thaire riste raches relyes on the ro.
They gaf to no gamon grythe that on grounde gruwes.
The grete greundes in the greves so glady thei go;
So gladly thei gon in greves so grene.
The King blowe rechas
And folowed fast on the tras
With many sergeant of mas,
That solas to sene (ll. 53-65).
Then the deer cower in the dim woods,
[And] the doe drops [goes to ground] for fear of death.
And by the streams so strange that swiftly rush,
They worry [war upon] the wild [deer] and work woe upon them.
The hunters they yell, in hills and cliffs,
And from their hidden stations the hounds set upon the deer.
They gave no quarter to the game that lives upon the ground;
So gladly they go in the groves so green.
The king blows “rechase” [the hunting call],
And followed fast on the tack
With many sergeants of mace,
That a joy it was to see [them].
Deer hide from the hunters (human and hound alike), whose celebratory calls reconfigure the local soundscape. Human emotions of joy and excitement contrast with the fear of the cowering, desperate deer. The landscape of hills and cliffs, moreover, is cut through with rushing streams – an apt setting for such action. The images included here from Aira Force show a combined land- and waterscape of action: water racing through rocky, wooded terrain that rises and falls abruptly. Amusingly, random hikers can be seen in these spaces as well, rendered part of the landscape by the camera. These spaces thus still are categorized for recreational use by privileged human beings, if less violent than the blood sport of the medieval hunters.
This image displays the High Waterfall of Aira Force seen from the top, rushing down over stones through a hilly wood.
The sightline in both shots is broken frequently by copses and groves of trees, jutting stones, and hillsides, enacting many spaces in which fleeing deer could hide. Rushing water also divides each scene, akin to the romance’s “swiftly flowing streams.” As in the text, these images carry a contrast: there is the imagined dread of the deer, on the one hand, alongside the affective appreciation of the woodland and waterfall aesthetic on the other. Observing the mass of excited humans and hounds noisily pursuing the terrified deer, the Awntyrs’s narrator declares “that solas [i.e., a joy] to see.”
This photograph shows paths converging beside a fast-flowing stream, the Aira Beck, bordered by woods. The landscape of the Aira Force reserve slants uphill to the photographer’s right.
So too there is a beauty in these images of 2024 environments, mingled with a recognition of the past landscapes, real and imagined, that have fled. Intriguingly, this landscape that matches the details of the poem is found west of the site explicitly named in the text: for, as images accompanying this romance demonstrate, the topography around the real-life site of the tarn is (and was) markedly flatter. Both text and modern-day images, then, contribute to a fantasy tarn rooted as much in experiences closer to audience and manuscript than the location explicitly named.
Scene 3: A Ghostly Storm
The day wex als dirke
As hit were mydnight myrke;
Thereof the King was irke
And light on his fote.
Thus to fote ar thei faren, the frekes unfayn,
And fleen fro the forest to the fawe felle.
Thay ranne faste to the roches, for reddoure of the raynne
For the sneterand snawe snartly hem snelles.
There come a lowe one the loughe – in londe is not to layne –
In the lyknes of Lucyfere, laytheste in Helle,
And glides to Sir Gawayn the gates to gayne,
Yauland and yomerand, with many loude yelle.
Hit yaules, hit yameres, with waymynges wete,
And seid, with siking sare,
“I ban the body me bare!
Alas! Now kindeles my care;
I gloppen and I grete!” (ll. 75-91).
…
With a grisly grete the goost awey glides
And goes with gronyng sore thorgh the greves grene.
The wyndes, the weders, the welken unhides –
Then unclosed the cloudes, the son con shene.
The King his bugle has blowen and on the bent bides;
His fare folke in the frith, thei flokken bydene,
And al the riall route to the Quene rides;
She sayes hem the selcouthes that thei hadde ther seen.
The wise of the weder, forwondred they were.
Prince proudest in palle,
Dame Gaynour and alle,
Went to Rondoles Halle
To the suppere (ll. 326-38).
WThe day grew as dark
As it were midnight’s gloom;
Thereof the king was troubled
And dismounted onto his feet.
Thus to foot are gone, the joyless knights,
And [they] flee from the forest to the dappled hill.
They ran fast to the rocks, on account of the rain’s severity –
For the driving snow stings them smartly.
There came a light on the lake – in land is not to conceal –
In the likeness of Lucifer, loathliest in Hell,
And quickly glides on the path to Sir Gawain,
Yowling and yammering, with many a loud yell.
It yowls, it yammers, with wet lamentations,
And said, sighing sorely,
“I curse the body that bore me!
Alas! Now kindles my care;
I despair and I wail!”
…
With a grisly groan the ghost glides away
And goes with sore groaning through the green groves.
The winds, the weather, the firmament unhides –
Then unclosed the clouds, the sun began to shine.
The king has blown his bugle and on the field abides;
His fair folk in the forest, they flock behind,
And all the royal rout rides to the Queen;
She tells them the marvels that they had seen there.
The wise were bewildered by the weather.
Prince proudest in robe[s],
Dame Guinevere and all,
Went to Rondoles Halle
To the supper.
These two passages bookend Gawain and Gaynour’s (aka Guinevere’s) encounter with the embodied ghost of the Queen’s mother, who rises, screaming and moaning, from the Tarn Wathelene. In the first, a snow and sleet storm rolls in at the same time an eclipse blocks the sun, rendering the day “dark as midnight” and sending the hunters (human and hound alike) fleeing for cover under stones. The ghost’s arrival, meanwhile, places the narrative emphasis on the soundscape of the storm, as her otherworldy – and then English – cries split the air. After she has delivered her prophetic warnings to the knight and Queen, the ghost cries and groans as she is lost between the trees of Inglewood Forest. Her clay-clad body presents her as an avatar of the woodland tarn (as I have argued elsewhere), and her departure integrates her (and her associations with Purgatory) into the forest’s soundscape. The weather then miraculously clears, Arthur tries to reassert himself over the soundscape with his trumpet, the wise collectively scratch their heads at the weird weather, and they all retire to a more explicitly human space for supper. Presenting a thoroughly affective environment, the narrator describes human beings attempting to reestablish an anthropocentric worldview in the face of the exposed limits to their own understanding and authority.
This video depicts a quiet moment on a sunny day at the site of the former Tarn Wathelene, with the camera situated alongside the gate in a stone wall separating woodland from pasture.
Modern readers, of course, construct their own affective relationships with the story-worlds of medieval romance – relationships influenced by layers of technological and experiential mediation. Such mediation becomes especially apparent in attempts to visit places named in historical texts. The short video paired here was recorded in 2022 at the site of the former Tarn Wathelene. It features a soundscape defined by wind-born static, intermittent birdsong, and rustling leaves, pine needles, and grass. The faintest hints of sheep and cow calls are drowned out by the light breeze and, occasionally, passing automobiles. The stone wall and gate mark the border between a tiny woodland preserve and the surrounding pasture; looking to the north, into the field, the historical shoreline of the tarn can barely be seen where the ground slightly dips. The atmosphere is, overall, sedate, the sun shining down through passing clouds. The vagaries of academic calendars and available funding meant that I had to record in the middle of the summer, and so the weather is far from that in the Awntyrs. Multiple uses of the site are, however, on prominent display: pasturage agriculture butts up against preservation woodland, while the road links both back to the village of High Heskit and its buildings less than a mile to the northwest. Human sovereignty – if more the disembodied sovereignty of a capitalist market than the power of a king – seems visible everywhere, not least in the fact of the tarn’s planned absence (casualty of draining by prisoners of war in World War II, as noted by Kathleen Coyne Kelly in her lyrical chapter in this collection). The audience finds the pleasant weather “unclosed,” but without the cathartic release from the preceding storm. The landscape, meanwhile, is gently rolling at best, and notably lacking in the large stones that Arthur and his retinue use to hide from the storm. Yet this is the location explicitly named by the narrator in the encounter with the ghost. Like her lingering cries, the narrative of the romance lends a melancholic anxiety to this otherwise peaceful scene; the tarn itself, now a dry ghost of a pasture, evoking both lived and literary ecologies that the modern reader can only partially imagine.