THE SCENE: In an interesting example of engaging critically with one’s subject matter, the 12th century author below lays out his case for why King Arthur and his contemporaries could not have possibly achieved the fabulous deeds that that legend ascribes to them.
THE TEXT: But how much plain historical truth outweighs concerted fiction may, in this particular, be perceived even by a purblind man through his mind’s eye. Moreover, he depicts Arthur himself as great and powerful beyond all men, and as celebrated in his exploits as he chose to feign him. First, he makes him triumph, at pleasure, over Angles, Picts, and Scots; then, he subdues Ireland, the Orkneys, Gothland, Norway, Denmark, partly by war, partly by the single terror of his name. To these he adds Iceland, which, by some, is called the remotest Thule, in order that what a noble poet flatteringly said to the Roman Augustus, “The distant Thule shall confess thy sway,” might apply to the British Arthur.
Next, he makes him attack, and speedily triumph over, Gaul — a nation which Julius Caesar, with infinite peril and labor, was scarcely able to subjugate in ten years — as though the little finger of the British was more powerful than the loins of the mighty Caesar. After this, with numberless triumphs, he brings him back to England, where he celebrates his conquests with a splendid banquet with his subject-kings and princes, in the presence of the three archbishops of the Britons, that is London, Carleon, and York — whereas, the Britons at that time never had an archbishop. Augustine, having received the pall from the Roman pontiff, was made the first archbishop in Britain; for the barbarous nations of Europe, though long since converted to the Christian faith, were content with bishops, and did not regard the prerogative of the pall. Lastly, the Irish, Norwegians, Danes, and Goths, though confessedly Christians, for a long while possessed only bishops, and had no archbishops until our own time.
Next this fabler, to carry his Arthur to the highest summit, makes him declare war against the Romans, having, however, first vanquished a giant of surprising magnitude in single combat, though since the times of David we never read of giants. Then, with a wider license of fabrication, he brings all the kings of the world in league with the Romans against him; that is to say, the kings of Greece, Africa, Spain, Parthia, Media, Iturea, Libya, Egypt, Babylon, Bithynia, Phrygia, Syria, Boeotia, and Crete, and he relates that all of them were conquered by him in a single battle; whereas, even Alexander the Great, renowned throughout all ages, was engaged for twelve years in vanquishing only a few of the potentates of these mighty kingdoms.
Indeed, he makes the little finger of his Arthur more powerful than the loins of Alexander the Great; more especially when, previous to the victory over so many kings, he introduces him relating to his comrades the subjugation of thirty kingdoms by his and their united efforts; whereas, in fact, this romancer will not find in the world so many kingdoms, in addition to those mentioned, which he had not yet subdued. Does he dream of another world possessing countless kingdoms, in which the circumstances he has related took place? Certainly, in our own orb no such events have happened. For how would the elder historians, who were ever anxious to omit nothing remarkable, and even recorded trivial circumstances, pass by unnoticed so incomparable a man, and such surpassing deeds? How could they, I repeat, by their silence, suppress Arthur, the British monarch (superior to Alexander the Great), and his deeds, or Merlin, the British prophet (the rival of Isaiah), and his prophecies? For what less in the knowledge of future events does he attribute to this Merlin than we do to Isaiah, except, indeed, that he durst not prefix to his productions, “Thus saith the Lord” and was ashamed to say, “Thus saith the Devil,” though this had been best suited to a prophet the offspring of a demon.
– History of English Affairs, William of Newburgh, 12th Century AD