How the story of King Arthur gets told during Hollywood’s Golden Age – the 1950s and 60s.
The Arthurian Legend comes to America with Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.
The story of King Arthur moves into the Victorian Age, where it is revitalized by Walter Scott and Alfred Tennyson.
Written sometime around 1468 amidst the gathering dusk of the medieval period Le Morte d’Arthur was an ambitious attempt to forge the self-contained, tonally dissonant, and sometimes contradictory fragments of the Arthurian legends’ broad canon into a single cohesive work.
As far as Arthurian literature was concerned, the fourteenth century was a time of spinoffs and magic, of original characters and adventure; and the greatest of these tales was Perceforest.
Edward III, fastidiously adorned in the trappings and iconography of the Arthurian romances and a near-universally celebrated aristocratic cult of chivalry, cut an undeniable dashing figure at the feast table or upon the battlefield, even as his armies cut down dashing figures across France.
King Edward I of England found not only a role model but a political tool every bit as puissant as the legendary king himself.
As we have explored throughout this series that family was of paramount importance to the twelfth century English aristocracy.
Henry II now enjoys a reputation as a committed and reasonably prolific founder and serial patroniser of monasteries. He was also engaged in another widespread, not to mention potentially politically advantageous aristocratic activity – the siring of illegitimate children.
Geoffrey’s devotion to Henry II and the favored status which saw him rise high in his father’s reign
Born sometime around the mid 1170s, William Longespée was the son of King Henry II and the most aristocratic and well connected of his known mistresses, Ida de Tosny.
Hamelin is something of an anomaly, being the only illegitimate royal family member raised to an earldom during the twelfth century who was not the son of a king.
Taking advantage of the confusion and division created by the inheritance crisis following the death of Henry I, his nephew Stephen seized the throne
The father of Henry I could become the King of England despite his illegitimate birth. Why couldn’t Henry’s eldest son do the same?
If many Anglo-Norman and Angevin royal bastards during the 12th century could be said to be have had good fortunes, then Henry I’s eldest illegitimate child, Earl Robert of Gloucester, spent most of his lifetime rising on the wheel.
The sinking of the White Ship in 1120 had far reaching repercussions for the Anglo-Norman hegemony, sparking a succession crisis and sowing the seeds of three decades of dynastic strife between the Conqueror’s grandchildren.
Henry I’s daughter Juliana was, as far as history records, the only one who ever tried to kill the king having shot a crossbow at him in 1119.
Raised amidst the settling dust of the Norman Conquest, the traditional seat of the Earldom of Warwick has continually throughout its millennia long and oft glorious history fundamentally reinvented itself, making it the Madonna of medieval military architecture.
At one time the greatest palace complex in Europe and a favoured haunt of the British Royal family to this day, Windsor Castle is a still living relic of a time where out of necessity, the sum of a nation’s sovereignty and a State’s very existence as a politically distinct identity rested upon a crowned head.
Few indeed are those architectural legacies still remaining to us that can boast the iconic status of Edinburgh Castle, its distinctive silhouette known throughout the world, accompanied by the gently wafting of bagpipes. Far rarer still are those structures with a comparably singular influence upon the shaping of a nation.
Windswept and interesting, the spectacle of the venerable old man of Northumbria, Bamburgh Castle, cannot help but stoke the imagination.
Resolute and vigilant, Dover Castle yet stands guard above its ancient charge, the port of Dover. Of all the facets and functions that the castle performed in medieval society, Dover personifies its most commonly remembered and perhaps fundamental aspect, as a stronghold and place of security.
While Caernarvon was the ultimate manifestation of Anglo-Norman occupied Wales wrought into stone and mortar, Pembroke was its beating heart. Today ensconced upon a spur of rock, the Cleddau estuary flowing gently by, Pembroke Castle stands still, its long shadow silent and serene.
Stirling Castle is intimately entwined with the history of Scotland and her monarchy, a significance which is recognized and presented throughout its numerous components with admirable vigour.