[Tyr Zalo Hawk]: 712.Essays.The Ignorance of Bedivere.First

Long ago, in a land far from here, a noble king’s final battle and the events that followed now give us some insight into the workings of heroes and men. Alfred Lord Tennyson, with his poem “The Passing of Arthur”, details the conversations between Sir Bedivere, Arthur’s first and final knight, and King Arthur himself. As the story progresses, a distinction between the two men develops. Bedivere repeatedly assumes the thoughts and meaning behind his king’s every action, and fails to guess correctly at every turn. Arthur corrects his knight, commands him, and even goes as far as to show Bedivere the depth to which Arthur knows him. Yet through it all it can be seen that no knight, no mere man, can ever begin to know the mind of a hero, a king of legends.
Our first encounter with the erroneous Sir Bedivere comes before the battle ever begins. We find Bedivere and Arthur conversing about the upcoming battle where Arthur must fight and kill the knights who had once sworn fealty to him. While Bedivere openly boasts that such a battle will be just as the conquerings of old, Arthur quickly corrects him. “Far other is this battle in the west / … than when we strove in youth,” says Arthur, “The king who fights his people fights himself.” Even on the eve of battle, the knight can’t see that there is far more at stake here than a mere fight between men. This is the final chapter not only in Tennyson’s work, but of the golden age in which Arthur ruled with noble knights by his side. But one folly is not enough for Bedivere, for not long after, near the end of the arduous battle that Arthur predicted, he again starts in on his opinions. He claims that Arthur will be his king, live or dead, and then goes on about Modred, boldly stating that he is: “The heathen back among us… / … the traitor of thine house.” as though it were out of his king’s mind and not his own. Once again, his king, within a few short lines, rebukes him, and informs Bedivere that his nephew was never truly a friend or knight of Arthur and his court. Already, within the first 160 lines, we can clearly make out a gap in understanding between these two men. Bedivere thinks he knows Arthur, but Arthur is always there reminding him that that knowledge is far from Bedivere’s grasp. Yet, even as Arthur tries to disillusion him, the knight persists. This rift between the assumptions of a knight and the true intentions of a king only widens as the poem goes on.
Shortly after the battle, Arthur is gravely wounded and asks his only friend to perform a single task for him. “Take Excalibur, / And fling him far into the middle mere” is the king’s command, and his knight hastily goes to execute it. However, when his mission is all but done, when the gleaming lake lies just there and Excalibur is in his hand, Bedivere falters. In his hand he sees a prize among prizes, and cannot bring himself to let it go for reasons which appear to be noble in word, but are truly fueled only by greed. The gap only widens when Bedivere returns to Arthur and we find that, although the knight cannot discern the thoughts of his king, Arthur can read Bedivere like a book. Arthur asks after the task, whether or not it has been completed, and his loyal servant lies between his teeth, assuming his lord will not notice. But Arthur is not so easily fooled. He verbally lashes at Bedivere, calling out his lie, but Arthur still has faith, for he knows the goodness of the only knight not to have left him. Lord Arthur sends Bedivere to throw the sword into the lake once again, compelling him even more fervently than before. A moment before the task is done, though, Bedivere comes to a new conclusion. He blames this decision to toss Excalibur away on the delusions of a man near death. Greed has once more overtaken truth, and has dashed away whatever chance Bedivere might have had in understanding Arthur’s command. Satisfied that his reasoning must be all there is to it, and that surely he may trick his master now, Bedivere returns once more. He is presented the same question, he tells the same lie, and Arthur sees through him once again. Now, angered twice by his companion’s failure, the King calls him out. “I see thee for what thou art,” he says, “Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt.” Knowing that there is only one option left to him if he is to live to see his request fulfilled, Arthur switches gear and plays to what he knows will motivate Bedivere to do as he is told: “If thou spare to fling Excalibur, / I will arise and slay thee with my hands.” At this, Bedivere rushes off once more, doubly hurried to do as he has been told. Yet, even with this extra bout of motivation, it is only through closing his eyes that he can overcome himself and his greed and do as Arthur bade him thrice to do. And so it is finally done, after all the years of loyalty and devotion it was only death and blindness that could rouse Arthur’s first knight to do as asked. How far can such a gap between hero and man be made to be? Further still it seems, for Bedivere has not yet learned that he cannot comprehend the mind of the king.
From the completion of the deed, Arthur and Bedivere make their way to the three White Queens who wait to bear Arthur away. As the king is loaded into the boat, Bedivere is suddenly overcome with anguish. “Ah, my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?” says the knight, “For now I see the true old times are dead.” It has taken him til the end of it all to realize what his king has been trying to show him since the beginning. In the face of death, once again, Bedivere is finally able to come as close as he can to knowing Arthur and his wishes. True to his hero ways, Arthur consoles his friend one last time before he departs this world for next, bidding Bedivere only to pray for his soul. And do these, the dying words of the hero king, reach the knight’s mind and heart? Has this second brush with death finally given our knight the push he needs to understand? Alas, no. He is not comforted by his king’s words, for he feels his grief too deeply to listen to the reason of Arthur. He does not pray, for he is too busy shouting after the queens in his distrust of them. As death and Arthur slip farther away from him in the boat of the queens, so too does what little comprehension Bedivere might have gained. In the end Bedivere only runs to the top of a cliff and watches as his king disappears into the deep, perhaps never to return.
Sir Bedivere, a man who tries only to do good, a knight loyal til the very end, is still just a man. His many attempts to determine the reasons and thoughts of his king only end in repeated failure. Despite Arthur’s many corrections and consolations, Bedivere grows no closer to understanding him. It seems that nothing, not war, death, or the words of a lord and friend can ever allow even the greatest among knights to know a hero. And if there be no hope for such a knight, what chance have we who are naught but common men?