Hardyng’s verse chronicle of Britain’s past includes as a matter of fact the statement that “Joseph of Arimathie came unto Britayne with Vespasyan and christened a part of this lande.”
During those three centuries the pure conversion legendbecame ever more hopelessly entangled in the lore of the Grail, for which the Crusades supplied much of the material. In England the Grail legend was mixed with the Celtic lore of Arthur and his knights and fashioned into pseudo-history by a long succession of chroniclers. Its richest development was in the work of Walter Map, whose
Quete du Saint Graal, Joseph d’Arimathie
, and
Merlin
were written about 1170. His romance of Joseph and the Grail was commissioned, scholars believe, by Henry II, who gave the tale a deliberate push for political reasons. To buttress his claim to head a national church coeval with Rome King Henry seized on the double Joseph-Grail legend, which Map accordingly popularized. Meanwhile the glory and honor of Glastonbury was further enhanced when Henry, with impressive ceremony, caused its churchyard to be dug up and found there, or so he claimed, the true tombs of Arthur and Guinevere. Glastonbury was thus officially confirmed as the burial site of ancient Britain’s hero King. Henry’s deliberate purpose was to raise Glastonbury above Canterbury, which had uncomfortable memories for him as the scene of Becket’s murder and was becoming all too popular as the goal of pilgrimages to Becket’s grave.
Joseph’s stature now grew rapidly. Not only did he and his descendants figure as keepers of the Grail, but he also came to be considered the ancestor of King Arthur himself. In the later accounts, which, after the fashion of medieval chroniclers, pretend to be true histories, divine intervention directs Joseph to the land of Britain, which is “promised to him and his issue.” There he fathers a line, traced down through many “begats” to a lady upon whom Uther Pendragon begat Arthur, “from which it is patent that King Arthur is descended from the stock of Joseph.” So says the writer known as John of Glastonbury, who lived about 1400.
Various precious national symbols gradually collect around and attach themselves to the figure of Joseph; not only the Grail, but also the sacred sword that gave Arthurkingship. This sword was originally King David’s, “the most marvelous that ever forged was,” which is taken out of the Temple and given to Solomon, who sets it to sea in a miraculous ship to find its destined owner, a pure knight “that shalt be the end of my lineage.” This person is of course Galahad, who through the alchemy of legend becomes the descendant of both Solomon and Joseph. He also inherits the miraculous white shield with the cross of blood brought from Syria by Joseph. In Malory’s
Morte d’Arthur
Joseph on his deathbed bequeathes the shield to Galahad, yet unborn by some 500 years, whom he too calls “the last of my lineage.”
David’s sword and Solomon’s ship are late additions to the legend, dating from fifteenth-century versions. Down the centuries Arthur and his knights had grown in verisimilitude and now appeared in all the chronicles as historical figures who fought Britain’s early battles against the Saxon invaders. Perhaps it was inevitable that men should wish to associate them with the Biblical heroes who represented the kingly power of Israel at its height. Or is this association another thread in the skein that carries so many Celtic traditions back to a source in Palestine?
Other Hebraic elements make their appearance. Joseph becomes confused with his Old Testament namesake, Joseph the son of Jacob. In a tremendous fifteenth-century poem by one Henry Lonelich that fills some eight hundred pages, Joseph, upon his arrival in Britain, finds it ruled by a “great felon paynim” called Duke Gaanor and peopled by “Saracens and many other miscreants.” This is obviously a medieval version of Pharoah and