Tintagel Castle

Tintagel.

Just one name. 

One place. 

It has a resonance with me. It has a resonance with England.

It is a crucible of the greatest of the English Dark Age Myths.

It was at Tintagel that Merlin transformed Uther Pendragon into the simulacra of the Duke of Cornwall. Uther then made love to Igraine, Cornwall’s young wife. The woman he fell in lust with. According to the stories, Uther, sacrificed the peace he had won, the position he had won to satisfy his lust. Everything tossed away for a night with this young, beautiful, woman. 

The outcome of this night of passion was the birth of a boy. A boy whose name still echoes from the Dark Ages; Arthur. Taken by Merlin, as his price for giving Uther the night with Igraine. Taken and raised by another family until his destiny became clear. With the death of Uther, the country fell into civil war. Usher’s sword, Excalibur, riven into  a stone by Uther before his death, challenged all to try and remove the sword from the stone. He who removed the sword became King. This was Arthur’s destiny.

It all started from Tintagel. This was the place we went to today. 

The View out of Merlins Cave, to the cove beyond

It is perhaps one of the most dramatic settings you can get for a castle. Split into two sections. The second section was reached via a causeway and led to an isolated piece of headland that juts into the Atlantic Sea. The first section is attached to the mainland but was approached by a descent through a steep valley. It is impressive. 

If a mythical King was born in the Dark ages, then this would have been the perfect place for it. 

Even now, in the present day, it is quite a walk from the top of the Tintagel to the ticket entrance. It’s a pretty steep decline. English Heritage even offer a Land Rover shuttle from the top to the bottom. No, we didn’t use that either on the way up or the way down. It was tempting on the way back.

You drop down even further and have two ways to go; You can either walk towards the entrance to the two sections of the castle or, like we did, we headed down to the beach. It was low tide and that meant we could venture into Merlins Cave. The beginning of the day and we had already been into one of the greatest mythical places. This is in no small part to Tennyson’s Poem, ‘Idylls of the King’. In this version, Arthur is washed ashore and Merlin takes the infant to safety.

"Descending through the dismal night–a night

In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost–
Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps
It seemed in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof
A dragon winged, and all from stern to stern
Bright with a shining people on the decks,
And gone as soon as seen. And then the two
Dropt to the cove, and watched the great sea fall,
Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,
Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep
And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged
Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:
And down the wave and in the flame was borne
A naked babe, and rode to Merlin’s feet,
Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried “The King!
Here is an heir for Uther!” And the fringe
Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand,
Lashed at the wizard as he spake the word,
And all at once all round him rose in fire,
So that the child and he were clothed in fire."

– Idylls of the King: The coming of Arthur by Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

The ‘ninth wave’ is as mythical as the birth of Arthur, itself. In Irish mythology the ninth wave separates the earthly world from the supernatural world. Tennyson is giving us the birth of Arthur. Not, as Mallory does in the joining of earthly lust, but Arthur’s creation is linked to the supernatural. Arthur is perhaps, Divine. Tennyson would be aware of the link he is creating.

This has always been the secret to the brilliance of the Arthurian myth(s). They are all malleable. You can take bits, move bits, add characters and enlarge their universe. Yet, ultimately, it boils down to some certainties. One of these is, and always will be, Tintagel.

Were you to be able to strip away the myth from the place. Tintagel would still be impressive. It specialises in terrifying stairs that though attached, I hope, securely, to the cliff tops still manage to persuade you that you are one rain storm from disappearing into the swell below. Probably not for the ninth wave, either. As a parent I was also, at times, terrified seeing so many small children running about on the headland. I would imagine I’d have spent the entire trip having heart palpitations if we’d taken the children! 

The view from one section of Castle to the other and the sheer drops involved.

Note the terrifying steps. Knee trembling to climb. Even worse to descend.

I am not sure I’d have been cut out the chaplain paid by the king to remain on the island and see to the church. Idyllic in summer, I’m sure, but in Winter? I cannot perhaps imagine a tougher, more bleak existence, than being kept on that exposed headland celebrating christmas! 

For us. The sun shone. It was probably one of the hottest days of the year. And boy, when you are walking around and away from the site, back to town it felt like we were in a sauna. I wonder what Merlin wore in the summers on the beach?