Introduction

When Henry of Blois died on August 8^th, 1171, he had presided as Abbot of the Benedictine Abbey of Glastonbury, Somerset, for nearly half a century. Immensely rich and powerful, he was the fourth son of Adela and Stephen, count of Blois and Chartres. Naturally, for someone with royal connections – his mother was daughter of William the Conqueror – the young Henry was destined for high office, and in 1126 his uncle, King Henry I, appointed him Abbot of Glastonbury. Three years later he succeeded to the position of bishop of Winchester. Although a somewhat controversial figure in the political affairs of his brother, King Stephen, (reigned, 1135 – 1154), Henry of Blois is better known as one of the most outstanding patrons of the twelfth century renaissance. His rebuilding of Glastonbury and Winchester were unprecedented and he was a connoisseur of objet d’art.

It is not known how or when Glastonbury first acquired Lammana, but it is not inconceivable that it was one of the possessions received by Henry of Blois on becoming its abbot. In his Antiquitates Glastoniensis Ecclesie the fourteenth century chronicler, John of Glastonbury, tells us that Henry of Blois “by his diligent labour… strove manfully to recall and increase the monastery’s possessions, which he received in a dilapidated and scattered state.” Was Lammana one of those possessions?

Celtic Origins

In an article published in the Devon and Cornwall Notes & Queries, I argued that the origins of the name Lammana had been misunderstood. Like so many of Cornwall’s early Christian sites, Lammana was probably identified with the saint who founded a small monastic community on the island sometime during the late fifth to early sixth century. Martin Picken, a leading authority on medieval Cornwall, was in no doubt that Lammana was earlier than the Norman Conquest: “It is almost certain that the first element of this Celtic name Lammana was originally the Cornish word lan, a religious enclosure of the Celtic type sometimes called monasteries but more aptly described by Professor Charles Thomas as ‘communal hermitages [coenobitic] or perhaps eremitic communities.’ A Christian community of that kind might, of course, be very small, perhaps merely the huts of a few disciples beside that of their revered spiritual master, and it might have had only a transient existence. But, whatever the size or the duration of a lan of that sort, its essential characteristic, almost its first necessity, would have been a chapel. Though a primitive structure at first, the chapel might yet outlast the community which founded it and, being reconstructed when necessary, might survive into the Middle Ages to become a chapel of local devotion or a parish church.”

Local author and historian W.H. Paynter, believed that the name Lammana was derived from a dedication to St. Manac [Welsh: Manacus]. Very little is known about this obscure Celtic saint. He may well have been a Welshman and the first abbot of Holyhead [Caer Cybi] after its foundation in the sixth century. He has been linked to St. Cuby [c. 483-555] and appears to have taken up residence in Cornwall towards the end of his life. According to Paynter he is the same as the patron saint of the parish church of Lanreath and Lanlivery, where there is a double dedication to St. Manacus and St. Dunstan; and in this part of south east Cornwall, Manacus seems to have enjoyed an important local cult based on a possible tomb site at Lanreath, a detail confirmed by William of Worcester in his Itinerarium of 1478. Manacus is said “on the authority of Robert Bracey, to lie in the Church of Lanreath, within two miles of Fowey, and on the authority of the canons of Launceston [Priory]…”

Monastic Revival

Following the devastation of the Viking raids, many churches in Britain were re-founded in the mid tenth century. For example, Much Wenlock in Shropshire - dedicated to St Mildburg – was re-founded in 1050 on an earlier seventh century foundation. It later became a Cluniac Priory, and, like Lammana, suffered the same fate in the sixteenth century, being dissolved in 1539. Glastonbury monks were at the forefront of the monastic revival. On his return from exile in A.D. 959, St. Dunstan was made Archbishop of Canterbury. The impetus behind the campaign of reforms was the imposition of the Benedictine Rule. The larger monastic houses like Bath, Malmesbury, Westminster, and Exeter were re-organized along Benedictine customs and practices. In A.D. 993, Wulfsige, a former monk of Glastonbury, turned Sherborne into a monastery, and it’s perhaps from this time that many smaller monastic houses were founded by Glastonbury monks. It remains curious, if not profoundly important, that St. Dunstan (born in the West Country) and the Celtic St. Manacus, share a double dedication at Lanreath.

Henry of Blois

So far we have concentrated on Lammana as a former possession of Glastonbury: which Henry of Blois may have reclaimed sometime after 1126. There are however, other possibilities worth investigating. According to John of Glastonbury “the glorious Bishop Henry had the possessions, liberties, and other rights which he had discovered or acquired by his labour and had added to the monastery secured and confirmed by the supreme pontiffs Innocent II and Alexander III and by these three kings, namely Henry I, his brother Stephen, and Henry II...” Lammana first appears in a list of possessions confirmed to Glastonbury by Pope Lucius II in 1144. We shall therefore need to look at the period prior to 1144 to see if there are any clues as to why Glastonbury should want to acquire a property at a considerable distance from the abbey.

Strategic value

Written by an anonymous author, the Gesta Stephani, is one of the primary sources for the years of King Stephen’s reign; a period often referred to by some historians as the Anarchy. The text provides a clear itinerary of the King’s movements as he tried to hold together his kingdom against the challenge of Robert, Earl of Gloucester, and the Empress Matilda.

In 1140, Stephen – as Count of Mortain and the largest land owner in the county -entered Cornwall with a mighty army. His objective was to put down the threat of rebellion from William fitz Richard, “a man of very distinguished family,” and Reginald, Earl of Cornwall; an illegitimate son of King Henry I. Accounts in both the Gesta Stephani, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle agree on one important point; namely that clergymen and church property often came under attack: “And Reginald for his part, on becoming lord of so great an earldom, began to behave with more vigour than discretion to bend all to his will by force of arms, to strengthen any castles that existed and put garrisons of his own men into them, and most grievously to oppress all supporters of the king that were in his neighbourhood. And the mad rashness of his reckless proceedings went so far that he [Reginald] neither spared churches nor in any degree kept his plunderers from the Church’s property.” (GS)

Caught off guard by the sudden appearance of Stephen with a large army, Robert, Earl of Gloucester, was persuaded by his advisors not to engage the Kings forces. Stephen quickly secured the enemies castles and appointed Alan de Dinan, (Count of Brittany), as the new Earl of Cornwall. Although the Kings hold on Cornwall remained in the balance throughout the period of trouble, it was by and large free from any further disorder.

This episode raises some very interesting questions about what might have been taking place at Lammana at that time. For instance, if the priory was not a former possession of Glastonbury, was it acquired or captured (appropriated) during the Kings intervention in Cornwall in 1140? If it was already owned by Glastonbury, was it defended from attack?

The warrior monk

“Many church estates which fell vacant between 1136 and 1141, when Henry's power was at its height, were brought under his direct control.” (ODNB) Did Henry of Blois – the kings’ right hand man – appropriate Lammana?

We know that French clerics were active in Cornwall in the early part of the twelfth century from an incident that took place at Bodmin: in which they poked fun at the locals for their belief in the legend of King Arthur. Although Bishop Henry appeared to be a firm advocate of Canon Law, there are suggestions however that he may well have moved the goal posts from time to time: “Henry of Winchester, used his position as papal legate and his assertion of canonical theory to cover every kind of violence and intrigue.” (Austin Lane Poole, Medieval England, vol. II, Oxford University Press, 1958, p. 399) It has been suggested that the very practice of appropriating land may have contributed to the uprising of Norman barons against Stephen early in his reign. Having squandered his uncle’s wealth, Stephen found himself in dire straights financially. In a letter from Becket, as Archbishop of Canterbury, Bishop Henry was “accused of appropriating the gold and silver embellishments from the great cross of Hyde Abbey (following the fire which had consumed the building in 1141)...” He was later acquitted of the accusation after appearing in the ecclesiastical court.

It was also a time of growing tension between the black monks of the Benedictine order, and the white monks of the recently founded Cistercians. St. Bernard “had been ten years at Clairvaux when he was approached by William of St Thierry about writing a tract, (the Apologia), that would both refute current accusations that the Cistercians were running down the black monk's way of life and denounce the laxity of contemporary Cluniac practice.” (The Cistercian World: Monastic Writings of the Twelfth Century, (trans. Pauline Matarasso), Penguin Books, 1993, p. 42) But there are two criticisms in particular which St Bernard makes; and they may well have been made with Bishop Henry in mind. Primary evidence - St. Bernard’s own correspondence - indicates a personal animosity towards Henry of Blois. In a letter to Pope Lucius II, written in 1144 - the same year that Glastonbury recieved its Privilegium listing Lammana as a possession - St. Bernard referred to Bishop Henry as “that old deceiver of Winchester.” (ODNB) There were in fact many occasions where bishop Henry found himself in serious trouble, and if it was not for the expediency of keeping good relations with the Normans, the Popes strongest political allies, the outcome might have been completely different.

One of St. Bernard’s most damming critiscms in his Apologia concerns the decadence of a certain (but unnamed) abbot: “I swear I have seen an abbot with sixty horses and more in his train. If you saw them passing, you would take them for lords with dominion over castles and counties not for fathers of monks and shepherds of souls.” (p.55; Apologia XI, 27) On a visit to Cluny in 1149, in which he lent the struggling abbey a considerable sum of money, records show “that Henry traveled with a large retinue, including his private secretaries and his personal chef.” (ODNB) Another criticism - and one that is a little more surprising coming from the chief advocate of the Second Crusade – was the militarization of monastic orders: “knight and monk today cut cloak and cowl from the one bolt,” could almost be a reference to bishop Henry himself. (p.54; Apologia X, 25) Some of Bishop Henry’s architectural projects had elements of defense built into them; such as Winchester palace. One of the most striking features of the so-called ‘Monk’s House’ at Lammana, is the thickness of the walls and the splayed windows. This building could have just as easily have been manned by a small handful of soldiers; charged with protecting both the island, and the recently built mainland chapel.

The French Connection

If Lammana had been appropriated, who may have owned it prior to Glastonbury? We have already seen that French clerics were present at nearby Bodmin early in the twelfth century. However, it is with the De Soligny family that the biggest piece of the historical jigsaw puzzle is missing. It is interesting that a John de Soligny (Soligneio) witnessed two charters of Duke Henry between 1151-53: both documents granting protection to Savigny Abbey in Normandy. Hasculf de Soligny, later confirmed the Island of St Michael of Lammana to Glastonbury around 1200. We know that the monks of Savigny were present in the West Country by at least 1136, as King Stephen had granted Savigny the church of Buckfast in Devon, in which Bishop Henry and Roger of Salisbury were both witnesses. Originally Benedictine, Savigny became affiliated to the Cistercian order in 1147. It may be that the monastic ideals of seclusion and asceticism favoured by the Savigny monks, found resonance in a landscape once dominated by the saint’s of old Cornwall.

One possible explanation then, for the mysterious lack of documentary evidence associated with the earlier medieval history of Lammana, is that Henry of Blois confiscated the property illegally; when his brother, the King, entered Cornwall in 1140. Canon Law prohibited monks from administering the sacraments to the lay community, unless, that is, they had a papal privilege, which had the affect of immunity from episcopal interference in regard to any aspect of the customs or practices of the monastery and its possessions. The principal underlying the privilege can be clearly seen in the earlier Saxon charter granted to Glastonbury by King Ina. Indeed, it was through the appeal to Saxon charters that many claims of ownership were demonstrated. If Lammana had been owned by Glastonbury during Saxon times, we would expect to find at least one charter recording that ownership. This was, after all, the preferred method of establishing tenure of land; the single most important possession for accumulating wealth and exercising ones influence in the medieval world.

Folk tradition and the origins of myth

The lack of documentary evidence associated with the earlier medieval history of Lammana has often been seen as proof of its un-importance. The argument goes that Glastonbury’s chroniclers were selective, and that Lammana was not a major possession. However, the lack of evidence might point to something far more important taking place in the first half of the twelfth century. After the Conquest in 1066, the Normans sought to legitimize “the new political order.” (Gilingham, 118) By 1150 the process of appropriating stories of King Arthur from the Celtic speaking lands of Wales, Cornwall and Brittany was well under way. William of Malmesbury, (De Antiquitate, c, 1135) and Geoffrey of Monmouth, (Historia, c. 1136) both used Arthur in their histories. What the Normans were up to? The only way to gain political credibility, and appease the disparate regions of Britain, was to incorporate the earlier Saxon history into a seamless transition: by claiming descent from King Arthur, and the line of successive English kings that followed after him, the Normans created one of the most powerful of all myths, and one that was used to great affect in the legends later associated with Glastonbury Abbey.

 

Surprisingly, the man who is remembered most for his patronage of architecture, should be also be remembered by his contemporaries as an outstanding scholar. William of Malmesbury, a close friend of the bishop, wrote that Henry of Blois was remarkable for his literary skill. Strange then, that there is not a single work attributed to bishop Henry himself: a man who patronized the production of the Winchester Bible, and bequeathed over forty books to Glastonbury Abbey. Nicholas Riall has argued that bishop Henry may have took a far more active role in literary production than was first imagined: “…the monastic scriptorium at the cathedral [Winchester] must have been greatly influenced, if not actually directed, by Bishop Henry himself. This is difficult to prove, but Bishop Henry’s known activities at his palaces and castles, along with the fact that he appears to have taken into his own hands the running of substantial portions of the monastic, as opposed to the episcopal, estates, as well as his documented activities within the cathedral itself, persuades us that he quite probably oversaw the activities of the scriptorium also.”

 

 

It has been suggested elsewhere that Henry of Blois resented his subservience to Canterbury, (being denied the archbishopric himself in 1136), and that he attempted to establish Glastonbury as the seat of a rival episcopal see in the West Country. When this failed, he then set about trying to promote the abbey as a major center of pilgrimage. What better way to achieve this, than to attach its name to that of the illustrious King Arthur? The rewriting of foundation stories was pretty much in evidence by the first half of the twelfth century. The objective here was to enhance the status of a monastery by appealing to its foundation by some miraculous event or by an important religious figure such as a saint. At Fecamp on the Normandy coast, “the monks composed the Liber de revelatione (Book of Revelation) in order to claim exemption from the jurisdiction of the archbishop or Rouen; this document claimed that the abbey was founded before the existence of the archbishopric, and was therefore entitled to privileged status.” (Barber, 129). The story goes that a priest from a neighboring parish saw the consecrated wine turn into the actual blood of Christ. Commenting on William of Malmesbury’s De Atiquitate, Richard Barber argues that: “The purpose of the book, and the spirit behind it, was very similar to that of the monks of Fecamp when they composed their treatise thirty years earlier. More interesting still, Henri de Sully, abbot of Fecamp … was the nephew of Henry of Blois.” (Barber, 130)

 

 

Where in the ‘world,’ is Avalon?

 

Geoffrey of Monmouth clearly associates Avalon with southwest Britain; more precisely, read in context of the narrative, he firmly places it somewhere off the Cornish mainland. As stated by Philip Payton “The connections between Cornwall and the Arthur legend are of ancient provenance, and the Tristan and Iseult story, even in its most complex and literary continental forms, is always rooted in Cornwall.” In the collection of Welsh folklore and history known as the Mabinogion, we see a clear reference to the battle of Camblam having taken place in Cornwall. In How Culhwch Won Olwen (c. 1100), a tale in which the hero has to perform a number of tasks in order to win the hand of a fair maiden, the author makes several references to the battle; one of which says that: “Gwyn Hyvar Steward of Devon and Cornwall [Dumnonia]” was one of the nine “who planned the Battle of Camlann.” (Penguin, 145)

 

According to Geoffrey of Monmouth, the final battle between Arthur and his errant nephew Mordred took place at the River Camblam (also Camlann) in Cornwall. Following the siege of Winchester, Mordred “fled as fast as ship could carry him, and made his way towards Cornwall.” (Historia, 259) Filled with rage that Mordred had once again escaped, Arthur “without losing a moment… followed him to that same locality.” (ibid.) As the text clearly suggests, Arthur pursued Mordred into Cornwall by ship; sailing from Southampton, the nearest available port to Winchester, and then traveling a southwesterly direction along the English coastline. What makes this route interesting is that the first available port in Cornwall, capable of taking vessels of large tonnage, is at Looe. We know that this area was the focus of continental trade in ancient times from archaeological finds: these include a copper ingot and amphora discovered off Looe Island. Indeed, only just recently, a hoard of Roman coins, dated to the third century AD, was discovered on the island. Was Lammana, (Looe Island), the actual geographical location of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Avalon?

 

 

It is only when we consider where the final battle is likely to have been fought, can we firmly answer that question. The text of Geoffrey’ s Historia makes it perfectly clear that there must have been some strategic importance to the chosen location, as Mordred was “awaiting” Arthur’s arrival. It is not unreasonable to suppose that Mordred had taken up a defensive position at the site of the old Roman fort at Nanstallon, just south of the River Camel. The Romans themselves had chosen the site for its strategic value: controlling access to the River Camel along the east west route from Exeter, and intersecting the old drovers’ route running from Padstow in the north, to the Fowey estuary in the south.

The distinguished historian and scholar Professor Lewis Thorpe, onetime President of the British Branch of the International Arthurian society, visited Camelford in August 1960. “According to local legend the battle between Arthur and Mordred took place in the near-by water meadow. On the bank of the Camel, where the stream had cut for itself a steep bluff over-hung with hazel bushes, in a spot most difficult to access, I found and ancient stone, with some partly defaced lettering in mixed classical and rustic capitals.”

When viewed on an Ordnance Survey map, the location is clearly the meaning of the place name given by Geoffrey of Monmouth. In Cornish the place-name element Cam (or Camb), means ‘crooked,’ ‘bent,’ or ‘curved;’ and one can see quite clearly that the marsh area described by Professor Thorpe, is on the bend or curve of the River Camel. The second part of the place-name element lam (or lann), refers to a monastic enclosure or church of the Celtic type. We see the same reference in the name Nanstallon, the prefix Nans, is a word that is most often used in association with the Celtic Church.

 

 

Redaction in De Antiquatate: the art of story telling revealed.

 

There seems little doubt that the Battle of Camblam, and the geographical location of Avalon, is firmly rooted in Cornwall. How did Glastonbury then, come to be associated with Avalon? In the story of Erec and Enide, the ‘Isle of Glass’ and the ‘Isle of Avalon’ are not one and the same place. Moloas is said to be the lord of the Isle of Glass, and Guingamar was the lord of the Isle of Avalon. Both are situated somewhere in Britain but neither are expressly associated with Glastonbury. Furthermore, it has been argued by James P. Carley, that the process of redaction to the text of De Antiquatate, may have begun as early as the mid twelfth century: “John’s quotation about Avalon has three lines not found in Geoffrey; these lines identify Avalon with the ecclesiastical foundation at Glastonbury. My suspicion is that they were added to Glastonbury’s copy of the ‘Life’ [of Merlin] in the mid-twelfth century, at approximately the same period as the interpolations about Avalon were made to DA [De Antiquatate].” (Carley, xlii - xliii) As discussed earlier, Henry of Blois is far more likely to have been personally involved in the production of books – at Glastonbury as well as Winchester – than previously thought.

According to Kibler & Carroll, “Henry of Blois had important contacts with Geoffrey of Monmouth and William of Malmesbury, two medieval Latin writers who, more than any others, popularised the legends of King Arthur…” One startling conclusion that might be inferred is that Henry of Blois may well have been an intermediary source for not only Geoffrey of Monmouth and William of Malmesbury, but he may well have been a source for Chretien de Troyes as well. Indeed, this is no mere flight of fancy. Chretien himself states in his prologue to The Knight of the Cart, that Marie of Champagne conveyed the story to him. How did she come by the story? The numerous references to King Arthur as holding both Britain and Cornwall, (and the Cornish repeatedly called allies of Arthur), is one of the most consistent themes to be found in the Romance stories. It has been suggested that Chretien may have spent some time in England himself: although this is not proven. More likely it would seem, that whoever gave the story to Marie of Champagne, had a far more intimate knowledge of Britain. In addition to the forty books that Henry of Blois bequeathed to Glastonbury, he also left various artifacts. One of these was said to be the bone of a Cornish saint by the name of Winwaloe. Henry of Blois was an avid collector, and many of the artifacts he acquired personally.

 

 

Joseph of Arimathea

“Of all the strange phenomena which perplex the student of Arthurian literature, perhaps the strangest is the association of the Grail … with Joseph of Arimathea.” (Loomis) The assumption underpinning much of the modern interest in the Grail is that it is - or was - a real object. The idea that Joseph of Arimathea should want to obtain a relic from the Lord’s crucifixion has all the hallmarks of the Medieval mind imprinted upon it; and such an idea would simply run contrary to the laws and customs of the Jewish nation. If the Grail existed at all, it existed in the minds of the storytellers Chretien de Troyes and Robert de Boron. Moreover, it is only through the later Romance stories that Joseph of Arimathea is associated with Britain. Roger Sherman Loomis puts forward a very convincing argument that a complex synthesis of amalgamation with Celtic folklore, interpolation and misinterpretation, led to this association. What is far more difficult to explain however is Glastonbury’s interest in making him the original founder of their abbey.

We have already seen how Henry of Blois wanted to establish another episcopal see in the West Country to rival Canterbury. When this failed he set about making Glastonbury one of the wealthiest and most influential abbeys in all England. As suggested by Carley, this process began with the identification of Glastonbury as Avalon, which dates from about 1150. The identification of Avalon, and the association of King Arthur, was slowly being turned away from its Celtic roots in Cornwall by a series of interpolations to Malmesbury’s De Antiquatate. “This book did not satisfy the monks; they inserted forged passages into the copies made, confirming the early coming of the disciples and naming Joseph as their leader.” (Westwood & Simpson, 642) According to the historian Gwyn Williams, the foundation story dates from about 1247, but the actual process of appropriation from other sources began much earlier. “The medieval romances, especially the Breton lays, drew freely on these folk sources, sometimes directly. It is often hard to decide whether a tale has been learned from folk sources or whether a literary story has gone the other way and, having been heard from priest or teacher or doctor, has entered oral tradition…” (Encyclopedia Britannica) Was the association of Joseph of Arimathea with Lammana, (Looe Island), the result of its connection with Glastonbury, or the other way round? Diana Webb argues “Glastonbury’s later medieval history was inextricably bound up with the exploitation of the Celtic and Grail legends which Geoffrey of Monmouth and innumerable romancers after him made the favorite reading of the laity and many clergy alike.” (p.60) It is suggested here that the appropriation of Celtic folklore from Cornwall, gave Glastonbury the status it could not possibly have achieved on its own. Like Fecamp in Normandy, it needed the endorsement of either a miraculous event or claim to apostolic foundation. One of the most interesting comments about why the Benedictine monks of Glastonbury should have been at Lammana at all, was made by the Rev. Martin Picken: “It is, however, difficult to believe that the great Somersetshire abbey would have undertaken the maintenance of so small, remote and inconvenient a property as Lammana in Cornwall unless it was already the focus of a local cult of some distinction…” (Light on Lammana)

Conclusion

Far from being un-important, all the evidence suggests that Lammana provided Glastonbury with just the first stage in what was to become a very long process in re-writing its own foundation story. The chief architect of this movement was Henry of Blois, abbot of Glastonbury; a man more commonly associated with the building of castles and palaces, rather than a direct influence on the up and coming literary genre of his day. In order to hide the source of Glastonbury’s foundation story, it became necessary to repress and marginalize Lammana. Coincidently, about the same time that Glastonbury was introducing the interpolation of the Joseph story to De Antiquatate in 1247, Richard, Earl of Cornwall, gave the abbot of Glastonbury license to relinquish their ownership of Lammana.

If you would like to make any comment or a query concerning this article please email me, Daniel Agee.  I shall be delighted to hear from you. Thank you.