The Lady of Shallot

04 November 2024 by Jian Zhi Qiu

Quote from Dear Su Yen pp.120-125

Dear Su Yen

You wondered about the story of the Lady of Shallot. You will find it in a poem by Tennyson, a very influential nineteenth century English poet; he was appointed to the post of Poet Laureate, which means he was the official poet for the nation, and he held this position for forty-three years. He often used classical and especially mediaeval stories for his poems. A well known example is a very long collection of twelve narrative poems, called Idylls of the King, based on the legends of King Arthur. We call them narrative poems because they tell a story or narrative. Tennyson based these poems on various mediaeval manuscripts, principally one called Le Mort d'Arthur, which is a French title and means "The Death of Arthur'. When you get to know the stories perhaps that painting of Arthur's death will have more tragic meaning for you.

 Tennyson used an old Norman-French manuscript for The Lady of Shallot. He wrote the poem early in his career when he was a young man; it was among the first of his many poems about Arthur. The Lady of Shallot spends her days in a fine castle; no one sees her, but sometimes people hear her beautiful singing. She is weaving a magic tapestry and in her mirror she sees the world passing by outside. This is rather like an idea from the Greek philosopher, Plato, who suggested our knowledge of reality is no better than seeing shadows of the world on a cave wall. So maybe she does not know much about the real world, but she seems to be quite contented.

Here are just a few verses.

The Lady of Shallot, by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, 
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs forever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers, 
And the silent isle embowers
The Lady of Shallot.
 
Only reapers, reaping early 
In among the bearded barley, 
Hear a song that echoes cheerly 
From the river winding clearly, 
Down to towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary, 
Piling sheaves in uplands airy, 
Listening, whispers, 'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shallot.

 

Maybe this is something like those imaginings of the middle ages you used to have when you were young in Taiwan. The word 'fairy' suggests that she is a magic person. Camelot is of course the fabled court of King Arthur.

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay, 
She has heard a whisper say, 
A curse is on her if she stay 
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what that curse may be, 
And so she weaveth steadily, 
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shallot.
 
And moving through a mirror clear 
That hangs before her all the year, 
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls, 
And there the surly village-churls, 
And the red cloaks of market girls, 
Pass onward from Shallot.
 

 

The curse seems far away; and then in her mirror she sees King Arthur's bravest knight, Sir Lancelot.

 
 All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather, 
The helmet and the helmet-feather 
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through the purple night, 
Below the starry clusters bright 
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shallot.

Without thought, maybe, of the consequences her eyes follow where this man is going: she looks down to Camelot.

 
She left the web, she left the loom, 
She took three paces through the room, 
She saw the water-lily bloom, 
She saw the helmet and the plume, 
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide:
The mirror cracked from side to side;
‘The curse is come upon me,' cried
The Lady of Shallot.

 

Her life is broken irreparably, like the mirror. We don't know whether she fell instantly in love, or whether intense curiosity led her to ignore the curse, but the outside world has intruded into her life. The mood of the poem changes.

 

In the stormy east-wind straining, 
The pale yellow woods were waning, 
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining 
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat, 
And round about the prow she wrote 
The Lady of Shallot.

 

This is the scene you saw in the painting; it is interesting that it spoke to you although you didn't know the story. This verse is a skilful word picture of a cold, wet, late autumn day: strong cold east wind; low dark cloud; rain, the woodland trees' pale yellow autumn leaves; the river, swollen by rain, rushing against its banks. Although the poem doesn't say so, the lady must have been very cold and wet.

And down the river's wide expanse
Like some bold seër in a trance, 
Seeing all his own mischance— 
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay:
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shallot.
 
Heard a carol, mournful, holy, 
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, 
Till her blood was frozen slowly, 
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide 
The first house by the water-side, 
Singing, in her song she died.
The Lady of Shallot.

 

In the story there are many things which are not explained. Certainly John William-Waterhouse chose the most dramatic moment for his painting, as the lady untied the boat and allowed the river to carry her away, though not the most visually striking. I can't remember whether the painting shows the weather as stormy; can you?

 

 

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