The Power of Magnanimity: King Arthur at His Best
King Arthur’s last goodbye with Guinevere is a devastating lesson in the power of magnanimity. It might even be Arthur’s finest moment.
Magnanimity derives from the roots magnus (great) + animus (soul)—the magnanimous man is thus great-souled, a quality which manifests most particularly in his generosity or forgiveness especially toward a rival or a less powerful person. This is a difficult concept for children of modernity to understand, since we are skeptical about the soul and openly hostile to greatness; our shallow one-size-fits-all virtue of niceness doesn’t come close to approximating magnanimity. Let’s look to the example of Arthur to see this quality embodied.
The scene takes place at the abbey at Almesbury, where Guinevere flees following the collapse of Camelot and the breakout of war between the king and Lancelot and Mordred. Arthur tracks her down to speak his last words to her.
The king would be well-justified in unleashing holy rage on Guinevere—for betraying him, undermining his life’s work, destroying his realm, and causing the wars that now rage. Her crimes likely justify an execution. And because the legal system is no longer functioning—thanks to the disorder unleashed by Guinevere and her lover—the king presumably would be within his rights to execute justice himself.
But stern justice is not always best. A man as noble as Arthur knows when to call on something else.
Magnanimity starts with acknowledging the truth, however severe it might be. The kind of mercy he shows has nothing to do with sugarcoating, dismissing, or ignoring her sins, pretending things are otherwise than they are. That would be weak. Arthur instead cuts right to the core:
Well is it that no child is born of thee,
The children born of thee are sword and fire,
Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws
The craft of kindred and the Godless hosts
Of heathen swarming o’er the Northern Sea.
These are the sharpest words. Her barrenness must have been one of the greatest pains of Guinevere’s life. But worse: rather than literally giving birth to children and heirs, she has figuratively given birth to war and ruin. Nor was it just any kingdom she destroyed, but the best. Arthur recounts his vision for a realm where chivalry and love and human flourishing reign—and his success in bringing such a vision to reality, until Guinevere arrived.
This much needed to be said.
Magnanimity then goes beyond simply giving someone a piece of our mind. Despite all the damage she has wrought, Arthur still loves his queen, and in his love he still wants the best for her. His love is a reflection of his quality as a man. “Think not, tho’ thou wouldst not love thy lord, / Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee. / I am not made of so slight elements.” The king’s love is godlike, loving despite the betrayal suffered. Arthur makes that connection clear when he forgives her: “And all is past, the sin is sinned, and I, / Lo! I forgive thee, as Eternal God / Forgives: do thou for thine own soul the rest.”
The king’s greatness of character and his mercy devastate Guinevere—made clear in her reaction as she crawls, face-down, to where Arthur stands and reaches for his feet, unable in her sorrow to convey anything more articulate. The gesture says all she is capable of saying.
Only when Arthur leaves the room (and her life) is Guinevere able to gather herself enough to speak. In that moment she comes to understand Arthur’s superiority over Lancelot and her own foolishness in loving a lesser man over her husband and king.
Gone—my lord!
Gone thro’ my sin to slay and to be slain!
And he forgave me, and I could not speak.
His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord the King,
My own true lord! How dare I call him mine?
Arthur thus triumphs through his magnanimity. It serves him as a better revenge than violence. More importantly, his magnanimity allows Guinevere to heal and attempt to redeem herself. For all the damage she has inflicted upon the realm, Guinevere still has time remaining to her, which she dedicates to a life of praying, serving God, and doing good deeds. Arthur’s greatness encouraged her thus.
Caveat
This is not to say that radical forgiveness is best as official policy, applicable always and everywhere. It is too personal for that. Magnanimity cannot be standardized, cannot be made to serve the purposes of a Human Resources Department: at that point it becomes something that a schemer, a Mordred type, might expect and exploit. Prudence is always required to realize the good given the specific circumstances. Also, Arthur’s case is a special one, because he knows he will not see Guinevere again on this side of Heaven. He makes clear that their marriage has been irreparably damaged, that taking her back (if that were possible) would have been out of the question.
Nevertheless, where it is appropriate, magnanimity is devastating.