Glastonbury: Myth and Archaeology

Glastonbury has always held a special significance to me. The place evokes a sense of mystery, of long remembered traditions and long forgotten details. It is in the convergence of Pagan and Christian heritage on this one small town that I find my interest. I chose to investigate the corresponding and conflicting elements of the Glastonbury myths and tried to work out why this town holds such interest, not only to spiritual pilgrims but also to historians and archaeologists from the Middle Ages to the present day. Do the academics or the 'believers' have a greater claim than one another to Glastonbury and what they feel is 'true'? Does there need to be reconciliation between the different schools of thought?

The Glastonbury we see today is a far cry from the waterlogged scene the prehistoric inhabitants of the Somerset Levels would have gazed out over. The proposed idea of Glastonbury as the mythical Isle of Avalon may have some basis in the Neolithic landscape. Philip Rahtz, the leading archaeological authority on Glastonbury, tells us the area immediately surrounding the Tor would have been not an island but a peninsula, almost completely engulfed by water except for a small strip on the eastern side. If one were to approach Glastonbury from the west, it would indeed appear to be an island (Rahtz and Watts, 2003: 11).

Archaeology has established that the area has been inhabited since the Neolithic, but what of the Tor, the most distinctive and unusual feature of the Glastonbury landscape? Rahtz tells us it was naturally formed from the cap of Midford Sand, a substance harder than the surrounding Lias strata which eroded away to leave the conical hill we see today. It is speculated that the cap was so strengthened by the high quantity of iron in the water of the neighbouring Chalice spring (Rahtz and Watts, 2003: 20). Considering the unusual way it rises from the flat landscape, surely it would have held some significance to the lake dwellers? Geoffrey Ashe theorizes that as it was among the little dry land around, it would have served as a burial ground for them (Ashe, 1957: 100). This makes sense as the absence of burials discovered alongside the other well-preserved items in the peat suggests they did not practise water burials. There is also some suggestion among researchers of myth that mounds and hills represented points of entry to the underworld to the Celts.

New Age writer John Michell speaks of the legendary Tor Labyrinth, a series of terraces on the slopes of the hill, the purpose of which is still hotly debated. He puts forward claims that it was carved some time after 4000 BC for initiatory purposes (1990: 40). He also tells of some dowsers who discovered a geomagnetic current which follows the contours of the hill and is connected to the 'St. Michael' leyline, which runs the length of Southwest Britain passing through significant monuments on its way. Such claims can never be ultimately proven and this interpretation is nowhere near being the only one. A recent B.B.C. programme entitled 'Terraces on the Tor' (2003) looked at the possibilities from a more archaeological standpoint, including Neolithic monumentalism, natural erosion, and medieval monastic agriculture. Some of the interpretations hold up better than others, but one conclusion cannot yet be drawn.

The Grail tradition is where pagan and Christian paths merge at Glastonbury and where the footsteps of Joseph of Arimathea cross with those of King Arthur. The Grail did not come into connection with the Arthurian story until the medieval fictional romance of Chrétien de Troyes and only came into connection with Joseph of Arimathea in Robert de Borron's work (Matthews, 1990, 35-7). Interestingly, Treharne tells us that the Church never formally recognised the belief in the Grail. The monks instead supported the idea that Joseph brought two cruets with him, containing the blood and sweat of Christ (Treharne, 1967: 114). Ideas of a cup of salvation held whiffs of heresy to some, and the Grail became connected with the Knights Templar and the Cathars (Matthews, 1990: 44-5).

Stories of the miraculous cup did not originate from Chrétien though. Its origins can be sought in the Celtic emblem of the Cauldron of plenty, or the Cauldron of rebirth. Magic cauldrons that impart great knowledge, or unlimited food, or even revive the dead can be found in The Mabinogion (Matthews, 1990: 12-22). One story tells of Peredur, who travels to the court of the Wounded King but does not ask what ails him, and it is upon this story that Chrétien's 'Perceval' is based. Arthur is present, but only in the background as a figure of "grandeur, glory and moral assurance" (Treharne, 1967: 43). Arthur becomes in these stories the guardian of the land or the Grail-object and is to some point analogous with Bran, another Celtic deity (Matthews, 1990: 19-20). Therefore, he is important in the formation of the Grail legend, and although these texts survive in written form only from about the 12th century, they may in fact originate much earlier in bardic material. Miranda J. Green argues that these emblems in medieval literature are in fact present in the archaeological record such as in the ritual deposition of cauldrons. We know medieval authors like Gildas and Gerald of Wales observed past remains, so the writers of these myths may have drawn on the beliefs of the Celts when creating an image of the past (Green, 1999: 49-50). She argues for the socio-religious importance of the mythology (1999: 49). It can be argued that the physical whereabouts or origins of the Grail are not as important as what it represents and inspires spiritually, from the accumulation of pagan and Christian myths; whether that be the height of chivalry, heavenly salvation, or the blood of Christ. The variance of spiritual meaning of the Grail can be given as one reason for the existence of paganism and Christianity existing harmoniously at Glastonbury.

Now we have looked at some of the history and mythology concerning Glastonbury, we may ask why it is that people feel drawn to this place and why it has become such a centre of interest for archaeologists, Christians, pagans and New-Agers, not to mention its local inhabitants and environmentalists? Does any one group have a greater claim to it than another? Do archaeologists have a right to dismiss 'fringe' interpretations as nothing but fancy and supposition? Do they have a right to primary access to sites like the Tor and the Abbey over other groups should they wish to excavate there?

Traditionally, academics who study Glastonbury from an archaeological point of view have little time for the 'alternative' views presented by other interest groups, except perhaps to hastily dismiss them as fantasy. The problem with this is that in most cases archaeology cannot disprove these theories anymore than it can prove them, yet they still do, for instance in the case of Katherine Maltwood's 'Glastonbury Zodiac'. However, modern postprocessual archaeology encourages multiple interpretations, and denies that there has to be a scientific conclusion that explains 'everything' (Johnson, 1999: 106). In some cases, fringe and native interpretations are actually starting to be encouraged in order to present some healthy variation from the white, male, middle class archaeology that seems so prevalent in our libraries. Certainly, books like John Michell's New Light on the Ancient Mystery of Glastonbury (1990) equal the number of academics' volumes in bookstores and libraries. Archaeologists may see these books as providing misinformation, and to be fair, it is harder to find references in the works of authors like Michell for the theories they are proposing. However they do come up with some interesting theories that are often not too preposterous to be true. In defence of the academics, New-Age writers are yet to produce any significant evidence but the archaeology is so scant that surely any clues or theories are of use when trying to uncover the past. I would argue that archaeologists should apply more attention to 'fringe' theories and actually test them out, rather than just dismiss them, despite some of the ideas coming from unconventional methods such as Gematria (Mann, 2001: 99-109). They could actually make important discoveries in the process.

One example is Michell's theory about the seven sacred isles surrounding and including Glastonbury. He supports his theory of their special status with the fact that all seven were notable in the Glastonbury charters and the Doomesday book as being exempt from tax, and also each 'island' was topped by a chapel dedicated to a saint of local association. Michell argues for their special status coming from a barely remembered pre-Christian belief. This involves the positioning of the seven islands mirroring the shape of the Great Bear constellation from a bird's eye view (1990: 9-16). This could be dismissed as a pure coincidence but the reader may judge for themself by looking at their positions on a map provided. It would be foolish to accept Michell's theory as being true on these grounds, but it is not completely deniable either. Further excavation of the area could turn up evidence to support the view of stations in the Glastonbury landscape being sacred and nomadically visited.

Increasingly, sites such as Stonehenge, and sites in America even more, are becoming the arenas for dispute over who has primary rights over access to ancient sacred sites. This issue links Stonehenge to Glastonbury and is addressed by Rahtz, among others. In asking 'Whose Glastonbury is it?' Rahtz talks about the possible disputes that could arise, between academics and 'the irrational'; between locals who wish to conserve Glastonbury's surroundings and the incomers who force the town to gain in size; and between Christian pilgrims and those who come for more New Age spiritual reasons (2003: 166). I would like to argue that yes, it is possible for these kinds of disputes to occur but in fact they rarely do, at least not to the extent of the disagreements regarding Stonehenge. I think the reason for this lies in the sheer volume of myth and mystery surrounding Glastonbury. For one thing, neither archaeologists nor New Age writers can come up with completely satisfactory explanations for features such as the Tor Labyrinth. Secondly, the amount and, to be honest, the confusing nature of the intertwining Pagan and Christian myth about Glastonbury mean that followers of either faith will find suitable spiritual relevance in them. It is virtually impossible to separate the two traditions in stories such as that of the Holy Grail. It is this almost alchemical relationship, the product of the weaving of two faiths, which gives Glastonbury its special significance to pilgrims today. This blending is analogous with the alchemical marriage which features in the legends - the Red and White Springs, the hounds of Gwyn ap Nudd, the blood and sweat of Christ - and the list goes on.

Marion Bowman takes a slightly more cynical look at paganism today and its motives. She suggests that Neo-pagans wish to look back to a Celtic golden age and see their ancestors as being closer to Nature. She sees this as a reaction against Christianity and its failings and speaks of Glastonbury as a centre for New-age therapies and commodification of all things 'Celtic' (Bowman, 1994: 143-4). I would disagree with this view. It can be easily seen that paganism and Christianity co-exist peacefully in Glastonbury and may well have done for centuries. Not all pagans have a problem with Christianity and accept it as just one of the many spiritual paths.

It can also be argued that the interests of New Age/Pagan groups are not always diametrically opposed to the interests of the archaeologists. It would be injudicious to assume that Pagans do not wish to discover truths about the land in which they are interested as much as the archaeologists. For this reason, opposition is not likely to occur when surveying and excavating is carried out on the Tor. In fact, some archaeologists and historians concerned with Glastonbury have Pagan sympathies, such as Professor Ron Hutton, who recently appeared in the 'Terraces on the Tor' documentary about Glastonbury (B.B.C. 2003). In summary, disagreements over Glastonbury seem to be found only on the pages of books, and not on Glastonbury's streets. The issue of rights to Glastonbury locations has not yet come to serious disputes, in the present at least.

It would seem that academic and New-Age writers are still very separate and unwilling to converse on matters (Meskill, 1999: 83). I would agree that archaeologists and those who believe in the mythology come to their conclusions in very different ways and neither find the other's satisfactory. Imagine an archaeologist attending a New-Age gathering, on a festival day specified by folklore, in order to test for physical differences in the ground using scientific methods. The fact is they would not for fear of ridicule from fellow archaeologists who might accuse them of belief in 'lunatic' theories, and from the pagans who would deride them for trying to apply redundant scientific methods to detect ethereal nuances.

Trying to draw any conclusion about Glastonbury seems like an impossible task. Despite wading through the tangle of Glastonbury's major myths (and without having time to look at some of the minor ones), no conclusion can be drawn that would satisfy all audiences with an interest in the place. The archaeology is useful in putting pieces of the ecclesiastical and settlement history together, but we are still left with a jigsaw of folk tales, historical scraps and forgeries, and New-Age theories. Might the reconciliation of the academic and 'fringe' ideas be the key to uncovering more of Glastonbury's past? We have already witnessed their unwillingness to work together through the segregation of ideas in their publications. Maybe the differing schools of thought can never be reconciled because of their different methods of searching for the ever-elusive 'truth'. Maybe it is because New-Age thinking does not search for the same truth as archaeology. It tends to look for spiritual meaning rather than physical proof, and to all intents and purposes there is a wealth of it at Glastonbury. Finally, I would like to end by raising the question of whether Glastonbury itself could suffer from the academic persistence to dispel the myths that bring so many pilgrims to its door. If it were possible to disprove the legends, would we be irrevocably damaging one of Britain's most beloved centres of heritage?

(This article is an edited and abridged version of an Independent Archaeological Study used in my degree course.)

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