Molly A. Martin's study, Castles and Space in Malory's Morte Darthur, tells us that "space defines the behaviors it contains, and those behaviors in turn define the spaces" (132), that the book will explore "the effect of space on war and that of war on space" (227) and that, quoting Keith Basso, "[a]s places animate the ideas of persons who attend them, these same ideas and feelings animate the places on which attention is bestowed" (21). It is no surprise, therefore, as the book comes to its conclusion that the walls of Joyus Garde are read with the same attention to both space and chiasmus: "These walls matter: they affect gender construction and our understanding of knighthood, and are in turn affected by them, as social space theories predict" (242). While I found myself often fascinated by the explorations of gender and identity throughout the book, I also grew increasingly convinced that Malory is not particularly interested in space and that Martin's attempt to situate her study of gender and identity within the growing field of space studies was harmful to her overall project.
After an introduction which gives a useful sketch of the historiography of castles and the developing critical approaches to space and place, Chapter 1 looks at castles as political centers, with a focus on Uther's domineering use of space and Arthur's early efforts to secure his kingdom. The chapter concludes that castles project royal power. Chapter 2, which looks at Balyn, Gareth, Launcelot (especially the episode with Sir Urry) and very quickly Mordred, describes the castle's role as a social and communal space in which Arthurian knights move into and out of the physical fellowship of the Round Table. Chapter 3 focuses on the castle as a site of ritual performance, especially as it relates to the grail quest and the death and burial of its knights. These chapters tend to focus on the use of space, and proximity to the center of that space, as a means of constructing masculine identity.
Chapter 4 focuses on the domestic spaces of castles, beginning with the violation of private spaces (Uther, Morgause) and ending with a detailed and insightful study of Gwenyver, Launcelot and Mellyagaunt's negotiation of gendered spaces. Chapter 5 looks at the emasculating effects of imprisonment on Trystram, Launcelot and others and Chapter 6 argues that Launcelot (unsuccessfully) attempts to use the defensive capability of Joyus Garde and Benwick castles to redefine chivalric masculinity through speech rather than military might.
These readings are often interesting, but they are also often forced into a consideration of space which Malory's text is reluctant to accommodate. Martin reminds us, for example, that upon returning from the Roman war Launcelot "was honoured of hyghe and lowe" (Malory 222.15). There are no details about where Launcelot receives this acclaim, but Martin argues that "Particularly intriguing is the fact that his acclaim comes from both 'hyghe and lowe,' a sign that it is both within the hall and beyond--outside even the castle walls. The court, too, is then defined such that both those within and those without recognize the space of and for the best" (93). This reading, frankly, forces the vertical metaphor of 'hyge and lowe' to do a lot of work. The celebrations which follow the successful healing of Urry receive similar treatment: the tournament "is, of course, outside, perhaps even on the very same grounds just consecrated by Launcelot's success" (101), and the series of weddings, "presumably celebrated within Arthur's castle walls, encloses the body of knights" (102). But as Martin's "of course" and "presumably" show, all of the evidence for the future analysis of spatial enclosure is supposition. The language of space is provided by Martin, because Malory never says where either tournament or wedding take place.
During the arrival of the grail Martin tells us that "The spatial details, be they physical or social, are almost entirely implicit in the scene. Malory makes it clear that they are at Camelot, and thus Winchester, so the well-traveled reader in Malory's day or our own can supply geographical or architectural details based on that" (119). But when Martin says "implicit", she could just as easily have said "not mentioned", as Malory gives no details of the hall or its trappings. It is also worth mentioning that, while Malory does say the grail arrives at Camelot, and he does say that Camelot is Winchester, he does not, in this scene, mention Winchester. As Martin notes, Malory explicitly links Camelot and Winchester only four times: the prophecy of the arrival of Balyn's sword, Launcelot's return for Elayne, the tournament with which the Maid of Ascolot episode begins and Lancelot's arrival at that tournament (47). The well-traveled reader also has to have remembered this geographic detail from elsewhere in the text.
Some references to space are purely the product of metaphor. At the conclusion of the text, Lancelot's family enter into religion or, as Martin puts it, "They are finding their own religious places" (140). When Lancelot refuses the love of Elayne of Ascolot, Martin asserts that "he will not make (domestic) space for her" (173). To be clear, these are not Malory's metaphors; they are Martin's.
Other references rely on extension of ideas or assumptions. When Morgause agrees to sex with Arthur, Martin sees her as "claiming her own domestic activity and space" (154). The prophecy which follows the sex, that Arthur's "body sholde be punysshed" and he will eventually die for his foul deeds (36.22–5), "speaks of both long- and short-term punishments, which will play out on the body as well as on the geographical space of the kingdom" (156). But none of these scenes, often quoted by Martin at length, have any actual references to space, let alone geographical space. To be fair, Morgause arrives "to aspye the courte of Kynge Arthure" (154) and this might be a reference to the physical building, but, given that Malory's descriptions tend to focus on people over places, it's also possibly a more general reference to the company of knights and ladies. Martin herself seems aware of this, as she admits that "spatial details here are perhaps sparse" (158).
This tendency is perhaps nowhere more jarring than in the analysis of the final battle between Arthur and Mordred near Salisbury. Martin notes that there is no castle to defend in this ultimate conflict. The armies meet on a plain beside the town, near the coast where there is no actual castle. As Martin notes, "Salisbury's castle, at Old Sarum, was by Malory's time long abandoned and in ruins" (257). Malory does not mention this ruin, but Martin wants us to keep it in mind:
"The decommissioned and deconstructed castle, though presumably not
visible to the (dying) combatants or the barrage of looters who come in
after the battle, can--and I think should--resonate for the reader, as it
might have for the writer" (257).
This (and the continued analysis which follows) is entirely based on presumptions and subjunctive constructions rather than any evidence in the text that Malory might have offered. It also defies geography, as Old Sarum is two miles due north of Salisbury, whereas the battle happens "uppon a downe besyde Salesbyry and nat farre frome the seesyde," which must be to the south of the town. Despite this, Martin notes of the looting which follows the battle that "Like the stones of the castle at Old Sarum, the fallen knights' armor and adornment is being taken away for another use" (258). It is a lovely simile. It has no basis in the text.
Some of these issues seem frustratingly easy to fix. Whether at Salisbury or Winchester, Martin invites us to use our knowledge of the geography and architecture of Britain to buttress our reading of Malory, but she never steps out of Malory's text to help us do that. Martin, for example, discusses the burial of Gawayne at Dover, and notes that his skull, which survived at Dover into Malory's day, transforms the castle into a site "of memory and memorialization" (131). She mentions that Caxton, in the prologue to his 1485 printed text, notes Gawayne's skull among his proof that Arthur existed (135), but the analysis remains vague, noting only that the skull "leaves a physical mark on the place" (135), because Malory says little more than that the skull was there. There is no description of the chapel in which it is housed or the reliquary which might allow the curious to witness this relic of a chivalric past. The lack of description is stark, especially when compared to contemporary memorializations of the chivalric dead (think of the mechanism which preserves Hector's body in Troy narratives). Malory is uninterested in the space that the skull occupies, so Martin is left to analyse little more than the word "Dover" (see 135-136). The presence of the skull, however, and the meaning of the space which housed it, might be teased out by looking at the sources which mention it. Caxton, for example, does not just mention it. He says that it is preserved with a mantel which test women's fidelity (Raimon de Perillos also claims to have seen both items together in his Viatage). An analysis of these moments, in combination with discussions of other secular relics (Guy's sword, Havelok's stone, etc.), might provide a better sense of what these spaces meant to Malory and his readers, and this might give us a better set of tools to help us build an interpretive edifice.
Similarly, Martin asks us to consider the physical realities of Bamburgh and Alnwick castles as Malory identifies them as possible sites of Joyous Garde. The association with Alnwick seems to be Malory's invention, but the identification of Bamburgh has a long textual tradition in Arthurian historiography and the place means something in those texts. John Hardyng, a source for Malory, specifically associates it with threatened women and heroic rescue. Martin does not mention this.
As noted above, Martin does ask us to imagine "well-traveled" readers supplying "geographical or architectural details" to Malory's passing reference to Winchester (actually, Camelot), but she does not take the time to reconstruct what those details might have been. Winchester has a rich textual tradition in accounts of the pageantry and politics which took place there, as well as the more mundane records of construction and maintenance. The same can be said for the Tower of London and other castles named by Malory as sites of Arthurian history and adventure, yet the cultural history of these places and spaces is not brought to bear, Martin preferring instead to limit her analysis to Malory's text and his immediate sources.
To be sure, when Malory does offer detailed descriptions of places within which to work, Martin's analysis is careful and astute. Her exploration of the gender dynamics at work as Gwenyver moves through Mellyagaunt's castle both physically and socially, beginning as a captive and ending as a kind of secular lord, is clear and precise. But when drawing conclusions about space, Martin too often falls back on repeating the theoretical assumptions about the symbiotic relationship between space and social action or on vague conclusions about space being "uncomfortable" or "troubling". The final episode discussed in the chapter on domestic space is the feast that Gwenyver hosts after the grail quest. Martin calls it a "domestic endeavor", in part because Malory provides few specific details of the space involved apart from the fact that it is "a prevey place by themselff." (Martin claims that this "would most likely be further inside the castle, closer to or within the queen's quarters," 186.) A poisoned apple, intended for Gawayne, is accidentally given to Sir Patryce who dies, and when accused of plotting the knight's death, Gwenyver defends herself by saying that she prepared the meal "for good entente and never none evyll." Martin rightly concludes that her protestations are meaningless because her guilt or innocence will rest of Lancelot's strength, as it often does. There is, quite frankly, little here to work with when discussing space. The word "privey", repeated several times by Malory, is really it. Martin, therefore, is forced to the vague conclusion that, whatever the nature of her guilt or innocence, "[m]ore revealing for my purposes, however, is the explicit realization in the queen's words that the domestic sphere--its actions and its place--is a fraught space" (187). Maybe there is more to be said than that, but this study, unfortunately, doesn't do the work that would allow for it.