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A History of the Red Dragon
The red dragon, from early times, has been the national symbol of Wales - at rugby stadiums and battle-grounds; as royal heraldry of the Welsh princes and as newspaper logos. Today, the flag is held proudly as a mark of national identity and a reminder of a colourful and prestigious history. But what is the origin and history of the national emblem? This highly informative and well-researched book gives us its background through different cultures back to ancient mythology.
102 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1995
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March 15, 2014In 1959 the Queen sanctioned the flying of the now familiar Welsh flag on Government buildings in Wales and in London, henever “appropriate”, officially recognising a national symbol that has had a long but mixed history. In this booklet by the late Carl Lofmark the convoluted story of its origins, use and development is traced to the point where the dragon and the colour red is ubiquitous on March 1st, the feast of St David, patron saint of Wales. Why a dragon? And why is it red?
Lofmark begins at the very beginning, if there is such a thing where this fabulous creature is concerned. Are there real dragons? Do they still exist? Can they fly? The author discounts racial memory of dinosaurs or mere confusion with existing creatures such as the Komodo dragon (only known to the outside world from the early 20th century). Yet it exists in traditions stretching across the world, from Britain to China, Africa, the Americas and the Pacific. Not all dragons have the same appearance or attributes however — some are winged, others not; some seem to differ little from serpents while others have two or four legs; they can live in caves, under water or in the air; they can be consummately evil or have beneficial aspects. But dragons from different cultures can often share commonalities such as the ability to raise storms, association with water, keen sight (the name is said to be cognate with Greek δερκειν ‘to see’), treasure-guarding skills (perhaps stemming from the previous attribute) and destructive nature (though only in the West has its association with Satan caused it to be seen solely as wicked).
Although images and stories of dragons (however they are termed) occur throughout prehistory, in historic times the standard of Rome’s enemies — the Parthians, Scythians and Dacians, for example — became co-opted as the banner of the Roman army unit, the cohort. This military windsock (δρακοντειον in Greek) later emerged in the form Drache in Germany and drake in Old English when a kite was intended (as shown in the 11th-century Bayeux Tapestry). But it was principally the fierce aspect of the beast that led to warriors in the Dark Ages in Britain to being called dragon or draig, and their leaders referred to as pendraig or Pendragon, ‘chief dragon or ‘head warrior’. For example, the 6th-century Owain ap Urien was, in an early poem attributed to Taliesen, called Owain ben draic. From this term arose various later misapprehensions, such as that Pendragon was a dynastic name or that it literally referred to a dragon’s head instead of a chief warrior.
Nowadays of course Pendragon is associated very strongly with King Arthur, largely due to the influence of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s mostly fictitious 12th-century History of the Kings of Britain. In fact, a number of strands have become conflated due to this medieval bestseller. The old tale of two serpents or dragons contending underground, one red and the other white, was interpreted as Britons and Saxons fighting for supremacy of Britain. To this was added Geoffrey’s explanation of Arthur’s father Uther Pendragon creating a gold dragon standard from a vision of a comet, the dragon device also appearing on Arthur’s helmet. For much of the Middle Ages the colour of the dragon that rulers claimed for themselves as supposed heirs of Arthur veered from gold to red. However, the appropriation of the dragon as a uniquely Welsh symbol accelerated with the adoption of dragon slayer St George as the patron saint of England from the 13th century onwards.
It was the use of the red dragon device by the Tudor family during the Wars of the Roses, along with the green-and-white uniforms that distinguished Welsh soldiers in the 13th and 14th centuries, that contributed towards the design of the flag that we now know; but when the dynasty was established (and especially after the early death of Henry VII’s first son Arthur) the legendary past and its symbols such as the dragon were largely abandoned by ruling families, to be resurrected for reasons of pure national pride in recent years.
Lofmark’s little book (about a hundred pages, a quarter of which is taken up with notes and index) is strong on medieval history, less so on details of the dragon’s origins. While what he does say is, as far as I can guess, accurate and authoritative — he was after all a Professor of German in St David’s College, Lampeter — I would have welcomed more analysis of how and why the dragon in its various forms loomed large in myth, legend and lore. But as his focus was on the red dragon of Wales perhaps I was expecting too much from a work that — in a field where so much tosh is expounded – splendidly fulfils its brief.
http://wp.me/s2oNj1-draig
Lofmark begins at the very beginning, if there is such a thing where this fabulous creature is concerned. Are there real dragons? Do they still exist? Can they fly? The author discounts racial memory of dinosaurs or mere confusion with existing creatures such as the Komodo dragon (only known to the outside world from the early 20th century). Yet it exists in traditions stretching across the world, from Britain to China, Africa, the Americas and the Pacific. Not all dragons have the same appearance or attributes however — some are winged, others not; some seem to differ little from serpents while others have two or four legs; they can live in caves, under water or in the air; they can be consummately evil or have beneficial aspects. But dragons from different cultures can often share commonalities such as the ability to raise storms, association with water, keen sight (the name is said to be cognate with Greek δερκειν ‘to see’), treasure-guarding skills (perhaps stemming from the previous attribute) and destructive nature (though only in the West has its association with Satan caused it to be seen solely as wicked).
Although images and stories of dragons (however they are termed) occur throughout prehistory, in historic times the standard of Rome’s enemies — the Parthians, Scythians and Dacians, for example — became co-opted as the banner of the Roman army unit, the cohort. This military windsock (δρακοντειον in Greek) later emerged in the form Drache in Germany and drake in Old English when a kite was intended (as shown in the 11th-century Bayeux Tapestry). But it was principally the fierce aspect of the beast that led to warriors in the Dark Ages in Britain to being called dragon or draig, and their leaders referred to as pendraig or Pendragon, ‘chief dragon or ‘head warrior’. For example, the 6th-century Owain ap Urien was, in an early poem attributed to Taliesen, called Owain ben draic. From this term arose various later misapprehensions, such as that Pendragon was a dynastic name or that it literally referred to a dragon’s head instead of a chief warrior.
Nowadays of course Pendragon is associated very strongly with King Arthur, largely due to the influence of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s mostly fictitious 12th-century History of the Kings of Britain. In fact, a number of strands have become conflated due to this medieval bestseller. The old tale of two serpents or dragons contending underground, one red and the other white, was interpreted as Britons and Saxons fighting for supremacy of Britain. To this was added Geoffrey’s explanation of Arthur’s father Uther Pendragon creating a gold dragon standard from a vision of a comet, the dragon device also appearing on Arthur’s helmet. For much of the Middle Ages the colour of the dragon that rulers claimed for themselves as supposed heirs of Arthur veered from gold to red. However, the appropriation of the dragon as a uniquely Welsh symbol accelerated with the adoption of dragon slayer St George as the patron saint of England from the 13th century onwards.
It was the use of the red dragon device by the Tudor family during the Wars of the Roses, along with the green-and-white uniforms that distinguished Welsh soldiers in the 13th and 14th centuries, that contributed towards the design of the flag that we now know; but when the dynasty was established (and especially after the early death of Henry VII’s first son Arthur) the legendary past and its symbols such as the dragon were largely abandoned by ruling families, to be resurrected for reasons of pure national pride in recent years.
Lofmark’s little book (about a hundred pages, a quarter of which is taken up with notes and index) is strong on medieval history, less so on details of the dragon’s origins. While what he does say is, as far as I can guess, accurate and authoritative — he was after all a Professor of German in St David’s College, Lampeter — I would have welcomed more analysis of how and why the dragon in its various forms loomed large in myth, legend and lore. But as his focus was on the red dragon of Wales perhaps I was expecting too much from a work that — in a field where so much tosh is expounded – splendidly fulfils its brief.
http://wp.me/s2oNj1-draig
April 5, 2013
A solid short monograph on the origins and history of the Welsh dragon with some general dragon lore thrown in for background.
Lofmark persuades that the symbol has some authenticity as a popular representation of Welsh national feeling even if it is clear that it was not politically important before the nineteenth century.
He also cautiously suggests (and I find this persuasive) that its ultimate origin lies in the Roman use of the dragon as the sign of a cohort (as opposed to the eagle of the legion) during the late empire.
Perhaps the dragon (only much later made invariably red) represented the struggle between abandoned romanised Britons and German foederati (the Saxons had their own white dragon in at least one legend).
The fierce dragon was initially a sign of militaristic force and perhaps the suppression of the dragon and its 'barbarism' are why dragon-kiling is such a popular Christian motif unlike the East.
Be all that as it may, the red dragon is disconnected now from its 'real' history and has become re-imagined not only as a symbol of Welsh separateness but one fully endorsed by the English Monarchy.
And for those critics who say that the Welsh are not represented on the Royal Arms, the answer is that neither are the English - the Standard merely represents Anjou (France), Scotland and Ireland.
Within a few years, we may have a situation where the arms of the Windsors entirely consist of lost territories, their domain reduced to the ancient disputed lands of Celt and Saxon (and Imperial migrant).
Lofmark persuades that the symbol has some authenticity as a popular representation of Welsh national feeling even if it is clear that it was not politically important before the nineteenth century.
He also cautiously suggests (and I find this persuasive) that its ultimate origin lies in the Roman use of the dragon as the sign of a cohort (as opposed to the eagle of the legion) during the late empire.
Perhaps the dragon (only much later made invariably red) represented the struggle between abandoned romanised Britons and German foederati (the Saxons had their own white dragon in at least one legend).
The fierce dragon was initially a sign of militaristic force and perhaps the suppression of the dragon and its 'barbarism' are why dragon-kiling is such a popular Christian motif unlike the East.
Be all that as it may, the red dragon is disconnected now from its 'real' history and has become re-imagined not only as a symbol of Welsh separateness but one fully endorsed by the English Monarchy.
And for those critics who say that the Welsh are not represented on the Royal Arms, the answer is that neither are the English - the Standard merely represents Anjou (France), Scotland and Ireland.
Within a few years, we may have a situation where the arms of the Windsors entirely consist of lost territories, their domain reduced to the ancient disputed lands of Celt and Saxon (and Imperial migrant).
February 16, 2016
Overall kinda boring. Unless you have some special interest in the topic, I don't think there's much to offer. The most interesting part for me was in the first chapter where the dragon as a universal mythos was explored. From there, as the analysis progressed into the particular relationship between the red dragon and Whales, my attention greatly lagged.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews