King Bladud and the Myth of the Flying Man

Illustration of King Bladud, a mythical king who alledgedly attempted to fly in the ninth century BC. Illustration from the cover of Bladud of Bath: the British King Who Tried to Fly, a 1973 book by Howard C. Levis.

Illustration of King Bladud, a mythical king who alledgedly attempted to fly in the ninth century BC. Illustration from the cover of Bladud of Bath: the British King Who Tried to Fly, a 1973 book by Howard C. Levis.

Legends have a way of expanding through time. They exist in the collective consciousness of the people who believe them, and the ones that endure usually grow and evolve alongside the cultures and civilizations they exist in. Take the myth of King Bladud, for example. The first mention we have of him is from Geoffrey of Monmouth’s pseudohistorical account of British history, The History of the Kings of Britain. It was written in the twelfth century, and Monmouth mentions three main points about Bladud: first, he founded the town of Bath, where he built hot baths and a temple to the goddess Minerva; second, he practiced and taught necromancy, or communication with the dead; third, he attempted to fly:

[Bladud] constructed a pair of wings for himself and tried to fly through the upper air. He came down on top of the Temple of Apollo in the town of Trinovantum and was dashed into countless fragments.[1]

This is the oldest account of the mythical king we have. Just those three facts. Over time, however, there has been much expanding and embellishing on the original, most-likely-already-embellished account. So much has been added to the story, that entire books have been written about his life.[2] Why is this? What made King Bladud enter the popular imagination to become an enduring legend? Because he tried to fly.

Bladud’s story is an all-too-familiar tale. Consider Eilmer of Malmsbury, the flying monk from the eleventh century who flung himself off a castle after strapping wings to himself, or Abbas ibn Firnas, the ninth century Andalusian polymath who attempted something very similar, or John Damian de Falcuis, the sixteenth century False Friar and Italian alchemist who also made a winged-leap from a castle. We have original accounts of these men and their attempts at flight, but their stories have endured over time and we’re still talking about them today.

There seems to be a pattern throughout these accounts: build a pair of wings; find a high place; jump off said high place with said wings strapped to you; fall; injure or kill yourself in the process; become famous and have your story endure through time. It’s a testament to the human need for verticality that this is a tried-and-true method of achieving immortality in the history books.

We do not know if King Bladud actually existed or not. What we do know is that humans have wanted to fly since time immemorial. As a species, we seek to escape the surface of the earth, and myths like this allow us to believe it’s possible. This is why stories like Bladud’s endure over time, and those who attempt it are held up as legends.

Read more about other ideas for flying machines here.

Check out other myths and legends that deal with flight here.


[1]: Geoffrey of Monmouth. The History of the Kings of Britain. Translated by Lewis Thorpe. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1966. 80-81.

[2]: See Levis, Howard C. Bladud Of Bath: The British King Who Tried To Fly. Bath: West Country Editions, 1973.

Previous
Previous

Altitudinal Zonation : Mountains and Verticality

Next
Next

“[In the mountains], the highest parts of the loftiest peaks seem to be above the laws that rule our world below, as if they belonged to another sphere.”