ment is now compatible with “a reasonablyncheerful personal dispositionnand the untroubled enjoyment of thenavailable pleasures of life: material, social,naesthetic.” As these alienated folknlook to Gorbachev’s recasting of thenLeninist blueprint, they sympatheticallynsee the hardships he faces as henexorcises the Stalinist demon of terrornand the Brezhnevian demon of stagnation.nEvery current Soviet evil is excusednbecause of the difference innculture, history, or geography, whilenevery pleasant similarity is seized uponnand highlighted as proof that they are,nwonder of wonders, “just like us.”nMy only objection to the book isntechnical. The numerous typos disconcertnthe reader, as does the unnecessarynrepetition of the same quotes fromnone chapter to the next. On the whole,nhowever, this book is dense with insightnand documentation on social criticsnwith Marxian wanderlust.nMichael Warder is executive vicenpresident of The Rockford Institute.nMerlin of thenWoodsnby F. W. BrownlownThe Coming of the Kingnby Nikolai TolstoynNew York: Bantam Books;n640 pp., $18.95nThe matter of the Celts has had anstrong hold on the Englishspeakingnimagination for a long time, atnleast since the publication in the mid-n18th century of the forged Poems ofnOssian; but it was a symbolic momentnof great importance when MatthewnArnold told his Oxford audience how,non a seaside holiday at Llandudno innNorth Wales in 1864, he had turnednhis back on “the prosperous Saxon” tonhis east, and looked on the “eternalnsoftness and mild light of the west.”nSince then the conviction has grownnthat things missing from modern life —nromance, poetry, mystery, ancient loren— will be found in those remote northernnand western zones of the BritishnIsles. For, as the contemporary poetnX.J. Kennedy puts it, “Somebody stolenmy myths,/Took all their gist andnpiths,” and from that sad certainty it isnan easy translation to a strong hopenthat replacements will be found northnof the Roman wall, west of the RivernSevern, and over the Irish Sea.nAs fantasies go, this one is fairlynharmless, and it has given rise to a hugenbibliography, fictional and nonfictional,nsome of it eccentric. Nikolai Tolstoynis a contributor to this literature. Althoughnbest known for his books on hisnfamily, and on the compulsory repatriationnof Soviet cihzens in 1945, he hasnalso written The Quest for Merlin, anbook about the historicity of Merlin,nand now this long fictional narrative ofnMerlin’s life. The Coming of the King,nthe first of three volumes. He knowsnIrish and Welsh, and is familiar withnthe materials that survive from that dimnperiod of British history between thendeparture of the Romans and the establishmentnof the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms.nTo that extent his story is basednon authentic matter; but there is nondenying its eccentricity.nTolstoy’s Merlin is not based on thenArthurian Merlin of Geoffrey ofnMonmouth’s History, but on MerlinnSilvester, Merlin of the Woods, a madnnorthern prophet of the 6th century,nwhose legend survives in fragmentarynreferences in a handful of medievalnWelsh poems, and in Geoffrey’s Life ofnMerlin. Like Geoffrey’s Merlin, however,nTolstoy’s is a composite figurenwho shares some of the features of thenArthurian Meriin. Moreover, whereasnthe original Merlins are obviouslynfairy-tale creatures, this one is downrightnmythological, a miraculous childnborn of a divine father and a virginnmother, who harrows hell, sleeps withnhis sister the morning star, and growsnfrom a precocious child into a oneeyednold man in about a year.nAt the time of the story. Merlin isndead, and he tells the tale of his life andntransmigrations to a later British king inna dream. He also gives his sleepingnvisitor a portrait of Dark-Age Britishnsociety and its Germanic enemies.nLike Matthew Arnold, he much prefersnthe Celts to the Germans, evennthough he portrays his fellow Britons asnunintelligent people on the whole,nwho laugh a lot for no reason, andndrink themselves insensible at everynopportunity on “the yellow ensnaringnmead.” They are touchy and quarrel­nnnsome, and their most marked trait is anhabit of orotund speech, packed withnmythological and geographical references;nthey sound like a society ofnpagan fundamentalists. They are supposednto be Christians, but their clergynare scatty old men whom no one takesnseriously, and all the real religious worknis done by druids. (When the dyingntribune Rufinus asks to be baptized.nMerlin can only find a druid, whonperforms an analogous ceremony innWelsh; the implication is that it is muchnthe same, just as effective, and muchnprettier. To his credit. Merlin feelsnguilty about the deceit.)nThe Britons’ enemies, “the mongrelnhosts of the Iwys,” as the Anglo-nSaxons are called, though equally fondnof mythological references, are muchnclearer-headed and better-organized.nThey are cunning, brutal, sadistic worshippersnof death in the form of andemon god, and they take a keenninterest in committing atrocities. Innfact, they look suspiciously like ancestorsnof the Nazis’ death’s-head battalions;nthey even plot to sell the conquerednBritons as slaves for thenImperial mines and factories. Andnwhereas Merlin’s father, the Britishngod, is a Celtic Christ, the Saxon’snWoden is a Germanic Lucifer.nThe main story is about a battlenfought at a place called Dineirth ornBeranburh between the Britons undernMaelgun and an immense, pan-Germanicnforce (which includes Beowulf)nunder Cynric of Wessex. The chronologynof events is vague, for as we learnnfrom Merlin, the Brythonic Celts arennot good at time. They do not think itnexists. If, however, we consult thenAnglo-Saxon Chronicle, we will findnthat this battle was fought in 556nbetween Cynric alone and unnamednopponents, and that contrary to whatnMerlin tells us, Cynric survived andnpresumably won. Merlin’s role innevents is not clear, although in somenway he is the. guardian of Britain. Hencontinually experiences visions, andneven loses his eye during one of them,nbut he seems not to understand theirnmeaning. After his last adventure, involvingntransformation into a fish, andndisguise in a newly flayed skin of a pig,nhe returns full of information aboutnenemy plans; he does not tell us hownhe gets it, but one presumes it was bynmore conventional techniques thannJULY 1989/27n