On mythical smiths and plundered gear (ll.399-406) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Vague words and allusions
Plundered gear
Closing


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Abstract

Wulfgar having given him the okay, Beowulf strides in to Hrothgar with his thanes in tow.

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Translation

"Arose then the hero, from amidst his many thanes,
various valiant warriors, some remained there,
to watch the war-gear, as they were strictly ordered.
They hurried together, their chief going first,
under Heorot's roof; on went the war-fierce,
under hard helmets, until they stood upon the hearth.
Beowulf spoke - on him the byrnie shone,
his corslet crafted with the smith's skill:"
(Beowulf ll.399-406)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Vague words and allusions

Although the poet/scribe here describes Beowulf's walking "under Heorot's roof" ("under Heorotes hrof" (l.403)) we're no closer to figuring out whether he and his fellow Geats have been waiting outside or in some sort of antechamber. Even the Old English is of no help since it literally means "under Heorot's roof." Either Beowulf has walked in to be under it, or is striding (no doubt manfully) beneath Heorot's golden eaves.

Though really, what sort of hall could be called "great" without some sort of antechamber?

Moving from one vague phrase to another, at the end of this passage we encounter "smiþes."

This word translates easily into "smith," but the question is: is it plural or singular?

A quick look at the University of Virginia's famed Magic Sheet reveals that "smiþes" is in fact singular.

So what?

It's possible that this word is an allusion. In Norse myth there is a famous smith named Wayland who crafted many wondrous things (like the incredible, instantly-travelling "Wade's boat" referenced in Chaucer's "The Merchant's Tale"). Normally it would be ridiculous to pick this reference out of a throwaway use of the word "smiþes." But the end of this passage is special.

After we're told that Beowulf speaks, the poet/scribe decides to go on and describe the armour that Beowulf is wearing.

We're told that Beowulf's byrnie (waist-length maille shirt) shone and that his corslet (breastplate) was made "with the smith's skill" (l.406). All of this talk of armour, however brief, opens up the possibility of "smiþes" being a reference to Wayland. This description being the set up for Beowulf's speech also suggests a reference because reading even the first line of the Geat's gab shows that it is a formal, carefully worded address. It's not every day (even during the lifetime of the poet/scribe) that you use "þu," ("thou") after all.

Now, if "smiþes" is a reference to Wayland, it doesn't necessarily mean that Wayland made Beowulf's armour. Though that would fit in well with why Beowulf (not to mention the poet/scribe) prizes it so highly. It could just be a reference that is idiomatic in that the real live smith who fashioned the Geat's battle gear seemed to have channelled the mythical skill of the smith when making it. It's just that good.

Mythological reference or not, as we'll see soon, whoever the smith was that made Beowulf's armour, he made it to last.

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Plundered gear

Along with a bizarre, translation-blocking typo in the Old English text of the bilingual edition of Heaney's translation (the apparently non-existent "pryðlic" for "þryðlic" (l.400)), this passage has a word of note.

Yet another word for "war-gear," "heaðo-reaf," has a curious meaning when pulled apart and patched back together.

Separately, its words translate as "war" and "plunder, booty, spoil; garment, armour, vestment." These don't exactly come together like "Wig/laf" (literally "war legacy/relic"), there's a definite implication that this armour is directly related to combat. Beowulf has pulled it from the battle field.

But in what sense?

Could it simply refer to its being plundered from a battlefield?

Or should the reference be taken to mean that it's seen many close scrapes and yet been "plundered" from each one in that its wearer has survived to wear it again?

Either way, it's not used here to avoid some sort of reference to genitalia, but instead, to simply alliterate in the first half of the line.

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Closing

Next week, Beowulf to Hrothgar speaks.

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Beowulf's placement and Wulfgar's use of "you" (ll.389b-398) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Are they in or out?
Oh, "eow"...
Closing


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Abstract

Wulfgar runs to Beowulf and the Geats, bearing word of their being accepted by Hrothgar.

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Translation

                 "Then to the hall door
went Wulfgar, from within this word was called out:
'You as commanded by word of my war lord,
prince of the East-Danes, that he knows of your family:
and you to him are from over the sea-wave,
proven brave, welcome hither.
Now you may go in wearing your armour,
under your helmets, to see Hrothgar;
yet here unbind and leave your shields,
broad boards, and deadly spears, this is a meeting for      words alone'"
(Beowulf ll.389b-398)
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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Are they in or out?

This scene reminds me of Dorothy's arrival at the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz. I can very vividly picture Wulfgar popping his head out of a window cut into Heorot's door and calling down to Beowulf that he and his Geats are allowed in.

The trouble with that is that they've already taken seats at benches. So are those benches outside on Heorot's lawn (perhaps the setting for a now lost epic poem about lawn bowling) or are they in some sort of antechamber?

We are told, when the Geats arrive, that they lean some of their gear up against a wall ("sea-weary they set their shields aside,/battle-hard bucklers, against that hall's wall;" ("setton sæmeþe side scyldas,/rondas regnhearde, wið þæs recedes weal," (ll.325-326))). The benches (the exact word used is "bence" (l.327)) that they sit on are also vague. In the former case it seems as though they're outside and have set their weapons up against the hall's outer wall. The non-descript benches could also be outside (the word used isn't "medu-benc" ("bench in a meadhall") after all).

But then what can be taken from Wulfgar's mentioning the conditions of their meeting with Hrothgar; namely that they are to leave their shields and spears outside?

Doing so could be an act of trust. It might be a way for the Danes to tell if the Geats are with honour and honesty. If they're willing to leave the tools of their trade in the open, it shows that they see the Danes as no threat to their gear and that they believe that their equipment will be well kept for them.

If the Geats are still outside it definitely explains why the poet/scribe hasn't said more about the Danes' reaction to them. They are still new arrivals in this land and do not yet have the ability to freely enter and exit it. In effect, they need to leave part of themselves outside in order to gain access.

Though that does leave them with their swords.

But, as poetic as this all is, I can' help but thiwael-sceaftasnk that the Geats are free to bring in their swords because these items are more status symbol than weapon.

Claiming to be someone's son could only go so far, carrying your father's sword would confirm your lineage. Along with whatever family resemblance there might be of course.

Not to mention, swords seem to have a much richer life as the weapon for single combats and particularly tough spots in battles. The compound for "spear" that appears on line 398 suggests that that weapon is much more regarded as the brutal tool of human destruction. The word "wælsceaftas" literally translates as "slaughter/carnage spear," leaving little doubt as to their efficacy in mass combat.

Unless, behind all of this praise of spears, is a particularly boastful poet/scribe who thinks that the Danes and Geats were terrible swordsmen.

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Oh, "eow"...

English has never been a tonal language. The difference between Old English and even Middle English (what Chaucer and Gower wrote in) is wide since the former is a synthetic language and the latter is much more of an analytic language, but even so. English has always been English.

Though, curiously, Old English seems to have more context-sensitive words.

The first word in Wulfgar's speech, for example, is "eow."

Seamus Heaney translated this as "my lord" and Francis Gummere translated the word simply as "to you" (l.391). From the original it's clear that Wulfgar is addressing Beowulf directly. But even if he is a stranger, it seems as though more formality should be applied than that contained in "eow." A nice "ðu" (modernized as "thou") would be better suited.

Unless Wulfgar, in conveying Hrothgar's message of extreme welcome, is dialling it back a bit because he's wary of this fierce band claiming to be from Geatland.

As Hrothgar's herald Wulfgar has no doubt seen his share of warriors coming to them with hopes of ridding Heorot of Grendel only to have those hopes plucked from them like legs from a spider. And maybe Wulfgar's sick of seeing the flower of youth trampled in this way. All of the men of courage are throwing themselves at a problem with no clear solution and leaving the world filled with layabout rogues.

Of course, even for someone with a master's degree in English, that's a lot to pull out of a single "eow." Wulfgar could also just be adjusting his address to something more casual because Beowulf and his fellow Geats are entering the Danish social hierarchy with a reputation for courage but no first-hand proof of it. "Eow" is thus used because the Geats have yet to become worthy of the daintier "ðu."

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Closing

Next week Beowulf and a select few of the Geats crowd into Hrothgar's hall.

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On Hrothgar and "equipment" (ll.356-370) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar as depressed Dane
Noble customs and "equipment"
Closing


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Abstract

Wulfgar brings Beowulf's petition to Hrothgar. His tone makes a positive reply seem like a long shot.

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Translation

"Then quickly he turned, to face where Hrothgar sat,
old and hoar among the throng of his thanes;
he went to the one of honourable deeds, stood shoulder to shoulder
with the Danish lord: knew he their noble customs.
Wulfgar spoke to his friend and lord:
'Here are those who came, who ventured
forth going over the sea from the Geatish lands;
their chief champion
they call Beowulf, he is the petitioner,
the one asking, my lord, if he might mix
words with you. Do not propose to deny
your reply, gracious Hrothgar:
by his war-gear I think their worth
that of esteemed warriors; indeed he seems dependable,
the one warrior who has lead them so far.'"
(Beowulf ll.356-370)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Hrothgar as depressed Dane

Is this speech a sign of Wulfgar's knowledge of the Dane's "duguðe þeaw," ("noble customs" (l.359)) or is it an honest plea to a forlorn lord?

The honorifics ("my lord" ("þeoden min" (l.365)), "gracious Hrothgar" ("glædman Hroðgar" (l.367))) seem like things said as parts of Wulfgar's addressing Hrothgar. They sound like what's required of someone lower speaking to the highest ranking individual in the Dane's hierarchy.

But, it's hard to read Wulfgar's imploring Hrothgar to "not propose to deny/your reply" ("No ðu him wearne geteoh/ðinra gegncwida" (ll.366-67)) without hearing an imploring note. There's something in those words that speaks to the Dane's desperation. Perhaps Hrothgar has fallen into a depression after seeing so many warriors fall to Grendel's might. Or, as Neil Gaiman would have it, Hrothgar is covering up some past misdeed of his with sorrow.

I believe that Hrothgar has fallen victim to depression.

Sitting amongst his warriors he's no doubt reminded of how he valiantly fought to bring peace to his lands. And, being surrounded by those who are enjoying themselves in Heorot, he is no doubt reminded of the efforts that went into the construction of that glittering mead hall. And yet, empty seats all around him bring phantoms into his vision, ghosts of the past that hang off of his memory like overripe apples heavy with both savour and with worms.

Anyone in that state of mind is likely to wave away petitioners and those willing to help without a further thought. Hrothgar seems to have no reason to look out from the past, he has nothing to look forward too, after all.

Anyone in that sort of state would need someone like Wulfgar to talk them back to the present. Someone to inspire some hope in them, as Wulfgar attempts to. And, as we'll see next week, there are hints that Wulfgar's mentioning Beowulf's name and his merit in bringing his fellow Geats so far that the attempt is successful. Hrothgar brightens - but stays well within the bounds of the customs of the nobility.

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Noble customs and "equipment"

As high and noble as the customs of a ruling host may be, they bear a striking resemblance to the customs of modern day politicians. Both are full of seemingly empty words.

At least for our scholarly purposes, there aren't many words of great interest in Wulfgar's speech.

Even the words used for "noble customs" (l.359), "duguðe þeaw," isn't necessarily all that interesting.

The first word in the pair means "body of noble retainers, people, host, the heavenly host, strength," and the second means "usage, custom, morals, morality." So, like most other systems of conduct, there's a suggestion of the Danes' system having a higher origin (translating the phrase as "the custom of the heavenly host"). There's also, perhaps reflecting poorly on Beowulf's time to our modern eyes, the translation "the custom of strength," that could be construed as "might makes right." Curious how heaven and power have that sort of relation - however distant.

More interesting in an archaic sort of way, part of the word "getawum" ("war-gear" (l.368)) once had a different meaning. This sense of "taw-u," the root of "getawum," once meant "genitalia" (along with "apparatus, and "implement"). But, even to Beowulf's early audiences, I'm willing to guess whatever sense of "genitalia" was inherent in "getawum" was a distant echo, something that only the scholarly among them would catch.

Nonetheless, maybe this sense (or the spirit?) of "getawum," after some major transformations, came to rest in modern euphemisms like "bait and tackle."

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Closing

Next week we hear Hrothgar's whispered reply to Wulfgar, and perhaps see the first stirrings of hope in this downcast ruler of a people.

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Beowulf's rhetoric (ll.340-347) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Introductory patterns
Is there a mic in that helmet?
Closing


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Abstract

Beowulf replies to Wulfgar with his origins, but masks his purpose with formality.

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Translation

"'One man among them courageously answered,
the proud man of the Weders, spoke after those words,
bold beneath his helm: "We are Hygelac's
table-companions; Beowulf is my name.
I will explain to the son of Halfdane,
that famed lord, my errand,
your prince, if he will grant us such,
that we may greet him graciously.'"
(Beowulf ll.340-347)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Introductory patterns

Despite the brevity of this passage, there are some things that can be said about it.

Not the least of which is the continuation of a pattern we've seen before.

In 6 February's entry (in which Beowulf introduces himself to the coastguard, ll258-269), we saw that Beowulf didn't just say outright "I am Beowulf." Instead he introduced his group as friends of Hygelac's, and then introduced himself primarily through his father.

Once again, Beowulf introduces the group first, with a similar line explaining their relationship with Hygelac (l.342). But then, instead of introducing his father and merely claiming to be his son, we hear Beowulf say for the first time in the poem that takes his name, "Beowulf is my name" ("Beowulf is min nama" (l.343)).

Surely the herald of a great prince like Hrothgar commands more respect than a coastguard?

So then why does Beowulf simply give his own name (a name which makes no reference to his father)?

My theory is that this has to do with the intimacy of the hall setting.

Although this conversation is still very formalized, Heorot is nonetheless a place of leisure. It's where Hrothgar and his thanes hang out and trade treasures and stories between battles and forays. The hall would even draw strangers into Hrothgar's hospitality, at least, were it not for Grendel. As such, Beowulf has no need to show his "son of" card just yet.

Even so, the other curious thing about Beowulf's shift in tone is that he keeps his purpose for from Hrothgar's herald. Instead of declaiming for all to hear, "I am Beowulf! I'm here to kill your monster" (as a cg'd Ray Winstone did), he says that he'll reveal just what his purpose is when he speaks to Hrothgar.

I think this feint is meant to show Beowulf's social acumen. In a hall besieged for twelve years by some seemingly invincible terror, anyone (especially anyone as young as Beowulf's supposed to be here) coming around claiming to be there to deal with Grendel is likely not going to be believed. Likely, for most of those twelve years such an approach hasn't been useful. Those who did come in with boasts blaring were probably laughed out of the hall.

And once you've been laughed out of something it's all the harder to win glory there.

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Is there a mic in that helmet?

All the more so if you appear ridiculous. It might seem Beowulf would were he still wearing his helmet, as the poet suggests on line 342. But this detail appears to bolster his position.

Maybe it's all just to keep building up the mystery around these Geats among the Danes. The Geats' helmets are supposed to have cheek-guards, and you'd think that they would protect the helmet's wearer from sight as well as blows.

Or perhaps the poet is engaging in a bit of embellishment. Painting Beowulf into a bit of a caricature of a warrior. He keeps his helmet on so that he can be ever vigilant. Or maybe because it's simply the outfit of a warrior and keeping his helmet on shows Beowulf's seriousness.

Regardless, I definitely think it's a poetic detail. Though his speaking "bold[ly] beneath his helm" could well be an image of sorts, suggesting that Beowulf spoke as deeply as if he were wearing a helmet. Maybe there's even something about Beowulf's tone itself being a source of protection in such an image.

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Closing

Next week, Wulfgar takes Beowulf's message and departs.

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Exile and bandits' weapon of choice (ll.331b-339) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Finding community among exiles?
A word for spear
Closing


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Abstract

Hrothgar's herald questions the Geats' origins.

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Translation

              "Then a proud warrior
asked after those men's origins:
'Where come ye of the anointed shields,
shirts of grey mail and visored helms,
this crowd of spears? I am Hrothgar's
herald and officer. Never saw I this many men
from far away of such high spirits.
It seems to me that you for glory, not at all for exile,
yay for courage have sought out Hrothgar.'"
(Beowulf ll.331b-339)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Finding community among exiles?

Hrothgar's herald says something more than passing strange in what seems to be passing. On lines 336 to 337 he states that he has "Never [seen] this many men/from far away of such high spirits" ("Ne seah ic elþeodige/þus manige men modiglicran").

Given the fact that challengers to Grendel have probably dried up over the past twelve years of his reign of terror, it's fair to say that this man's probably not seen many foreigners lately.

Even when heroes in waiting were coming by Heorot, they were probably more grim and serious than the apparently boisterous Geats (though we're not really told this - maybe they were like giddy teenagers in the presence of some musical idol, all jostling together and too nervous to speak, and that's what their weapons jostling last week was all about).

So the herald probably speaks true. He never has seen so many foreigners and in such high spirits.

But the word he uses for foreigners ("elþeodige") could also be translated as "exiled people."

The difference between "foreigners" and "exiled people" may seem slight, perhaps. But if the herald mentions exiles here then his assertion just a few lines later that these men are not here for exile makes much more sense.

Translating "elþeodige" as "exiled people" also paints a curious picture.

The image of a group of exiles is, strangely, the perfect representation of the importance of community to Anglo-Saxons. Among them, exile was considered a fate worse than death.

Partially because being exiled meant that you lost your social standing and whatever came with it. But at least as much as that if not more, exile meant that you were cut off from the people with whom you shared an ipso facto relationship through blood. You didn't earn their trust, nor did you work for their friendship - ties of kinship were supposed to be the reliable ties that saw you through the hardships of life.

Being exiled cut you off from all of that, but at the same time, it wouldn't be impossible for exiles to meet while in their respective outcast states. That a group of exiles would find each other, and, one can only assume, band together under the common aegis of their exiles shows just how important having a group and belonging was.

All of that said, whether or not such a hypothetical band of exiles would be in high spirits because they had found new community is hard to say.

It's possible that their common state would cause these exiles to form a strong bond in which case high spirits would definitely be possible.

Though it's also possible that though their respective communities no longer regard them as members, the exiles would still see themselves as Angles, or Saxons, or Danes, or Geats. In which case, they would likely still hold the prejudices of these groups.

Whatever the case with such a group of exiles is, either their numbers or their spirits were great enough for Hrothgar's herald to believe these Geats before him to be not exiles but something else.

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A word for spear

Another extract, and another batch of crazy words. The craziest this week, though, has got to be "here-sceaft."

The second part of this compound word for "spear" might look familiar. It's the word that eventually became the name of a famed and funky 70s private detective. Shaft.

But the first part of "here-sceaft" is where meanings become bizarre. Standing alone, this word could mean "troop," "army," "host," "multitude," or "predatory band."

So the spear is very much the common man's weapon. All right. But then, since "here" can mean "predatory band" is it also the weapon of choice for bandits and thieves?

Logically, the answer would have to be yes.

If a spear was something that you could easily come by in Anglo Saxon England, then certainly it would be the scoff-law's preferred weapon. Swords certainly wouldn't be lying around, that's for sure.

Actually, pushing logic a bit further, is it possible that swords were harder to come by simply because smiths who could work such large pieces of metal were hard to come by? Or, more likely, forges that could get such a lump of metal hot enough were rare?

Because making a spear requires making nothing more than a little pointy hat for a stick (or you could forgo the hat and shave the stick to a sharp point).

Given the fact that the resources consumed in making a sword were that much greater than those used for a simple spear really makes me wonder if associating the spear with bandits (even at the level of language like "here-sceaft") and the commons was just another thing that elevated the sword to the point where it became a prestigious and noble weapon.

Clearly, if "here-sceaft" has the potential for negative connotations as I believe it does, then the cultural elevation of the sword had happened long before Beowulf was written.

But then, when?

At the very moment that someone working their forge to ridiculous heats threw in big long chunks of metal and wound up with something no other forge-user in the area ever thought possible?

When technology and manufacturing are so unrestricted as they are today it's hard to imagine something so simple as a long pointy piece of sharpened metal being impressive, but it certainly would've been when making such things was harder.

And it's easy to see, then, that something as low-tech as a spear could be associated with "predatory bands."

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Closing

Next week, Beowulf answers Hrothgar's herald.

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Words and the noise of the Geats' arrival in Heorot (ll.320-331a) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Word order wonderings
Why the Geats' weapons jostle
Closing



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Abstract

Beowulf and his crew come to Heorot and plonk down onto its benches.

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Translation

"The way was stone-paven, along the path
the warriors went together. War-byrnies shone,
hard, hand-linked, shining ring-mail from
skilled hands celebrated in song. Shortly they
arrived at the hall in their horrible war gear,
sea-weary they set their shields aside,
battle-hard bucklers, against that hall's wall;
they dropped onto the benches, mailshirts ringing,
those war-skilled men. Spears stood,
bound in a seaman's bunch, all together,
ashen shaft over grey; that iron-clad crew's
weapons jostled."
(Beowulf ll.320-331a)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Word order wonderings

It's passages like this that make it abundantly clear that Beowulf is a poem, but also that it's a product of a time quite different from our own. Not just on the obvious levels of social structure and what was considered entertainment, but on the level of language itself.

The brief phrase "æscholt ufan græg" (l.330) that I've translated as "ashen shaft over grey" is a prime example.

Word order in Old English is definitely not as hard and fast as it is for we speakers of Modern English.

Because Old English is a synthetic language (it has declensions), a word's function wasn't defined by its place in the sentence but instead by its different forms.

Take for instance "searwum." This word is the dative plural of "searo". In English this word's translation "skilled"/"skilful" will almost always occur before the noun that it modifies.

We could say "that person is a skillful engineer" or "a skilled artisan." But you'd never hear a native English speaker (of classical English, anyway) say something like "an artisan skilled" without that being followed up with a prepositional phrase for "skilled" to modify ("an artisan skilled in the craft of blacksmithing"). Likewise "engineer skilful" just isn't how English is spoken for the most part. Unless you change that phrase's into a compound adjective with a hyphen.

However, in this passage "song in searwum" is just how it's written. The Old English word for "skilled" or "skilful" is left to the end of the sentence.

But the word's ending shows what it is modifying, it's that ending that establishes its relationship with "hringiren" from line 323. This difference in placement suggests, with a bit of a leap, that native Old English speakers had a greater awareness of words' relationships to each other. English is definitely a difficult language to learn from scratch, but its static structure makes it worlds easier than any synthetic language.

Getting back to "æscholt ufan græg" its word order is a complete mystery to me.

Are there grey and ashen shafts bundled together?

Are the spears being stored counter-intuitively with their points in the ground (perhaps for symbolic or ceremonial reasons)?

At the heart of this issue is the preposition "ufan". This word is said to mean "over," "above," "on high."

Those definitions would seem to rule out the possibility that the phrase "æscholt ufan græg" refers to different coloured spear shafts being bundled together. Although maybe the preposition isn't meant to be taken so literally.

It could be that the ash-shaft spears are over or above those that are grey because they're given a prominent place in the bundle.

Or it could be that they're simply taller.

I'm just not convinced that warriors would store weapons point-down, risking the dulling of their points and edges. Unless sticking your spears in the ground was a sign of peaceful intentions, certainly a fair assessment of their being described as "ashen shafts over grey."

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Why the Geats' weapons jostle

Yet, peaceable as the Geats' intentions are, we're told that their weapons jostled as they sat down. Is this to be taken as a sign that those weapons are eager for a fight? Or is it just a matter of the Geats being armed to the teeth?

Though, there's another completely unrelated reason that the poet could give us that aural detail.

Picture this:

You're sitting in a hall with your comrades and kin, along with your lord. You're on edge because you and your people have been mercilessly ravaged night after night by some sort of un-killable fiend.

All is quiet.

Until the door opens and in walk a group of men bristling with arms and armour. They set their weapons to the side and then proceed to plonk down onto your benches - maybe the place where old Higðor Stonefist the stone mason once regularly sat before the demon made off with him leaving nothing behind but the ring that his wife had given him, still attached to the grisly remains of a gnawed finger.

All remains quiet except for the newcomers murmurs of conversation. One of them muffles a laugh. But the biggest one is silent.

Nothing happens.

No one is saying anything now. The entire hall is as quiet as...yes, you think it, a burial mound.

But then the newcomers start to shuffle around on the benches, and their ringcoats (looking resplendent in the fire light) clank, their sheathed swords knock together, and their spears fall from the earth in which they'd been set.

The poet's just used five words to give this detail, but I think, whatever it might mean on a sub-textual level, it's there to break the silence that otherwise exists in the hall. It's there to call the Danes' attention fully to these newcomers and to clear out the hall's quiet (there's no mention of noise or music coming from the hall as the Geats approach it) so that the newcomers can be questioned in the following lines.

If nothing else the jostling of the Geats' weapons restores sound to the world of the hall, one so deep in mourning and sorrow that its collective voice needs to be called forth.

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Closing

Next week Hrothgar's top man Wulfgar questions the Geats.

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The coastguard's farewell (ll.312-319) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A boastful coastguard?
Meet the new god, same as the old god
Closing


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Abstract

The coastguard takes his leave of the Geats, wishing them god's protection.

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Translation

"He took the battle brave to the bright
high-souled hall, that he may thither them
go; that hero of combat turned his horse
about, spoke he these words next:
'It is time for me to go. The almighty
father's grace keep you healthy
amidst your quest! I am to the sea,
to hold the shore against fiendish foes.'"
(Beowulf ll.312-319)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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A boastful coastguard?

The coastguard's being called "hero of combat" ("guðbeorna") seems strange. That is, until you notice that it's the third word in an alliterative sequence. But is it only there to hold up a preferred Old English poetic form?

Yeah, probably.

I mean, the coastguard does mention that he has to go back to the coast to guard against "fiendish foes" ("wrað werod" (l.319)). So there could be some verity to his being a "hero of combat." But that term seems a little inflated to me.

Could the poet be having a laugh at the coastguard's expense? "guðbeorna" fit the line that he had written and so he just ran with that and made the coastguard into a bit of a boaster at the end of his speech?

Maybe.

I mean, on the one hand, as much of an exile such a person might feel (even if he does have a crew out there), it definitely wouldn't be wise to send some fop out to guard your coast.

The Danes wouldn't have had the troops to keep a barracks there or anything like that. His crew included, the Danish coastguard in Beowulf probably wouldn't exceed ten men. Tops. So he, the lead coastguard if you will, would definitely need to have proven his mettle in combat.

Though, it's also possible that the position of coastguard is reserved for warriors who are past their prime. No longer able to perform as vigourously on the battlefield they're charged to put their skills and battle-sharpened wits to the test in judging new comers and putting on a fearsome face. With a coast as quiet as the Dane's must be (who, aside from heroes would want to come to a monster-terrorized-golden-hall party?), the job of coastguard definitely seems like something that would get filled by a veteran.

And maybe that's what the poet was going for with the narrative riff on the coastguard's past and then his own seemingly over-zealous admission of what he was heading off to do.

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Meet the new god, same as the old god

Throughout Beowulf, people give thanks to a generic male, father god. Many translations (and some instances in the original text) make many of these references into "lord." As such, it's very easy to read these instances of reference to god as references to the Christian god. Since "lord" is frequently used as a deific pronoun in Christianity.

However.

Christianity wasn't the only religion to have a wise, solemn, wrathful, and benevolent patriarchical deity.

The Norse peoples (who definitely had some influence on Beowulf since it's set largely in Daneland of all places) had Odin. The Germanic people had Woden. The Anglo-Saxon creators or audience for this poem were themselves Germanic.

So who's to say that these generic references to god aren't to these pagan gods? The Geats and Danes aren't exactly quoting Old or New Testament verses at each other. Though there is that lengthy reference to Grendel as the kin of Cain and god's war with the giants. That could be a reference to the apparently standard stories told among the peoples of northern Europe about unexplored places.

Knowing with certainty who the deity is that's constantly being referred to is an impossibility. But the idea that it could be either the Christian god or one of the chief Pagan gods isn't just a neat alternative. That could well have been the intention.

No matter where you place our version of Beowulf's composition within the 400 year window generally agreed upon (between 600 and 1000 AD) contemporary Christianity had yet to really spread over all of Europe. As such this story that's ostensibly about a hero's quests and fights with the supernatural could have been used as a way to infiltrate and convert.

Or, any male deity could be read into it as a way of making sure that the epic simply wasn't too preachy.

Beowulf's being bundled with a collection of fantastic tales from the east in the Noel codex could in fact be the book creator's way of sort of sweeping it under the rug because these god references weren't clear then either. That book maker would have been a Christian monk of some sort or another after all.

So, when you're reading Beowulf and come across a reference to the "alwalda" don't just think surfer dude with a long white robe and beard, but think one-eyed, helmeted warrior god, too.

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Closing

Next week, the Geats step into Heorot and duly unequip themselves.

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Speculation along the way to Heorot (ll.301-311) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Gold as guardian
Of ships and mothers
Closing


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Abstract

The coastguard leads Beowulf and his entourage to Heorot.

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Translation

"They went upon their way. The boat was bound,
the capacious craft tethered with cord,
secure at anchor. Boar-shapes shone
atop their cheek guards; ornamented gold,
glistening and firmament firm, securely held life:
war-hearted grim men. They all hurried onward,
going down together, until from that high hall of a building,
ornamented and gold-dappled for all to see
that it was foremost among humanity of all
the buildings beneath heaven, the ruler called for them;
light of the people over so great a land."
(Beowulf ll.301-311)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Gold as guardian

Gold is pretty prevalent in this passage. It'd be easy just to dismiss the metal's shining presence in the Geats' helmets and on Heorot as indicators of wealth and prestige, but I think there's more to it than that. Of course.

In both of these instances I think that the gold is present in the helmet and the hall as a ward against harm. Or maybe as an outward show of the value of the people under the helmets and in the hall.

Putting a monetary value on a life or a major injury isn't something modern. The Anglo-Saxons had a law covering the same thing that required the perpetrator to pay their victim (or, in the case of murder, the victim's next of kin) a fee called "wergild." The major purpose of this fee was to stem the outbreak of feuds and to bring disparate groups together into a group that extended beyond family ties.

It's a bit broad, but literally translated, "wergild" becomes "man price."

This is where this theory gets a little crazy, mostly because of timing issues. If the concept of we-gild had been around for a few generations before Beowulf was put together/originally written, then what would stop payments from becoming a preventative measure? Once it was so established, it's not much further to get to a point where the association of gold with prevention of harm takes on a magical or superstitious flavour.

With such perception of gold as a protective metal in the culture, it would make good sense for it to adorn helmet and horn alike. Thus, pointing out the gold in the helmets and in Heorot's exterior firmly establishes the protective properties of both.

However, in this passage, I think that a contrast is implied.

If gold is a metal that the Anglo-Saxons of Beowulf's time believed to have protective properties then it's already clear to the audience that it hasn't worked so well for Heorot. The mention of gold being in the Geats' helmets, then, calls into question just how effective they'll be in guarding their lives. It's also possible to read the failure of Heorot's golden exterior as evidence for Grendel's chaotic influence. His presence as a kin of Cain causes the proper function of gold to cease.

If all of this rang true for the poem's original audience, then it's hard to believe how much more anticipation there would have been for the fight once Beowulf reveals that he'll faced Grendel completely unarmed. Heck, you could even say that if all this is true and Grendel's power to negate weapons extends to negating the protective properties of gold, then Beowulf's facing him with his bare hands alone evens the field all the more.

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Of ships and mothers

"Capacious" of line 302 is, in Old English, "wide-bosomed," or "sidfæþmed."

While a modern interpretation of "wide-bosomed" might be simply "large breasted," the two definitions of "sidfæþmed" suggest that the Anglo-Saxons regarded it as more a matter of volume than size. Considering that all children of the period were nursed, this is hardly surprising. The greater capacity a mother had for milk the more nourishment her child would get, giving that child a better chance to make it through childhood and come into healthy adolescence.

How that relates to a ship is beyond me, except for the idea that travelling in comfort is better than travelling in a cramped space. Plus, a boat with some room would make rowing much easier. Easier rowing means faster travel. So a capacious boat is definitely optimal.

Getting back to this passage in particular, what can be made of the repeat mentions of Beowulf's boat being securely tethered?

Running with the connection between mothers and boats via "sidfæþmed," and taking along for the jog the tradition of referring to boats with feminine pronouns, Beowulf's boat could be regarded as his anima being securely left behind, enabling him to act without sentiment, if necessary. If you want to take the Jungian tack.

Much more straightforward is the interpretation that Beowulf's ship is his only means of getting him back to his homeland. As such, its security is of the utmost importance.

Or, it could symbolize his identity as a true Geat. If he had no way of getting back home, his liege Hygelac could think him dead or gone native, erasing his status as outsider among the Danes and making him a quasi-exile.

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Closing

Next week, the coastguard takes the Geats to Heorot's doors and then takes his leave.

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The coastguard's reply (Pt. 2) (ll.293-300) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The coastguard's prayer
Two matters
Closing


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Abstract

The coastguard makes Beowulf a promise, and wishes him well.

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Translation

"'Also I'll command my men
to guard your boat against the fiend,
relate a request to guard your newly tarred
ship on the shore, until it again bears
you dear men over the streaming surface
in its bound boards to the Geat's borders:
that such a doer of good may have that fate,
to survive the battle rush in the hall.'"
(Beowulf ll.293-300)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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The coastguard's prayer

A coastguard promising to command his underlings to watch someone's ship until their return sounds like a pretty routine part of a coastguard's job. It could just be what coastguards say to those with whom they interact. But here, in the context of Beowulf's fateful arrival in Daneland, it feels like there's more to the coastguard's words than a professional nicety.

The final two lines of this extract are spent wishing Beowulf luck against Grendel, why could that well wish not be extended further back to the extract's very beginning on line 293?

Taken as a whole, those last two lines definitely fit in with the rest of this part of the coastguard's reply.

The extract opens with the coastguard promising to command his men to guard Beowulf's ship until his return and departure.

This is a crux.

It's not that they'll watch his boat until his return - they'll keep his boat until his return and until he leaves Daneland. That the promise covers that much time, and is described in that way, suggests that the coastguard has some confidence in this new challenger.

Though, Beowulf's return to his ship could be as a corpse (something that's touched on further into the poem). In that scenario, if that is what the coastguard has in mind, then there is likely little confidence in the man's tone and delivery. But a whole two lines are spent on the final section of this reply, something that I regard as a prayer, or at the very least, an invocation.

Again, this part of the coastguard's reply doesn't really directly refer to Beowulf. However, there's a slight sarcasm in this section: Rather than "Beowulf" he says "such a doer of good" ("godfremmendra swylcum" (l.299)).

Whether or not Beowulf will indeed do any good has yet to be seen, so I think that the coastguard's referring to Beowulf as such is a way for him to acknowledge the hope he has for Beowulf while also declining to fully embrace this hope. He's likely seen too many other heroes come and fail before.

Combined with his promise, this guarded expression of hope makes this part of the coastguard's reply into one long wish of luck. In that sense, it's like a prayer, a focused statement meant to bring into being the hypothetical situation that it proposes (Beowulf's doing good and returning alive).


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Two matters

Two little things here.

First, on line 295, the reference to Beowulf's boat as "newly tarred" makes it clear that Beowulf's boat is a really nice boat. After all, tarring was a means of waterproofing and so a newly tarred boat is one in the best state of repair. Though, being newly tarred could imply one of two things.

A boat might have just had a new coat of tar put on it, patching up all of the holes accumulated over years of sailing.

Or, a boat may have been newly tarred because it is itself a new boat.

Like Beowulf in truth, his boat could be a very new boat, something inexperienced and in need of some actual experience of the real world.

The other little thing is the word "lagu-streamas" ("streaming surface" (l.297)).

This combination of "surface" ("lagu") and "streaming" ("streamas") gives quite the insight into the Anglo-Saxon view of the ocean. It implies a great depth to the ocean, since it is just the surface that a boat travels along.

Compare that with the modern English means of describing sailing being things like "going out on the water," and the same sense sort of lives on but is really not as pronounced. For "lagu-streamas" also carries implications of only the surface of the ocean being in motion, the rest of it left mysterious and impenetrable.

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Closing

Beowulf and his fellow Geats are taken to Heorot next week - watch for it!

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What's found in Beowulf's word hoard (ll.258-269) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Beowulf's credentials
Words from the hoard
Closing


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Abstract

Beowulf unlocks his word hoard, and begins to answer the coastguard's concerns.

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Translation

"The eldest answered him,
with the wisdom of the band, unlocked his word hoard:
'We are kin of the Geatish people
and of Hygelac's **hearth retainers;
His people knew my father,
a noble progenitor known as Ecgtheow, -
he commanded many winters, before he went on his way,
full of years; each man of counsel
on the wide earth takes heed of him.
We through care of the worries of your lord,
son of Halfdane, have come seeking,
the protector of your people; your exhortation to us is great!'"
(Beowulf ll.258-269)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Beowulf's credentials

Being the main character's first speech, this extract is surprisingly straightforward.

We get the poet introducing the speaker with a description of him and his answer rather than a name. We hear Beowulf tell the guard who they are, who they serve, who he is, and who his father is.

Hold on a second.

It's standard in old heroic stories that people introduce themselves with mentions of their connections. But placing the fealty connection so close to the blood connection creates a parallel that carries some weight.

In defining who they are, Beowulf says that they are "Hygelac's hearth retainers." In defining who he is, he says that Ecgtheow is his father. But, no doubt with a characteristic wry smile, the poet has for more than ten lines ignored the guard's admonishment from last week's extract: "haste is best
in saying why you are come hence'" ("Ofost is selest/to gecyðanne hwanan eowre cyme syndon" (ll.256-57)).

So why spend so many lines introducing himself so indirectly? In part because of tradition. But also, I think, because the credentials that Beowulf lays down are of the utmost importance.

Hygelac is a great war leader from what little we've learned of him so far. And, from what Beowulf says, his father is a famed tactician. Along with wanting to show the guard just what he's all about, I think Beowulf mentions these two men in the way that he does to communicate that he combines these qualities. Qualities that until now have appeared separately in all of those who have come to face Grendel.

The combination of a warrior's spirit and a commander's mind (also, a commander who survived for a long time, suggesting, in one way, that Ecgtheow was able to delay death itself) would surely be seen as what was needed to destroy Grendel.

What, then, can be said for the order of Beowulf's laying down his credentials? Why not put his father first and his people second?

I think it's a move meant to show humility, that Beowulf is not out to serve himself, but instead in the service of a whole people.

Again, much like the reference to a warrior like Hygelac, I believe this is meant to show Beowulf's courage or strength of heart. What he fights for is not personal gain, but the benefit of whole groups of people. That makes him the perfect candidate for defeating Grendel, since he has the moral high ground against a monster that the poet has called kin of Cain, a lineage that marks him with grand immorality.

At least, as far as kinship ties go. If Beowulf's ties bring in longevity, battle strength, and cunning, Grendel's brings in murderousness, gluttony, and rage.

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Words from the hoard

Some wondrous words are used in this passage.

"Yldest" (l.257) is usually fairly straightforward. It simply means "oldest," or "chief." In the context in which it appears here, this latter definition makes fine sense. And the probe into this word's meaning could end there.

But if it's taken to mean the "oldest," then just how young are Beowulf's companions?

As he is the hero of the story, it's easy to see Beowulf as a young man who stands on an established reputation for prowess. But being reminded of the rest of his band like this makes that perception shaky. Especially if this trip is a means for Beowulf to come of age and prove his worth. Such a test seems tailored to someone in his teens. Does that mean that his companions are hardly able to grow beards? Or is the age difference just a matter of months?

Interpreting the word as "chief" is clearer, but why have a word that could mean either "oldest" or "chief"?

This dual definition implies a connection between the two, certainly.

And why not? seniority and authority often go together quite well, especially in medieval societies. Still, the connection one way makes me wonder if it could go the other way as well. If Beowulf is the oldest he can be the chief, but if he is the chief does that mean that he is, necessarily, the oldest?

Another curious compound appears in this passage, too. It's the word translated as "hearth retainers" in line 261 above: "heorð-geneatas," a combination of "heorð" (meaning "hearth") and "neat" (meaning "companion, follower (esp. in war); dependent, vassal; tenant who works for a lord"). Because of the range of options for "geneatas," the meaning of this one is difficult to bring out in Modern English.

Much like "hall hero", I think that "hearth retainers" is a solid translation. This new compound gets across that those meant are close to the one they serve and that their master has given them job security of some sort - keeping them on retainer.

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Closing

Next week, Beowulf continues to speak. Come on by this blog on Thursday to listen!

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What the Danes' coastguard says of Beowulf (ll.247b-257) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A matter of translation
Beowulf's self control
Closing


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Abstract

The Dane's coastal watchman gaurdedly compliments the Geats' leader and calls on him to identify himself and his purpose.

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Translation

            "'Never saw I a mightier man
upon this earth, than this one before me,
this man of might; is that not a retainer,
one worthy of weapons; never would his mien betray him,
a singular sight. Now, you of the far off dwelling place,
sea-farer, I would hear tell of
your singular purpose; haste is best
in saying why you are come hence.'"
(Beowulf ll.247b-257)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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A matter of translation

The last word of line 249 doesn't quite work. I'm not working to get a set meter into my translation of Beowulf, nor am I worried about rhythm. But even John R. Clark Hall and Herbert D. Meritt are bothered by the word at the end of line 249, that they translate as "retainer?" (Hall 302a).

This word is "seld-guma."

Its only ascription in my dictionary is to this instance of it in Beowulf. Apparently the words "seld" and "guma" are not combined anywhere else in the extant body of Old English writing.

The former of the two words in this compound means "hall, palace, residence; seat, throne, dais," and the latter means "man, lord, hero." So literal combinations could be "hall hero," "palace lord," or "throne man." One of these is better than simply "retainer," I think. "Hall hero" does the best job of capturing the sense of "seld-guma."

Just what is that sense?

I think, aside from its literal meaning, "seld-guma" connotes someone who is a regular attendant upon a hall or palace who has distinguished himself somehow. I'm pulling this connotation from the combination itself, since an appellation like "seld-guma" doesn't seem to be something lightly given.

The Anglo-Saxons put a high value on halls, after all, and so to be called "seld-guma" could be considered a great commendation. What's more, in this specific instance it must mean that Beowulf has a very dignified look about him since the coastguard is riffing off of his appearance alone. Association with a hall or residence would confer certain airs upon a person, and Beowulf very clearly carries himself with these in full effect.

Another way to think of the combination is that it connotes "household guard." To lightly assign warriors to guard your house (and by extension your family, valuables, and own life) would be to invite peril. Thus, naming Beowulf as such not only signifies that he has this title back in Geatland, but also that he is a hall hero because a stranger recognizes such qualities in him.

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Beowulf's self control

Further along in this week's extract, the coastguard says of Beowulf "never would his mien betray him" ("næfne him his wlite leoge" (l.250)). It's my opinion that this is meant to build on Beowulf as a "seld-guma."

As a warrior, even as a debater, it's important that you control yourself as much as possible. Attacks can be telegraphed by the body in strange ways, after all.

With that in mind, saying that Beowulf's countenance would never betray him suggests that he is in complete control of his expression, letting nothing at all slip out unintentionally.

Once more, this comes back to the coastguard assessing Beowulf on how he carries himself. Based on what's said here, it must be very well indeed. Not to mention, if Beowulf can really keep a lid on things to the extent that's suggested, it's fair to guess that he's a truly great warrior since he would leave his opponents guessing until he struck.

More generally, it must also mean that Beowulf could erase things like fear and joy from his face, making him just as dangerous with words as with swords, as we'll see next week.

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Closing

In next week's extract, we hear, for the first time in the poem, from Beowulf himself.

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On the coastguard and Anglo-Saxon nationalism (ll.237-247a) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
An idea of nationalism
The bureaucratic border guard
Closing


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Abstract

The Danish coastguard begins his speech to the newly arrived Geats.

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Translation

"What are ye gear-havers,
wearers of corselets, that thus laden
in a high ship come over the sea-street,
hither with the waves? I am set
as border guard, to keep this isle hold watched,
So that no loathed ones may batter this
Danish land with naval force.
Never in known memory have any
come so openly bearing shields; nor do you
seem eager to get a word of permission from this watchman,
a Dane's consent."
(Beowulf ll.237-247a)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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An idea of nationalism

This passage really says a lot about the conception of nationhood that the poet/scribe was working with. Or, that the poet/scribe wanted to portray.

On line 241, the coastguard is referred to as "endesæta." Clark Hall and Meritt translate this compound as "border-watchman." Taken separately, the word "ende" translates as "border, edge," and "sæta" could be a form of the verb "sittan" meaning "to sit" or it could mean "sitter." So a more modern spin on this compound would be "border-sitter."

What this little word says about conceptions of nationhood is this: A nation's land comes down to what it can directly control or patrol.

This lone Dane is out on the coast making sure that no-one sneaks up on the rest of his people, yes. But, his being at the coast also extends the purview of the Danish people so long as he remains connected to the whole (something that is implied when he sends the Geats speedily on to the interior, where Hrothgar is). However, such a conception of borders or limits is essentially one that relies much more heavily on social constructions than on any sort of physical marker.

In one sense, the Danes don't extend their rule into the sea, but at the same time, their representative at the coast is policing incoming traffic. Not that he can do anything about visitors until they land, but he is nonetheless watching the sea and anticipating threats to the Danes more generally.

At any rate this sense of nationhood is most curious because of its portable nature. Aside from Heorot, the Danes have no constructed physical indicator of their borders. Like the Israelites, or the Anglo-Saxons, they are a people because of their familial and loyalty ties rather than a shared, fixed land.

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The bureaucratic border guard

The Watchman's last set of statements seems strange without the other half of his speech. Jumping ahead for a second, his "Never...nor" ("No...ne" (ll.244-246)) statement reflects how impressed he is by the Geats' leader.

More immediately, and sticking to this excerpt, though, mentioning the Geats' not seeking Danish permission to land seems strangely bureaucratic for a bunch of warrior-adventurers.

Nonetheless, having to ask permission at a border to disembark makes sense. Having to deal with one foreigner within your lands would be much easier than having to manage a boatload of them. It's no doubt easier for a tribe like the Danes to trust one foreigner at a time when first meeting them, too.

What makes this part of the extract stand out, though, is just the plain shock that comes across in the Danish watchman's statement. Perhaps he has been coastguard for so long that procedure is something he holds dear because it's all the human interaction he gets. After all, as a coastguard, he's hardly in exile, but he's not exactly back at the hall enjoying the friendly boasting and the mead there.

Alternatively, this could be a reflection of this coastguard's inexperience. He's so green that he shakes his spear before he begins to speak not to intimidate, but because of his nervousness. And he makes a statement about the Geats' lack of respect for protocol because he's never had to deal with such impatience before.

Given the Dane's situation, though, it's not likely that even the newest of their coastguards would be without a good knowledge of warriors landing at the coast. Surely, more than a few have stopped by to try their hands at Grendel. Nonetheless, be he old hand, or greenhorn, the awe expressed in the coastguard's pointing out the Geats' eagerness comes across quite clearly. And it sounds genuine to boot.

Clearly Beowulf has made a good first impression.

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Closing

Next week, check back for the second part of the coastguard's speech.

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A thoughtful shore guard and Anglo-Saxon karma? (ll.229-236) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Why so curious?
Anglo-Saxon Karma
Closing


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Abstract

This week, we're offered a look into the head of a Danish shore guard as he sees the Geats land.

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Translation

"Then from the cliffs the Scyldings shore guard saw them,
the one who was to hold the sea-cliffs,
men carrying bright shields across a ship's gangway,
bearing ready war gear; his curiousity overpowered
his thinking, the need to know what these men were.
Then rode out the thane of Hrothgar
to the shore, powerfully shook the
spear in his hand, asked in a querying tone:"
(Beowulf ll.229-236)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Why so curious?

The core of this short passage is the shore guard's inner conflict. From "his curiousity overpowered/his thinking" ("hine fyrwyt bræc/modgehygdum" (ll.232-233)) we can see that he's generally a cautious, thoughtful sort of guy (possibly an introvert?), but his curiousity overpowers him. What marks this as the core of the passage is what this conflict can tell us about the current feeling among the Danes more generally.

There are a number of things that the man could wonder or assume about those he sees trundling onto the shore, armed and ready for war. But of them, there are two that seem most likely to be in there.

One of these is the possibility that this band of warriors is here to fight Grendel. The other thought is the possibility that the band is an advance party sent to scout out (maybe even take on?) the Danes in open war. Word had spread about their predicament with Grendel, after all. And such word would draw those who wanted to help the Danes as much as those who wanted to take advantage of them. Even fiend-harried, there would no doubt be some gain to be had from taking the storied hall of Heorot.

If we assume that the first possibility is what eggs the man on, then there's not too much more to write on it. He's hopeful that the Danes will be saved and that Grendel will be dealt with. This feeling among the Danes is already well-established in earlier passages. However, if it's the second possibility, that this band of men has come to cause further trouble for the Danes, then things get more interesting.

Perhaps, none have tried to take advantage of the Danes' weakened state just yet, but Hrothgar, king that he is, is well aware that people will do so. As such, maybe this is even the assumption the man has been commanded to make in this sort of situation. Or, perhaps such attempts have already been made and repelled, making this shore guard wary of such parties of warriors.

The latter situation is more likely to generate inner conflict since hope for help would clash with a learned dread of outsiders. As such, the latter situation is more strongly implied here, which means that a whole lot more has been happening in Daneland than the poet's told so far. Not that the poet finds such inter-human conflicts as interesting as those between people and the supernatural.

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Anglo-Saxon Karma

Combining the possibility that over the course of Grendel's twelve year reign of terror people came to challenge the Danes as well as Grendel with Beowulf's cyclical and interwoven nature creates a very strong through-line.

Is Beowulf later visited by a supernatural fiend of his own because he freed Hrothgar from another?

Perhaps, buried in old books and found among words told to children beside winter fires, there is a long since dead belief that whatever you helped to rid one person of would come back in a greater form to challenge you directly. Thus Beowulf's supernatural element moves from a pair of ogres/goblins/monsters to a single fire-breathing, night-flying dragon.

Because I've always read Beowulf as a story about the broken link a long chain of events, the end of a way of life, this reading of the poem adds further depth to Beowulf's failure against the dragon.

Hrothgar prospers, or at least survives, because his help is from outside of his group. As such, the group itself is not weakened internally and is able to re-emerge from a lengthy oppression. On the other hand, the dragon that terrorizes the Geats isn't dealt with by some warrior from another group but is finished off by another Geat: Wiglaf.

Because it's a member of the group in peril that saves the group from that peril, by whatever mechanic the matter of disasters works in the world of the poem (and maybe its originator?), the Geats are left permanently weakened.

The Geats' position is also not helped, of course, by the death of their leader. Perhaps the Geats fall not because of the loss of Beowulf alone but because the the outcome of a supernatural revenge system is heaped on top of it.

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Closing

Next week, we hear what the shore guard says. Listen up come next Thursday!

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Montage meanings imagined and interpreted (ll.210-216) [Old English]

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Prime or time
Burrowing into a word
Closing


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Abstract

Beowulf and crew prep their ship and ready themselves, too.

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Translation

"The foremost knew motion; the ship was on the sea,
the boat that sat before barrows. The warriors
roaringly rose a cry - the current carried them on,
bringing the sea against sand; the men bore
bright treasures upon their chests,
magnificent in martial-gear; they all shoved off,
men bound for an expected expedition trip by boat."
(Beowulf ll.210-216)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Prime or time

Once again, we see some summarized action at work. The poet is speeding us along here, giving the barest detail about Beowulf and his crew boarding their ship and putting out to sea. No doubt the strangeness of Grendel (and maybe the fame of Beowulf?) had audiences eager to hear what happened once the Geats reached the Danes.

But, despite the clear sense of forward motion in this passage, the first clause of this section is vague.

The three words that kick it all off ("Fyrst forð gewat") form a complete thought with a subject, object, and verb in that order. But at the level of literal translation into modern English, they don't really work together. They come out to something like "the first knew forwardness/awayness." Although, this isn't the only place in the poem where a literal translation just won't do.

Looking at this clause's general sense, I think that it's communicating the idea that the foremost member of the group (that is, Beowulf) was in a state of mind for travel as they set out. He had full understanding of his physical purpose, and so body and mind were joined in his undertaking. A sense of such unity could be used to foreshadow Beowulf's prowess and success against Grendel and Grendel's mother.

Running with that understanding of this clause's general sense, I then pieced together a clause that gets it across as economically as possible. "The foremost knew motion" is as close as I've gotten so far to my interpretation of the sense of the original.

For the sake of comparison, Seamus Heaney translates the line from a completely different understanding of its sense. He turns "Fyrst forð gewat" into "Time went by." There's still some motion in this version of the clause, maybe even more of it than in mine if you take time to be the motion of god (perhaps what Heaney took from "Fyrst" and left only implied in his translation). The difference between our clauses is also important, since Heaney chose the interpretation of "Fyrst" as "time" rather than as the premier cardinal number.

Looking back, that makes the clause as a whole quite clearer at the literal level. But, I've chosen to stick with my own translation because it allows for more interpretation. Very little is lost in doing so. Both convey a sense of motion, after all, and that is this clause's purpose as it comes at the start of a passage all about kicking off travel.

Actually, Heaney's interpretation slows down time in that it calls attention to time itself passing by. Taking "Fyrst" as a reference to Beowulf instead puts the focus on the Geats and their eagerness to be off on their "expected expedition" (l.216).

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Burrowing into a word

A cleaner curiousity (from an academic angle) is the use of "beorge" (l.211). This word has several interpretations, including "mountain," "hill," and "barrow." The sense that I pulled from it and its context is that this "beorge" indicates the boundary of Geatish territory, or, since Beowulf and company find their boat safe, maybe it's the final land marker of Geatish territory. If it's meant to indicate mountains, then maybe the Geats cleverly set up where mountains sheltered them from naval assaults.

The more fantastical explanation that sprang to my mind (with no help from any facts that I know) is that the word means just what it sounds like: a barrow. I'm not sure about the practices of the Geats and how much they were like those of other groups around them, but it makes sense to bury your dead on the outskirts of your settlement. Doing so allows those in mourning to move on, and keeps those still living free from any disease that might propagate or reside in a corpse.

Stepping into the realm of superstition, maybe a barrow on the edge of your settlement also acted as an enemy deterrent. If not regarded as an out-and-out hazardous field of ghosts, perhaps it could stand as a reminder of the finality of death and demotivate those who sought to add to it.

Also, and who knows since the geographical detail is so sketchy here, perhaps this "beorge" is a reference to Hronesness, the place where Beowulf is buried at the poem's end. Maybe it even is that place. We're never told much about Hronesness after all, other than the fact that it's high enough to mount a beacon for ships on it. Perhaps generations before Beowulf there was another hero buried there, and in the ultimate show of the vanity of human pride the elements wore down his great barrow until it was just a low mound - the same fate that awaits Beowulf's.

If this whole "beorge" business has anything to do with Hronesness, then maybe it's even the poet/scribe stepping in to imply the importance of written history and records. Words record deeds and memory much better than monuments left exposed to the cruel elements of nature's erasing power.

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Closing

Next week Beowulf and crew get out to sea, and, very quickly, come to Daneland.

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