Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Leaving the sea mysterious
Beowulf as historical allegory (a sketch)
Closing
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Abstract
The Geats swiftly arrive on Daneland's bright shores.
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Translation
The ship then knew the ocean's motion, was wind-hastened,
became foamy-necked, became seabird like,
until near the time of day they had left,
after their ship with curved prow had glided,
when those well-travelled ones saw land,
dazzling sea cliffs, steep hills,
an ample headland; then was sailing simple,
the journey at an end. From that ship sprang
the Geats onto the sands,
their boat they bound there - they shook their mailcoats,
war gear; they thanked God then,
the one that made their ship's going smooth.
(Beowulfll.217-228)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Leaving the sea mysterious
For a poem about sea-faring peoples, the poet's definitely not spinning out what you'd expect. Every time that someone travels by sea it's usually glossed over. There's often something about it being swift, or sailors being lucky with conditions, but no real detail about it is given.
Maybe, in this poem for a people looking to settle into a fixed identity, the idea was to keep transitory acts (like sailing) to a minimum. If that's the case, then the poet definitely did his/her job: there's not a true sailing scene in the whole poem. Though, there is the matter of Beowulf and Breca's swimming match.
Perhaps the Geats' trip over to Daneland is not shown because it would interfere with the importance of the swimming match. After all, the sea would hold no mystery or power or be able to inspire as much of a response if details about safe passage across it were given. With the sailing scenes (and even Beowulf's swimming back to Geatland after a major battle later in the poem) as short as they are, the sea retains its mystery. And with that mystery can come monsters, like those that Beowulf fights as he defends his friend.
Perhaps the power of this mystery was meant to extend further, as well. For, if the Anglo-Saxons of the British Isles wanted to feel like a grounded, rooted people, then making something as transitional as the sea a mystery could help them do so. For mysterious things are usually alienated or alien things.
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Beowulf as historical allegory (a sketch)
An interesting detail is contained in line 222: "brimclifu blican." I translated that second word, "blican," to dazzling (in line with the Clark Hall & Meritt Anglo-Saxon Dictionary's definition). Perhaps most of northern Europe had the white cliffs that are now associated with Britain (thanks in no small part to Matthew Arnold). So, is Daneland, in all things but figures and fealties, another Britain?
Going back to the Anglo-Saxons as a sea-faring people, they're sure to have noticed the white cliffs of Britain facing France. So if Beowulf was written by the Anglo-Saxons, and not just translated from a language you might expect given peoples' and places' names, then maybe that's a detail signalling that Daneland represents Britain.
If Daneland is understood as Britain, then perhaps Grendel is the Celts, or some sort of spirit or genius of the Celts that the Anglo-Saxons didn't care for. Reading Grendel in this metaphorical way, it then becomes possible to interpret Beowulf himself within the same historical framework. Where Grendel is the embodiment of what is wrong with the place that the Anglo-Saxons (the Danes) have chosen to settle, Beowulf represents what is just and what is good - Beowulf is god's instrument for the creation on earth of what is to be harmonious and perfect. Like the Anglo-Saxons he came from elsewhere, but frees those that he meets and is elevated to kingship because of his prowess and own merits rather than inheritance.
In fact, he becomes king because of the people's accord when a new ruler has to be found after Hygelac's line is ended. Ultimately, though, what Beowulf's death could mean in this metaphorical interpretation of the hero gets tricky. Perhaps it is a kind of prophecy of what would come next for the Anglo-Saxons, after they had waned like their other heroic peoples, the Jews of the book of Exodus, had.
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Closing
This entry wraps things up for 2013. Check back for the first post of 2014 on the third Thursday of January!
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Sunday, December 29, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Montage meanings imagined and interpreted (ll.210-216) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Prime or time
Burrowing into a word
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf and crew prep their ship and ready themselves, too.
Back To Top
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}
Back To Top
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.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
Prime or time
Burrowing into a word
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf and crew prep their ship and ready themselves, too.
Back To Top
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)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
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).
Back To Top
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.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week Beowulf and crew get out to sea, and, very quickly, come to Daneland.
Back To Top
Sunday, November 17, 2013
The action's paused, time for a montage (ll.202-209) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Low action, high language
Beowulf in montage
Closing
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Abstract
The Geatish hero gathers his group and they head for their ship.
Back To Top
Translation
"Then were wise warriors chosen to accompany
him on his journey, those whom to him were dear,
whetstones to wondrous deeds, each looking hale.
The good Geat people then a great warrior
had crowned, there you a brave man might find;
some fifteen sought out the ship at shore;
to the frontier they went, following
the words of the wise, the one versed in sea-ways."
(Beowulf ll.202-209)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Low action, high language
The action of this passage is pretty bland. Beowulf's crew is selected, they're all mighty in their own right, and the lot of them head down to the shore for their boat. That's it.
But the poet was certainly aware of the dullness of this section of the epic. Where its action lags, its language really soars. Unfortunately, this doesn't always come across in translation, but the alliteration and tone of line 204a is pretty easily preserved.
The original reads thusly:
"hwetton higerofne"
A literal translation of this is: "sharpening high bravery"
To maintain the alliteration and theatricality of the original, I translated it thusly:
"whetstones to wondrous deeds"
What makes this sort of preservation possible here is the fact that this half-line is an adjective clause. That makes it easier because most of Old English's poetic sentences are garbled and have words shuffled out of the usual Subject-Verb-Object order. As a result, even taking poetic license, it's not always possible to translate a sentence from Beowulf so that you maintain the original's rhythm and tone. But, a clause that's just describing something always follows the same formula of encapsulating the thing being described into a vaguely related phrase.
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Beowulf in montage
This passage's lack of action has two causes. The first is that it's primarily a descriptive section of the poem. Instead of seeing anything in depth, this mysterious Geatish hero is merely introduced as vaguely as the others who had tried to help the Danes were. The biggest difference is that he's being dwelled upon quite a bit, but otherwise this guy is as anonymous as the rest.
The extra attention afforded to this hero makes it clear that this one is different from the rest. But the poet would have had to have mentioned those others who tried their hands against Grendel to get this effect in the first place. Plus, though it can only be speculation, since I have no idea how well known the story of Beowulf and Grendel was when the epic was first being put together, audiences might have already known about the one who gets Grendel out of the Danes' hair. As such, introducing him through this summary-like, action-less passage builds anticipation for his full arrival in the story.
The other reason for this passage's being rather bland is connected to the idea that this is just a brief description of events that the audience may already have been familiar with. In fact, it kind of bolsters the first reason.
Were Beowulf's arrival written only as this stranger's appearing on the Danish shore, without any sort of explanation or reason why, it would be downright bad writing - especially if Beowulf was a well known character. After all, for anything more than a cameo, even a well known character needs to be set up. Audiences get more out of it if they're able to guess at who this Geatish hero is. Just dropping audiences into the Geats' meeting with the Danes' would not build up the same amount of anticipation, and so the pay off of Beowulf's being named would be much less than it is.
Actually, this part of the poem is like the modern movie montage - a thing to drop in between scenes when you need a quick way to show some sort of motion or progress towards a goal. Here, that goal is Beowulf's arriving in Daneland.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week the montage continues, as we watch Beowulf and his band set sail and navigate the seas.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
Low action, high language
Beowulf in montage
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
The Geatish hero gathers his group and they head for their ship.
Back To Top
Translation
"Then were wise warriors chosen to accompany
him on his journey, those whom to him were dear,
whetstones to wondrous deeds, each looking hale.
The good Geat people then a great warrior
had crowned, there you a brave man might find;
some fifteen sought out the ship at shore;
to the frontier they went, following
the words of the wise, the one versed in sea-ways."
(Beowulf ll.202-209)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Low action, high language
The action of this passage is pretty bland. Beowulf's crew is selected, they're all mighty in their own right, and the lot of them head down to the shore for their boat. That's it.
But the poet was certainly aware of the dullness of this section of the epic. Where its action lags, its language really soars. Unfortunately, this doesn't always come across in translation, but the alliteration and tone of line 204a is pretty easily preserved.
The original reads thusly:
"hwetton higerofne"
A literal translation of this is: "sharpening high bravery"
To maintain the alliteration and theatricality of the original, I translated it thusly:
"whetstones to wondrous deeds"
What makes this sort of preservation possible here is the fact that this half-line is an adjective clause. That makes it easier because most of Old English's poetic sentences are garbled and have words shuffled out of the usual Subject-Verb-Object order. As a result, even taking poetic license, it's not always possible to translate a sentence from Beowulf so that you maintain the original's rhythm and tone. But, a clause that's just describing something always follows the same formula of encapsulating the thing being described into a vaguely related phrase.
Back To Top
Beowulf in montage
This passage's lack of action has two causes. The first is that it's primarily a descriptive section of the poem. Instead of seeing anything in depth, this mysterious Geatish hero is merely introduced as vaguely as the others who had tried to help the Danes were. The biggest difference is that he's being dwelled upon quite a bit, but otherwise this guy is as anonymous as the rest.
The extra attention afforded to this hero makes it clear that this one is different from the rest. But the poet would have had to have mentioned those others who tried their hands against Grendel to get this effect in the first place. Plus, though it can only be speculation, since I have no idea how well known the story of Beowulf and Grendel was when the epic was first being put together, audiences might have already known about the one who gets Grendel out of the Danes' hair. As such, introducing him through this summary-like, action-less passage builds anticipation for his full arrival in the story.
The other reason for this passage's being rather bland is connected to the idea that this is just a brief description of events that the audience may already have been familiar with. In fact, it kind of bolsters the first reason.
Were Beowulf's arrival written only as this stranger's appearing on the Danish shore, without any sort of explanation or reason why, it would be downright bad writing - especially if Beowulf was a well known character. After all, for anything more than a cameo, even a well known character needs to be set up. Audiences get more out of it if they're able to guess at who this Geatish hero is. Just dropping audiences into the Geats' meeting with the Danes' would not build up the same amount of anticipation, and so the pay off of Beowulf's being named would be much less than it is.
Actually, this part of the poem is like the modern movie montage - a thing to drop in between scenes when you need a quick way to show some sort of motion or progress towards a goal. Here, that goal is Beowulf's arriving in Daneland.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week the montage continues, as we watch Beowulf and his band set sail and navigate the seas.
Back To Top
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Grendel exposed! (ll.189-201) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Old time telephone
Punishment personified
Closing
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Abstract
Word of Grendel reaches the Geats.
Back To Top
Translation
So they brooded upon the troubles of that time,
none of the wise could put them upon the right
way; that strife was too steep, loatheful and longlasting,
that which had befallen the people,
that fierce severe punishment, wreaker of night-destruction.
One of his thanes heard of this while home with Hygelac,
one good amidst the Geats, he heard tell of Grendel's deeds;
he was humanities' mightiest in strength
in the days of this life,
regal and great. He was given command of a ship
and well-directed; he spoke, saying he would seek
the troubled king across the swan's way,
that famous ruler, to show that he was the man they needed.
(Beowulf ll.189-201)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Old time telephone
For the first time here, we get a kind of report on Grendel's activities. That is, we're told once again about Grendel's doings with the Danes, but in a quick summary. Also, this summary is in a different voice, one that's more removed from the scene than that previously used to describe the terror that is Grendel. Of course, this distant voice is just perfect, since that's likely how contemporary news would have been after travelling hundreds of miles.
What's also interesting about this reportage is that it ossifies the Danes as a troubled group. Again, this is all too appropriate. By the time the news had reached as far as it would, the situation - if truly terrible - would probably be quite well-ensconced.
Unfortunately, the poet/transcriber doesn't seem to be interested in the dimension of time here, nor is there any mention of how distant the Geats are from the Danes. We're not told how long it takes the Geats to hear about the Danes' plea. We're only told that one among them is intrigued by the whole thing and seeks to make a name for himself.
Nonetheless, I can't help but get the impression that the Geats are among the last to hear about the Danes' plight. I can't quite say why, save that the Geats' being last to receive word and the group from which the Danes' hero comes works well for narrative purposes.
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Punishment personified
Old English is full of curious compound words.
You can find such a word lurking in line 193: "nyðwracu." Now, so joined, the word means "severe punishment." But, taken separately, "nyðwracu" is made up of "nyð," which means "strife," and "wracu," meaning "vengeance," "punishment," or "cruelty." The jump to "severe punishment" when the two are combined thus becomes clear.
For, when each word is looked at, we get a sense of some severe form of vengeance - a vengeance that's not just contained in a single act, but that is more long-lasting and spreading. It's the sort of vengeance that comes in the form of a series of calamities. Because the word describes an act of vengeance, that is, a reaction to something that's gone before, the idea of punishment can enter into it and we get "severe punishment."
Once again, what we're left wondering, though, is just what is it that the Danes are being punished for?
Since, in a grammatical sense, Grendel isn't described as one who is bringing "severe punishment," it's not that he's some greater figure's agent. Instead, on line 193, the word is used in the sense of a pronoun for Grendel, personifying him as this severe punishment by means of synecdoche. In personifying Grendel as the punishment, rather than merely its agent, the poet answers our wondering. Grendel is then made into a symbol of severe punishment, retribution, vengeance - maybe even the furious heart of every feud - itself. He has no purpose but to cause incredible strife.
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Closing
Next week, we'll hear about the Geats' preparations and their shoving off into the sea.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
Old time telephone
Punishment personified
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Word of Grendel reaches the Geats.
Back To Top
Translation
So they brooded upon the troubles of that time,
none of the wise could put them upon the right
way; that strife was too steep, loatheful and longlasting,
that which had befallen the people,
that fierce severe punishment, wreaker of night-destruction.
One of his thanes heard of this while home with Hygelac,
one good amidst the Geats, he heard tell of Grendel's deeds;
he was humanities' mightiest in strength
in the days of this life,
regal and great. He was given command of a ship
and well-directed; he spoke, saying he would seek
the troubled king across the swan's way,
that famous ruler, to show that he was the man they needed.
(Beowulf ll.189-201)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Old time telephone
For the first time here, we get a kind of report on Grendel's activities. That is, we're told once again about Grendel's doings with the Danes, but in a quick summary. Also, this summary is in a different voice, one that's more removed from the scene than that previously used to describe the terror that is Grendel. Of course, this distant voice is just perfect, since that's likely how contemporary news would have been after travelling hundreds of miles.
What's also interesting about this reportage is that it ossifies the Danes as a troubled group. Again, this is all too appropriate. By the time the news had reached as far as it would, the situation - if truly terrible - would probably be quite well-ensconced.
Unfortunately, the poet/transcriber doesn't seem to be interested in the dimension of time here, nor is there any mention of how distant the Geats are from the Danes. We're not told how long it takes the Geats to hear about the Danes' plea. We're only told that one among them is intrigued by the whole thing and seeks to make a name for himself.
Nonetheless, I can't help but get the impression that the Geats are among the last to hear about the Danes' plight. I can't quite say why, save that the Geats' being last to receive word and the group from which the Danes' hero comes works well for narrative purposes.
Back To Top
Punishment personified
Old English is full of curious compound words.
You can find such a word lurking in line 193: "nyðwracu." Now, so joined, the word means "severe punishment." But, taken separately, "nyðwracu" is made up of "nyð," which means "strife," and "wracu," meaning "vengeance," "punishment," or "cruelty." The jump to "severe punishment" when the two are combined thus becomes clear.
For, when each word is looked at, we get a sense of some severe form of vengeance - a vengeance that's not just contained in a single act, but that is more long-lasting and spreading. It's the sort of vengeance that comes in the form of a series of calamities. Because the word describes an act of vengeance, that is, a reaction to something that's gone before, the idea of punishment can enter into it and we get "severe punishment."
Once again, what we're left wondering, though, is just what is it that the Danes are being punished for?
Since, in a grammatical sense, Grendel isn't described as one who is bringing "severe punishment," it's not that he's some greater figure's agent. Instead, on line 193, the word is used in the sense of a pronoun for Grendel, personifying him as this severe punishment by means of synecdoche. In personifying Grendel as the punishment, rather than merely its agent, the poet answers our wondering. Grendel is then made into a symbol of severe punishment, retribution, vengeance - maybe even the furious heart of every feud - itself. He has no purpose but to cause incredible strife.
Back To Top
Closing
Next week, we'll hear about the Geats' preparations and their shoving off into the sea.
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Thursday, October 17, 2013
Idols of love (ll.175-188) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Wants and Worship
"Love is all you need"
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
After going over the Danes' religious practices, the poem's recorder (poet?) gives them a stern talking to.
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Translation
"Meanwhile they made demands of cherished idols
at household shrines, with words of worship,
so that they sought help against their problems
from the soul-slaying fiend. Such was their way,
their heathenish hope; they concentrated on hell
in their hearts, they knew not the Measurer,
deeds of the Judge, they knew not almighty God
nor knew they of the praiseful protection of heaven,
glorious God. Woe betide them that shall
cast their soul into the flames' embrace when
embroiled in cruel enmity, cheer they never know,
never a person restored! Well be those that might
after their death day seek the Lord
and hope for the safety of God's grace."
(Beowulf ll.175-188)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Wants and Worship
What's striking about the description of the Danes and their idols is the relationship that's presented. It doesn't seem that these idols are things that they regard on a regular basis, but instead whenever they have some request. A request that they very courteously couch in worship, of course.
This is a worship that seems to be entirely for the sake of appealing to their deities. Quite literally: "they made demands of cherished idols/at household shrines, with words of worship" ("hie geheton æt hærgtrafum/wigweorþunga, wordum bædon" (ll.175-76)).
In making this connection, the poet sets himself up for the very Christian address that follows. The Danes serve the soul-slaying one because their worship isn't of any deity, but ultimately their own desires and wants is what underpins his complaint. According to the poem's recorder (or poet?), this hip new Christian god, on the other hand, is something that requires worship in good times and in bad - with eternal rewards. And even if you're not too sure about this Christian god, then, well, Danes, you can see for yourselves in a few hundred lines that its power is greater than even Grendel's.
At the same time, the poet doesn't break out all the fire and brimstone when condemning the Danes' practices. He very clearly states that "they knew not the Measurer," ("metod hie ne cuþon" (l.180)). So the Danes aren't even aware of this Christian god that Beowulf is strangely always on about.
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"Love is all you need"
There are hundreds of thousands of words in English. Hundreds of thousands. But, there isn't a single word (so far as I know) that expresses the same thing as a certain word in Latin that is best translated as "in the bosom of." The Latin word (an adjective, I believe, which, unfortunately, escapes me) actually refers to keeping something in layer/piece of clothing that went over the chest - meaning that whatever it described is kept very close indeed.
Maybe it's the fifth grader in me, but "in the bosom of" just seems off the mark. There are connotations of motherly love in this term, true. The same concept is at play in the Latin term, but the Latin term transcends "in the bosom of" because its connotation is genderless and relies on a cultural commonality.
More than likely this lack on English's part is due to its difficulty in expressing several kinds of love. Sure we all have acquaintances, friends, lovers, platonic partners, significant others, and the like, but we don't really have too many words to describe the feeling between people in these various roles. "Love" is about the only one that comes up, though you would probably think it strange to hear someone say that they love an acquaintance (maybe even a friend, depending on the person speaking).
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Closing
Next week, we hear about how a certain Geat first heard of Hrothgar's woe.
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Translation
Recordings
Wants and Worship
"Love is all you need"
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
After going over the Danes' religious practices, the poem's recorder (poet?) gives them a stern talking to.
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Translation
"Meanwhile they made demands of cherished idols
at household shrines, with words of worship,
so that they sought help against their problems
from the soul-slaying fiend. Such was their way,
their heathenish hope; they concentrated on hell
in their hearts, they knew not the Measurer,
deeds of the Judge, they knew not almighty God
nor knew they of the praiseful protection of heaven,
glorious God. Woe betide them that shall
cast their soul into the flames' embrace when
embroiled in cruel enmity, cheer they never know,
never a person restored! Well be those that might
after their death day seek the Lord
and hope for the safety of God's grace."
(Beowulf ll.175-188)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Wants and Worship
What's striking about the description of the Danes and their idols is the relationship that's presented. It doesn't seem that these idols are things that they regard on a regular basis, but instead whenever they have some request. A request that they very courteously couch in worship, of course.
This is a worship that seems to be entirely for the sake of appealing to their deities. Quite literally: "they made demands of cherished idols/at household shrines, with words of worship" ("hie geheton æt hærgtrafum/wigweorþunga, wordum bædon" (ll.175-76)).
In making this connection, the poet sets himself up for the very Christian address that follows. The Danes serve the soul-slaying one because their worship isn't of any deity, but ultimately their own desires and wants is what underpins his complaint. According to the poem's recorder (or poet?), this hip new Christian god, on the other hand, is something that requires worship in good times and in bad - with eternal rewards. And even if you're not too sure about this Christian god, then, well, Danes, you can see for yourselves in a few hundred lines that its power is greater than even Grendel's.
At the same time, the poet doesn't break out all the fire and brimstone when condemning the Danes' practices. He very clearly states that "they knew not the Measurer," ("metod hie ne cuþon" (l.180)). So the Danes aren't even aware of this Christian god that Beowulf is strangely always on about.
Back To Top
"Love is all you need"
There are hundreds of thousands of words in English. Hundreds of thousands. But, there isn't a single word (so far as I know) that expresses the same thing as a certain word in Latin that is best translated as "in the bosom of." The Latin word (an adjective, I believe, which, unfortunately, escapes me) actually refers to keeping something in layer/piece of clothing that went over the chest - meaning that whatever it described is kept very close indeed.
Maybe it's the fifth grader in me, but "in the bosom of" just seems off the mark. There are connotations of motherly love in this term, true. The same concept is at play in the Latin term, but the Latin term transcends "in the bosom of" because its connotation is genderless and relies on a cultural commonality.
More than likely this lack on English's part is due to its difficulty in expressing several kinds of love. Sure we all have acquaintances, friends, lovers, platonic partners, significant others, and the like, but we don't really have too many words to describe the feeling between people in these various roles. "Love" is about the only one that comes up, though you would probably think it strange to hear someone say that they love an acquaintance (maybe even a friend, depending on the person speaking).
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Closing
Next week, we hear about how a certain Geat first heard of Hrothgar's woe.
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Thursday, October 3, 2013
Words from the "gif-stol" (ll.164-174) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
All about the "gif-stol"
On 'secret' 'courage'
Closing
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Abstract
At long last we're given details about Grendel's grip on Heorot beyond a body count.
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Translation
"So the fiend trespassed deeply against humankind,
the horror of the lone-goer, oft cursed,
awful affliction; Heorot was lived in,
the richly adorned hall was his by gloomy night,
though he could not approach the throne,
the treasure to the Measurer, nor could he be known.
This did much to the misery of the Scyldings,
their hearts broken. Many oft sat
with the ruler to give counsel, esteemed advice,
things that the rash and the best were fixing
to do against the awful horror."
(Beowulf ll.164-174)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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All about the "gif-stol"
As the physically stronger party, Grendel claims physical control over Heorot, though the Danes retain legal ownership of it. But Grendel, even as a violent squatter, cannot approach "the throne" ("gif-stol" (l.168)).
The Old English word used here for "throne" can also mean "gift-seat." The difference between the two translations is minimal, but the reason for there being two in the first place is because "gif-stol" doesn't just refer to the throne as a place of power. It refers to the gift-giving role that any good ruler had to play, as well. The throne is the place from which a ruler would dispense gifts and favours.
It's entirely possible that the throne is set aside so that it can be the exclusive purvey of a ruler, imbuing him with a kind of positive, public solitude. It's a place in which a ruler could be guaranteed clearer thinking and judgement in the matter of gifts because it was the ruler's alone - no one else could enter that head (or cheek) space. Gifts were important in early medieval Europe, to the point where their being given and being received was closely watched. Who gave what to whom and vice versa mattered greatly to peoples' reputations and standing.
Grendel can't approach this gift-giving center, however.
In the text, the implication is that the throne is somehow dedicated to god. Building on the story that the scops had been singing in Heorot when times were still great, it seems that Grendel, as an accursed of god, can't approach the throne because it is simply not for him. In a gift-driven society in which gifts could end feuds (and start them), not being able to approach the throne would mean that Grendel is cut off from a major social function. Being so isolated from society at large shouldn't matter much to one who is already quite monstrous and thus excluded from society, and, really, it doesn't seem to. The mention of Grendel's not being able to approach this throne reads more like a detail added to show that there was hope yet. After all, Grendel "could not be known" ("ne his myne wisse" (l.169)).
I take this extra clause to mean that he could not be acknowledged by anyone in the throne (seated there, or to whom it had been dedicated), and therefore showing that Grendel was indeed cut off from society at large, reinforcing his isolation. It's interesting to note that there's no mention of Grendel's aggression in this passage. He rules the hall by night. After reading this passage, it almost seems that Grendel could be capering about it, revelling in being in a public, social space.
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On 'secret' 'courage'
Some curious words appear in the latter half of this passage.
First, on line 172, we have "counsel" or, in Old English: "rune." It's a neat philological fact that the Old English word for "mystery, secret, secrecy" is also the one for "counsel, consultation." It gives the sense that rulers were believed so wise and powerful not necessarily because they themselves were, but because their counsel - with whom they worked behind the scenes - helped them to be so. The dictates and gifts made from the throne, would, after all, be made by the ruler alone. Thus the power of many would appear to be the power of one in public.
One line later we run into the word that I've translated as "rash": "swiðferhðum." This word pulls triple duty as far as Modern English translators are concerned, since it can mean "bold," "brave," or "rash." In the context of the survivors giving Hrothgar advice about what to do with Grendel, "rash" is the best fit because it definitely reflects the attitude and outlook of some of his counsellors, as well as their advice.
The "and" between "rash" and "best" is my own insertion. I added it to distinguish between the "rash" and the "best" who are giving Hrothgar advice.
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Closing
Next week, we learn more about the measures that the Danes have taken to ward off Grendel.
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Translation
Recordings
All about the "gif-stol"
On 'secret' 'courage'
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
At long last we're given details about Grendel's grip on Heorot beyond a body count.
Back To Top
Translation
"So the fiend trespassed deeply against humankind,
the horror of the lone-goer, oft cursed,
awful affliction; Heorot was lived in,
the richly adorned hall was his by gloomy night,
though he could not approach the throne,
the treasure to the Measurer, nor could he be known.
This did much to the misery of the Scyldings,
their hearts broken. Many oft sat
with the ruler to give counsel, esteemed advice,
things that the rash and the best were fixing
to do against the awful horror."
(Beowulf ll.164-174)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
All about the "gif-stol"
As the physically stronger party, Grendel claims physical control over Heorot, though the Danes retain legal ownership of it. But Grendel, even as a violent squatter, cannot approach "the throne" ("gif-stol" (l.168)).
The Old English word used here for "throne" can also mean "gift-seat." The difference between the two translations is minimal, but the reason for there being two in the first place is because "gif-stol" doesn't just refer to the throne as a place of power. It refers to the gift-giving role that any good ruler had to play, as well. The throne is the place from which a ruler would dispense gifts and favours.
It's entirely possible that the throne is set aside so that it can be the exclusive purvey of a ruler, imbuing him with a kind of positive, public solitude. It's a place in which a ruler could be guaranteed clearer thinking and judgement in the matter of gifts because it was the ruler's alone - no one else could enter that head (or cheek) space. Gifts were important in early medieval Europe, to the point where their being given and being received was closely watched. Who gave what to whom and vice versa mattered greatly to peoples' reputations and standing.
Grendel can't approach this gift-giving center, however.
In the text, the implication is that the throne is somehow dedicated to god. Building on the story that the scops had been singing in Heorot when times were still great, it seems that Grendel, as an accursed of god, can't approach the throne because it is simply not for him. In a gift-driven society in which gifts could end feuds (and start them), not being able to approach the throne would mean that Grendel is cut off from a major social function. Being so isolated from society at large shouldn't matter much to one who is already quite monstrous and thus excluded from society, and, really, it doesn't seem to. The mention of Grendel's not being able to approach this throne reads more like a detail added to show that there was hope yet. After all, Grendel "could not be known" ("ne his myne wisse" (l.169)).
I take this extra clause to mean that he could not be acknowledged by anyone in the throne (seated there, or to whom it had been dedicated), and therefore showing that Grendel was indeed cut off from society at large, reinforcing his isolation. It's interesting to note that there's no mention of Grendel's aggression in this passage. He rules the hall by night. After reading this passage, it almost seems that Grendel could be capering about it, revelling in being in a public, social space.
Back To Top
On 'secret' 'courage'
Some curious words appear in the latter half of this passage.
First, on line 172, we have "counsel" or, in Old English: "rune." It's a neat philological fact that the Old English word for "mystery, secret, secrecy" is also the one for "counsel, consultation." It gives the sense that rulers were believed so wise and powerful not necessarily because they themselves were, but because their counsel - with whom they worked behind the scenes - helped them to be so. The dictates and gifts made from the throne, would, after all, be made by the ruler alone. Thus the power of many would appear to be the power of one in public.
One line later we run into the word that I've translated as "rash": "swiðferhðum." This word pulls triple duty as far as Modern English translators are concerned, since it can mean "bold," "brave," or "rash." In the context of the survivors giving Hrothgar advice about what to do with Grendel, "rash" is the best fit because it definitely reflects the attitude and outlook of some of his counsellors, as well as their advice.
The "and" between "rash" and "best" is my own insertion. I added it to distinguish between the "rash" and the "best" who are giving Hrothgar advice.
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Closing
Next week, we learn more about the measures that the Danes have taken to ward off Grendel.
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Friday, September 27, 2013
Desperate Danes, Poetic License (ll.146b-163) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
More feuding, less sin
Grendel kin
Closing
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Abstract
Grendel's rule over Heorot becomes news of the world, and the Danes' plight becomes well known.
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Translation
"It was so for some time,
Twelve winters of anger the friends of Scyld suffered,
each became accustomed to such hardship,
rougher sorrow; because of that they became speakers,
sons of the age, knowledge of them was unhidden,
those troubled deeds of old, that Grendel lashed
out against Hrothgar for a long time, the hateful
monster's way, years full of failures and feuding,
a perpetual siege. That kin would not treat
with any man of the Danes for even the shortest time,
deadly evil from afar, as few did hope,
nor were there any who believed that his
hand could be stayed with a bright death price;
the fierce enemy was, after all, the pursuer,
a dark death shadow over the veterans and youths,
those who tarried and planned, night upon night
he held the misty moors, men never knew
whither the fiendish monster rapidly went."
(Beowulf ll.146b-163)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
More feuding, less sin
Once more we're faced with the classic phrase: "fyrene ond fæhðe " (l.153). However, I took a bit of a liberty in its translation. Rather than go with a usual English word for "fyrene" like "transgression," or "sin," I went with "failure." This word rings true here because the phrase is used as a blanket term for the Danes' relationship with Grendel over the twelve years of his terror. Pairing "failure" and "feud" reflects this relationship pretty much perfectly.
Why?
Because those twelve years are definitely twelve years of fueding. The Danes and Grendel exchange blows (though in a rather one sided way) because of some initial offense for all twelve of those winters. At the same time, the Danes attempt to end this feud in the ways that they're used to doing so. Ways such as trying to parlay with him (l.154-155), and paying "a bright death price" ("beorhtre bote" (l.158)). Why Grendel should be paid off with a "death price" remains unanswered, though it implies that the Danes may have killed one of his at some earlier point. Or, it could be a sign that the Danes were simply trying everything and anything.
Of course, none of the tactics that the Danes under Hrothgar try succeed. So, in their feud with Grendel, they fail.
The Danes fail to understand what it is that has turned Grendel on them, and, maybe, they fail to understand that Grendel isn't just monstrous in appearance, but also in his nature. Grendel can't be dealt with in the same way that some other human clan or group could be dealt with.
Thus, translating "fyrene and faedthe" as "failure and feuding" describes perfectly the Danes experience over their terrible twelve years. The phrase also gels well with the idea of a "perpetual siege" ("singale sæce" (l.154)), since both are terribly one sided conflicts in one way or another. Plus, it alliterates much more smoothly than "sin and feuding" or "transgression and hostility."
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Grendel kin
Getting back to the Danes' trying to pay Grendel off to end the feud, the latter half of this extract suggests that there's a bit more to this attempt. Particularly in line 159, where Grendel is called "the pursuer" ("ehtende" (the past tense of the verb "ehtan" ("to pursue"), but I have translated it as a noun)).
Referring to Grendel in such a way suggests that the payment the Danes tried to make to him wasn't so much to repay Grendel for some past wrong they had done to him. Instead, it seems that the Danes are trying to pay Grendel to stop him from killing their own. How exactly this is supposed to work doesn't make clear sense. After all, it's a bit too much of an appeal to whatever humanity Grendel may share with the Danes. It's enough to give you a strong sense that Grendel's not just monstrous because of his appearance and actions, but because he is completely outside of the usual civil way that people in Beowulf's world interact.
The Danes' trying to pay Grendel to stop his killings could also be because of a misunderstanding on their part. However, I don't think that's entirely the case. The poet's reference to Grendel as "that kin" ("sibbe" (l.154)) implies that he was regarded as some distant relation of the Danes. Maybe this is a nod back to the scop's noting that the monsters are the kin of Cain. From there, the Danes could surmise that Grendel, a monster, is related to Cain, the son of Adam, the father of humanity, and thus (distantly) related to them.
On a more meta level, the reference to monsters being the kin of Cain and the poet's referring to Grendel as "the kin" here could be the Beowulf poet/scribe's own commentary on the power and influence of stories (or the gullibility of people in the past). Perhaps Grendel has no relation to the Dane's whatsoever, and they are only trying all that they are and loosely referring to him as "kin" because the scop's history of the world told them such was so.
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Closing
Next week, we'll hear more about Grendel's attacks and the Danes' responses.
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Translation
Recordings
More feuding, less sin
Grendel kin
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Grendel's rule over Heorot becomes news of the world, and the Danes' plight becomes well known.
Back To Top
Translation
"It was so for some time,
Twelve winters of anger the friends of Scyld suffered,
each became accustomed to such hardship,
rougher sorrow; because of that they became speakers,
sons of the age, knowledge of them was unhidden,
those troubled deeds of old, that Grendel lashed
out against Hrothgar for a long time, the hateful
monster's way, years full of failures and feuding,
a perpetual siege. That kin would not treat
with any man of the Danes for even the shortest time,
deadly evil from afar, as few did hope,
nor were there any who believed that his
hand could be stayed with a bright death price;
the fierce enemy was, after all, the pursuer,
a dark death shadow over the veterans and youths,
those who tarried and planned, night upon night
he held the misty moors, men never knew
whither the fiendish monster rapidly went."
(Beowulf ll.146b-163)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
More feuding, less sin
Once more we're faced with the classic phrase: "fyrene ond fæhðe " (l.153). However, I took a bit of a liberty in its translation. Rather than go with a usual English word for "fyrene" like "transgression," or "sin," I went with "failure." This word rings true here because the phrase is used as a blanket term for the Danes' relationship with Grendel over the twelve years of his terror. Pairing "failure" and "feud" reflects this relationship pretty much perfectly.
Why?
Because those twelve years are definitely twelve years of fueding. The Danes and Grendel exchange blows (though in a rather one sided way) because of some initial offense for all twelve of those winters. At the same time, the Danes attempt to end this feud in the ways that they're used to doing so. Ways such as trying to parlay with him (l.154-155), and paying "a bright death price" ("beorhtre bote" (l.158)). Why Grendel should be paid off with a "death price" remains unanswered, though it implies that the Danes may have killed one of his at some earlier point. Or, it could be a sign that the Danes were simply trying everything and anything.
Of course, none of the tactics that the Danes under Hrothgar try succeed. So, in their feud with Grendel, they fail.
The Danes fail to understand what it is that has turned Grendel on them, and, maybe, they fail to understand that Grendel isn't just monstrous in appearance, but also in his nature. Grendel can't be dealt with in the same way that some other human clan or group could be dealt with.
Thus, translating "fyrene and faedthe" as "failure and feuding" describes perfectly the Danes experience over their terrible twelve years. The phrase also gels well with the idea of a "perpetual siege" ("singale sæce" (l.154)), since both are terribly one sided conflicts in one way or another. Plus, it alliterates much more smoothly than "sin and feuding" or "transgression and hostility."
Back To Top
Grendel kin
Getting back to the Danes' trying to pay Grendel off to end the feud, the latter half of this extract suggests that there's a bit more to this attempt. Particularly in line 159, where Grendel is called "the pursuer" ("ehtende" (the past tense of the verb "ehtan" ("to pursue"), but I have translated it as a noun)).
Referring to Grendel in such a way suggests that the payment the Danes tried to make to him wasn't so much to repay Grendel for some past wrong they had done to him. Instead, it seems that the Danes are trying to pay Grendel to stop him from killing their own. How exactly this is supposed to work doesn't make clear sense. After all, it's a bit too much of an appeal to whatever humanity Grendel may share with the Danes. It's enough to give you a strong sense that Grendel's not just monstrous because of his appearance and actions, but because he is completely outside of the usual civil way that people in Beowulf's world interact.
The Danes' trying to pay Grendel to stop his killings could also be because of a misunderstanding on their part. However, I don't think that's entirely the case. The poet's reference to Grendel as "that kin" ("sibbe" (l.154)) implies that he was regarded as some distant relation of the Danes. Maybe this is a nod back to the scop's noting that the monsters are the kin of Cain. From there, the Danes could surmise that Grendel, a monster, is related to Cain, the son of Adam, the father of humanity, and thus (distantly) related to them.
On a more meta level, the reference to monsters being the kin of Cain and the poet's referring to Grendel as "the kin" here could be the Beowulf poet/scribe's own commentary on the power and influence of stories (or the gullibility of people in the past). Perhaps Grendel has no relation to the Dane's whatsoever, and they are only trying all that they are and loosely referring to him as "kin" because the scop's history of the world told them such was so.
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Closing
Next week, we'll hear more about Grendel's attacks and the Danes' responses.
Back To Top
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Grendel the grim and greedy (ll.138-146a) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Confrontation, or ambush?
Grendel's reign
Closing
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Abstract
The poet describes how Grendel has terrorized the Danes, and has the area around Heorot in his goblin grip.
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Translation
"Then was he easy to find roaming
about elsewhere seeking rest,
a place to recline and relax, to which he left a trail,
that token spoke truly of the object
of the hall-dwellers' hate; they sought
refuge outside the hall once that fiend was running free.
So he ruled in defiance of right,
one of lesser stuff against all, until that
greatest of houses stood silent."
(Beowulf ll.138-146a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Confrontation, or ambush?
Each of these extracts has brought up questions. The first that comes up here is why the Danes don't track Grendel back to his resting place, or lay in wait and ambush him there. The latter of those two is out since it would be considered underhanded.
Any tactic that involved facing an enemy in an indirect way would have been considered cowardly or deceitful - both of which were traits to be avoided. On the one hand a code of honour is definitely responsible for the Anglo-Saxons' looking down on such indirect tactics as ambush, but, at least within the realm of literature, I think the reason that Grendel isn't merely staked out is because of the prevalence of feuds. If you were trying to minimize or avoid trivial feuds, the best way to do so would be to deal directly with friends and enemies alike - any misunderstanding, after all, could burst into a feud.
After all, on top of their inter-generational nature, feuds also involved a complex system of monetary compensation, and not every family or group in the Anglo-Saxon world had a hoard of gold to which they could turn for such payments. Also speaking from literature, it would not surprise me if some of the more astute admirers of poetry at the time considered Sigurd's ambushing the dragon Fafnir the spark that ignites the blaze of tragedy that engulfs him and his family.
As to why the Danes don't just follow the "token [that] spoke truly" ("gesægd soðlice sweotolan tacne" (l.141)) back to Grendel's resting place and attack him there, all I can put forward is Grendel's strength. He has already overpowered the Danes in their own "home turf" so to speak, and so they probably figure that facing him on his own turf would not go any better for them. Even if they didn't have the concept of a home field advantage, Grendel's resting place would likely be somewhere in the moors, an environment that's less than hospitable considering its boggy ground, swarming insect life, and whatever superstitious trappings were attached to it as a place that is "Other."
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Grendel's reign
Grendel's rule of Heorot is here characterized as "in defiance of right,/one of lesser stuff against all" ("wið rihte wan,/ana wið eallum" (ll.144-145)).
First, the "one of lesser stuff" is my interpretation of the lone wan meaning "lacking," "deficient," or "wanting." The reason I chose to unpack the word in that way is because it underscores the poet's overturning of the proper sense of order at this point in the poem. Grendel, the representative of devilish forces is winning, while the Danes, not exactly paragons of virtue, but nonetheless people striving to do good as far as they understand it, are brought low. So turning wan into "one of lesser stuff" makes sense.
Grendel's rule over Heorot and its surroundings at this point is a definite low point. Not only because the Danes are without their meeting/mead hall, but because it's a building that stands as a high point of civil achievement. It's a place that is made to be sturdy, and that's finished with stunning gold eaves. The specificity of the decor isn't accidental, no doubt putting gold into a building's roof was a way that the Anglo-Saxons tried to curry favour with their god(s). Though later scholars, and maybe even the religious who wrote down Beowulf, would see Heorot as an example of pagan pride and vanity, it nonetheless is something that stands as a sign of a people doing good as they see it.
Strangely this sort of cultural clash between pagan and Christian world views is most prevalent before Beowulf enters the story. Maybe this shift away from the clash is because his character is quite overwhelmingly proto-Christian, coming in and bragging that he'll beat Grendel by the grace of god and so on. Whatever the case, this clash of world views becomes even more prevalent in the poem's coming lines.
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Closing
Tongues in Jars will be updating normally again from here on out. So be sure to check back next week!
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Translation
Recordings
Confrontation, or ambush?
Grendel's reign
Closing
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Abstract
The poet describes how Grendel has terrorized the Danes, and has the area around Heorot in his goblin grip.
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Translation
"Then was he easy to find roaming
about elsewhere seeking rest,
a place to recline and relax, to which he left a trail,
that token spoke truly of the object
of the hall-dwellers' hate; they sought
refuge outside the hall once that fiend was running free.
So he ruled in defiance of right,
one of lesser stuff against all, until that
greatest of houses stood silent."
(Beowulf ll.138-146a)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Confrontation, or ambush?
Each of these extracts has brought up questions. The first that comes up here is why the Danes don't track Grendel back to his resting place, or lay in wait and ambush him there. The latter of those two is out since it would be considered underhanded.
Any tactic that involved facing an enemy in an indirect way would have been considered cowardly or deceitful - both of which were traits to be avoided. On the one hand a code of honour is definitely responsible for the Anglo-Saxons' looking down on such indirect tactics as ambush, but, at least within the realm of literature, I think the reason that Grendel isn't merely staked out is because of the prevalence of feuds. If you were trying to minimize or avoid trivial feuds, the best way to do so would be to deal directly with friends and enemies alike - any misunderstanding, after all, could burst into a feud.
After all, on top of their inter-generational nature, feuds also involved a complex system of monetary compensation, and not every family or group in the Anglo-Saxon world had a hoard of gold to which they could turn for such payments. Also speaking from literature, it would not surprise me if some of the more astute admirers of poetry at the time considered Sigurd's ambushing the dragon Fafnir the spark that ignites the blaze of tragedy that engulfs him and his family.
As to why the Danes don't just follow the "token [that] spoke truly" ("gesægd soðlice sweotolan tacne" (l.141)) back to Grendel's resting place and attack him there, all I can put forward is Grendel's strength. He has already overpowered the Danes in their own "home turf" so to speak, and so they probably figure that facing him on his own turf would not go any better for them. Even if they didn't have the concept of a home field advantage, Grendel's resting place would likely be somewhere in the moors, an environment that's less than hospitable considering its boggy ground, swarming insect life, and whatever superstitious trappings were attached to it as a place that is "Other."
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Grendel's reign
Grendel's rule of Heorot is here characterized as "in defiance of right,/one of lesser stuff against all" ("wið rihte wan,/ana wið eallum" (ll.144-145)).
First, the "one of lesser stuff" is my interpretation of the lone wan meaning "lacking," "deficient," or "wanting." The reason I chose to unpack the word in that way is because it underscores the poet's overturning of the proper sense of order at this point in the poem. Grendel, the representative of devilish forces is winning, while the Danes, not exactly paragons of virtue, but nonetheless people striving to do good as far as they understand it, are brought low. So turning wan into "one of lesser stuff" makes sense.
Grendel's rule over Heorot and its surroundings at this point is a definite low point. Not only because the Danes are without their meeting/mead hall, but because it's a building that stands as a high point of civil achievement. It's a place that is made to be sturdy, and that's finished with stunning gold eaves. The specificity of the decor isn't accidental, no doubt putting gold into a building's roof was a way that the Anglo-Saxons tried to curry favour with their god(s). Though later scholars, and maybe even the religious who wrote down Beowulf, would see Heorot as an example of pagan pride and vanity, it nonetheless is something that stands as a sign of a people doing good as they see it.
Strangely this sort of cultural clash between pagan and Christian world views is most prevalent before Beowulf enters the story. Maybe this shift away from the clash is because his character is quite overwhelmingly proto-Christian, coming in and bragging that he'll beat Grendel by the grace of god and so on. Whatever the case, this clash of world views becomes even more prevalent in the poem's coming lines.
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Closing
Tongues in Jars will be updating normally again from here on out. So be sure to check back next week!
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Thursday, September 5, 2013
Grendel's complications (ll.126-137) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Grendel's hesitation
"G" is for vendetta
Closing
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Abstract
In the aftermath of Grendel's attack there is great sorrow. This sadness is amplified when Grendel shortly strikes again.
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Translation
"Then, outside the hall at daybreak,
was Grendel's war-strength seen by human eyes;
after that was there weeping to heaven,
a morning full of mourning. Famous warriors,
long tested true lords, sorrowful sat,
the mighty moaned, the lost thanes saddened them,
until they found the faint, loathful footprints that
the evil doing fiend had made. That was helpful to
the beast's escape,hateful and sluggish. That night
was not long alone, nigh the next night he again brought
more violent death and seemed not to hesitate as before,
bringing violence and outrage; he came down heavily upon
them."
(Beowulf ll.126-137)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Grendel's hesitation
So apparently Grendel was holding back in his first visit. Based on the penultimate line of this week's extract, Grendel "seemed not to hesitate as before" ("no mearn fore"(l.136)). But what was there to hesitate about?
The suggestion that Grendel was holding back implies that he had some scrap of humanity in him on that first night, and it was this that was picked up on in last week's entry. So, for some reason, after that first attack Grendel descends into something worse.
Perhaps Grendel was merely testing Heorot and those that he found there. But why would he need to test them? Again, it seems that Grendel had something in him to help him to know that he had something in common with his targets. Grendel is the kin of Cain, after all.
So, even if he could feel some commonality with the thanes of Heorot, he would be feeling it from the perspective of one who has a cursed nature. It's safe to say, then, that Grendel's perspective, feelings of kinship/commonality aside, is different at its base. Different enough to realize that he was somehow better than them, or that they were not a threat, not something against which he would have to hold back.
As a quick aside, John Gardner's Grendel is a great study in the ghoul's character, and it seems that Gardner drew more from Beowulf for it than you might think.
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"G" is for vendetta
Carrying forward the ideas of the feud between god and the monsters and the distant kinship between the Danes and Grendel (from last week's entry), there's a curious word on line 137. This word is "fæhðe," which means "violence," "outrage," or "vendetta," according to Clark Hall & Meritt's Anglo-Saxon Dictionary.
Now, a "vendetta" isn't quite the same thing as a "feud." The former is something that's generally more one-sided, something that a person embarks upon because of a perceived wrong, whereas the latter is usually something where both parties are at least dimly aware of some mutual wrong(s) that are the cause for their enduring dispute.
So, since the feud between god and monsters is something limited to the songs of the scops, it's not likely that Grendel's striking Heorot as part of the age old feud of which they sing. Whether it's the noise, or being god's preferred offspring, Grendel is raining violence down upon Heorot as part of a vendetta, a one-sided feud. To modern readers this could be something rooted in Grendel's nature as a monster. But, to the poem's early audiences, a thing like a vendetta would seem monstrous in itself.
Before authority became centralized in the form of kingdoms and fiefdoms, one of the great laws of Northern Europe was the feud. But it was, in the ideal case, something that involved both parties, and was a means of redressing a wrong that was great enough to legitimize the bloodshed inherent in such a conflict.
To bring a vendetta against someone or some other group would be seen as a flaunting of the law of the land, and the action of an imbalanced person. Thus, Grendel's made to be extra monstrous because of the apparently unmotivated violence that he brings to the Danes. Not simply because he's acting so violently, but because he's carrying a vendetta to the hall.
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Closing
In next week's extract, Grendel's assaults drive people away from Heorot, and word of the hall's woe spreads across the world.
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Translation
Recordings
Grendel's hesitation
"G" is for vendetta
Closing
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Abstract
In the aftermath of Grendel's attack there is great sorrow. This sadness is amplified when Grendel shortly strikes again.
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Translation
"Then, outside the hall at daybreak,
was Grendel's war-strength seen by human eyes;
after that was there weeping to heaven,
a morning full of mourning. Famous warriors,
long tested true lords, sorrowful sat,
the mighty moaned, the lost thanes saddened them,
until they found the faint, loathful footprints that
the evil doing fiend had made. That was helpful to
the beast's escape,hateful and sluggish. That night
was not long alone, nigh the next night he again brought
more violent death and seemed not to hesitate as before,
bringing violence and outrage; he came down heavily upon
them."
(Beowulf ll.126-137)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Grendel's hesitation
So apparently Grendel was holding back in his first visit. Based on the penultimate line of this week's extract, Grendel "seemed not to hesitate as before" ("no mearn fore"(l.136)). But what was there to hesitate about?
The suggestion that Grendel was holding back implies that he had some scrap of humanity in him on that first night, and it was this that was picked up on in last week's entry. So, for some reason, after that first attack Grendel descends into something worse.
Perhaps Grendel was merely testing Heorot and those that he found there. But why would he need to test them? Again, it seems that Grendel had something in him to help him to know that he had something in common with his targets. Grendel is the kin of Cain, after all.
So, even if he could feel some commonality with the thanes of Heorot, he would be feeling it from the perspective of one who has a cursed nature. It's safe to say, then, that Grendel's perspective, feelings of kinship/commonality aside, is different at its base. Different enough to realize that he was somehow better than them, or that they were not a threat, not something against which he would have to hold back.
As a quick aside, John Gardner's Grendel is a great study in the ghoul's character, and it seems that Gardner drew more from Beowulf for it than you might think.
Back To Top
"G" is for vendetta
Carrying forward the ideas of the feud between god and the monsters and the distant kinship between the Danes and Grendel (from last week's entry), there's a curious word on line 137. This word is "fæhðe," which means "violence," "outrage," or "vendetta," according to Clark Hall & Meritt's Anglo-Saxon Dictionary.
Now, a "vendetta" isn't quite the same thing as a "feud." The former is something that's generally more one-sided, something that a person embarks upon because of a perceived wrong, whereas the latter is usually something where both parties are at least dimly aware of some mutual wrong(s) that are the cause for their enduring dispute.
So, since the feud between god and monsters is something limited to the songs of the scops, it's not likely that Grendel's striking Heorot as part of the age old feud of which they sing. Whether it's the noise, or being god's preferred offspring, Grendel is raining violence down upon Heorot as part of a vendetta, a one-sided feud. To modern readers this could be something rooted in Grendel's nature as a monster. But, to the poem's early audiences, a thing like a vendetta would seem monstrous in itself.
Before authority became centralized in the form of kingdoms and fiefdoms, one of the great laws of Northern Europe was the feud. But it was, in the ideal case, something that involved both parties, and was a means of redressing a wrong that was great enough to legitimize the bloodshed inherent in such a conflict.
To bring a vendetta against someone or some other group would be seen as a flaunting of the law of the land, and the action of an imbalanced person. Thus, Grendel's made to be extra monstrous because of the apparently unmotivated violence that he brings to the Danes. Not simply because he's acting so violently, but because he's carrying a vendetta to the hall.
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Closing
In next week's extract, Grendel's assaults drive people away from Heorot, and word of the hall's woe spreads across the world.
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Monday, September 2, 2013
Further words on Grendel (ll.115-125) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The character of Grendel
Cathartic Violence
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Grendel breaks into Heorot after a feast, and seizes thirty thanes, whom he handily devours.
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Translation
"Knew he then what he sought, once night fell,
at the high house, how the Ring-Danes
after beer-drinking would be stayed there;
found he therein a fortune of princes
sleeping fast after the feast - they knew no sorrow,
men of the war spear. The unholy figure,
grim and greedy, was quickly enthused,
savage and severe, and at once he seized
thirty thanes; after that he went out
heading loudly home with his prey,
with that slaughter he returned to his dwelling."
(Beowulf ll.115-125)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
The character of Grendel
Grendel's terrifying assault on Heorot is told of in these lines. But in them, there's also something said about Grendel's character.
First off, immediately we're told that Grendel is capable of self-knowing. The very first clause of the extract is "knew he then what he sought" ("Gewat ða neosian" (l.115)). This self knowledge means that Grendel isn't just a rampaging beast, but is something more. He's the kin of Cain, sure, but that doesn't remove a thinking brain from his body. So Grendel's motives can be more complex than simply hunger or rage.
His enthusiasm for the slaughter also suggests some parts of his personality. Grendel is excitable and, perhaps because of the poetry used, it seems as if he glowers over the sight of the thanes. Almost as if he sees the thirty there and immediately begins to fantasize about a possible future wherein he's devouring/stealing them all away. Unlike the Anglo-Saxons' (likely) understanding of animals, Grendel has some degree of emotional feeling and seems like he's capable of planning ahead. But, this emotion is tempered by something, at least in the way the poet describes it, more reasoned.
The Anglo-Saxon word for "seized" on line 122, "genam," means just that "seized." However, it's not a word that was used on a day to day basis, rather, it's from the Anglo Saxon legal vocabulary. So Grendel seized the thirty thanes in a legal way.
Perhaps this action of seizure, along with showing that Grendel is overly litigious, also suggests that Grendel is merely carrying on a feud, taking what is legally his, or doing so with the force of the law behind him. In the feud between god and the kin of Cain it's not exactly clear how long it's been since a blow was struck against god, and so taking thirty thanes might be Grendel's way of evening things out.
Of course, since this is just one word, it's entirely possible that "genam" was used merely because it fit the meter of the line. Not being bound up in the line's alliteration (that job falls to "r" here) though, there's not much in the way of formal reasons to use a word other than "genam."
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Cathartic Violence
For a scene that describes such a ghoulish incident, there's very little in the way of graphic description. No limbs are torn from bodies, no blood is drunk from wounds, no specific damage is done to any body whatever. Plus, given the way that Beowulf will describe this incident to Hygelac later on, adding in Grendel's glove, it seems like a very clean snatching.
This clean description helps to strengthen the argument that Grendel's actions have some force of law behind them. So long as graphic descriptions of violence are intended by the poet/writer to communicate a disruption of relations (the sort of thing that happens when warring armies meet, or rivals square off) its lack suggests the lack of a disruption of relations. So long as graphic descriptions of violence indicated such a disruption to Anglo-Saxons, this clean description of Grendel's seizure could be read as an indication that Grendel is in the right in his stance against Heorot.
Yet, if you follow that interpretation, it would also mean that Beowulf is in the wrong. After all, the description of the fight between Grendel and Beowulf is quite brutal, going so far as to include a poetic rendering of an arm being ripped off. So if Grendel's clean sweep of the thanes suggests his being in the right, Beowulf's gruesome assault on Grendel suggests that he is in the wrong.
Assuming that it's the other way around, though, Beowulf enters into the right, while Grendel's lack of violence disempowers him. Even as this lack comes across in a wild act of violence against Heorot.
Yet, even read in such a traditional way, Grendel can still be read as a complex character. The lack of concrete physical description of the violence he perpetrates implies that his violence is unfulfilled. This violence is a desire, an urge, that has no expression.
Though ideas of the humours come centuries after Beowulf's being composed/written, a long standing idea about the human body is that it houses certain energies. Holding these energies up generally meant that something would shortly go wrong, and some illness would result. Violence was often understood as one of the chief ways to expend this energy. Being unable to expend energy, even through violence, could be a terrible fate.
Perhaps that's at the root of Grendel's violence against Heorot. It's not that he's bothered by the noise, but the sound of others partying and expending energy, living life, reminds him of his unfulfilled urge. So Grendel lashes out, but as part of the curse of being kin of Cain, he is unable to expel his energies as he expresses his urges. Grendel can still be violent, of course, but he isn't able to sate his urge to be so, it remains a fixed quantity.
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Closing
In the next entry, the following morning finds Grendel's gruesome visit and he strikes again.
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Translation
Recordings
The character of Grendel
Cathartic Violence
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Grendel breaks into Heorot after a feast, and seizes thirty thanes, whom he handily devours.
Back To Top
Translation
"Knew he then what he sought, once night fell,
at the high house, how the Ring-Danes
after beer-drinking would be stayed there;
found he therein a fortune of princes
sleeping fast after the feast - they knew no sorrow,
men of the war spear. The unholy figure,
grim and greedy, was quickly enthused,
savage and severe, and at once he seized
thirty thanes; after that he went out
heading loudly home with his prey,
with that slaughter he returned to his dwelling."
(Beowulf ll.115-125)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
The character of Grendel
Grendel's terrifying assault on Heorot is told of in these lines. But in them, there's also something said about Grendel's character.
First off, immediately we're told that Grendel is capable of self-knowing. The very first clause of the extract is "knew he then what he sought" ("Gewat ða neosian" (l.115)). This self knowledge means that Grendel isn't just a rampaging beast, but is something more. He's the kin of Cain, sure, but that doesn't remove a thinking brain from his body. So Grendel's motives can be more complex than simply hunger or rage.
His enthusiasm for the slaughter also suggests some parts of his personality. Grendel is excitable and, perhaps because of the poetry used, it seems as if he glowers over the sight of the thanes. Almost as if he sees the thirty there and immediately begins to fantasize about a possible future wherein he's devouring/stealing them all away. Unlike the Anglo-Saxons' (likely) understanding of animals, Grendel has some degree of emotional feeling and seems like he's capable of planning ahead. But, this emotion is tempered by something, at least in the way the poet describes it, more reasoned.
The Anglo-Saxon word for "seized" on line 122, "genam," means just that "seized." However, it's not a word that was used on a day to day basis, rather, it's from the Anglo Saxon legal vocabulary. So Grendel seized the thirty thanes in a legal way.
Perhaps this action of seizure, along with showing that Grendel is overly litigious, also suggests that Grendel is merely carrying on a feud, taking what is legally his, or doing so with the force of the law behind him. In the feud between god and the kin of Cain it's not exactly clear how long it's been since a blow was struck against god, and so taking thirty thanes might be Grendel's way of evening things out.
Of course, since this is just one word, it's entirely possible that "genam" was used merely because it fit the meter of the line. Not being bound up in the line's alliteration (that job falls to "r" here) though, there's not much in the way of formal reasons to use a word other than "genam."
Back To Top
Cathartic Violence
For a scene that describes such a ghoulish incident, there's very little in the way of graphic description. No limbs are torn from bodies, no blood is drunk from wounds, no specific damage is done to any body whatever. Plus, given the way that Beowulf will describe this incident to Hygelac later on, adding in Grendel's glove, it seems like a very clean snatching.
This clean description helps to strengthen the argument that Grendel's actions have some force of law behind them. So long as graphic descriptions of violence are intended by the poet/writer to communicate a disruption of relations (the sort of thing that happens when warring armies meet, or rivals square off) its lack suggests the lack of a disruption of relations. So long as graphic descriptions of violence indicated such a disruption to Anglo-Saxons, this clean description of Grendel's seizure could be read as an indication that Grendel is in the right in his stance against Heorot.
Yet, if you follow that interpretation, it would also mean that Beowulf is in the wrong. After all, the description of the fight between Grendel and Beowulf is quite brutal, going so far as to include a poetic rendering of an arm being ripped off. So if Grendel's clean sweep of the thanes suggests his being in the right, Beowulf's gruesome assault on Grendel suggests that he is in the wrong.
Assuming that it's the other way around, though, Beowulf enters into the right, while Grendel's lack of violence disempowers him. Even as this lack comes across in a wild act of violence against Heorot.
Yet, even read in such a traditional way, Grendel can still be read as a complex character. The lack of concrete physical description of the violence he perpetrates implies that his violence is unfulfilled. This violence is a desire, an urge, that has no expression.
Though ideas of the humours come centuries after Beowulf's being composed/written, a long standing idea about the human body is that it houses certain energies. Holding these energies up generally meant that something would shortly go wrong, and some illness would result. Violence was often understood as one of the chief ways to expend this energy. Being unable to expend energy, even through violence, could be a terrible fate.
Perhaps that's at the root of Grendel's violence against Heorot. It's not that he's bothered by the noise, but the sound of others partying and expending energy, living life, reminds him of his unfulfilled urge. So Grendel lashes out, but as part of the curse of being kin of Cain, he is unable to expel his energies as he expresses his urges. Grendel can still be violent, of course, but he isn't able to sate his urge to be so, it remains a fixed quantity.
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Closing
In the next entry, the following morning finds Grendel's gruesome visit and he strikes again.
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Sunday, August 25, 2013
Feuding References (ll.99-114) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Referential storytelling
Justification through a feud
Closing
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Abstract
Grendel has his first mention by name, and his origin is quickly explained.
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Translation
"So the warriors of the hall lived in joy,
were prosperous, until one began
committing crimes, like a fiend of hell.
It was the ghastly ghoul called Grendel,
border walker from the marshlands, he that the moors held,
whose mire was his mansion; from the land held fast by
woe laden man-shaped sea beasts,
since the Shaper had condemned them
as kin of Cain - so the almighty Lord punished
him for that murder, when he slew Abel.
Cain was given no good from that, the Measurer cast him
far abroad, done for his evil, away from humankind.
Then the monsters all awoke,
ogres and elves and orcs,
also giants, those that waged long warfare
against God; until he gave them their reward."
(Beowulf ll.99-114)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Referential storytelling
To anyone familiar with Greek myth, there's a strange mash up of origin stories happening here. The final two lines suggest some sort of war between god and monsters, specifically giants. In Greek myth, such a story would be a reference to the Gigantomachy wherein the Giants (the force of chaos) fought against the gods of Olympus (the force of order).
Taken as a reference to early parts of the Old Testament, these lines could be describing an Anglo-Saxon take on the Nephilim, the half human/half angel offspring of angels who walked the earth and cavorted amongst humanity. In the Old Testament stories, interestingly, given the Anglo-Saxons' warrior status, these angels are allegedly the ones who showed humans how to work metal and create weapons for war.
This tale of a war between god and monsters could also be a reference to the story of the Roman de Brut, an epic poem about the first settling of what's now England, and the giant that the settlers had to overcome to claim the land for their own. But the version of that poem written by Wace is dated to 1150-1155 with much more certainly than Beowulf's own dating. As a result of this late date, Beowulf would have had to have been written/composed later in the twelfth century. Alternatively, it could well have influenced Wace (along with his major source for his Roman de Brut, Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regium Britanniae).
Nevertheless, the story about a war between god and giants could be construed in a number of historical ways, too. Perhaps it's a Christian insertion into the poem, meant to represent how Christian monotheism overtook pagan polytheism (something that is quite active in this leg of the poem, actually). Or maybe there's more of an historical/allegorical bent at work, the figures on either side standing for certain factions that faced off in the poets/writers' distant past.
Whatever the case, this event is definitely something that took place far into the past. After all, it's clearly stated that the monsters all awoke after the condemnation of Cain (ll.109-112). Likely this is how the story goes because Biblically Cain is the first human outcast. Surely, Adam and Eve had their own losses from being cast out of the garden, but to be cast out from the cast outs would make Cain particularly damned. Especially in the eyes of the Anglo-Saxons, for whom community and social inclusion were integral for survival.
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Justification through a feud
The whole "kin of Cain" ("Caines cynne" (l.107)) thing is interesting. It takes something that is by its nature as a creature of the borderlands mysterious and other and gives it a lineage. Grendel isn't just some monster that no one knows anything about, but is instead related to the first murderer and, curiously, an early farmer. A cheeky reading of the Cain and Abel story, could, in fact, be that god, with childish aplomb, prefers meat to vegetables.
Anyway, giving Grendel a lineage and taking the mystery out of him thereby, makes him more approachable. It feeds into the feud culture of the Anglo-Saxons as well. After all, without a hereditary feud to conclude/perpetuate, Grendel would be somewhat in the right, since the Danes are encroaching on his territory. What's more, Grendel only attacks Heorot once he's provoked by the noise from within. Giving Grendel a clear ancestor, though, brings the feud element into play, which makes who's in the right and who's in the wrong muddier. After all, any godly person would surely take the side of god in a war with the monsters. Surely.
Running with the idea that Beowulf was substantially altered when written down for the sake of Christianizing the Anglo-Saxons, any feud element would be an incredible asset. From the perspective of a missionary such elements would be their "in;" to the Anglo-Saxons feuds were eminently familiar.
This familiarity would help make the Christian parts of the story seem more understandable. Particularly helpful in this area is the final line of this extract. The climactic sarcasm to be found there makes it prime for Anglo-Saxon appreciation, and could be there as a kind of medieval fan service.
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Closing
Grendel ventures into the hall next week, and there wreaks his first reported havoc.
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Translation
Recordings
Referential storytelling
Justification through a feud
Closing
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Abstract
Grendel has his first mention by name, and his origin is quickly explained.
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Translation
"So the warriors of the hall lived in joy,
were prosperous, until one began
committing crimes, like a fiend of hell.
It was the ghastly ghoul called Grendel,
border walker from the marshlands, he that the moors held,
whose mire was his mansion; from the land held fast by
woe laden man-shaped sea beasts,
since the Shaper had condemned them
as kin of Cain - so the almighty Lord punished
him for that murder, when he slew Abel.
Cain was given no good from that, the Measurer cast him
far abroad, done for his evil, away from humankind.
Then the monsters all awoke,
ogres and elves and orcs,
also giants, those that waged long warfare
against God; until he gave them their reward."
(Beowulf ll.99-114)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Referential storytelling
To anyone familiar with Greek myth, there's a strange mash up of origin stories happening here. The final two lines suggest some sort of war between god and monsters, specifically giants. In Greek myth, such a story would be a reference to the Gigantomachy wherein the Giants (the force of chaos) fought against the gods of Olympus (the force of order).
Taken as a reference to early parts of the Old Testament, these lines could be describing an Anglo-Saxon take on the Nephilim, the half human/half angel offspring of angels who walked the earth and cavorted amongst humanity. In the Old Testament stories, interestingly, given the Anglo-Saxons' warrior status, these angels are allegedly the ones who showed humans how to work metal and create weapons for war.
This tale of a war between god and monsters could also be a reference to the story of the Roman de Brut, an epic poem about the first settling of what's now England, and the giant that the settlers had to overcome to claim the land for their own. But the version of that poem written by Wace is dated to 1150-1155 with much more certainly than Beowulf's own dating. As a result of this late date, Beowulf would have had to have been written/composed later in the twelfth century. Alternatively, it could well have influenced Wace (along with his major source for his Roman de Brut, Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regium Britanniae).
Nevertheless, the story about a war between god and giants could be construed in a number of historical ways, too. Perhaps it's a Christian insertion into the poem, meant to represent how Christian monotheism overtook pagan polytheism (something that is quite active in this leg of the poem, actually). Or maybe there's more of an historical/allegorical bent at work, the figures on either side standing for certain factions that faced off in the poets/writers' distant past.
Whatever the case, this event is definitely something that took place far into the past. After all, it's clearly stated that the monsters all awoke after the condemnation of Cain (ll.109-112). Likely this is how the story goes because Biblically Cain is the first human outcast. Surely, Adam and Eve had their own losses from being cast out of the garden, but to be cast out from the cast outs would make Cain particularly damned. Especially in the eyes of the Anglo-Saxons, for whom community and social inclusion were integral for survival.
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Justification through a feud
The whole "kin of Cain" ("Caines cynne" (l.107)) thing is interesting. It takes something that is by its nature as a creature of the borderlands mysterious and other and gives it a lineage. Grendel isn't just some monster that no one knows anything about, but is instead related to the first murderer and, curiously, an early farmer. A cheeky reading of the Cain and Abel story, could, in fact, be that god, with childish aplomb, prefers meat to vegetables.
Anyway, giving Grendel a lineage and taking the mystery out of him thereby, makes him more approachable. It feeds into the feud culture of the Anglo-Saxons as well. After all, without a hereditary feud to conclude/perpetuate, Grendel would be somewhat in the right, since the Danes are encroaching on his territory. What's more, Grendel only attacks Heorot once he's provoked by the noise from within. Giving Grendel a clear ancestor, though, brings the feud element into play, which makes who's in the right and who's in the wrong muddier. After all, any godly person would surely take the side of god in a war with the monsters. Surely.
Running with the idea that Beowulf was substantially altered when written down for the sake of Christianizing the Anglo-Saxons, any feud element would be an incredible asset. From the perspective of a missionary such elements would be their "in;" to the Anglo-Saxons feuds were eminently familiar.
This familiarity would help make the Christian parts of the story seem more understandable. Particularly helpful in this area is the final line of this extract. The climactic sarcasm to be found there makes it prime for Anglo-Saxon appreciation, and could be there as a kind of medieval fan service.
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Closing
Grendel ventures into the hall next week, and there wreaks his first reported havoc.
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Thursday, August 15, 2013
Grendel's glimpse, and the poets' creation song (ll.86-98) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Sympathy for Grendel?
Singing the song of creation
Closing
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Abstract
Outside the revels in the newly erected Heorot, a dark presence is stirred by poets' songs of creation.
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Translation
"Then a terrible demon had a time of
difficult suffering, as it would be in darkness,
he who daily heard the joy makers
loud in the hall; there hands were waved over harps,
there the poets sang clear. Told they of
knowing the long ago provenance of all people,
spoke of how the Almighty made the earth,
this beauteous world, and the water that flows about it;
set the sun and the moon victoriously above
with rays to light the ways of people,
and adorned the rolling hills
with limbs and leaves; how the Maker shaped
each variety of life, all things that have motion."
(Beowulf ll.86-98)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Sympathy for Grendel?
Though Beowulf is an old poem, and it's easy to say that old things (especially old works of art and literature) come from black and white world views, Grendel (and Beowulf's other monsters) are sometimes more sympathetic than you'd expect.
Though this isn't a formal introduction of the ravager of Heorot, it's still his first appearance, and yet the poet does nothing to make him seem like a terrible thing. Aside from the whole "terrible demon" ("ellengæst earfoðlice" (l.86)) thing. But names can just be clever fronts and masks placed onto things to draw attention away from their true portrayal.
After all, demon or no, how would an early medieval audience react to the "difficult suffering" ("geþolode"(l.87)) of a demon? Possibly with cheers and grins, but that could also be too simplistic an assumption on our part. Though, within this excerpt there isn't much evidence to the contrary.
All that we do have here to suggest that Grendel could be a sympathetic character is the parenthetical "as it would be in darkness," ("se þe in þystrum bad," l.87)). Grendel's natural state is such darkness, and as a people who measured color by brightness and not by hue (as we do), such a state would be unimaginably bleak. Possibly even reason to pity even a monster like Grendel.
Yet, by the nature of alliterative verse, this little description of Grendel's natural living conditions could just be here to fill out the second half of a line. However, a variety of other descriptions could fit here too, perhaps more physical, or perhaps describing Grendel's position while listening to Heorot's hustle. The point is, though the form of the description was chosen to fit the form of the poem, its content could still have been chosen with intention and not just to add a flourish to the piece.
If then, the description of Grendel's usual living conditions as being what you'd expect of darkness is carrying some intention, its placement makes it prime material for a sympathetic reading of Grendel. Or, at the least, it raises the question of why describe a demon's habitat if they're already well known and reviled. Without (unfortunately) other texts to back me up on this, I think it's because demons were still a very abstract thing when Beowulf was written or composed. In fact, if the version of the poem that we have is one that was altered by the Christian-trained scribes writing it down, then perhaps this description is a sarcastic Anglo-Saxon addition and something that's calling attention to the otherness of Grendel. Perhaps it is, as I read it, calling such attention so that we the readers begin to pity Grendel, the dweller in the silent dark.
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Singing the song of creation
After our brief first glimpse of Grendel, we're given a rundown of the story of creation. One that rolls the creation story found in Genesis into what seems like a rather close knit series of events. At the least, it cuts down the Biblical account to a few lines. But why that story? Beowulf's not obviously a poem about creation, and so you've got to wonder.
It's possible (even probable) that halls like Heorot were figured as lights in the wilderness. Pockets of civilization where new ties were formed and old enemies could (once they were ready) talk things out over mead and meat. Or, perhaps it was an old tradition to sing stories of creation at the breaking-in parties of grand halls to reflect the beginnings that the builders and ring lords had set in motion. This rendition of creation is, after all, a very effervescent version, its wording evoking a bright, fresh scene. Maybe it's even a kind of invocation or blessing to sing of creation over a new venture that's the scope of a mead hall.
Looking out to other works of Old English, there's one curious connection. This is Caedmon's Hymn, a poem shorter than the section in this excerpt about creation on the same topic. Though Caedmon's Hymn is also framed with a story about the shepherd Caedmon and how his inspiration to sing gave him that hymn. However you choose to read it, singing of creation just seems to be the way the Anglo-Saxons celebrated freshness and newness.
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Closing
Next week Grendel's formally introduced, and we get some of his background.
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Translation
Recordings
Sympathy for Grendel?
Singing the song of creation
Closing
Back to Top
Abstract
Outside the revels in the newly erected Heorot, a dark presence is stirred by poets' songs of creation.
Back to Top
Translation
"Then a terrible demon had a time of
difficult suffering, as it would be in darkness,
he who daily heard the joy makers
loud in the hall; there hands were waved over harps,
there the poets sang clear. Told they of
knowing the long ago provenance of all people,
spoke of how the Almighty made the earth,
this beauteous world, and the water that flows about it;
set the sun and the moon victoriously above
with rays to light the ways of people,
and adorned the rolling hills
with limbs and leaves; how the Maker shaped
each variety of life, all things that have motion."
(Beowulf ll.86-98)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back to Top
Sympathy for Grendel?
Though Beowulf is an old poem, and it's easy to say that old things (especially old works of art and literature) come from black and white world views, Grendel (and Beowulf's other monsters) are sometimes more sympathetic than you'd expect.
Though this isn't a formal introduction of the ravager of Heorot, it's still his first appearance, and yet the poet does nothing to make him seem like a terrible thing. Aside from the whole "terrible demon" ("ellengæst earfoðlice" (l.86)) thing. But names can just be clever fronts and masks placed onto things to draw attention away from their true portrayal.
After all, demon or no, how would an early medieval audience react to the "difficult suffering" ("geþolode"(l.87)) of a demon? Possibly with cheers and grins, but that could also be too simplistic an assumption on our part. Though, within this excerpt there isn't much evidence to the contrary.
All that we do have here to suggest that Grendel could be a sympathetic character is the parenthetical "as it would be in darkness," ("se þe in þystrum bad," l.87)). Grendel's natural state is such darkness, and as a people who measured color by brightness and not by hue (as we do), such a state would be unimaginably bleak. Possibly even reason to pity even a monster like Grendel.
Yet, by the nature of alliterative verse, this little description of Grendel's natural living conditions could just be here to fill out the second half of a line. However, a variety of other descriptions could fit here too, perhaps more physical, or perhaps describing Grendel's position while listening to Heorot's hustle. The point is, though the form of the description was chosen to fit the form of the poem, its content could still have been chosen with intention and not just to add a flourish to the piece.
If then, the description of Grendel's usual living conditions as being what you'd expect of darkness is carrying some intention, its placement makes it prime material for a sympathetic reading of Grendel. Or, at the least, it raises the question of why describe a demon's habitat if they're already well known and reviled. Without (unfortunately) other texts to back me up on this, I think it's because demons were still a very abstract thing when Beowulf was written or composed. In fact, if the version of the poem that we have is one that was altered by the Christian-trained scribes writing it down, then perhaps this description is a sarcastic Anglo-Saxon addition and something that's calling attention to the otherness of Grendel. Perhaps it is, as I read it, calling such attention so that we the readers begin to pity Grendel, the dweller in the silent dark.
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Singing the song of creation
After our brief first glimpse of Grendel, we're given a rundown of the story of creation. One that rolls the creation story found in Genesis into what seems like a rather close knit series of events. At the least, it cuts down the Biblical account to a few lines. But why that story? Beowulf's not obviously a poem about creation, and so you've got to wonder.
It's possible (even probable) that halls like Heorot were figured as lights in the wilderness. Pockets of civilization where new ties were formed and old enemies could (once they were ready) talk things out over mead and meat. Or, perhaps it was an old tradition to sing stories of creation at the breaking-in parties of grand halls to reflect the beginnings that the builders and ring lords had set in motion. This rendition of creation is, after all, a very effervescent version, its wording evoking a bright, fresh scene. Maybe it's even a kind of invocation or blessing to sing of creation over a new venture that's the scope of a mead hall.
Looking out to other works of Old English, there's one curious connection. This is Caedmon's Hymn, a poem shorter than the section in this excerpt about creation on the same topic. Though Caedmon's Hymn is also framed with a story about the shepherd Caedmon and how his inspiration to sing gave him that hymn. However you choose to read it, singing of creation just seems to be the way the Anglo-Saxons celebrated freshness and newness.
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Closing
Next week Grendel's formally introduced, and we get some of his background.
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Thursday, August 8, 2013
Heorot's rise and fall (ll.74-85) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Self sabotage and suspense
Heorot and Hubris
Closing
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Abstract
Heorot is raised, named, and has its end prophesied.
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Translation
Then heard I that work a summons went widely,
to many peoples from throughout this earth,
to adorn that dwelling place. After their first meeting,
immediately amidst those assembled, it was made ready,
the greatest of all halls; the poets named it Heorot,
he whose word has widespread influence.
That boast did not lie, rings were doled out,
a continuous treasure flow. That hall rose high,
towering and wide-gabled, made to resist fierce fire,
loathe of lightning; yet it was not as such for long,
since woken sword-hate would later swallow it
after war broke out between son in law and father in law.
(Beowulf ll.74-85)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Self sabotage and suspense
For an epic poem, Beowulf has some moments where it seems to sabotage its own scope. At least on the surface. This excerpt is a prime example of such apparent sabotage, as it takes the grand idea of the world's greatest mead hall and condenses its history into just over 10 lines.
But there's some purpose behind doing things this way.
In speaking of the end of Heorot, the poet gives it a finite existence. On the one hand doing so could be the poetical version of the mistakes that artisans would make in their intricate weavings and carvings so as to not offend what they believed to be god's perfect creation. On the other, it lets readers know that Heorot will not be destroyed until the time that is appointed.
To the poem's original audience (maybe even in its written version) the reference to a feud erupting between father in law and son in law could actually be meaningful; including this detail could root this story further in history. The poet alludes to something real and gives it enough detail to frame it as the real thing. Then he is free to embellish Heorot's history with the wild story of Beowulf and Grendel.
From a purely narrative standpoint, delineating Heorot's existence like this also lets the reader know that Grendel isn't the one to destroy Heorot. Once more, on the surface this seems like self sabotage. However, this moment in the poem doesn't undercut the suspense of Beowulf's struggle with Grendel, it strengthens it. An attentive reader knows that Beowulf must succeed for Heorot to survive to be destroyed in the manner described here. What generates much of the suspense during the lead up to and during his fight with Grendel is the question of how he does it.
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Heorot and Hubris
Continuing in that vein, Heorot sounds like a classic embodiment of hubris. Not only is it a grand building where great treasures are doled out, it's also built "to resist fierce fire,/loathe of lightning" ("heaðowylma bad,/laðan liges" (ll.82-83)). Its very construction is supposed to negate the natural things that are the banes of other buildings. So it sounds like something that by its nature is calling down the anger of the gods.
Yet, aside from drawing it out of a classically informed narrative analysis placed onto the poem, it's hard to tell if the Anglo-Saxons themselves saw things this way. This sense of hubris that I'm pulling out of the poem could even be a subtle insertion on the part of the Christian scribe who put Beowulf to paper, something to show the wrong-headedness of the Anglo-Saxons before the missions came and all of that.
Regardless, Heorot's description is definitely something over the top. And if that's something that calls down the attention of the gods, then maybe it would foreshadow some sort of supernatural intervention for the poem's early audiences. Perhaps then, the reference to the hall's being destroyed in a feud is meant to turn readers' suspicions away from the supernatural. Grendel still has to be introduced, after all.
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Closing
Next week, in fact, Grendel gets introduced. And the context of this introduction sets up quite the contrast.
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Translation
Recordings
Self sabotage and suspense
Heorot and Hubris
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Heorot is raised, named, and has its end prophesied.
Back To Top
Translation
Then heard I that work a summons went widely,
to many peoples from throughout this earth,
to adorn that dwelling place. After their first meeting,
immediately amidst those assembled, it was made ready,
the greatest of all halls; the poets named it Heorot,
he whose word has widespread influence.
That boast did not lie, rings were doled out,
a continuous treasure flow. That hall rose high,
towering and wide-gabled, made to resist fierce fire,
loathe of lightning; yet it was not as such for long,
since woken sword-hate would later swallow it
after war broke out between son in law and father in law.
(Beowulf ll.74-85)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Self sabotage and suspense
For an epic poem, Beowulf has some moments where it seems to sabotage its own scope. At least on the surface. This excerpt is a prime example of such apparent sabotage, as it takes the grand idea of the world's greatest mead hall and condenses its history into just over 10 lines.
But there's some purpose behind doing things this way.
In speaking of the end of Heorot, the poet gives it a finite existence. On the one hand doing so could be the poetical version of the mistakes that artisans would make in their intricate weavings and carvings so as to not offend what they believed to be god's perfect creation. On the other, it lets readers know that Heorot will not be destroyed until the time that is appointed.
To the poem's original audience (maybe even in its written version) the reference to a feud erupting between father in law and son in law could actually be meaningful; including this detail could root this story further in history. The poet alludes to something real and gives it enough detail to frame it as the real thing. Then he is free to embellish Heorot's history with the wild story of Beowulf and Grendel.
From a purely narrative standpoint, delineating Heorot's existence like this also lets the reader know that Grendel isn't the one to destroy Heorot. Once more, on the surface this seems like self sabotage. However, this moment in the poem doesn't undercut the suspense of Beowulf's struggle with Grendel, it strengthens it. An attentive reader knows that Beowulf must succeed for Heorot to survive to be destroyed in the manner described here. What generates much of the suspense during the lead up to and during his fight with Grendel is the question of how he does it.
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Heorot and Hubris
Continuing in that vein, Heorot sounds like a classic embodiment of hubris. Not only is it a grand building where great treasures are doled out, it's also built "to resist fierce fire,/loathe of lightning" ("heaðowylma bad,/laðan liges" (ll.82-83)). Its very construction is supposed to negate the natural things that are the banes of other buildings. So it sounds like something that by its nature is calling down the anger of the gods.
Yet, aside from drawing it out of a classically informed narrative analysis placed onto the poem, it's hard to tell if the Anglo-Saxons themselves saw things this way. This sense of hubris that I'm pulling out of the poem could even be a subtle insertion on the part of the Christian scribe who put Beowulf to paper, something to show the wrong-headedness of the Anglo-Saxons before the missions came and all of that.
Regardless, Heorot's description is definitely something over the top. And if that's something that calls down the attention of the gods, then maybe it would foreshadow some sort of supernatural intervention for the poem's early audiences. Perhaps then, the reference to the hall's being destroyed in a feud is meant to turn readers' suspicions away from the supernatural. Grendel still has to be introduced, after all.
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Closing
Next week, in fact, Grendel gets introduced. And the context of this introduction sets up quite the contrast.
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Thursday, August 1, 2013
Hall building but not slave trading (ll.64-73) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar - The Builder
What won't be traded at Heorot
Closing
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Abstract
Hrothgar sees success in battle, grows his reputation, and dreams of a fantastical hall.
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Translation
Hrothgar was given success in war,
honour in battle, such that his kith and kin
eagerly listened, until the young one grew
into a mighty troop lord. His mind soon turned
to the glory of being called a hall lord,
a mead hall made by the work of many,
that the children of the ages would ever ask about,
and therein to dole out all
to young and old alike, such as god gave him,
all but the people's land and lives.
(Beowulf ll.64-73)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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Hrothgar - The Builder
Once again, at least as I've translated it, we get some reference to the importance of reputation. Curiously though, the buzz around Hrothgar sounds like it was built on the foundation of his own deeds. Though, the verb phrase "eagerly listened" ("georne hyrdon"; a literal translation of which would be "eagerly heard" (l.66)) could be the poet's way of saying that Hrothgar himself, or whatever scop he had in his employ, sang of these deeds in a most compelling way. A way that magnified exploits that might otherwise be rather paltry.
In either case, it's interesting that the builder of a hall like Heorot would first build up his own reputation. Looking at his career trajectory, from successful warrior to troop lord, to ambitions of hall lordship, and then the fulfilment of that ambition, it seems that Hrothgar himself is a building. One built entirely on a reputation in fact; a foundation that says quite a bit about the importance of a reputation at the time.
But could it say more?
In line 69, we're told that Hrothgar envisioned his hall as the work of many. This suggests that its building could be something like a modern Amish barn raising, but, given this description, at the very least it would be community effort. What I then wonder is if such a project wouldn't create a further reputation of one's being able to turn their words into physical objects. Hrothgar envisions the hall - he must have told someone of these ambitions - and then through his will and influence he brings it about. As a mythic poem would it be out of line to suggest that Hrothgar as a mythic figure could be called "The Builder"?
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What won't be traded at Heorot
Quite a well balanced extract, the end of this part of the poem is as rich as its beginning.
Particularly the final clause, which makes it plain that neither land nor peoples' lives are among those things that Hrothgar will give away. This sounds straightforward enough. Hrothgar will respect his thanes' and followers' claims to land and not give the people themselves away. But in what way would he be giving them away otherwise? As slaves? As sacrifices? As soldiers?
It doesn't seem likely that it's the third of these, since soldiers would make up a healthy portion of Hrothgar's followers as is.
The second is definitely possible, since we do later get references to rituals that the Danes try to rid themselves of Grendel. But it's not likely that these involve human sacrifice, since the poet only mentions that the Danes called on demons (since, as at least a Christian poet, anything other than Christ (and the other members of the trinity) standing as god would be blasphemy) to save them. There's never any real mention of ritualistic murder or the like, either.
So it seems most likely that he's referring to treating his people like slaves. To selling them off as if they were just property - another golden cup or war outfitted horse. Actually, that's a good way to categorize the things that Hrothgar will not be doling out to his followers: things that are not made by human hands.
Land is clearly something not made by human hands, especially since Beowulf portrays the land as a source of threats to civilization.
Grendel and Grendel's Mother threaten Hrothgar's little utopia, and the dragon threatens the Geats under Beowulf. Grendel and Grendel's Mother come from the heath, and even more specifically a strange lake that opens into an underground cave. Later, the dragon comes from an ancient cave near the cliffs of a coast. Both are places that are distinctly other, and thus not at all connected to human creation.
It's fair to say that people are held as sacred in Beowulf. Yes, parts of the poem seem like they're just about a bunch of guys bashing another bunch of guys over the head with pointy sticks, but even in those instances, there's something all to human at stake: honour, glory, safety for one or the other side's leader's family/group. Nonetheless, there is value to human life as something more than a possession in this poem, though it may seem to fluctuate more than our modern valuing of the same.
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Closing
Next week, we see Heorot being built, named, and lurked about by Grendel.
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Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar - The Builder
What won't be traded at Heorot
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Hrothgar sees success in battle, grows his reputation, and dreams of a fantastical hall.
Back To Top
Translation
Hrothgar was given success in war,
honour in battle, such that his kith and kin
eagerly listened, until the young one grew
into a mighty troop lord. His mind soon turned
to the glory of being called a hall lord,
a mead hall made by the work of many,
that the children of the ages would ever ask about,
and therein to dole out all
to young and old alike, such as god gave him,
all but the people's land and lives.
(Beowulf ll.64-73)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Hrothgar - The Builder
Once again, at least as I've translated it, we get some reference to the importance of reputation. Curiously though, the buzz around Hrothgar sounds like it was built on the foundation of his own deeds. Though, the verb phrase "eagerly listened" ("georne hyrdon"; a literal translation of which would be "eagerly heard" (l.66)) could be the poet's way of saying that Hrothgar himself, or whatever scop he had in his employ, sang of these deeds in a most compelling way. A way that magnified exploits that might otherwise be rather paltry.
In either case, it's interesting that the builder of a hall like Heorot would first build up his own reputation. Looking at his career trajectory, from successful warrior to troop lord, to ambitions of hall lordship, and then the fulfilment of that ambition, it seems that Hrothgar himself is a building. One built entirely on a reputation in fact; a foundation that says quite a bit about the importance of a reputation at the time.
But could it say more?
In line 69, we're told that Hrothgar envisioned his hall as the work of many. This suggests that its building could be something like a modern Amish barn raising, but, given this description, at the very least it would be community effort. What I then wonder is if such a project wouldn't create a further reputation of one's being able to turn their words into physical objects. Hrothgar envisions the hall - he must have told someone of these ambitions - and then through his will and influence he brings it about. As a mythic poem would it be out of line to suggest that Hrothgar as a mythic figure could be called "The Builder"?
Back To Top
What won't be traded at Heorot
Quite a well balanced extract, the end of this part of the poem is as rich as its beginning.
Particularly the final clause, which makes it plain that neither land nor peoples' lives are among those things that Hrothgar will give away. This sounds straightforward enough. Hrothgar will respect his thanes' and followers' claims to land and not give the people themselves away. But in what way would he be giving them away otherwise? As slaves? As sacrifices? As soldiers?
It doesn't seem likely that it's the third of these, since soldiers would make up a healthy portion of Hrothgar's followers as is.
The second is definitely possible, since we do later get references to rituals that the Danes try to rid themselves of Grendel. But it's not likely that these involve human sacrifice, since the poet only mentions that the Danes called on demons (since, as at least a Christian poet, anything other than Christ (and the other members of the trinity) standing as god would be blasphemy) to save them. There's never any real mention of ritualistic murder or the like, either.
So it seems most likely that he's referring to treating his people like slaves. To selling them off as if they were just property - another golden cup or war outfitted horse. Actually, that's a good way to categorize the things that Hrothgar will not be doling out to his followers: things that are not made by human hands.
Land is clearly something not made by human hands, especially since Beowulf portrays the land as a source of threats to civilization.
Grendel and Grendel's Mother threaten Hrothgar's little utopia, and the dragon threatens the Geats under Beowulf. Grendel and Grendel's Mother come from the heath, and even more specifically a strange lake that opens into an underground cave. Later, the dragon comes from an ancient cave near the cliffs of a coast. Both are places that are distinctly other, and thus not at all connected to human creation.
It's fair to say that people are held as sacred in Beowulf. Yes, parts of the poem seem like they're just about a bunch of guys bashing another bunch of guys over the head with pointy sticks, but even in those instances, there's something all to human at stake: honour, glory, safety for one or the other side's leader's family/group. Nonetheless, there is value to human life as something more than a possession in this poem, though it may seem to fluctuate more than our modern valuing of the same.
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Closing
Next week, we see Heorot being built, named, and lurked about by Grendel.
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Thursday, July 25, 2013
The Familial and the National (ll.53-63) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The macro in the micro
Grazing the matter of interconnection
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beow, the son of Scyld rises to power, and his son Halfdane's children are named.
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Translation
"Then was the burden on Beow, son of Scyld,
that dear king of men, for several long seasons
he was reputed among the people; while his father departed elsewhere,
a lord of earth. Until he Halfdane awoke
to match the father; he held, while he lived,
aged and battle experienced, the joy of the Scyldings.
In unbroken succession he woke four children
in the world: a daughter I believe,
then Heorogar, and Hrothgar, and Halga also;
I have heard that [...] the daughter was Onela's queen,
that war-Scylding's beloved bedfellow."
(Beowulf ll.53-63)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
The macro in the micro
Every now and then in Beowulf you can see the weave pattern at work from line to line. Interestingly, the first few lines of this extract are just such a point.
From lines 53 to 57 references to Beow and to the recently departed Scyld are found on every line. What makes these lines extraordinary, though, is that the clauses of each line alternate between having Scyld or Beow as a subject. This gives the section the effect of Beow being borne up on Scyld's reputation, almost as if Beow would never have been as lauded as he is had Scyld not died.
That's not to say that this points towards some sort of power intrigue on Beow's part. I think that it's just a matter of showing how succession would work, the heir being fuelled by his predecessor's reputation until the heir's own reputation grew to become self-sustaining.
That the final two lines of this pattern (56 and 57) feature Scyld in the first half and Beow in the second sustains my reading since their very structure resembles that of a parent propelling their child onwards. Not to mention the appearance of Beow's own son Halfdane in the midst of this spiral, a placement that sets him up as a ruler able to derive great glory from the swirling power of his ancestors. And, to pass this power on to his own children.
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Grazing the matter of interconnection
Keeping an eye on the larger patterns of the poem and how they show up in smaller extracts, at this one's end we get the first mention of a major player in the poem.
Onela is the king of the Swedes who kills Hrethel, the father of Hygelac. So, for all of the Geats great rivalry with the Swedes, the Danes aren't entirely excluded from the scene since Hrothgar's sister is married to the Swedish king. In fact, later in the poem, Beowulf kills Onela, though no mention of Halfdane's daughter is made.
What all of these connections point to is a keen awareness of the need to construct a world that is imminently familiar to an audience so that monsters aren't just accepted but believed. The scops or scribes who composed Beowulf must have been keen observers of their times, as all lasting writers are, but all the more so to delineate the sorts of interconnections that are so characteristic of Norse myth and legend.
In a way this tight weave between families and people was a matter of survival. Without the central authority offered by a unified government or monarchy, each social group would need to defend itself.
Marriage ties were often the best way to do so, as they could spare life and the cost of battle (both the human cost and the supply cost - I can't imagine farming or fishing or hunting in Northern Europe at the time saw anyone laying up great stores of stuff with which to trade. After all, the scent of extra fat on a social group could draw the sword teeth of another, probably desperate, group.).
From a perspective of nascent nationalism, it seems, then, that barriers between people were more porous (at least in the world of the poem, which we can only assume to be a reasonable facsimile (monsters excluded) of the time at which Beowulf was first being composed) than they are now. Yet at the same time, though ties between nations may only have been a marriage away, none of the groups in the book willingly turn away from their own origins.
Perhaps that steadfast memory of family is what fuelled so much of the conflict of the time. A desire for safety and security clashing with a fierce sense of identity brought on by seeing yourself as standing on the shoulders of your forebears. How many times does the poet refer to Beowulf as the son of Ecgtheow, or to Wiglaf as the son of Weohstan?
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Closing
Next week, the poet jumps ahead to the creation of Hrothgar's gleaming Heorot hall, and to the young ruler's ambitious ideals.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
The macro in the micro
Grazing the matter of interconnection
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beow, the son of Scyld rises to power, and his son Halfdane's children are named.
Back To Top
Translation
"Then was the burden on Beow, son of Scyld,
that dear king of men, for several long seasons
he was reputed among the people; while his father departed elsewhere,
a lord of earth. Until he Halfdane awoke
to match the father; he held, while he lived,
aged and battle experienced, the joy of the Scyldings.
In unbroken succession he woke four children
in the world: a daughter I believe,
then Heorogar, and Hrothgar, and Halga also;
I have heard that [...] the daughter was Onela's queen,
that war-Scylding's beloved bedfellow."
(Beowulf ll.53-63)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
The macro in the micro
Every now and then in Beowulf you can see the weave pattern at work from line to line. Interestingly, the first few lines of this extract are just such a point.
From lines 53 to 57 references to Beow and to the recently departed Scyld are found on every line. What makes these lines extraordinary, though, is that the clauses of each line alternate between having Scyld or Beow as a subject. This gives the section the effect of Beow being borne up on Scyld's reputation, almost as if Beow would never have been as lauded as he is had Scyld not died.
That's not to say that this points towards some sort of power intrigue on Beow's part. I think that it's just a matter of showing how succession would work, the heir being fuelled by his predecessor's reputation until the heir's own reputation grew to become self-sustaining.
That the final two lines of this pattern (56 and 57) feature Scyld in the first half and Beow in the second sustains my reading since their very structure resembles that of a parent propelling their child onwards. Not to mention the appearance of Beow's own son Halfdane in the midst of this spiral, a placement that sets him up as a ruler able to derive great glory from the swirling power of his ancestors. And, to pass this power on to his own children.
Back To Top
Grazing the matter of interconnection
Keeping an eye on the larger patterns of the poem and how they show up in smaller extracts, at this one's end we get the first mention of a major player in the poem.
Onela is the king of the Swedes who kills Hrethel, the father of Hygelac. So, for all of the Geats great rivalry with the Swedes, the Danes aren't entirely excluded from the scene since Hrothgar's sister is married to the Swedish king. In fact, later in the poem, Beowulf kills Onela, though no mention of Halfdane's daughter is made.
What all of these connections point to is a keen awareness of the need to construct a world that is imminently familiar to an audience so that monsters aren't just accepted but believed. The scops or scribes who composed Beowulf must have been keen observers of their times, as all lasting writers are, but all the more so to delineate the sorts of interconnections that are so characteristic of Norse myth and legend.
In a way this tight weave between families and people was a matter of survival. Without the central authority offered by a unified government or monarchy, each social group would need to defend itself.
Marriage ties were often the best way to do so, as they could spare life and the cost of battle (both the human cost and the supply cost - I can't imagine farming or fishing or hunting in Northern Europe at the time saw anyone laying up great stores of stuff with which to trade. After all, the scent of extra fat on a social group could draw the sword teeth of another, probably desperate, group.).
From a perspective of nascent nationalism, it seems, then, that barriers between people were more porous (at least in the world of the poem, which we can only assume to be a reasonable facsimile (monsters excluded) of the time at which Beowulf was first being composed) than they are now. Yet at the same time, though ties between nations may only have been a marriage away, none of the groups in the book willingly turn away from their own origins.
Perhaps that steadfast memory of family is what fuelled so much of the conflict of the time. A desire for safety and security clashing with a fierce sense of identity brought on by seeing yourself as standing on the shoulders of your forebears. How many times does the poet refer to Beowulf as the son of Ecgtheow, or to Wiglaf as the son of Weohstan?
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Closing
Next week, the poet jumps ahead to the creation of Hrothgar's gleaming Heorot hall, and to the young ruler's ambitious ideals.
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Thursday, July 4, 2013
Gilding the greats (ll.43-52) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Homeward bound Scyld?
Imposing a word and why
Closing
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Abstract
Scyld is sent off with his boat of treasure as his living comrades are plagued by heavy hearts.
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Translation
"By no means did they leave a lack of gifts,
treasures of the people, when that was done,
when they sent him forth to his origin,
for he was one who came over the waves as a child.
Then they established a golden sign for him
high overhead, they let the waves bear him,
their gift to the raging ocean; they were
sorrowful at heart, mourning souls. Men cannot
say for certain, hall rulers,
heroes under heaven, who that horde discovered."
(Beowulf ll.43-52)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Homeward bound Scyld?
Initially, it's tempting to say that the first sentence of this excerpt is very familiar. Not in that everyone sends their dead out to sea laden with treasure, but in that 'going to see your maker' is a fairly popular euphemism for death. However, as the sentence ends we get an extra layer is added to Scyld's story.
Like so many other "chosen heroes" (or figures like them), it's revealed that Scyld's origins are shrouded in mystery. On one hand this is definitely a trope, but considering the patriarchal society in which Beowulf was composed/sung, it's also a curious quality in a great leader.
If there's one thing that's important in Anglo-Saxon society it's a person's connection to their lineage and heritage. Later in the poem, when Beowulf appears before Hrothgar, there's no question that Hrothgar's helping Beowulf's father in the past goes far in getting Hrothgar to feel secure in entrusting Heorot to the travelling Geat. Scyld's lack of any connection, since he's an orphan from across the sea, makes his rise to power all the more impressive.
Though, it's not out outlandish to guess that having no earthly origin might have as much clout as regal or warrior origins would. After all, a leader's story and reputation could be as powerful as any army - having such mysterious origins could only bolster such power. So long as they were properly maintained.
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Imposing a word and why
Though there's no connection between the hoard sent out with Scylde and that of the dragon later in the poem, I've chosen to suggest one. This centers around the word "hlæste" (l.52).
Commonly, this word means "burden," "load," or "freight," but I went with "hoard." It's true that the treasure is the boat's freight, with the implication that Scyld is as much a treasure as the glittering armour or piled gold, but "hoard" doesn't subtract from this implication. Thus, it's a variant translation, but still a valid one.
For, using "hoard" associates Scyld with the treasure that has been sent off in the same way as the more common translations of "hlæste." It's possible that Anglo-Saxons might regard "hoard" as more negative in its connotations, though. Hoarding treasure means that it isn't shared, and unshared treasure is more often than not the undoing of a ruler.
Actually, this raises a curious point. In the person of Scyld literal treasure and a valued figure are joined into one thing; both of them become regarded as treasure. Then, later in the poem, we get the stories of Heremod (who hoarded his treasure, much to the dissatisfaction of his thanes), and of Modthryth (who hoarded her beauty to herself, and punished men simply for looking at her). So, after a great person has been gilded we then see examples of the extreme opposites - a man who refuses to share his treasure in an expected way and a woman who refuses to share her person in an expected way (as skeezy as that might sound).
This establishing of the true value of a great man and then its deconstruction makes for a grand set up for the end of the poem. After all, the tension between valued figures and valued things is resolved in Beowulf's death and funeral.
Like Scyld he is buried with a great deal of treasure, and like Scyld he is a greatly valued figure among his people. The major difference - Beowulf's being buried rather than set off to sea - does two things. It gives closure for the poem, but it's a much more definitive kind of closure since Beowulf returns to the dust of his home rather than mere dust in general.
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Closing
Next week, the focus returns to Beow, and we hear the first mention of Hrothgar.
Subscribe to this blog's feed to be notified of updates as they happen!
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
Homeward bound Scyld?
Imposing a word and why
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Scyld is sent off with his boat of treasure as his living comrades are plagued by heavy hearts.
Back To Top
Translation
"By no means did they leave a lack of gifts,
treasures of the people, when that was done,
when they sent him forth to his origin,
for he was one who came over the waves as a child.
Then they established a golden sign for him
high overhead, they let the waves bear him,
their gift to the raging ocean; they were
sorrowful at heart, mourning souls. Men cannot
say for certain, hall rulers,
heroes under heaven, who that horde discovered."
(Beowulf ll.43-52)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
Homeward bound Scyld?
Initially, it's tempting to say that the first sentence of this excerpt is very familiar. Not in that everyone sends their dead out to sea laden with treasure, but in that 'going to see your maker' is a fairly popular euphemism for death. However, as the sentence ends we get an extra layer is added to Scyld's story.
Like so many other "chosen heroes" (or figures like them), it's revealed that Scyld's origins are shrouded in mystery. On one hand this is definitely a trope, but considering the patriarchal society in which Beowulf was composed/sung, it's also a curious quality in a great leader.
If there's one thing that's important in Anglo-Saxon society it's a person's connection to their lineage and heritage. Later in the poem, when Beowulf appears before Hrothgar, there's no question that Hrothgar's helping Beowulf's father in the past goes far in getting Hrothgar to feel secure in entrusting Heorot to the travelling Geat. Scyld's lack of any connection, since he's an orphan from across the sea, makes his rise to power all the more impressive.
Though, it's not out outlandish to guess that having no earthly origin might have as much clout as regal or warrior origins would. After all, a leader's story and reputation could be as powerful as any army - having such mysterious origins could only bolster such power. So long as they were properly maintained.
Back To Top
Imposing a word and why
Though there's no connection between the hoard sent out with Scylde and that of the dragon later in the poem, I've chosen to suggest one. This centers around the word "hlæste" (l.52).
Commonly, this word means "burden," "load," or "freight," but I went with "hoard." It's true that the treasure is the boat's freight, with the implication that Scyld is as much a treasure as the glittering armour or piled gold, but "hoard" doesn't subtract from this implication. Thus, it's a variant translation, but still a valid one.
For, using "hoard" associates Scyld with the treasure that has been sent off in the same way as the more common translations of "hlæste." It's possible that Anglo-Saxons might regard "hoard" as more negative in its connotations, though. Hoarding treasure means that it isn't shared, and unshared treasure is more often than not the undoing of a ruler.
Actually, this raises a curious point. In the person of Scyld literal treasure and a valued figure are joined into one thing; both of them become regarded as treasure. Then, later in the poem, we get the stories of Heremod (who hoarded his treasure, much to the dissatisfaction of his thanes), and of Modthryth (who hoarded her beauty to herself, and punished men simply for looking at her). So, after a great person has been gilded we then see examples of the extreme opposites - a man who refuses to share his treasure in an expected way and a woman who refuses to share her person in an expected way (as skeezy as that might sound).
This establishing of the true value of a great man and then its deconstruction makes for a grand set up for the end of the poem. After all, the tension between valued figures and valued things is resolved in Beowulf's death and funeral.
Like Scyld he is buried with a great deal of treasure, and like Scyld he is a greatly valued figure among his people. The major difference - Beowulf's being buried rather than set off to sea - does two things. It gives closure for the poem, but it's a much more definitive kind of closure since Beowulf returns to the dust of his home rather than mere dust in general.
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Closing
Next week, the focus returns to Beow, and we hear the first mention of Hrothgar.
Subscribe to this blog's feed to be notified of updates as they happen!
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Thursday, June 27, 2013
A funeral ship and far foreign lands (ll.32-42) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The matter of the treasure ship
Far away may as well be undiscovered
Closing
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Abstract
Scyld's funeral procession and the description of his final ship feature this week.
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Translation
"There at the landing place stood a ring-prowed ship
icy and eager to start, ready for that nobleman's passage;
the dear lords lead him to
the brightly ringed wealth ship,
treasure filled it to the mast; there was plentiful loot
from foreign lands, booty, loaded into it.
Never heard I of a more splendidly adorned ship
war-ready and armoured,
blade and byrnie; upon his lap was lain
a multifarious fortune, among which
he was to go to far foreign lands."
(Beowulf ll.32-42)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
The matter of the treasure ship
Scyld's ship would make a cracking archaeological find. All of that treasure, some of which coming from foreign lands, would have so much to say about the range of the early medieval Danes (and maybe Anglo-Saxons?).
Outside of such a find, though, the big thing here is that the ship is characterized as "icy" ("isig" l.33).
What would the use of an icy ship be?
Would it more effectively cut through the water?
Or is it supposed to mean that it's an old ship, one that's been so covered with hoarfrost from travelling in the chill north that it's become discoloured? Maybe barnacled?
The safest bet is that it's an old ship. It'd be one thing to use a new one for a Viking burial, but it'd be something else entirely to use a new ship and to laden it with so much treasure.
Speaking of which, aside from the immense wealth on board, the time is taken to mention that the ship is "war-ready and armoured" ("hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum" l.39). Beliefs in some sort of struggle that one must go through to get to the afterlife are fairly common around this time, and they may have coupled with ideas traditionally ascribed to the Norse. Particularly, I refer to the Norse idea that only those who go to death armed will be able to join the ranks of Valhalla. Perhaps there's also some of the Celtic belief that the afterlife is another life similar to the one in which readers of this entry find themselves.
Whatever the case, Scyld could very easily buy a king out of ransom, and fend off a horde of demons on his way to the "far foreign lands" ("æht feor" l.42).
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Far away may as well be undiscovered
Is the "far foreign land" of line 42 a predecessor to Shakespeare's "he undiscover'd country" (from 3.i.81)? Outside of going into a lengthy historical/literary analysis, let's just look at the two lines within the context of internet writing.
One tips for writing for the internet found in many books/articles/heads of experts is to use Anglo-Saxon words, rather than Latinate or Greek-derived words. It's supposed to be best to use words that have been in English since the days of the Beowulf bard(s). Keeping this in mind, and remembering that the key here is simplicity maintaining itself throughout history, "the foreign country" as a euphemism for death should have some staying power.
After all, in the days when travel between points was difficult and most people stayed where they were born, anything outside of the village and its surroundings would seem distant and hard to reach. This difficulty of travelling abroad persisted from the time of Beowulf's composition (whether you peg it in the 7th or 11th century), to the time of Shakespeare (despite theories about his own wide travelling). With travel abroad being so difficult, round trips were even more so, and thus travelling to a "far foreign" land would mean a person may as well be dead - or vice versa.
Thus, though Shakespeare probably never read Beowulf, the sentiment of his "undiscover'd country," and of Beowulf's "far foreign land" is undoubtedly the same.
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Closing
That's it for this week. Recordings continue to be delayed, in fact, at this point the "Recording" section of each entry will continue to be included, but they will be filled only when I can find the time.
Next week, we get into part two of Scyld's funeral, in which his body and its adornments are described.
Back To Top
Translation
Recordings
The matter of the treasure ship
Far away may as well be undiscovered
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Scyld's funeral procession and the description of his final ship feature this week.
Back To Top
Translation
"There at the landing place stood a ring-prowed ship
icy and eager to start, ready for that nobleman's passage;
the dear lords lead him to
the brightly ringed wealth ship,
treasure filled it to the mast; there was plentiful loot
from foreign lands, booty, loaded into it.
Never heard I of a more splendidly adorned ship
war-ready and armoured,
blade and byrnie; upon his lap was lain
a multifarious fortune, among which
he was to go to far foreign lands."
(Beowulf ll.32-42)
Back To Top
Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
The matter of the treasure ship
Scyld's ship would make a cracking archaeological find. All of that treasure, some of which coming from foreign lands, would have so much to say about the range of the early medieval Danes (and maybe Anglo-Saxons?).
Outside of such a find, though, the big thing here is that the ship is characterized as "icy" ("isig" l.33).
What would the use of an icy ship be?
Would it more effectively cut through the water?
Or is it supposed to mean that it's an old ship, one that's been so covered with hoarfrost from travelling in the chill north that it's become discoloured? Maybe barnacled?
The safest bet is that it's an old ship. It'd be one thing to use a new one for a Viking burial, but it'd be something else entirely to use a new ship and to laden it with so much treasure.
Speaking of which, aside from the immense wealth on board, the time is taken to mention that the ship is "war-ready and armoured" ("hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum" l.39). Beliefs in some sort of struggle that one must go through to get to the afterlife are fairly common around this time, and they may have coupled with ideas traditionally ascribed to the Norse. Particularly, I refer to the Norse idea that only those who go to death armed will be able to join the ranks of Valhalla. Perhaps there's also some of the Celtic belief that the afterlife is another life similar to the one in which readers of this entry find themselves.
Whatever the case, Scyld could very easily buy a king out of ransom, and fend off a horde of demons on his way to the "far foreign lands" ("æht feor" l.42).
Back To Top
Far away may as well be undiscovered
Is the "far foreign land" of line 42 a predecessor to Shakespeare's "he undiscover'd country" (from 3.i.81)? Outside of going into a lengthy historical/literary analysis, let's just look at the two lines within the context of internet writing.
One tips for writing for the internet found in many books/articles/heads of experts is to use Anglo-Saxon words, rather than Latinate or Greek-derived words. It's supposed to be best to use words that have been in English since the days of the Beowulf bard(s). Keeping this in mind, and remembering that the key here is simplicity maintaining itself throughout history, "the foreign country" as a euphemism for death should have some staying power.
After all, in the days when travel between points was difficult and most people stayed where they were born, anything outside of the village and its surroundings would seem distant and hard to reach. This difficulty of travelling abroad persisted from the time of Beowulf's composition (whether you peg it in the 7th or 11th century), to the time of Shakespeare (despite theories about his own wide travelling). With travel abroad being so difficult, round trips were even more so, and thus travelling to a "far foreign" land would mean a person may as well be dead - or vice versa.
Thus, though Shakespeare probably never read Beowulf, the sentiment of his "undiscover'd country," and of Beowulf's "far foreign land" is undoubtedly the same.
Back To Top
Closing
That's it for this week. Recordings continue to be delayed, in fact, at this point the "Recording" section of each entry will continue to be included, but they will be filled only when I can find the time.
Next week, we get into part two of Scyld's funeral, in which his body and its adornments are described.
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Sunday, June 23, 2013
The power of spoken word (ll.20-31) [Old English]
Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A word's afterlife
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf's reputation is summed up as enough to draw reliable companions for battle, and Scyld dies.
Back To Top
Translation
"Thus the young man shall bring about good,
from the largesse of his father's stores,
so that he among men thereafter retains
willing companions when battle comes,
the nation would endure; praiseful deeds shall
always increase for the family of such a man.
Scyld left off amidst his work,
full busy when he went to the Lord.
They brought him to the seashore,
those dear companions, as he had bidden them.
That man's words ruled his companions,
those of the earthly prince long in languishing."
(Beowulf ll.20-31)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
Back To Top
A word's afterlife
The companionship sung about in this section of the poem sounds dear. Yet it's phrased in a way that also makes it sound slightly tyrannical. It becomes quite a bit less so if you look at the text as something that's supposed to be larger than life, and that's supposed to magnify its characters.
Particularly powerful, though, is Scyld's word. Lines 30-31 are not to be taken lightly. For these lines sum up what it means to be a truly great hero to Anglo-Saxons (as far as I can figure): commanding enough respect to have your words retain their effect, even after you've died. It's a reflection of Scyld's strength and, more than likely, his diplomatic skills that his word is so followed.
This same respect is paid to Beowulf, whose dying wish for a specific funeral is also followed. Thus, from the beginning, this poem is about exemplary figures who command the pseudo-mythical power of not only having their words be fulfilled after they've died, but also having these events reported.
Such fame might not put them in the same group as dog-headed men and a very large saint, but it definitely makes them remarkable for their time.
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Closing
Next week, we come to the description of Scyld's funeral. Watch for it on Thursday 27 June!
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Translation
Recordings
A word's afterlife
Closing
Back To Top
Abstract
Beowulf's reputation is summed up as enough to draw reliable companions for battle, and Scyld dies.
Back To Top
Translation
"Thus the young man shall bring about good,
from the largesse of his father's stores,
so that he among men thereafter retains
willing companions when battle comes,
the nation would endure; praiseful deeds shall
always increase for the family of such a man.
Scyld left off amidst his work,
full busy when he went to the Lord.
They brought him to the seashore,
those dear companions, as he had bidden them.
That man's words ruled his companions,
those of the earthly prince long in languishing."
(Beowulf ll.20-31)
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Recordings
Old English:
{Forthcoming}
Modern English:
{Forthcoming}
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A word's afterlife
The companionship sung about in this section of the poem sounds dear. Yet it's phrased in a way that also makes it sound slightly tyrannical. It becomes quite a bit less so if you look at the text as something that's supposed to be larger than life, and that's supposed to magnify its characters.
Particularly powerful, though, is Scyld's word. Lines 30-31 are not to be taken lightly. For these lines sum up what it means to be a truly great hero to Anglo-Saxons (as far as I can figure): commanding enough respect to have your words retain their effect, even after you've died. It's a reflection of Scyld's strength and, more than likely, his diplomatic skills that his word is so followed.
This same respect is paid to Beowulf, whose dying wish for a specific funeral is also followed. Thus, from the beginning, this poem is about exemplary figures who command the pseudo-mythical power of not only having their words be fulfilled after they've died, but also having these events reported.
Such fame might not put them in the same group as dog-headed men and a very large saint, but it definitely makes them remarkable for their time.
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Closing
Next week, we come to the description of Scyld's funeral. Watch for it on Thursday 27 June!
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