Here is episode 3 of Fate Going As It Must: A Beowulf Talk Show! On the show I talk with people who are fans of Beowulf to try to understand how they discovered the poem and why they think it’s still important. This is a monthly show, but there are some special announcements in this episode that will disrupt that for a bit. You can find the previous episode here.

This is a solo version of the podcast, so I am interviewing myself. While going through my usual questions I talk about:

• How I got into Beowulf
• When and where my translation started
• What kept me translating over the years
• Why Grendel’s mother is the best monster
• The awesomeness of Beowulf: A Musical Epic
• How Beowulf is both simple and layered
• How Beowulf reflects the humanity of stories and storytelling

Feel free to leave your thoughts on the show and on the topics covered in the comments. Or, go ahead and answer this question: What is the book or story that’s most influenced your life?

The theme music for the show is:

The Pyre by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Recap
Synopsis
The Original Old English
My Translation
A Quick Interpretation
Closing

An illustration of Beowulf fighting the dragon that appears at the end of the epic poem. Illustration in the children’s book Stories of Beowulf (H. E. Marshall). Published in New York in 1908 by E. P. Dutton & Company. Image found at https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Beowulf_and_the_dragon.jpg.

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Recap

Last week, Beowulf made his final boast and said that if he had to die at the dragon’s claws, he wanted to do so alone and gloriously.

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Synopsis

Beowulf goes down to the barrow and calls out the dragon. And the dragon calls back.

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The Original Old English

“Aras ða bi ronde rof oretta,
heard under helme, hiorosercean bær
under stancleofu, strengo getruwode
anes mannes. Ne bið swylc earges sið!
Geseah ða be wealle se ðe worna fela,
gumcystum god, guða gedigde,
hildehlemma, þonne hnitan feðan,
stondan stanbogan, stream ut þonan
brecan of beorge. Wæs þære burnan wælm
heaðofyrum hat; ne meahte horde neah
unbyrnende ænige hwile
deop gedygan for dracan lege.
Let ða of breostum, ða he gebolgen wæs,
Wedergeata leod word ut faran,
stearcheort styrmde; stefn in becom
heaðotorht hlynnan under harne stan.
Hete wæs onhrered, hordweard oncniow
mannes reorde; næs ðær mara fyrst
freode to friclan. From ærest cwom
oruð aglæcean ut of stane,
hat hildeswat. Hruse dynede.”
(Beowulf ll.2538-2558)

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My Translation

“Arose then behind the shield that renowned warrior,
hard under helm, bore his battle shirt
beneath the stony cliffs. He trusted in the slaughter
one man alone was capable of. That was no cowardly course of action!
Then by the wall the one who had survived
with good manly virtue a great many battles,
the crash of colliding shields and spears, when bands on foot clashed,
saw standing a stone arch, a stream out from there
burst from the barrow, and soon exploded into
a raging flume of hot deadly fire. Beowulf could not be near
the hoard for any length of time without being burned up,
he could not survive in the depths of the dragon’s flame.
Then he allowed it from his breast, released his rage,
the lord of the Weder-Geats sent the word out,
fierce-hearted he shouted, his voice came in
clean as the clang of battle as it reverberated under the grey stone.
Hatred was aroused, the hoard guardian recognized
man speech. Then there was no more time
to ask for friendship. First came the breath
of the fierce assailant from out of the stones,
a hot vapour of battle. The earth resounded with the creature’s calling.”
(Beowulf ll.2538-2558)

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A Quick Interpretation

Beowulf’s yell is one thing. His barbaric yawp is probably a mix of sword and shield being bashed together and the loudest yell a human could muster.

But the dragon’s call? When I read about that, I can’t help but hear this:

Quite clearly Beowulf’s shout is yet another way he psyches himself up. It makes me wonder if he ever felt the fear that seems to be behind all of his boasting about fighting the dragon when he was about to face down an army of men.

Based on how quickly Hygelac took him on as one of his chief warriors, and how he described himself as being the baddest dude in the north, I doubt Beowulf ever felt fear when getting ready for warfare. But now he’s old. And now he’s fighting a monster out of the sorts of stories told to children and drinking men in the hall. Something unreal.

Though it definitely doesn’t seem that Beowulf and the Geats have any trouble believing in a dragon. It’s like a cockroach in a tidy house — a rarity, but definitely not an impossibility.

Actually, bearing the clip above in mind, the Geats’ apparent attitude towards dragons is like the apparent situation in most Godzilla movies.

One way or another, the modern world in these movies just accepts Godzilla not as an impossibility that needs to be comprehended but as some sort of rarely seen animal capable of great destruction. It’s existence is forever floating around in the back of everyone’s minds, it seems, so that when Godzilla finally appears, he doesn’t inspire disbelief, he’s just a terrifying force of nature like a typhoon or hurricane coming to land.

And so I think that along with dealing with his age, Beowulf is also wrestling with his bad luck in having to encounter this monster. His various attempts to psych himself up are his way of covering those emotions, or pushing them out of his mind so that it can be filled with nothing but the slaying of dragons. Where’s a bard with songs of Sigmund when you need one?

If you were to read or hear that a clutch of dragons had been discovered in some remote location would you be surprised or just brush it off as a kind of “of course!” fact?

Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!

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Closing

Next week, Beowulf makes the first move in this fight.

If you enjoyed this post, please give it a like. And, if you want to keep up with my translations, please do follow this blog!

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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Hi, everyone! Unfortunately between work and Valentine’s day/weekend plans, I don’t have enough time to put together two posts for this week. So instead of a news post today and a translation post Thursday, I’ll only be putting up a short translation post on Thursday. I should have enough time for both posts again starting next week.

Since the end goal of this blog is to be an archive of my translation of Beowulf before I bring it all together into a book format of some kind (that’s still being figured out), I figure that translation posts are more important to keep putting out.

So, apologies for not being able to get a post about Beowulf news/Beowulf in pop culture this week, but watch for a short translation post Thursday at 6pm EST.

Synopsis
Translation
Recordings
Beowulf’s Big Question
Wishes for Victory bring Party Halls
Closing

Image found at http://www.comm.unt.edu/~ktaylor/scop/boasting.htm.

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Synopsis

The poet describes Beowulf coming into Heorot, and explains how he asks Hrothgar a single question.

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Translation

“Quickly Beowulf was called from his chamber,
the man blessed with victory in battle. At daybreak
came the one man, that noble warrior,
himself among companions, where the wise one was,
he who wondered whether the All-Ruler would ever
reverse his sorrowful fortunes in the future.
Went then over the floor the man renowned in battle
amidst his hand-picked troop — the hall’s timbers resounded —
so that he could address the wise one with words,
the lord of the Ingwins; asked him how he was,
if the night had fulfilled his wishes.”
(Beowulf ll.1310-1320)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Beowulf’s Big Question

Beowulf shows off some wit here, when he asks Hrothgar how the night went. No doubt he and the Geats have heard of what happened already, and yet he decides to approach the situation with comedy.

Perhaps he does so because Beowulf’s already seen how low Hrothgar can get and he sees asking the man “if his night had been agreeable” (“gif him wære/æfter neodlaðum niht getæse” (ll.1319-1320)) as an attempt to lift the old ruler’s spirits.

I think the poet’s introduction of Beowulf really backs this reading up, too.

From lines 1310 to 1313 and then with lines 1316 and 1317 we’re reminded of Beowulf’s prowess, of how he stands alone among the other Geats, and how Heorot itself seems to shiver when he and his crew enter. Which makes Beowulf’s statement all the funnier since the build up of Beowulf as this powerful figure only to pay off with some indirect dialogue plays quite a bit with expectations. Though I have to wonder why the poet didn’t bother with any direct dialogue for Beowulf here.

Perhaps Beowulf’s exact words weren’t included to keep his words enigmatic. Or maybe it’s because being facetious is something that’s hard to get across with the written word. Context clues are essential, and since none of the dialogue anywhere in the poem has descriptive tags introducing it, just going with description of Beowulf’s words instead of his actual words is probably what made the most sense.

Although, maybe the last line and a half of this passage were completely made up by the people who wrote Beowulf down in an attempt to make Beowulf’s facetiousness clearer. After all, sarcastic writing happened in the medieval period, but it’s not always easy to pick out.

What do you think the deal is with Beowulf’s words to Hrothgar? Is Beowulf sincerely asking how the night went, completely ignorant of what happened in the hall? Or is Beowulf trying to lift the ruler’s spirits with some levity?

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Wishes for Victory bring Party Halls

When facing down defeat, you should try to become “sigor-eadig” in spite of your circumstances. Being “victorious” is a very fine thing, after all. And “sigor-eadig” is a fine word to express that state of being. The word “sigor” meaning “victory” or “triumph” and the word “eadig” meaning “wealthy,” “prosperous,” “fortunate,” “happy,” “blessed,” or “perfect.” So, if you’re “sigor-eadig,” you are a person who is “wealthy with victories”

One way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat is to muster your forces and concentrate a neod-laðu or two on doing so. Of course, just wishing won’t make it so, but doing so wouldn’t hurt.

At least not as much as trying to decipher “neod-laðu” has hurt me: the word simply means “wish,” but only appears in Beowulf. Which isn’t too uncommon; there are a few words with singular meanings that are exclusive to Beowulf.

What makes “neod-laðu” difficult to understand is what “laðu” actually refers to. The word “lað” is the Old English form of Modern English’s “loathe” and so it means “hated,” “hateful,” “hostile,” “malignant,” “evil,” “loathsome,” “noxious,” “unpleasant,” “pain,” “harm,” “injury,” “misfortune,” “insult,” “annoyance,” or “harmful thing.” Not exactly things you’d associate with a wish or needing something. Unless the point of the word is that a wish is nothing more than an extreme hatred of a need expressed positively. Not so much “I hate being so helpless here in Heorot!” as “I hate being helpless here in Heorot and that needs to end!” I mean, “neod” does mean “desire,” “longing,” “zeal,” “earnestness,” “pleasure,” or “delight,” after all.

Setting aside that mystery for now, such wishes could dispel the “wea-spell” that defeat could weave around you. That is, hating your need in a positive way could help you get over or around “wea-spell”‘s “evil tidings” (“wea” meaning “misfortune,” “evil,” “harm,” “trouble,” “grief,” “woe,” “misery,” “sin,” or “wickedness” and “spell” meaning “narrative,” “history,” “story,” “fable,” “speech,” “discourse,” “homily,” “message,” “news,” “statement,” or “observation”).

Thanks to the good fortune that a “wea-spell” vanquishing “neod-laðe” can bring, you’re sure to be “fyrd-wyrðe,” or “distinguished in war.” Interestingly, despite the individual will needed to overcome distressing odds, this word literally means something along the lines of “honoured national army” since it’s made up of “fyrd” (“national army or levy,” “military expedition,” “campaign,” or “camp”) and “wyrðe” (“worth,” “value,” “amount,” “price,” “purchase-money,” “ransom;” (or, as an adjective) “worth,” “worthy,” “honoured,” “noble,” “honourable,” “of high rank,” “valued,” “dear,” “precious;” “fit, “capable”).

But this emphasis isn’t misplaced. I think the importance of a “hand-scale” is pretty major in any victory. After all, (aside from personal ones) most victories are won by teams of people in one way or another, even if there’s a clear leader and the rest of the group are her or his “retinue.” Which is exactly what “hand-scale” means.

This meaning comes from the combination of “hand” (“hand,” “side (in defining position),” “power,” “control,” “possession,” “charge,” “agency,” or “person regarded as holder or receiver of something”) and “scale” (“be obliged (as in “shall,” “have to,” “must,” “must needs,” “am bound to,” “ought to”),” or “owe”), a mix that evokes a sense of something owed to a single person who is in power. Like a group of people rallying around someone to whom they feel they owe loyalty or respect.

But after all the hard work that a “hand-scale” puts in, what’s their reward? Well, any leader worth his or her salt when Old English was still a living language would raise some “heal-wudu,” that is, the “woodwork of a hall.”

In other words, just as Hrothgar did with Heorot, a victorious leader who didn’t already have a hall set up, would set about doing so. And, even if it’s technically metonymy to use “heal-wudu” to stand for a finished hall, the word is perfectly suited to referring to what were meeting and party buildings. Why? Simply because the combination of “heal” (“hall,” “dwelling,” “house,” “palace,” “temple,” or “law court”) and “wudu” (“wood,” “forest,” “grove,” “tree,” “the Cross,” “Rood,” “wood,” “timber,” or “ship”) is just so straightforward.

So, to be “sigor-eadig” in the face of defeat, sending off a “neod-laðu” against any “wea-spell” could bring about “fyrd-wyrðe.” And any victorious leader actually worth celebrating would bring his or her “hand-scalu” into the celebration with the raising of a hall, starting with its “heal-wudu.”

What do you think of being rewarded with a building dedicated to partying?

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Closing

Next week, we hear Hrothgar tell Beowulf how his night went.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Persistently Satirizing Hrothgar
Thoughtful Brides on the Mead Hall Path are Marvelling
Closing

King Harold out for a hunt on the Bayeux Tapestry, no doubt a song was sung soon after. Image found at http://regia.org/research/misc/pastimes.htm.

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Abstract

The beach front horse races continue, and Hrothgar steps into the crowd.

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Translation

“Meanwhile the contending continued among
the tawny mares racing on the sand. By then the morning light
shoved and rushed over the horizon. Came retainers many,
all bold-minded, to that high hall,
to see that strange object; the king himself
from the bed chamber, guardian of the ring-hoard,
walked with a sense of leading an army,
of renowned virtue, and his queen with him
tread the path to the mead hall with her maiden troop.
Hrothgar spoke – he stood upon the steps
once he reached the hall, saw the lofty roof
with its gold decor and Grendel’s hand alike:”
(Beowulf ll.916-927)

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Recordings

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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Persistently Satirizing Hrothgar

What I’m fixated on in this passage is how the poet describes Hrothgar. Sure, there’s the stuff about the men still racing on the sand and the sun light rushing out over the horizon and all that, but I think that there’s more to be said about Hrothgar here.

So, let’s look at his intro. He’s said to be coming from the bedchamber “with a sense of leading an army” (“tryddode tirfæst getrume micle” (l.922)). This is my interpretation of the phrase, which Heaney (the main translation I’m using as my base since it’s poetic yet strives to be “Anglo-Saxon” where it can) seems to just gloss over. Heaney renders the same Old English (as far as I can tell) as “Walked in majesty…with a numerous train” (ll.921-922). The sense of these two is definitely similar, but I think that mine is hitting on a bit more of the satire or caricaturization that might be going on here. Maybe I just can’t believe that Hrothgar still holds power despite his failing to oust Grendel over the course of 12 years. Not to mention the poet’s chiming in twice now that the stories of Sigemund and Beowulf aren’t meant to bring down Hrothgar’s authority.

Anyway, Heaney’s rendering of that bit of line 922 shares in attributing majesty to Hrothgar, and I think that’s definitely what’s going on here. But I think that what’s important but missing from Heaney’s translation is what gives Hrothgar the sense of majesty: being at the head of an army (“getrume micle”). This is important because with it in place, Hrothgar’s character as the fallen warlord is given more detail.

Indeed, Hrothgar once walked at the head of armies on the field, but now he merely walks at the head of a train of women coming from the bedchamber. In short, he’s been put out to stud and, not unlike Heremod, has pulled away from battle after being greatly discouraged by Grendel. The overly melancholic Hrothgar of “Beowulf: A Musical Epic” is a bit much, but I think what Victor Davis and Betty Jayne Wylie really picked up on (and emphasized for the stage and the speaker) is Hrothgar’s sense of despair. Though, unlike Heremod, Hrothgar hasn’t become so glum as to put the rest of his court at risk. He’s still able to ask for help and to put out a call, even if it takes twelve years for that call t be answered.

More than anything, though, I can’t help but read these few short lines of Hrothgar coming out with Wealhtheow and her attendants as emasculating. I see it this way because there’s just so much contrast with what we’ve just heard about conquest and battle. And not even about the pitched group battle that Hrothgar’s army of old would’ve fought in, but single combat – and single combat with a mythical creature no less. And yet, here we have the formerly glorious warrior king coming out from his bedchamber at the head of a troop of women. It’s definitely still majestic, but I think the poet is really emphasizing what can happen to even the greatest warriors in their old age. Part of this is definitely giving the audience ideas of what could happen to Beowulf down the road.

And, yeah, there’s the matter, of the sunlight, too (on line 918). I think that’s just the poet’s way of saying that this, the first post-Grendel dawn, is eagerly awaited because it signifies the real and definite defeat of the monster (light shines again on Heorot!). Plus, the way the light’s said to shove and rush over the horizon suggests to me that this sunrise is a symbol of an aggressive reassertion of the natural order that Grendel had disrupted.

Do you think the poet meant to sarcastically glorify Hrothgar here? And do you think the early audiences of Beowulf would pick up on this?

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Thoughtful Brides on the Mead Hall Path are Marvelling

In this passage there are a few more compound words than in the past few weeks’. These words’re cool and all that, but none of them are that complex. No doubt this is because the description of the men riding around after the story’s finished is supposed to be a light moment. Not to mention, the sight of a war proud lord leading his wife and her handmaids from their chambers is also probably meant to bring out some smirks before things get serious again with Hrothgar’s speech.

That said, here are this week’s compounds:

The word “swið-hicgende” (l.919) combines “swið” (meaning “strong,” “mighty,” “powerful,” “active,” “severe,” or “violent”) with “hycgan” (meaning “think,” “consider,” “meditate,” “study,” “understand,” “resolve upon,” “determine,” “purpose,” “remember,” or “hope”) to mean bold-minded, or literally “strong thinker.” Though I think the concept is more about having strong thoughts than being one who thinks a lot. Those that this word describes on line 919 are the ones who are leaders because of their ground breaking ideas (no doubt mostly martial, but so what?).

Then there’s the compound “bryd-bure” meaning “bride-chamber.” How this combination gets to “bride-chamber” is pretty straight forward since it’s a combination of “bryd” (meaning “bride,” “betrothed,” “newly married woman,” “wife,” or “consort”) and “būr” (meaning “bower,” “apartment,” “chamber,” “storehouse,” “cottage,” or “dwelling”). There are a few little things with this one. Like the idea that a bed chamber could be thought of (maybe exclusively through our perspective) as a storehouse for brides or wives (unless the word’s where the idea for the story of Bluebeard came from). I really like the idea of a bridal cottage, it ties in neatly with the very European-seeming idea of the rural couples retreat, the sense that in a natural setting a man and a woman who are married will be able to rekindle their spark or reconnect. Though that idea itself could go back even to Homer and Odysseus and Penelope’s bed being made of a carved tree that was also what the entire house was built around.

Also, a fun fact here is that “bryd” is also how the Old English forerunner of the modern word “bird” used to be pronounced (and, therefore, spelled), so that’s probably one reason why women are sometimes regarded as flighty in Anglo-Saxon derived cultures.

Then we stagger onto “medo-stigge” on line 924. This compound for “path to the mead hall” comes from a cocktail of “medu” (simply “mead”) and “stigge” (meaning “narrow path,” “way,” “footpath,” “track,” “road,” “course,” “line”). There’s some sense of the “path to the mead hall” being a little well worn here, but I think that the variety of roads that “stigge” covers simply opens up that possibility rather than actually reflecting anything really meaningful.

And, the last of the bunch is the marvelous “searo-wundor” or “strange object.” This one has a little bit more to show.

A combination of searo (meaning “art,” “skill,” “cleverness,” “cunning,” “device,” “trick,” “snare,” “ambuscade,” “plot,” “treachery,” “work of art,” “cunning,” “device,” “engine (of war),” “armour,” “war-gear,” or “trappings”) and “wundor” (meaning “wonder,” “miracle,” “marvel,” “portent,” “horror,” “wondrous thing,” or “monster”), this compound holds the secret of how the Anglo-Saxons viewed the world.

If “searo-wundor” is any indication, then, just as we still do today, the Anglo-Saxons regarded things that were out of the ordinary both “marvels” and “portents.” I don’t find this interesting because it suggests a connection from the Old English world to the Modern English world via superstition. Superstition is something that every culture has. The thing here is that the doubling of “wundor” suggests that the Anglo-Saxons had some idea that exceptions to the established rules must mean that there are other higher rules we don’t know about. Those, of course, to the Anglo-Saxons would be god’s rules. The funny thing is that even now there’s still a great deal of things that we just can’t account for. A millennium later and we’re still seeking rules when the ones we know are broken.

Do you think medieval people had some idea of world order or structure beyond their religious beliefs?

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Closing

In the next passage Hrothgar thanks god and Beowulf alike.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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