Beating out Land Limits (ll.2971-2981) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/01/25 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A Mess of Actors
Land Buried Beneath Words
Closing

Wulf is laid low by Ongeontheow, who in turn is slain by Eofor.

“‘Yet the bold son of Wonred could not
against that aged man land a blow,
instead he afterward sheared the helm from his head,
so that Wulf should bow his bloodied head,
he fell to the ground; yet fate called not yet to him,
and he recovered himself, though he fully felt his wound.
The hardy thane of Hygelac then hoisted
his broad blade, as his brother lay there,
an antique edge of giant design, his stroke caught the giant’s helm,
through Ongeontheow’s shield wall; then bowed that king,
the people’s protector, he was struck through to his soul.'”
(Beowulf ll.2971-2981)

I have a new (untested) microphone, so I will be able to record this week’s translation and that from the last two weeks this weekend. Watch these entries for the recordings!

Okay, so we start to get into the conclusion of the messenger’s tale of Ongeontheow and the Geats raid on the Swede’s land. On the surface, this excerpt is straightforward, for the most part.

As has been the case before, the original Old English for this section uses no proper nouns – they’re all just pronouns. It seems that this must have been the poet’s solution to making action scenes vibrant without breaking patterns in things like sentence length.

After all, using nothing but pronouns and pronominal phrases to refer to the characters involved in the two fights in this passage is a way to show through language the chaos of such a scene. It’s told with only three major players, but the lack of concrete names suggests a lack of concrete order, or any order whatsoever.

Blows are exchanged, but just whose doing what isn’t necessarily 100% clear based on pronouns alone.

However, digging deeper than the surface of this excerpt, and even the surface of words, the verb “Let,” (l.2977) means many things. It can mean “to lift,” “to lead,” or “to make or beat the bounds of land.”

Given that this word appears in a story about a raid, it may be the perfect context for “Let” to take on various meanings.

The simple interpretation of “Let,” as “hoisted,” or “raised,” works but it still leaves us with something to wonder about. The messenger stated earlier that this raid on the Swedes was merely for treasure and plunder, but in a sense isn’t raiding a place tantamount to an accelerated habitation?

All that gold dug out of the ground, all that coin exchanged, all of those crops eaten – and all at once rather than over the course of years and years. So, in a way, though the Geats set out with only treasure in mind, they definitely picked up more when Eofor slew Ongeontheow (announced with the use of “Let”).

It should be fair to say that there’s little better to do to create the limits of your land in one sense or other than to simply destroy the ones you need to move. Having defeated those in your way, you’ve very clearly opened your way up.

Next week – the story of the Geats and Swedes begins to wrap up. Watch for it!

And you can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Ongoing Ongeontheow (ll.2961-2970) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/01/18 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Teaching by Analogues?
Against Anger, About a Word
Closing

<!–

{Wiglaf shown landing the distracting blow, or Beowulf landing the fatal one – that’s just how much of a team this duo is. Image found on *Weird Worm*.}

–>

In the messenger’s story, Ongeontheow is captured and attacks Wulf, son of Wonred, in self defense.

“‘There by the sword’s edge Ongeontheow,
the grey-haired lord, was left to suffer at
Eofor’s command alone. Angrily against him
Wulf son of Wonred reached with a weapon,
so that his sword swing struck, sending blood
forth from under his hair. Yet he was
not frightened, the old Scylfing,
he paid him back double for that blow,
turning a far worse death strike against that one,
after that the king turned thither.'”
(Beowulf ll.2961-2970)

I’m currently without a recording microphone, and so have no way to record these. However, I should be picking one up over the coming weekend.

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

As the messenger’s story continues, so too does his focus on Ongeontheow. Here we see him, gray-haired, retaliate against one of the Geats who was too angry to wait for Eofor’s decision.

Actually, it’s a curious detail to add that Ongeontheow is “grey-haired” (“blonden-fexa” l.2962). Obviously we should take it to mean that he is an old man, but as such it’s difficult to not think of Hrothgar, another old man encountered in the poem.

Or, to even think of Beowulf himself.

After all, the messenger must have a point for telling the story of the Ravenswood at such length. I mean, if he just wanted to remind everyone of their feud with the Swedes he could have cut things off with his statement about them not showing any mercy (l.2922-2923). Instead, he launches into a story that runs for 75 lines (ll.2923-2998), involves detailed descriptions of events, and focuses not on a Geat, but the chief of the Swedes.

Apart from using this story to get the Geats to recognize their current situation (as noted in last week’s entry), Ongeontheow could be a stand in for Beowulf.

Perhaps the messenger is warning the Geats of the Swedes, but also, for some strange reason, he’s trying to remind them of themselves. He’s trying to show them how their own laziness and their own cowardice – represented by Wulf’s inabiity to contain his anger – is what caused the trouble stirred by the dragon, just as the same lead to the death of Wulf (and of Beowulf).

But how could such an interpretation be backed up? Well, with the idea that the messenger like all of those bearing news and facts some might not like, needs to add a spin to what he says. His spin is to use a story that everyone can relate to but present it in a way that is different.

Or, perhaps everyone was familiar with Ongeontheow’s actions from a poem or story the Geats told amongst themselves. As of now we can’t really say for sure.

In a much more direct fashion, this excerpt from the messenger’s story is clearly an admonition against anger, against acting when a passion is in you.

Instead, at least through implication, the messenger is telling the people that they must be cautious, just as Eofor was in deciding Ongeontheow’s fate rather than just lashing out at him as Wulf did. Just as an army that has captured their opponent’s leader must think things throw and step carefully into the future, so too must the Geats if they’re to navigate the difficult, leaderless times that lay ahead of them.

For the Geats it is a time that is likely to be noisy with deathblows. A concept perhaps strange to us, but familiar to Anglo-Saxons since the Old English compound “wael-hlem,” meaning “death-blow,” literally translates to “carnage-sound.”

That’s it for this week, but the messenger’s story continues next week, as Eofor steps into the fray.

And you can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Extending Lore on Love and Passion [12:60] (Latin)

Posted on 2012/07/25 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Repetition Leading to Implication
Word Woes: Overcome?
Closing

{Words upon words – some to be lost between languages. Image found on the blog *Thoughts on Books*.”}

Isidore further expounds on the theory and lore of good animal husbandry.

[60] “Then are those which have the heavy mares look at no animal of deformed appearance, such as dog-headed apes and gorillas, such faces are not made visible to those looking like they are pregnant. Truly this is natural for females that is if such is seen or if the mind conceives of it in the extreme heat of passion, that is conception, such will be in the children that they create. As a matter of fact, animals in the enjoyment of Venus transfer their outside to the inside, and they seize their fill of such a figure of their types in appropriate quality. Among animals those born of diverse kind are called two-kinded/mutts such as mules from mares and donkeys; hinny from horses and female donkeys; mongrels/half-breeds from boars and pigs; sheep-goat (tityrus) from ewes and he-goats; raidos [from ram + IE *ghaidos] (musmo) from she-goats and rams. On the other hand, these are truly the leaders of the herds.”
(St. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae 12:60)

Latin:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

While he repeats much of what was written in paragraphs 58 and 59 here, Isidore seems to be expanding to all women the reproductive lore from those paragraphs. Otherwise he would have gone with a different phrase than “…this is natural for females” (“Hanc enim feminarum esse naturam”) to describe the practice of keeping ugly things away from pregnant women.

Unfortunately, this is just a matter of implication, since Isidore jumps right back to the animal after he has finished getting into some titillating descriptors (the “extreme heat of passion” (“in extremo voluptatis aestu”) and the “enjoyment of Venus” (in usu Venerio) both being polite euphemisms for orgasm and sex respectively).

When he settles back on animals, Isidore rounds off the first part of his book about animals with some of the different two-kinded and hybrid mixtures that people have come up with.

Now, either English breeders have been put to shame here, or Latin simply has a far greater depth of expression, since “burdo” translates easily enough into hinny, but “tityrus” and “musmo” remain untranslatable to varying degrees (as far as I can tell).

It’s not as satisfying as a portmanteau of the two, but sheep-goat is the result of a sheep/goat cross-breeding, though these are apparently rare in nature (and referred to as geeps when created in labs). So sheep-goat is the closest translation of “tityrus” that English has to offer.

On the other hand, “musmo” is apparently entirely untranslatable, since even a satisfactory compound English name isn’t available. Yet, if mules and hinnies are different based on the gender of the horse or donkey in the pairing, so too should the result of a she-goat and a ram and a ewe and a he-goat be different.

So, to remedy the untranslatable malady of “musmo,” a little digging was done and the word “raidos” was created. It’s a combination of “ram” and the reconstruction of the Proto-Indo-European word for sheep – *ghaidos. It sounds kind of like “Raiden,” and so is appropriate, given the sentence that Isidore ends with: “…these are truly the leaders of the herds” (“Est autem dux gregis”).

This Thursday, Beowulf continues his speech, talking about his time as king and making a very curious statement.

On Wiglaf’s Weapons (Pt. 2) [ll.2620-2630] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/05/25 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Two Possibilities for “mid Geatum”
Medieval Shorthand?
A Curious Word
Closing

The story of Weohstan and the arms winds down here, and things move back to Wiglaf, as he is on the verge of breaking from the host to go help Beowulf.

“He kept those adornments for many half-years,
sword and mail shirt, until his son could
perform heroic deeds as his late father did;
then he gave to him among the Geats war garbs
in countless number, when he departed from life,
old and on his way forth. Then was the first time
for the young warrior, to himself advance into
the battle onslaught with his noble lord. His spirit
did not melt away then, nor did his kinsman’s
heirloom fail in the conflict; this the serpent
discovered, after they had come together.”
(Beowulf ll.2620-2630)

Old English:

Modern English:

Just as with so many other sets of equipment in Beowulf, Wiglaf’s arms were passed onto him by his father. However, the poet/scribe also sees fit to add that these things were passed onto Wiglaf when father and son were “among the Geats,” (“mid Geatum” (l.2623)).

Since Weohstan had previously been in exile (as the poem made plain when describing his slaying of Eanmunde), this added detail is rather significant for one reason or another.

On the one hand, this detail suggests the importance of community. Possibly, even, this small prepositional phrase implies an underlying belief of the poet’s/scribe’s that communal memory is better than individual memory. At the least, with the constant references to friendship, kin ties, and the sound of the raucous joy of groups in halls, a community is regarded as being better than being alone.

On the other hand, it might just be another detail. Something to add to the colour of the story and not really a thread that’s woven around or with something else in the poem as so many things are.

Actually, It’s easy to wonder then if the phrase “among the Geats” is shorthand for a more detailed setting. But the marker of community might just be setting enough for the sort of transitional act that passing on war garb is in Anglo-Saxon culture.

For there was a firm belief among the Anglo-Saxons that a person’s belongings carried a part of his or her essence even after he or she died. So, passing these things on is as much a passing on of the physical objects as it is of the memory held within them, the things they used to make their mark on the world.

To pass these weapons, these memories, on, within the structures of a community, to make it an event within that community and thus set it into that community’s memory, would ensure that it definitely becomes entrenched there. It becomes as much a community act as a family act.

The other highlight of the passage is the original Old English verb used on line 2628: “gemealt.”

According to the Clark Hall & Merritt dictionary of Old English, the verb can be translated as “to consume by fire,” “melt,” “burn up,” “dissolve,” or “digest.” Since it’s referring to Wiglaf’s spirit, it seems most appropriate to go with melt. That way the words invoke an image of the young warrior envisioning his attack on the dragon and the aid that he’ll give his lord and having this vision stand firm rather than melting away (like a Jello mold in the heat of the sun).

{Possibly how Wiglaf imagines himself fighting the dragon. Image from Lady, That’s My Skull}

That’s all for this week, but check back next for Isidore’s continuing look at horses, and for Wiglaf’s stirring speech to his fellow thanes.

While Beowulf Roasts, Wiglaf Breaks from the Host [ll.2593-2605] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/05/11 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Heralding The Shift
Shiny Armor, but Shinier Lineage
What’s in a Name
Closing

{A fresh faced Wiglaf, as played by Brendan Gleeson. Image from aveleyman.com.}

Things aren’t looking good for Beowulf, but though his men are fled, one has a change of heart that may see the dragon bled.

“The hoard guard in himself took heart – his
breast by breathing heaved – he came out once again;
harsh straits were suffered, he was enveloped by fire,
he who had once ruled the people. Not any of the band
of comrades were with him then, the sons of nobility
stood about in martial virtues, but they fled into
the woods, their lives to save. Of them sorrow surged
in just one mind; he who thinks rightly may
never for anything turn away from kinship.
Wiglaf was his name, son of Weoxstan,
a beloved warrior, man of the Scylfings,
kinsmen of Aelfere; he saw his liege lord
under the battle mask suffering in the heat.”
Beowulf ll.2593-2605

Old English:

English:

Beowulf’s getting roasted by the fire in this passage, and the dragon seems almost assuredly guaranteed a nice and toasty roasted Geat for a snack. No doubt he has a very old and fine wine somewhere in his hoard to go with just such a meal, but thanks to a change of heart, one of Beowulf’s thanes is ready to help out his liege lord – and become the poem’s primary perspective character.

Curiously, though, the action is halted for a quick description of our new hero. Though instead of going over his bulging biceps and shiny armor (that gets the narrative treatment in a few lines’ time), we’re treated to his pedigree.

Obviously this kind of description is set up by the preceding bit of gnomic wisdom: “he who thinks rightly may never for anything turn away from kinship” (“sibb ǣfre ne mæg/wiht onwendan þām ðe wēl þenceð” ll.2600-2601). However, what makes pedigree so important here?

The best guess is that it falls in with an older way of thinking about the world. One that involves things like phrenology and eugenics, not all pretty stuff, but essentially the idea held here could be that because Wiglaf comes from good breeding he is one who “thinks rightly” (“wēl þenceð” l.2600). If such is the case, then this passage would set any listener or reader to this tale from hundreds of years ago to the expectation that this Wiglaf is going to solve everything, or at least be of assistance.

However, if Wiglaf is the only one who has his head on properly amongst the elite guard that Beowulf brought with him on his expedition, it also bodes ill for the Geats in general. For if only one of twelve trained warriors has the decency to disobey orders and help his liege lord in his hour of need despite being told otherwise, then such pedigrees as Wiglaf’s must be few and far between.

As a means of foreshadowing the waning power and prowess of the Geats between generations, and the implication that kin, when properly thinking, will help out kin, suggests that either terms like “Geat” are much broader than you might suspect, or that there’s a problem with breeding among the Geats.

Maybe something wicked has been happening in the beds and around the camps when the fires are out – Beowulf’s own marital and sexual situations are not mentioned. It’s possible that the woman who weeps so bitterly by his grave (who could be Hygelac’s queen, Hygd; ll.3150-3155) is Beowulf’s wife, but the latter situation is left un-noted, likely because of the contemporary sense of decorum.

A brief note on the name of the new perspective character in the poem is rather telling. It’s also much easier to look into the meaning of Wiglaf’s name than Beowulf’s name, since it’s a much more obvious compound word.

“Wīg” is Old English for “war,” “strife,” or “battle,” and “lāf” is Old English for “leaving,” or “heirloom.” Thus, Wiglaf is named for some kind of battle memento – maybe this name is one that the poet/scribe came up with after having conceived of the pedigree of Wiglaf’s arms. For his armor and his sword are all described as the spoils of a combat fought by Weohstan (ll.2610-2625).

However, if Wiglaf’s name is taken as a kenning, it could be interpreted in a different way.

If we take “wīglāf” as a kenning, then perhaps it refers to one who is the product of a broken marriage, or of a couple made of partners from rival or feuding families. In that way he’s much more literally an heirloom of some kind of strife, since perhaps he’s the child of rape or of some kind of passionate affair between star-crossed lovers who never after saw each other.

Of course, being an Anglo-Saxon poem, none of that is explicitly explained.

Next week Isidore gets into the matter of the cud and of donkeys; and in Beowulf, Wiglaf can’t hold back, just as the poet bursts into a (brief) digression.

Swedish Retribution "from over wide water" [ll.2472-2483] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/03/09 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
On Swedes and Geats
Compounding New Words
Closing

We get the history hard and fast in this week’s passage of Beowulf (ll.2472-2483, Chapter XXXV).

“‘Then between Swedes and Geats was war and enmity;
from over wide water causing laments,
wall-hard warfare, after Hrethel had perished,
Ongeonðēow’s sons to them came,
warlike; they would not free
those they held under sorrow’s sway, and near Hrēosnahill
they oft launched voracious ambushes.
My close-kin avenged this,
feud and war-fire, as it is known,
though one of them bought the victory, at a hard price,
with his life; Haethcyn, Geatish lord,
was taken in the war’s assailing.'”
(Beowulf ll.2472-2483)

{Approximation of the Hrēosnahill fight offered by a mural of the Battle of Maldon. From the Braintree collection of murals.}

Questions bubble up like air in a flagon of ale upon reading this passage. Who was Ongeonðēow? What’s important about Hrēosnahill? What liberties were taken with the translation?

Ongeonðēow [On-g’in-thou] was the king of the Swedes who launched an attack on the Geats to recover his daughter and his gold, both of which had been taken by the Geats on an earlier raid. He was famed as a powerful king, and two Geats (Eofor and Wulf) had to work together to defeat him (read more here). Though, as we’ll see in next week’s entry, Beowulf makes it sound like Hygelac himself lands the deathblow.

Hrēosnahill [Heh-res-na-hill] is where Hæðcyn had taken Ongeonðēow’s daughter, and is apparently a real place (modern Swedish:”Ramshult”), as well as a place that is traditionally within Geatish territory. Go to this Wikipedia page for more info.

So, what’s happening here is a little bit of old fashioned early medieval back and forth. The Geats stole Ongeonðēow’s daughter and gold (according to Wikipedia), and now the Swedes are coming for rescue and revenge – which they (again, from Wikipedia) only half exact. The Swedes recover the woman, but not the gold.

Two liberties were taken in the above translation. In the third line (l.2474) “wall-hard warfare” is altered from the literal “hard warfare” since the alliteration makes it sound more Anglo-Saxon and “hard warfare” isn’t as evocative as the original “here-nīð hearda.”

The phrase “under sorrow’s sway” was also altered from the literal “lamentation holding” since it doesn’t have enough punch in Modern English. It also confuses the metaphor of being held under extreme emotion, which is clarified by “under sorrow’s sway.”

The words “here-nīð,” and “inwit-scearo” are both compound words worthy of elaboration.

The first combines the word for “predatory band, troop, army; war, devastation” (“here”) and for “strife, enmity, attack, spite, affliction,” (“nīð”). Literally, then, it could be rendered “war-strife” or “troop-enmity” and so warfare is a clear translation of it. The redundancy of a literal translation also makes the standard translation of the phrase more efficient than a literal rendering.

The word “inwit-scearo” on the other hand, is more worthy. The term is a mix of “inwit,” meaning “evil, deceit, wicked, deceitful,” and “scearo,” a form of “scieran,” meaning “to cleave, hew, cut; receive tonsure; abrupt.”

Literally, the word could be rendered as “evil-cleave” or “abrupt-deceit” which sound like they could still be productive words among modern counterparts. “Evil-cleave” at least sounds like a technique in an RPG, while “abrupt-deceit” could be a spicier way to describe an ambush or surprise attack.

To let me know what you think about these compound words (or this entry in general) just post a comment below. And feel free to follow this blog, I’ll follow yours back.

Next week, Isidore elaborates on the workings of sheep and rams, and Beowulf tells of Hygelac’s revenge, all the while bolstering his own warrior-like image.

Of Sweaty Armpits and Family Sacrifices [12:7-9] (Latin)

Posted on 2012/03/07 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Some Words to Wonder About
Cows of the Violent Kine
Family and Sacrifices
Closing

Abstract

St. Isidore goes into further detail about pack animals and flocks in today’s extract. And he reveals a thing or two about why sheep are so popular as sacrificial animals.

“[7]The name ‘pack animal’ is derived from their pulling, that they do for our work, or the help they give us in carrying up things or with plowing. For oxen draw the two wheeled coach, and turn the stiff soil of the earth with the ploughshare; horses and donkeys carry loads, and humans, walking in their wake, guide their labour. And so pack animals are so called from those that are of help to men: truly they are animals of powerful greatness.

[8] Also, there are the cattle, whose weapons are attached, that is for war; or that make use of these horns. We understand other cattle to be oxen, for plowing, as if horned or that are equipped with horns. Moreover the cattle are distinguished from the flocks: for cattle are horses and oxen, flocks are truly she-goats and sheep.

[9] Sheep are a soft fleecy herd, with a defenceless body, a gentle spirit, and calling forth with its voice; it is not the oxen that a priest keeps near at hand for the mysteries, but the sheep that are killed for the sacrifice. From this they call them two pronged, those that have two higher teeth amongst eight, those are the ones that families offer exceedingly oft in their sacrifices.”
(St. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae 12:7-9)

Angel to Abraham: “You’re doing it wrong.”

These three sections at last get clear and close, dealing with things in a markedly medieval manner by looking at categories and clarifying just what those categories mean. Thankfully, it also seems to be going somewhere now. The pack animals are defined, as well as the cattle and the flocks. So Isidore’s moving right along here.

As far as curious words go, “capra” (“she-goat,” or “odour of armpits”) is definitely the strangest in this passage. Particularly fascinating about this word is its standing as a pretty stark reminder of the lack of deodorant in the 7th century when Isidore was writing. Goats might’ve been kept by some throughout the city of Seville as well, making for an immediate and visceral olfactory sensation.

Though, in a society without indoor plumbing, one wonders why a she-goat of all things is paired with the “odour of armpits.”

Speaking of which, when might that second meaning have became attached to the word? Did “capra” have these two meanings from the time it was first used as a word or did it pick up the meaning “odour of armpits” because people realized that armpits and she-goats at least have that in common? We may never know, but that’s part of the fun.

From Isidore’s description, it sounds like cattle were more violent then, too, or at least more prone to actually using their horns. That’s what their having horns and their being described in martial terms (“armis,” meaning “arms, especially for melee combat”) suggests.

It’s also likely that the connection could be held among those who work with cattle as well as the learned who write of cattle, since both groups could have access to stories of bulls and their tempers.

Isidore’s mention of families in paragraph 9 (“gentiles”) is also curious, since it seems almost like a promotional plug – 9/10 families sacrifice sheep with two teeth more prominent than the eight. So why is it there? Is family sacrifice still prevalent? Was it just something done for Easter?

The use of the semi-colon (yes, inserted after the fact, since original mss don’t have punctuation aside from diacritics marking abbreviations and such) suggests that the two sentences are related, but why are those qualities important for a good sacrificial animal?

The soft fleecy-ness, the naturally defenseless body, and the gentle nature – as well as the voice that calls out (“oblatione” which in St. Isidore’s Late Latin referred to a solemn offering) – all of them suggest some sort of inherent sacrificial function.

Soft means penetrable, offering little resistance to the knife, as does the defenceless body. And the gentle spirit suggests that the lamb wouldn’t begrudge the knife.

But the voice that calls out – it could reference an idea that the sheep bleated out a prayer itself as it was being killed or incinerated. An animal uttering such a prayer in death would definitely be favoured for sacrifice, since that bleating could also have the sacrificer’s own prayer projected upon it.

A petition sacrificed in that a way – burned up in the vessel of a living being rather than a piece of paper – would add power to that prayer. Possibly even in early Christian minds.

If you’ve got your own ideas about what some of the subtext or connotations of Isidore’s mention of “families” or structure mean let me know about it in a comment. And do follow this blog if you enjoy it – I’ll be sure to follow yours if you have one.

Check back Thursday for the next section of Beowulf, wherein Beowulf tells of the strife between Swede and Geat – and the fall of a prominent man.

Hreðel’s Choice [ll.2460-2471] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/03/01 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
A Religious Out
Another Crucial Phrase
A Word to Modernize
Closing

In this week’s excerpt Beowulf finishes his retelling of Hreðel’s reaction to Herebeald’s death. The old king is conflicted and ultimately gives up all of his possessions and holdings to his remaining sons:

“‘Then he lays himself in his bed and, wailing a dirge,
is alone even with himself; to him it all seems too large,
the fields and the halls. Thus was the Geat lord’s
heart sorrow after Herebeald
went into that far country; he knew not how he might
wreak his feud on the slayer;
nor could he hate that warrior,
despite his loathsome deed, though he loved him not.
Amidst that sorrow, that which sorely him concerned,
he gave up life’s joys, chose God’s light;
he left all to his sons, as any prosperous man does,
lands and towns, when he left off this life.'”
(Beowulf ll.2460-2471)

What more is there to say here? Hreðel’s great sorrow is combined with the utter failure that he faces in the face of the social code of the feud.

He can’t kill his own son. So he does what anyone in a bind did in those medieval days (and these modern ones as well), he turns to “God’s light”. However, the phrase “chose God’s light,” (“Godes lēoht gecēas” l.2469) is open to interpretation.

Hreðel might’ve gone and joined a monastery, maybe became an anchorite, or he might have just given up entirely and let his body waste away until he died. The phrase could also refer to a conversion, but that interpretation isn’t likely given the history of the poem’s transmission.

If Beowulf was written out by Christian monks as a way of preserving it/using it for teaching/propaganda, it seems odd that a conversion would cause a character to drop out of society as Hreðel, a king, does.

So, I think, that the phrase “chose God’s light” refers to some great act of austerity (fasting, seclusion) that leads Hreðel, in his weakened state, to his death.

{Job also “chose God’s light” it seems. A William Blake original.}

That’s not the only sticky phrase in the mix, though.

Afterall, there is the phrase used to describe the old man of Beowulf’s simile when he shuts himself in his room: “ān æfter ānum.” I translate this as “alone even with himself” (l.2461). As I have it, the phrase might seem to be lacking sense, but it’s based on the apparent meaning of a literal translation: “alone for the purpose of being alone.”

My rendering is intended to have the same basic meaning as a literal translation but with fewer words. “Alone even with himself” demonstrates how the old man is alone and separated from his thoughts and feelings even when he is by himself; that’s just how much his grief and sorrow consume him.

Other than those cruxes, the passage is pretty straightforward. It’s even got a neat Old English word that Modern English should pick up and dust off.

This word is “gum-drēam” (“enjoyment of life”), definitely a favourite. It’s a compounding of a word for “man” (“gumma”) and “joy, mirth, music, singing” (“drēam”), certainly a curious combination.

Literally it would translate as “man-joy” or “man-mirth,” a word that definitely wouldn’t resonate as well in a world where “man” is very rarely used to represent all of humanity. But it’s a cool word, and if, say, someone wanted to bring it back, “lifejoy” or “are-mirth” could work.

If you’ve got your own take on how “gum-dream” could be modernized, or on what Hreðel’s choosing “God’s light” means let me know about it in a comment!

Next week, Isidore writes about animals for war and animals for sacrifice, and Beowulf relates how the Swedes and Geats met in the field of war and how a certain Geat doesn’t return. Watch this blog for those entries next Tuesday and Thursday respectively!

Read on for the Difference Between Herds and Heads of Animals! [12: 4-6] (Latin)

Posted on 2012/02/29 by NSCZach

Introduction
Summary
Translation
Splitting Hairs
The Duality of “Cow”
Closing

{A sheep – certainly a *heard* animal. Image from the National Library of the Netherlands}

Introduction

Welcome back to St. Isidore of Seville’s Etymologiae – specifically book 12, part I (about herd and pack animals).

This week’s entry sees St. Isidore explain quadruped herd animals before moving on to differentiate herd animals from working animals. Let’s get straight to it!

[4] “They are called quadrupeds that walk on four feet: which are similar to herd animals save that they are not under human care; such as hinds, deer, wild donkeys, and others. But this does not include beasts like lions; nor pack animals, such as those humans may/can use like cattle.

[5] “We call all those lacking human languages and likenesses herds. On the other hand, strictly speaking, the name of a herd of such animals as those that are or could be used for food is called by this animal’s name alone, like sheep and pigs or those used for human convenience like horses and oxen.

[6] “The difference between herds and heads of animals: because beasts of burden gather in significance all such animals are called a herd, on the other hand heads of beasts are only those animals which graze, as do the sheep. But in general all that graze are called herd animals.”
(St. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae 12: 4-6)

Paragraphs [5] and [6] are definitely about splitting hairs. But that’s Isidore’s business here, to try to differentiate between things so finely that his words only differ in their inflection on the page, subtle differences only really visible in their conjugation.

The words that best exemplify this are “pecus, -oris,” meaning “cattle, herd, flock; animal,” and “pecus, -udis,” meaning “sheep, herd of cattle, beast.” Their genitive singular forms (the standard case for a dictionary headword) are clearly similar.

But what really makes their similarity muddying is that when Isidore is describing the difference between herds and heads of animals he only defines one of his two categories.

After all, he points out that herd animals “graze like sheep” (“eduntur, quasi pecuedes”) and then just implies that those that don’t are called by “heads of [animals]” (such as a head of cattle).

It might be something that’s coming through as a result of translation, but it seems that Isidore is struggling to really make himself clear because he’s making such fine distinctions. But before I read too far into this sense of struggle, onto the next word.

“Iuvenca, ae,” meaning “heifer, girl.” It’s probable that this word had a specific connotation when Latin was still spoken across the Roman Empire, but it’s still quite telling of Roman culture that the same word could refer to a girl and a heifer.

Perhaps this second meaning wasn’t necessarily negative, but it’s difficult to see it as anything other than an insult of one sort or another.

After all, such a connotation for “cow” is still present in Modern English; “cow” sometimes sits in for b@!$&h. See for yourself here.

Also, my Latin dictionary lacks the heavy distinction that I hope might be present between the words “cervi” and “dammae” both of which can mean deer (cervi can also mean “hind” but a hind is just a specific sort of deer). Maybe I need to get a better dictionary, or maybe I just need to turn to my readers for a bit of aid.

If you’ve got a way to split apart the words that seem too close to me, or want me to translate more of Isidore per entry let me know about it in a comment.

And check back Thursday for Beowulf’s wrapping up of Hrethel’s woes in his informal history of the old king’s sons.

The End of an Epic (Simile) [Beowulf ll.2450-2459] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/02/24 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
On Heirs and Reasons
Summary and Surmise
Some Potential New Words
Closing

Beowulf finishes his digression in this section and then returns to the specifics of Hreðel’s situation after the death of Herebeald. Here, read for yourself.

“‘Relentlessly he is reminded each morning
of his son’s demise; he does not care to wait
for another heir in his hall
since his firstborn has been fettered
by death’s decree.
He looks with sorrowful soul into his son’s chambers,
a joy-hall now desolate, the dwelling place of winds,
bereft of all joy; the riders are asleep,
the fighters are laid down in darkness; no harp sounds are
there, no men in the yard, as there once were.'”
(Beowulf ll.2450-2459)

Among the images used in the passage, I think that of the father who has no interest in producing another heir because his first born has been killed is the strongest. That image really speaks to the sort of despair and sense of futility that anyone within a hierarchical inheritance system would feel when, as the Old English word implies, one has lost their inheritance guardian (“yrfe-weard,” ll.2453).

True, the man has his other sons to inherit his lands and property upon his death, but the death of the firstborn throws the identity of the heir into question. If mere birth order determines it then there could be a motive for the murder there.

Hæðcyn could have possibly killed his older brother to jump ahead in line, thus marking him as dishonourable and selfish and thus a bad king. If it was just an accident then might Hæðcyn also be a bad choice because he lacks control?

Yet simply handing the realm over to Hygelac and skipping Hæðcyn entirely would be a slight to him as the second eldest – and besides, who’s to say that the two didn’t conspire against Herebeald? The destruction of even a single link in the chain of inheritance throws the whole sequence into question.

And I think that’s why Hreðel’s sorrow is described in terms that are similar to those used for the last survivor’s sorrow. Though he has sons and his line will continue, he may be the last one who can fully enjoy the legacy of his properties and lands.

In the Lay of the Last Survivor (ll.2247-66) the bitterness of being the last of a clan is described, and these lines are particularly relevant:

“‘[…] the tried warriors passed elsewhere'” (l.2254)

“‘[…] No harp joy,
no delight of musical instruments, nor any good hawk
flies through the hall, nor any swift mare
stomps in the courtyard.'” (ll.2262-65)

The first of these sections echoes the statement in line 2458 that the “fighters are laid down in darkness,” after some verbal acrobatics. The word used for “elsewhere” in line 2254 (“ellor”) is also used in a compound word meaning death (ellor-sīð) in reference to Herebeald.

The death of the fighters in line 2458 is sheerly communicated via metaphor, but the idea of death being some ‘far country’ could be present in the mention of ‘darkness.’ Darkness was a very strong marker of the Other, and death is a great Other as well.

The second section is more clearly related to Beowulf’s description of Hreðel’s sorrow in that the imagery is that of lack of music, emptiness in the hall, and silence in the yard.

Essentially, spaces that were once filled – the air with sound, the hall with feasting, and the yard with motion – are now lacking these qualities.

Just as the last survivor laments the loss of people who bear cups, polish armour, or use any of the treasures that he’s returning to the earth, so too is the lack of what defines these spaces useful as an expression of mourning. One who is integral to the regular function of life and society has been lost.

Could there be more of a connection here? Does Beowulf perhaps look at the younger generation of Geats and think that he too is a last survivor? Is that why he uses similar imagery? Or was the poet/scribe just strapped for ideas?

{Image from Shopify.}

Narrowing my focus down to words that caught my eye, one that I would like to get back into everyday speech is “windgereste,” “resting place of the winds,” implying an empty or disused space. That whole phrase is a bit much (it’d take 26 characters out of any tweet!), so instead it could be introduced as wind-place, or wind-dwelling, or wind-home.

“Ellor-sīð” is also curious (meaning “journey elsewhere, death”), but ideas of death and dying are now so much broader than they were in the recorded West of the early middle ages. It’s a broad term, but I’m not sure if it would work given the acknowledged breadth of current ideas of death.

“Yrfe-weard,” mentioned near the top of this entry, could work on the same level as “windgereste,” since inheritance still happens and wills can be sticky situations.

However, inheritances don’t have the same general importance as they did then, since they aren’t the only (near) surefire way to a life of comfort/success/wealth. Whether it’d fly or not, “surety-heir” could work since surety is basically a term for a very specific kind of guard, and it does have a nice flow.

What’s your preference among those three compound words for a new English word? Let me know in a comment!

Next week, come on back for the continuation of St. Isidore’s entry on herd animals and beasts of burden, and for the completion of Hreðel’s part in Beowulf’s reminiscence.

A Blogger's Beowulf

An Old English enthusiast's translation of Beowulf. Plus a little bit about Beowulf's impact on modern culture.

Category Archives: vocabulary

Beating out Land Limits (ll.2971-2981) [Old English]

Ongoing Ongeontheow (ll.2961-2970) [Old English]

Extending Lore on Love and Passion [12:60] (Latin)

On Wiglaf’s Weapons (Pt. 2) [ll.2620-2630] (Old English)

While Beowulf Roasts, Wiglaf Breaks from the Host [ll.2593-2605] (Old English)

Swedish Retribution "from over wide water" [ll.2472-2483] (Old English)

Of Sweaty Armpits and Family Sacrifices [12:7-9] (Latin)

Hreðel’s Choice [ll.2460-2471] (Old English)

Read on for the Difference Between Herds and Heads of Animals! [12: 4-6] (Latin)

The End of an Epic (Simile) [Beowulf ll.2450-2459] (Old English)