Hrothgar as grammatical relic and Beowulf’s grandfather? (ll.371-381a) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/05/16 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar as relic
Ambiguity in spelling
Closing

Hrothgar speaks, acknowledging Beowulf’s parentage and his reputation.

“Hrothgar spoke, protector of the Scyldings:
‘I knew him when he was a boy;
his father of old was called Ecgtheow,
Hrethel of the Geats gave to him
his only daughter; now I hear his son
has come here, seeking favourable friendship.
Once sailors, that brought gifts
from Geatland thither as thanks,
said that he has the might of
thirty men in his hand-grip,
famed in war**.'”
(Beowulf ll.371-381a)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Beowulf is an old poem. Whether you agree with those scholars who place its creation as a written piece of literature sometime around the eleventh century or with those who place it around the seventh, it’s still an old poem. As such, many early translations of it gave it a very authoritative “thee and thou” sort of tone. Take this passage from Francis Gummere’s famed Edwardian translation, for instance:

“HROTHGAR answered, helmet of Scyldings: —
‘I knew him of yore in his youthful days;
his aged father was Ecgtheow named,
to whom, at home, gave Hrethel the Geat
his only daughter.'” (ll.371-375a from gutenberg.org)

It sounds like an old poem. Yet, if you compare that to Seamus Heaney’s much more recent translation of the same passage it seems a little younger:

“Hrothgar, protector of Shieldings, replied:
‘I used to know him when he was a young boy.
His father before him was called Ecgtheow.
Hrethel the Geat gave Ecgtheow
his daughter in marriage.'”
(ll.371-375a from Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf)

The difference is clear in Heaney’s preference for a more common, everyday syntax.

Interestingly, though, Hrothgar’s dialogue tends more towards Gummere’s version.

Alliteration is a major feature of Old English poetry. Don’t ask why rhyming hadn’t caught on as much, no doubt it had to do with the sounds that English used at the time. When you learn to read Old English it isn’t a very sing-song tongue after all. But even keeping in mind the frequency of alliteration in the main text of Beowulf, Hrothgar really puts this poetic device to use. What’s more, he seems to really like the first sound of his name since much of the alliteration in his dialogue is “h” alliteration.

Perhaps littering his lines with “h” alliterations was the poet/scribe’s way of showing which lines were Hrothgar’s. Early writing was pretty scant on punctuation marks, and readers would much appreciate that sort of signal whether they were reading aloud or more silently to themselves.

But what Hrothgar’s taste for alliteration signals to me is that even in the world of the poem he’s a relic. Even some of his syntax is so much like Gummere’s translation that I’m left wondering if the original poet/scribe was actively copying a kind of old, poetic style for the elder Dane. I mean, lines like

“ðonne sægdon þæt sæliþende,/þa ðe gifsceattas Geata fyredon/þyder to þance, þæt he XXXtiges/manna mægencræft on his mundgripe”

would translate literally as

“Once said of him sailors,/those that gifts from Geatland brought/thither as thanks, that he thirty/men’s might has in his hand-grip” (ll.377-380).

Word order is shuffled, and clauses are delayed into a strange arrangement. It’s almost as if Hrothgar is a living link to an earlier time in the world, a time that is ending just as Beowulf’s own era is beginning. No wonder Hrothgar came across as depressed in last week’s entry.

But perhaps that’s the point. Amongst all of the battles and the monsters Beowulf is positioned as a figure of transition. From the old ways to the new. From the old gods equated with “the soul-slaying fiend” (l.178) to the new “Lord” who keeps saving Beowulf’s bacon as he gets it ever closer not to the frying pan but to the flames.

Old English’s lack of regulated spelling makes translation difficult at times. Most modern editions of texts will have some degree of standardization to their spelling, but there are still some outlier words. Take for example line 373’s “ealdfæder.”

Translated literally, I would render this compound word “old-father” possibly even “grandfather.” Such a translation isn’t out of the question, since “ealdfæder” could be a variation of “ieldrafæder,” the Old English word for “grandfather.”

However, in the context that “ealdfæder” appears, such a translation is troublesome. This difficulty comes up because the word refers to Ecgtheow who is Beowulf’s father and most certainly not his grandfather.

It’s a tiny detail, and, to be honest, “ealdfæder” is probably in that line simply to alliterate with “Ecgtheow.” But nonetheless, it’s a bit disorienting to come across such a word when you expect a simple “father” to come up.

Heaney changed “father” to “father before him” in his translation, and I think that’s a great choice. It sets this appearance of Ecgtheow’s apart from the others, and also acknowledges the element of time inherent in “ealdfæder.” It’s the same reason that I appended “of old” to the word, despite the ambiguity this phrase brings into the matter. Namely, was Beowulf’s father once called “Ecgtheow” but is now called something else? Or is Ecgtheow now long dead and hence is himself “of old”?

Next week Hrothgar concludes the message he sends back to Beowulf via Wulfgar.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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

Posted on 2014/04/12 by NSCZach

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

Hrothgar’s herald questions the Geats’ origins.

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

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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

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

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

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

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

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

Translating “elþeodige” as “exiled people” also paints a curious picture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logically, the answer would have to be yes.

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

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

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

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

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

But then, when?

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

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

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

Next week, Beowulf answers Hrothgar’s herald.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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

Posted on 2014/04/05 by NSCZach

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

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

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

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are there grey and ashen shafts bundled together?

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

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

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

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

Or it could be that they’re simply taller.

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

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

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

Picture this:

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

All is quiet.

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

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

Nothing happens.

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

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

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

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

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

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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

Posted on 2013/11/24 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Prime or time
Burrowing into a word
Closing

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

“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)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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).

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.

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

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Words from the "gif-stol" (ll.164-174) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/10/04 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
All about the “gif-stol”
On ‘secret’ ‘courage’
Closing

At long last we’re given details about Grendel’s grip on Heorot beyond a body count.

“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)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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.

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.

Next week, we learn more about the measures that the Danes have taken to ward off Grendel.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Beowulf: Mighty in Arms, Loose in Words? [ll.2732b-2743a] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/07/27 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Peering in, But Just Dipping Toes
Not Many Oaths Sworn “in Unrighteousness”
Kinds of Kin-Slaying
Closing

{Words spoken and frozen in wood, just as bad oaths are remembered. Image found on documentarystorm.com.}

Beowulf says that he’s come to terms with his death because he was a good king and can stand blameless before the final judgment.

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp”‘I this people have ruled
for fifty winters; never was there a king of the people,
any of the neighbouring folks
would dare attack with war-friends,
threaten terror. I in my homeland awaited
destiny, it guarded me well,
I did not seek contrived hostility, nor swore I many
oaths in unrighteousness. In all of this
infirmity of a mortal wound I have joy;
because the Lord of men has no cause to accuse me
of murderous killing of kinsmen, when my
life passes from my body.'”
(Beowulf ll.2732b-2743a)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

For such a short passage, there’s a fair bit going on here.

It’s revealed that Beowulf has ruled as long as Hrothgar and Grendel’s Mother did; that Beowulf was the sort of king that defended his lands on reputation or by some other passive means; that he had a fairly Taoist, go-with-the-flow life philosophy that kept him out of trouble; that he has been mostly true to his word; and that he is guiltless when it comes to murdering kinsmen.

Though there’s quite a bit of depth here, this entry is just going to focus on the last two in that list.

What does Beowulf mean when he says “nor swore I many/oaths in unrighteousness” (“ne me swor fela/aða on unriht.” (ll.2738-2739), emphasis my own)? Is it an accepted part of Anglo-Saxon life (perhaps especially or only in positions of power) that some oaths are not sworn in the best of circumstances?

What exactly does it mean to swear an oath in “unrighteousness”?

Did Beowulf swear some oaths to do some unsavory things? Did he swear some oaths to escape others? Did he make pacts with spirits?

The wording itself aside, what can be looked at here is the word “fela,” which I translated as “many.” So there haven’t been a lot of oaths sworn poorly. is this just a matter of practice?

Though we don’t see Beowulf swearing oaths unrighteously, it is curious that Beowulf plays fast and loose with his retelling of the fights with Grendel and with Grendel’s Mother to Hrothgar. Specifically, Beowulf adds Grendel’s terrible glove to his story (ll.2085-2088), and greatly shortens his encounter with Grendel’s mother (ll.2135-2141).

Words were considered incredibly important to Anglo-Saxons, especially when it came to the valuation of people. So, could this alteration of words mean that Beowulf didn’t always take words so seriously?

Perhaps the answer can be found in the next part.

Within the poem itself, there have been several instances of kin-slaying.

Most recently is Beowulf’s story of Hæðcyn killing Herebeald, but there is also the story of the Battle of Finnburgh, and, of course, Beowulf’s implication that Unferth killed his brother. Though it’s the most distant to this point in the poem, the Unferth instance might actually be the most relevant here.

According to some, the first half of Beowulf represents Beowulf’s destroying his shadow self, in so far as Grendel and Grendel’s Mother are embodiments of Beowulf’s animalistic nature.

In fact, others also suggest that Beowulf and Grendel are somehow related, making Beowulf a kin-killer.

On one hand this seems like an unstable interpretation, but, on the other, every statement in the section of Beowulf’s speech translated for this entry gives further information about his life through implication. Thus, either Beowulf is suggesting that accusations of kin-killing have been made against him, or that kin-killing is a common crime among kings, but he is innocent of it.

Next week, as a relief from the animal, the first verse of the thirteenth century Latin poem “O Fortuna” will be translated. Plus, Beowulf makes his penultimate request of Wiglaf, and the plucky young thane goes darting off to fulfill it.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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: words

Hrothgar as grammatical relic and Beowulf’s grandfather? (ll.371-381a) [Old English]

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

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

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

Words from the "gif-stol" (ll.164-174) [Old English]

Beowulf: Mighty in Arms, Loose in Words? [ll.2732b-2743a] (Old English)