Feuding References (ll.99-114) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/08/26 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Referential storytelling
Justification through a feud
Closing

Grendel has his first mention by name, and his origin is quickly explained.

“So the warriors of the hall lived in joy,
were prosperous, until one began
committing crimes, like a fiend of hell.
It was the ghastly ghoul called Grendel,
border walker from the marshlands, he that the moors held,
whose mire was his mansion; from the land held fast by
woe laden man-shaped sea beasts,
since the Shaper had condemned them
as kin of Cain – so the almighty Lord punished
him for that murder, when he slew Abel.
Cain was given no good from that, the Measurer cast him
far abroad, done for his evil, away from humankind.
Then the monsters all awoke,
ogres and elves and orcs,
also giants, those that waged long warfare
against God; until he gave them their reward.”
(Beowulf ll.99-114)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

To anyone familiar with Greek myth, there’s a strange mash up of origin stories happening here. The final two lines suggest some sort of war between god and monsters, specifically giants. In Greek myth, such a story would be a reference to the Gigantomachy wherein the Giants (the force of chaos) fought against the gods of Olympus (the force of order).

Taken as a reference to early parts of the Old Testament, these lines could be describing an Anglo-Saxon take on the Nephilim, the half human/half angel offspring of angels who walked the earth and cavorted amongst humanity. In the Old Testament stories, interestingly, given the Anglo-Saxons’ warrior status, these angels are allegedly the ones who showed humans how to work metal and create weapons for war.

This tale of a war between god and monsters could also be a reference to the story of the Roman de Brut, an epic poem about the first settling of what’s now England, and the giant that the settlers had to overcome to claim the land for their own. But the version of that poem written by Wace is dated to 1150-1155 with much more certainly than Beowulf’s own dating. As a result of this late date, Beowulf would have had to have been written/composed later in the twelfth century. Alternatively, it could well have influenced Wace (along with his major source for his Roman de Brut, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regium Britanniae).

Nevertheless, the story about a war between god and giants could be construed in a number of historical ways, too. Perhaps it’s a Christian insertion into the poem, meant to represent how Christian monotheism overtook pagan polytheism (something that is quite active in this leg of the poem, actually). Or maybe there’s more of an historical/allegorical bent at work, the figures on either side standing for certain factions that faced off in the poets/writers’ distant past.

Whatever the case, this event is definitely something that took place far into the past. After all, it’s clearly stated that the monsters all awoke after the condemnation of Cain (ll.109-112). Likely this is how the story goes because Biblically Cain is the first human outcast. Surely, Adam and Eve had their own losses from being cast out of the garden, but to be cast out from the cast outs would make Cain particularly damned. Especially in the eyes of the Anglo-Saxons, for whom community and social inclusion were integral for survival.

The whole “kin of Cain” (“Caines cynne” (l.107)) thing is interesting. It takes something that is by its nature as a creature of the borderlands mysterious and other and gives it a lineage. Grendel isn’t just some monster that no one knows anything about, but is instead related to the first murderer and, curiously, an early farmer. A cheeky reading of the Cain and Abel story, could, in fact, be that god, with childish aplomb, prefers meat to vegetables.

Anyway, giving Grendel a lineage and taking the mystery out of him thereby, makes him more approachable. It feeds into the feud culture of the Anglo-Saxons as well. After all, without a hereditary feud to conclude/perpetuate, Grendel would be somewhat in the right, since the Danes are encroaching on his territory. What’s more, Grendel only attacks Heorot once he’s provoked by the noise from within. Giving Grendel a clear ancestor, though, brings the feud element into play, which makes who’s in the right and who’s in the wrong muddier. After all, any godly person would surely take the side of god in a war with the monsters. Surely.

Running with the idea that Beowulf was substantially altered when written down for the sake of Christianizing the Anglo-Saxons, any feud element would be an incredible asset. From the perspective of a missionary such elements would be their “in;” to the Anglo-Saxons feuds were eminently familiar.

This familiarity would help make the Christian parts of the story seem more understandable. Particularly helpful in this area is the final line of this extract. The climactic sarcasm to be found there makes it prime for Anglo-Saxon appreciation, and could be there as a kind of medieval fan service.

Grendel ventures into the hall next week, and there wreaks his first reported havoc.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Grendel’s glimpse, and the poets’ creation song (ll.86-98) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/08/16 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Sympathy for Grendel?
Singing the song of creation
Closing

Outside the revels in the newly erected Heorot, a dark presence is stirred by poets’ songs of creation.

“Then a terrible demon had a time of
difficult suffering, as it would be in darkness,
he who daily heard the joy makers
loud in the hall; there hands were waved over harps,
there the poets sang clear. Told they of
knowing the long ago provenance of all people,
spoke of how the Almighty made the earth,
this beauteous world, and the water that flows about it;
set the sun and the moon victoriously above
with rays to light the ways of people,
and adorned the rolling hills
with limbs and leaves; how the Maker shaped
each variety of life, all things that have motion.”
(Beowulf ll.86-98)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Though Beowulf is an old poem, and it’s easy to say that old things (especially old works of art and literature) come from black and white world views, Grendel (and Beowulf‘s other monsters) are sometimes more sympathetic than you’d expect.

Though this isn’t a formal introduction of the ravager of Heorot, it’s still his first appearance, and yet the poet does nothing to make him seem like a terrible thing. Aside from the whole “terrible demon” (“ellengæst earfoðlice” (l.86)) thing. But names can just be clever fronts and masks placed onto things to draw attention away from their true portrayal.

After all, demon or no, how would an early medieval audience react to the “difficult suffering” (“geþolode”(l.87)) of a demon? Possibly with cheers and grins, but that could also be too simplistic an assumption on our part. Though, within this excerpt there isn’t much evidence to the contrary.

All that we do have here to suggest that Grendel could be a sympathetic character is the parenthetical “as it would be in darkness,” (“se þe in þystrum bad,” l.87)). Grendel’s natural state is such darkness, and as a people who measured color by brightness and not by hue (as we do), such a state would be unimaginably bleak. Possibly even reason to pity even a monster like Grendel.

Yet, by the nature of alliterative verse, this little description of Grendel’s natural living conditions could just be here to fill out the second half of a line. However, a variety of other descriptions could fit here too, perhaps more physical, or perhaps describing Grendel’s position while listening to Heorot’s hustle. The point is, though the form of the description was chosen to fit the form of the poem, its content could still have been chosen with intention and not just to add a flourish to the piece.

If then, the description of Grendel’s usual living conditions as being what you’d expect of darkness is carrying some intention, its placement makes it prime material for a sympathetic reading of Grendel. Or, at the least, it raises the question of why describe a demon’s habitat if they’re already well known and reviled. Without (unfortunately) other texts to back me up on this, I think it’s because demons were still a very abstract thing when Beowulf was written or composed. In fact, if the version of the poem that we have is one that was altered by the Christian-trained scribes writing it down, then perhaps this description is a sarcastic Anglo-Saxon addition and something that’s calling attention to the otherness of Grendel. Perhaps it is, as I read it, calling such attention so that we the readers begin to pity Grendel, the dweller in the silent dark.

After our brief first glimpse of Grendel, we’re given a rundown of the story of creation. One that rolls the creation story found in Genesis into what seems like a rather close knit series of events. At the least, it cuts down the Biblical account to a few lines. But why that story? Beowulf‘s not obviously a poem about creation, and so you’ve got to wonder.

It’s possible (even probable) that halls like Heorot were figured as lights in the wilderness. Pockets of civilization where new ties were formed and old enemies could (once they were ready) talk things out over mead and meat. Or, perhaps it was an old tradition to sing stories of creation at the breaking-in parties of grand halls to reflect the beginnings that the builders and ring lords had set in motion. This rendition of creation is, after all, a very effervescent version, its wording evoking a bright, fresh scene. Maybe it’s even a kind of invocation or blessing to sing of creation over a new venture that’s the scope of a mead hall.

Looking out to other works of Old English, there’s one curious connection. This is Caedmon’s Hymn, a poem shorter than the section in this excerpt about creation on the same topic. Though Caedmon’s Hymn is also framed with a story about the shepherd Caedmon and how his inspiration to sing gave him that hymn. However you choose to read it, singing of creation just seems to be the way the Anglo-Saxons celebrated freshness and newness.

Next week Grendel’s formally introduced, and we get some of his background.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Heorot’s rise and fall (ll.74-85) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/08/09 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Self sabotage and suspense
Heorot and Hubris
Closing

Heorot is raised, named, and has its end prophesied.

Then heard I that work a summons went widely,
to many peoples from throughout this earth,
to adorn that dwelling place. After their first meeting,
immediately amidst those assembled, it was made ready,
the greatest of all halls; the poets named it Heorot,
he whose word has widespread influence.
That boast did not lie, rings were doled out,
a continuous treasure flow. That hall rose high,
towering and wide-gabled, made to resist fierce fire,
loathe of lightning; yet it was not as such for long,
since woken sword-hate would later swallow it
after war broke out between son in law and father in law.
(Beowulf ll.74-85)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

For an epic poem, Beowulf has some moments where it seems to sabotage its own scope. At least on the surface. This excerpt is a prime example of such apparent sabotage, as it takes the grand idea of the world’s greatest mead hall and condenses its history into just over 10 lines.

But there’s some purpose behind doing things this way.

In speaking of the end of Heorot, the poet gives it a finite existence. On the one hand doing so could be the poetical version of the mistakes that artisans would make in their intricate weavings and carvings so as to not offend what they believed to be god’s perfect creation. On the other, it lets readers know that Heorot will not be destroyed until the time that is appointed.

To the poem’s original audience (maybe even in its written version) the reference to a feud erupting between father in law and son in law could actually be meaningful; including this detail could root this story further in history. The poet alludes to something real and gives it enough detail to frame it as the real thing. Then he is free to embellish Heorot’s history with the wild story of Beowulf and Grendel.

From a purely narrative standpoint, delineating Heorot’s existence like this also lets the reader know that Grendel isn’t the one to destroy Heorot. Once more, on the surface this seems like self sabotage. However, this moment in the poem doesn’t undercut the suspense of Beowulf’s struggle with Grendel, it strengthens it. An attentive reader knows that Beowulf must succeed for Heorot to survive to be destroyed in the manner described here. What generates much of the suspense during the lead up to and during his fight with Grendel is the question of how he does it.

Continuing in that vein, Heorot sounds like a classic embodiment of hubris. Not only is it a grand building where great treasures are doled out, it’s also built “to resist fierce fire,/loathe of lightning” (“heaðowylma bad,/laðan liges” (ll.82-83)). Its very construction is supposed to negate the natural things that are the banes of other buildings. So it sounds like something that by its nature is calling down the anger of the gods.

Yet, aside from drawing it out of a classically informed narrative analysis placed onto the poem, it’s hard to tell if the Anglo-Saxons themselves saw things this way. This sense of hubris that I’m pulling out of the poem could even be a subtle insertion on the part of the Christian scribe who put Beowulf to paper, something to show the wrong-headedness of the Anglo-Saxons before the missions came and all of that.

Regardless, Heorot’s description is definitely something over the top. And if that’s something that calls down the attention of the gods, then maybe it would foreshadow some sort of supernatural intervention for the poem’s early audiences. Perhaps then, the reference to the hall’s being destroyed in a feud is meant to turn readers’ suspicions away from the supernatural. Grendel still has to be introduced, after all.

Next week, in fact, Grendel gets introduced. And the context of this introduction sets up quite the contrast.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Hall building but not slave trading (ll.64-73) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/08/02 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar – The Builder
What won’t be traded at Heorot
Closing

Hrothgar sees success in battle, grows his reputation, and dreams of a fantastical hall.

Hrothgar was given success in war,
honour in battle, such that his kith and kin
eagerly listened, until the young one grew
into a mighty troop lord. His mind soon turned
to the glory of being called a hall lord,
a mead hall made by the work of many,
that the children of the ages would ever ask about,
and therein to dole out all
to young and old alike, such as god gave him,
all but the people’s land and lives.
(Beowulf ll.64-73)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Once again, at least as I’ve translated it, we get some reference to the importance of reputation. Curiously though, the buzz around Hrothgar sounds like it was built on the foundation of his own deeds. Though, the verb phrase “eagerly listened” (“georne hyrdon”; a literal translation of which would be “eagerly heard” (l.66)) could be the poet’s way of saying that Hrothgar himself, or whatever scop he had in his employ, sang of these deeds in a most compelling way. A way that magnified exploits that might otherwise be rather paltry.

In either case, it’s interesting that the builder of a hall like Heorot would first build up his own reputation. Looking at his career trajectory, from successful warrior to troop lord, to ambitions of hall lordship, and then the fulfilment of that ambition, it seems that Hrothgar himself is a building. One built entirely on a reputation in fact; a foundation that says quite a bit about the importance of a reputation at the time.

But could it say more?

In line 69, we’re told that Hrothgar envisioned his hall as the work of many. This suggests that its building could be something like a modern Amish barn raising, but, given this description, at the very least it would be community effort. What I then wonder is if such a project wouldn’t create a further reputation of one’s being able to turn their words into physical objects. Hrothgar envisions the hall – he must have told someone of these ambitions – and then through his will and influence he brings it about. As a mythic poem would it be out of line to suggest that Hrothgar as a mythic figure could be called “The Builder”?

Quite a well balanced extract, the end of this part of the poem is as rich as its beginning.

Particularly the final clause, which makes it plain that neither land nor peoples’ lives are among those things that Hrothgar will give away. This sounds straightforward enough. Hrothgar will respect his thanes’ and followers’ claims to land and not give the people themselves away. But in what way would he be giving them away otherwise? As slaves? As sacrifices? As soldiers?

It doesn’t seem likely that it’s the third of these, since soldiers would make up a healthy portion of Hrothgar’s followers as is.

The second is definitely possible, since we do later get references to rituals that the Danes try to rid themselves of Grendel. But it’s not likely that these involve human sacrifice, since the poet only mentions that the Danes called on demons (since, as at least a Christian poet, anything other than Christ (and the other members of the trinity) standing as god would be blasphemy) to save them. There’s never any real mention of ritualistic murder or the like, either.

So it seems most likely that he’s referring to treating his people like slaves. To selling them off as if they were just property – another golden cup or war outfitted horse. Actually, that’s a good way to categorize the things that Hrothgar will not be doling out to his followers: things that are not made by human hands.

Land is clearly something not made by human hands, especially since Beowulf portrays the land as a source of threats to civilization.

Grendel and Grendel’s Mother threaten Hrothgar’s little utopia, and the dragon threatens the Geats under Beowulf. Grendel and Grendel’s Mother come from the heath, and even more specifically a strange lake that opens into an underground cave. Later, the dragon comes from an ancient cave near the cliffs of a coast. Both are places that are distinctly other, and thus not at all connected to human creation.

It’s fair to say that people are held as sacred in Beowulf. Yes, parts of the poem seem like they’re just about a bunch of guys bashing another bunch of guys over the head with pointy sticks, but even in those instances, there’s something all to human at stake: honour, glory, safety for one or the other side’s leader’s family/group. Nonetheless, there is value to human life as something more than a possession in this poem, though it may seem to fluctuate more than our modern valuing of the same.

Next week, we see Heorot being built, named, and lurked about by Grendel.

Feel free to comment on today’s entry below and to subscribe to this blog to keep yourself up to date.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

The Familial and the National (ll.53-63) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/07/26 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The macro in the micro
Grazing the matter of interconnection
Closing

Beow, the son of Scyld rises to power, and his son Halfdane’s children are named.

“Then was the burden on Beow, son of Scyld,
that dear king of men, for several long seasons
he was reputed among the people; while his father departed elsewhere,
a lord of earth. Until he Halfdane awoke
to match the father; he held, while he lived,
aged and battle experienced, the joy of the Scyldings.
In unbroken succession he woke four children
in the world: a daughter I believe,
then Heorogar, and Hrothgar, and Halga also;
I have heard that […] the daughter was Onela’s queen,
that war-Scylding’s beloved bedfellow.”
(Beowulf ll.53-63)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Every now and then in Beowulf you can see the weave pattern at work from line to line. Interestingly, the first few lines of this extract are just such a point.

From lines 53 to 57 references to Beow and to the recently departed Scyld are found on every line. What makes these lines extraordinary, though, is that the clauses of each line alternate between having Scyld or Beow as a subject. This gives the section the effect of Beow being borne up on Scyld’s reputation, almost as if Beow would never have been as lauded as he is had Scyld not died.

That’s not to say that this points towards some sort of power intrigue on Beow’s part. I think that it’s just a matter of showing how succession would work, the heir being fuelled by his predecessor’s reputation until the heir’s own reputation grew to become self-sustaining.

That the final two lines of this pattern (56 and 57) feature Scyld in the first half and Beow in the second sustains my reading since their very structure resembles that of a parent propelling their child onwards. Not to mention the appearance of Beow’s own son Halfdane in the midst of this spiral, a placement that sets him up as a ruler able to derive great glory from the swirling power of his ancestors. And, to pass this power on to his own children.

Keeping an eye on the larger patterns of the poem and how they show up in smaller extracts, at this one’s end we get the first mention of a major player in the poem.

Onela is the king of the Swedes who kills Hrethel, the father of Hygelac. So, for all of the Geats great rivalry with the Swedes, the Danes aren’t entirely excluded from the scene since Hrothgar’s sister is married to the Swedish king. In fact, later in the poem, Beowulf kills Onela, though no mention of Halfdane’s daughter is made.

What all of these connections point to is a keen awareness of the need to construct a world that is imminently familiar to an audience so that monsters aren’t just accepted but believed. The scops or scribes who composed Beowulf must have been keen observers of their times, as all lasting writers are, but all the more so to delineate the sorts of interconnections that are so characteristic of Norse myth and legend.

In a way this tight weave between families and people was a matter of survival. Without the central authority offered by a unified government or monarchy, each social group would need to defend itself.

Marriage ties were often the best way to do so, as they could spare life and the cost of battle (both the human cost and the supply cost – I can’t imagine farming or fishing or hunting in Northern Europe at the time saw anyone laying up great stores of stuff with which to trade. After all, the scent of extra fat on a social group could draw the sword teeth of another, probably desperate, group.).

From a perspective of nascent nationalism, it seems, then, that barriers between people were more porous (at least in the world of the poem, which we can only assume to be a reasonable facsimile (monsters excluded) of the time at which Beowulf was first being composed) than they are now. Yet at the same time, though ties between nations may only have been a marriage away, none of the groups in the book willingly turn away from their own origins.

Perhaps that steadfast memory of family is what fuelled so much of the conflict of the time. A desire for safety and security clashing with a fierce sense of identity brought on by seeing yourself as standing on the shoulders of your forebears. How many times does the poet refer to Beowulf as the son of Ecgtheow, or to Wiglaf as the son of Weohstan?

Next week, the poet jumps ahead to the creation of Hrothgar’s gleaming Heorot hall, and to the young ruler’s ambitious ideals.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Gilding the greats (ll.43-52) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/07/04 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Homeward bound Scyld?
Imposing a word and why
Closing

Scyld is sent off with his boat of treasure as his living comrades are plagued by heavy hearts.

“By no means did they leave a lack of gifts,
treasures of the people, when that was done,
when they sent him forth to his origin,
for he was one who came over the waves as a child.
Then they established a golden sign for him
high overhead, they let the waves bear him,
their gift to the raging ocean; they were
sorrowful at heart, mourning souls. Men cannot
say for certain, hall rulers,
heroes under heaven, who that horde discovered.”
(Beowulf ll.43-52)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Initially, it’s tempting to say that the first sentence of this excerpt is very familiar. Not in that everyone sends their dead out to sea laden with treasure, but in that ‘going to see your maker’ is a fairly popular euphemism for death. However, as the sentence ends we get an extra layer is added to Scyld’s story.

Like so many other “chosen heroes” (or figures like them), it’s revealed that Scyld’s origins are shrouded in mystery. On one hand this is definitely a trope, but considering the patriarchal society in which Beowulf was composed/sung, it’s also a curious quality in a great leader.

If there’s one thing that’s important in Anglo-Saxon society it’s a person’s connection to their lineage and heritage. Later in the poem, when Beowulf appears before Hrothgar, there’s no question that Hrothgar’s helping Beowulf’s father in the past goes far in getting Hrothgar to feel secure in entrusting Heorot to the travelling Geat. Scyld’s lack of any connection, since he’s an orphan from across the sea, makes his rise to power all the more impressive.

Though, it’s not out outlandish to guess that having no earthly origin might have as much clout as regal or warrior origins would. After all, a leader’s story and reputation could be as powerful as any army – having such mysterious origins could only bolster such power. So long as they were properly maintained.

Though there’s no connection between the hoard sent out with Scylde and that of the dragon later in the poem, I’ve chosen to suggest one. This centers around the word “hlæste” (l.52).

Commonly, this word means “burden,” “load,” or “freight,” but I went with “hoard.” It’s true that the treasure is the boat’s freight, with the implication that Scyld is as much a treasure as the glittering armour or piled gold, but “hoard” doesn’t subtract from this implication. Thus, it’s a variant translation, but still a valid one.

For, using “hoard” associates Scyld with the treasure that has been sent off in the same way as the more common translations of “hlæste.” It’s possible that Anglo-Saxons might regard “hoard” as more negative in its connotations, though. Hoarding treasure means that it isn’t shared, and unshared treasure is more often than not the undoing of a ruler.

Actually, this raises a curious point. In the person of Scyld literal treasure and a valued figure are joined into one thing; both of them become regarded as treasure. Then, later in the poem, we get the stories of Heremod (who hoarded his treasure, much to the dissatisfaction of his thanes), and of Modthryth (who hoarded her beauty to herself, and punished men simply for looking at her). So, after a great person has been gilded we then see examples of the extreme opposites – a man who refuses to share his treasure in an expected way and a woman who refuses to share her person in an expected way (as skeezy as that might sound).

This establishing of the true value of a great man and then its deconstruction makes for a grand set up for the end of the poem. After all, the tension between valued figures and valued things is resolved in Beowulf’s death and funeral.

Like Scyld he is buried with a great deal of treasure, and like Scyld he is a greatly valued figure among his people. The major difference – Beowulf’s being buried rather than set off to sea – does two things. It gives closure for the poem, but it’s a much more definitive kind of closure since Beowulf returns to the dust of his home rather than mere dust in general.

Next week, the focus returns to Beow, and we hear the first mention of Hrothgar.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

A funeral ship and far foreign lands (ll.32-42) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/06/28 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The matter of the treasure ship
Far away may as well be undiscovered
Closing

Scyld’s funeral procession and the description of his final ship feature this week.

“There at the landing place stood a ring-prowed ship
icy and eager to start, ready for that nobleman’s passage;
the dear lords lead him to
the brightly ringed wealth ship,
treasure filled it to the mast; there was plentiful loot
from foreign lands, booty, loaded into it.
Never heard I of a more splendidly adorned ship
war-ready and armoured,
blade and byrnie; upon his lap was lain
a multifarious fortune, among which
he was to go to far foreign lands.”
(Beowulf ll.32-42)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Scyld’s ship would make a cracking archaeological find. All of that treasure, some of which coming from foreign lands, would have so much to say about the range of the early medieval Danes (and maybe Anglo-Saxons?).

Outside of such a find, though, the big thing here is that the ship is characterized as “icy” (“isig” l.33).

What would the use of an icy ship be?

Would it more effectively cut through the water?

Or is it supposed to mean that it’s an old ship, one that’s been so covered with hoarfrost from travelling in the chill north that it’s become discoloured? Maybe barnacled?

The safest bet is that it’s an old ship. It’d be one thing to use a new one for a Viking burial, but it’d be something else entirely to use a new ship and to laden it with so much treasure.

Speaking of which, aside from the immense wealth on board, the time is taken to mention that the ship is “war-ready and armoured” (“hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum” l.39). Beliefs in some sort of struggle that one must go through to get to the afterlife are fairly common around this time, and they may have coupled with ideas traditionally ascribed to the Norse. Particularly, I refer to the Norse idea that only those who go to death armed will be able to join the ranks of Valhalla. Perhaps there’s also some of the Celtic belief that the afterlife is another life similar to the one in which readers of this entry find themselves.

Whatever the case, Scyld could very easily buy a king out of ransom, and fend off a horde of demons on his way to the “far foreign lands” (“æht feor” l.42).

Is the “far foreign land” of line 42 a predecessor to Shakespeare’s “he undiscover’d country” (from 3.i.81)? Outside of going into a lengthy historical/literary analysis, let’s just look at the two lines within the context of internet writing.

One tips for writing for the internet found in many books/articles/heads of experts is to use Anglo-Saxon words, rather than Latinate or Greek-derived words. It’s supposed to be best to use words that have been in English since the days of the Beowulf bard(s). Keeping this in mind, and remembering that the key here is simplicity maintaining itself throughout history, “the foreign country” as a euphemism for death should have some staying power.

After all, in the days when travel between points was difficult and most people stayed where they were born, anything outside of the village and its surroundings would seem distant and hard to reach. This difficulty of travelling abroad persisted from the time of Beowulf‘s composition (whether you peg it in the 7th or 11th century), to the time of Shakespeare (despite theories about his own wide travelling). With travel abroad being so difficult, round trips were even more so, and thus travelling to a “far foreign” land would mean a person may as well be dead – or vice versa.

Thus, though Shakespeare probably never read Beowulf, the sentiment of his “undiscover’d country,” and of Beowulf’s “far foreign land” is undoubtedly the same.

That’s it for this week. Recordings continue to be delayed, in fact, at this point the “Recording” section of each entry will continue to be included, but they will be filled only when I can find the time.

Next week, we get into part two of Scyld’s funeral, in which his body and its adornments are described.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

The power of spoken word (ll.20-31) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/06/24 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A word’s afterlife
Closing

Beowulf’s reputation is summed up as enough to draw reliable companions for battle, and Scyld dies.

“Thus the young man shall bring about good,
from the largesse of his father’s stores,
so that he among men thereafter retains
willing companions when battle comes,
the nation would endure; praiseful deeds shall
always increase for the family of such a man.
Scyld left off amidst his work,
full busy when he went to the Lord.
They brought him to the seashore,
those dear companions, as he had bidden them.
That man’s words ruled his companions,
those of the earthly prince long in languishing.”
(Beowulf ll.20-31)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

The companionship sung about in this section of the poem sounds dear. Yet it’s phrased in a way that also makes it sound slightly tyrannical. It becomes quite a bit less so if you look at the text as something that’s supposed to be larger than life, and that’s supposed to magnify its characters.

Particularly powerful, though, is Scyld’s word. Lines 30-31 are not to be taken lightly. For these lines sum up what it means to be a truly great hero to Anglo-Saxons (as far as I can figure): commanding enough respect to have your words retain their effect, even after you’ve died. It’s a reflection of Scyld’s strength and, more than likely, his diplomatic skills that his word is so followed.

This same respect is paid to Beowulf, whose dying wish for a specific funeral is also followed. Thus, from the beginning, this poem is about exemplary figures who command the pseudo-mythical power of not only having their words be fulfilled after they’ve died, but also having these events reported.

Such fame might not put them in the same group as dog-headed men and a very large saint, but it definitely makes them remarkable for their time.

Next week, we come to the description of Scyld’s funeral.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Spectacular speculation (ll.12-19) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/06/14 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
All about “aldorlease”
Browsing Beowulf possibilities
Closing

Scyld Scefing’s son is born, and recognized as a suitable successor.

“His son was afterward born,
young in years, then did god send
consolation to the people; well did god know their distress,
What they had endured under the lord of old
for a long while; he the life-lord,
glory-lord, granted worldly-worth;
Beowulf was famous – glory widely sprang –
as Scylde’s successor, in all Scandinavian lands.”
(Beowulf ll.12-19)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Here is a grand example of the importance of family connections and succession for Anglo-Saxon society. However, rather than being a purely happy situation, there’s a note of hope invested in Scyld’s successor.

After all, it’s unclear who the “lord of old” (“aldorlease” (l.15)) is.

Since we’ve only been hearing of Scyld up to this point, the obvious answer is that it is Scyld himself. He was a good king because he commanded so much tribute, but it’s possible that people grew tired of him because of his concentrated wealth.

The lord of old could also be some old god, and maybe, getting into the Christian influences in the poem early, the reference alludes to Scyld’s own belief. Quite possibly he was an early convert, and used the birth of his son as a sign of this new god’s favour.

Or – Scyld’s rule was a little bit on the harsh side, and the scribe responsible for writing out Beowulf inserted this reference to allude to god’s showing favour to an oppressed people by giving this lord a successor who could be as fierce but more even handed.

Whoever the “lord of old” is, the entity referred to in lines 16-17, is definitely benevolent. Whether that’s a set of references to Scyld or to the Christian god.

Yes, Scyld’s successor was named Beowulf. And ultimately, then, Hrothgar has an ancestor who shares his name with the hero who saves him.

Maybe breaking out the titular name so early is a kind of feint, something to bring people in until the great hall of Heorot is built and the story’s strife becomes clear.

Though using “Beowulf” as a preview of the hero of the poem, could also be the case here. If this is the case, then the Beowulf of the poem proper could be considered a sort of second coming.

Or, along similar lines, maybe “Beowulf” is the name of a hero older than the events of the poem, here preserved as a fantastical figure. That would definitely explain why the mysterious Beowulf appears amidst historical figures like Hrothgar.

Editing the recordings is going much more slowly than anticipated. Getting a novel ready for publication, and getting freelance projects together have filled my days. But, my plan is to edit one track a day, get them on YouTube at the end of each week, and then embed those videos here.

As per next week’s text, Beowulf’s successor-ship is cemented, and Scyld’s funeral begins.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Back to the Beginning of the Woven Ring (ll.1-11) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/06/07 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A Turn of Fate
Setting a Tight Sequential Tone
Closing

The poem begins on a rollicking note, as the poet recalls the glory of Scyld Scefing.

“What! We Spear-Danes had heard in days of yore
of the power of the king of a people,
how heroes accomplished valorous deeds.
Often did Scyld Scefing take away
the mead benches from troops of enemies,
terrified the Erola, afterwards that first was found
to become destitute; for that he experienced solace
grew up under a cloud, his honour prospered,
until each surrounding people from over
the whale road paid obeisance,
gave tribute: that was a good king!”
(Beowulf ll.1-11)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Right in the middle of this excerpt, there’s a marked turn.

The poet notes that “the first was found/to become destitute” (“Syððan ærest wearð/feasceaft funden” (ll.6-7)). Rather than just saying that Scyld Scefing became prosperous, the time is taken to note that the powerful that he tore down were torn down before his rise is solidly mentioned in line 7.

This sequencing of events underlines, very early on, the importance of sequence in the Anglo-Saxon world. It also gives some insight into kingship and the belief in something like fortune’s wheel. Only one person can be a powerful king at any given time, and only on can be on the top of the wheel in any given arena at one time. It just so happened that Scyld was at the top of both at the same time.

That the poet makes a note of this power shift also sets the tone of the poem. It will be a story of changing fortunes, but it will be one in which there is no vacuum left for things to be pulled into. There will always be some definite succession of events, something will always happen at the end of something else.

Already, we’ve seen this in the death of Beowulf. The Geats lost a leader, and they will definitely be wiped out since they have none to replace Beowulf. Meanwhile the surrounding tribes will shortly be upon them.

In a sense, the open-endedness that we are left with at the end of the poem promises something that may have been considered a fate worse than death: exile. Scyld might have stolen mead benches, what people would recline on while enjoying themselves and socializing, but exile means that a person would have no mead bench at all – none to even win back.

Next week, a batch of recordings will have been uploaded to this blog, and we’ll move onto Scefing’s further deeds.

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.

Feuding References (ll.99-114) [Old English]

Grendel’s glimpse, and the poets’ creation song (ll.86-98) [Old English]

Heorot’s rise and fall (ll.74-85) [Old English]

Hall building but not slave trading (ll.64-73) [Old English]

The Familial and the National (ll.53-63) [Old English]

Gilding the greats (ll.43-52) [Old English]

A funeral ship and far foreign lands (ll.32-42) [Old English]

The power of spoken word (ll.20-31) [Old English]

Spectacular speculation (ll.12-19) [Old English]

Back to the Beginning of the Woven Ring (ll.1-11) [Old English]