On the coastguard and Anglo-Saxon nationalism (ll.237-247a) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/01/24 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
An idea of nationalism
The bureaucratic border guard
Closing

The Danish coastguard begins his speech to the newly arrived Geats.

“What are ye gear-havers,
wearers of corselets, that thus laden
in a high ship come over the sea-street,
hither with the waves? I am set
as border guard, to keep this isle hold watched,
So that no loathed ones may batter this
Danish land with naval force.
Never in known memory have any
come so openly bearing shields; nor do you
seem eager to get a word of permission from this watchman,
a Dane’s consent.”
(Beowulf ll.237-247a)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

This passage really says a lot about the conception of nationhood that the poet/scribe was working with. Or, that the poet/scribe wanted to portray.

On line 241, the coastguard is referred to as “endesæta.” Clark Hall and Meritt translate this compound as “border-watchman.” Taken separately, the word “ende” translates as “border, edge,” and “sæta” could be a form of the verb “sittan” meaning “to sit” or it could mean “sitter.” So a more modern spin on this compound would be “border-sitter.”

What this little word says about conceptions of nationhood is this: A nation’s land comes down to what it can directly control or patrol.

This lone Dane is out on the coast making sure that no-one sneaks up on the rest of his people, yes. But, his being at the coast also extends the purview of the Danish people so long as he remains connected to the whole (something that is implied when he sends the Geats speedily on to the interior, where Hrothgar is). However, such a conception of borders or limits is essentially one that relies much more heavily on social constructions than on any sort of physical marker.

In one sense, the Danes don’t extend their rule into the sea, but at the same time, their representative at the coast is policing incoming traffic. Not that he can do anything about visitors until they land, but he is nonetheless watching the sea and anticipating threats to the Danes more generally.

At any rate this sense of nationhood is most curious because of its portable nature. Aside from Heorot, the Danes have no constructed physical indicator of their borders. Like the Israelites, or the Anglo-Saxons, they are a people because of their familial and loyalty ties rather than a shared, fixed land.

The Watchman’s last set of statements seems strange without the other half of his speech. Jumping ahead for a second, his “Never…nor” (“No…ne” (ll.244-246)) statement reflects how impressed he is by the Geats’ leader.

More immediately, and sticking to this excerpt, though, mentioning the Geats’ not seeking Danish permission to land seems strangely bureaucratic for a bunch of warrior-adventurers.

Nonetheless, having to ask permission at a border to disembark makes sense. Having to deal with one foreigner within your lands would be much easier than having to manage a boatload of them. It’s no doubt easier for a tribe like the Danes to trust one foreigner at a time when first meeting them, too.

What makes this part of the extract stand out, though, is just the plain shock that comes across in the Danish watchman’s statement. Perhaps he has been coastguard for so long that procedure is something he holds dear because it’s all the human interaction he gets. After all, as a coastguard, he’s hardly in exile, but he’s not exactly back at the hall enjoying the friendly boasting and the mead there.

Alternatively, this could be a reflection of this coastguard’s inexperience. He’s so green that he shakes his spear before he begins to speak not to intimidate, but because of his nervousness. And he makes a statement about the Geats’ lack of respect for protocol because he’s never had to deal with such impatience before.

Given the Dane’s situation, though, it’s not likely that even the newest of their coastguards would be without a good knowledge of warriors landing at the coast. Surely, more than a few have stopped by to try their hands at Grendel. Nonetheless, be he old hand, or greenhorn, the awe expressed in the coastguard’s pointing out the Geats’ eagerness comes across quite clearly. And it sounds genuine to boot.

Clearly Beowulf has made a good first impression.

Next week, check back for the second part of the coastguard’s speech.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

A thoughtful shore guard and Anglo-Saxon karma? (ll.229-236) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/01/17 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Why so curious?
Anglo-Saxon Karma
Closing

This week, we’re offered a look into the head of a Danish shore guard as he sees the Geats land.

“Then from the cliffs the Scyldings shore guard saw them,
the one who was to hold the sea-cliffs,
men carrying bright shields across a ship’s gangway,
bearing ready war gear; his curiousity overpowered
his thinking, the need to know what these men were.
Then rode out the thane of Hrothgar
to the shore, powerfully shook the
spear in his hand, asked in a querying tone:”
(Beowulf ll.229-236)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

The core of this short passage is the shore guard’s inner conflict. From “his curiousity overpowered/his thinking” (“hine fyrwyt bræc/modgehygdum” (ll.232-233)) we can see that he’s generally a cautious, thoughtful sort of guy (possibly an introvert?), but his curiousity overpowers him. What marks this as the core of the passage is what this conflict can tell us about the current feeling among the Danes more generally.

There are a number of things that the man could wonder or assume about those he sees trundling onto the shore, armed and ready for war. But of them, there are two that seem most likely to be in there.

One of these is the possibility that this band of warriors is here to fight Grendel. The other thought is the possibility that the band is an advance party sent to scout out (maybe even take on?) the Danes in open war. Word had spread about their predicament with Grendel, after all. And such word would draw those who wanted to help the Danes as much as those who wanted to take advantage of them. Even fiend-harried, there would no doubt be some gain to be had from taking the storied hall of Heorot.

If we assume that the first possibility is what eggs the man on, then there’s not too much more to write on it. He’s hopeful that the Danes will be saved and that Grendel will be dealt with. This feeling among the Danes is already well-established in earlier passages. However, if it’s the second possibility, that this band of men has come to cause further trouble for the Danes, then things get more interesting.

Perhaps, none have tried to take advantage of the Danes’ weakened state just yet, but Hrothgar, king that he is, is well aware that people will do so. As such, maybe this is even the assumption the man has been commanded to make in this sort of situation. Or, perhaps such attempts have already been made and repelled, making this shore guard wary of such parties of warriors.

The latter situation is more likely to generate inner conflict since hope for help would clash with a learned dread of outsiders. As such, the latter situation is more strongly implied here, which means that a whole lot more has been happening in Daneland than the poet’s told so far. Not that the poet finds such inter-human conflicts as interesting as those between people and the supernatural.

Combining the possibility that over the course of Grendel’s twelve year reign of terror people came to challenge the Danes as well as Grendel with Beowulf‘s cyclical and interwoven nature creates a very strong through-line.

Is Beowulf later visited by a supernatural fiend of his own because he freed Hrothgar from another?

Perhaps, buried in old books and found among words told to children beside winter fires, there is a long since dead belief that whatever you helped to rid one person of would come back in a greater form to challenge you directly. Thus Beowulf‘s supernatural element moves from a pair of ogres/goblins/monsters to a single fire-breathing, night-flying dragon.

Because I’ve always read Beowulf as a story about the broken link a long chain of events, the end of a way of life, this reading of the poem adds further depth to Beowulf’s failure against the dragon.

Hrothgar prospers, or at least survives, because his help is from outside of his group. As such, the group itself is not weakened internally and is able to re-emerge from a lengthy oppression. On the other hand, the dragon that terrorizes the Geats isn’t dealt with by some warrior from another group but is finished off by another Geat: Wiglaf.

Because it’s a member of the group in peril that saves the group from that peril, by whatever mechanic the matter of disasters works in the world of the poem (and maybe its originator?), the Geats are left permanently weakened.

The Geats’ position is also not helped, of course, by the death of their leader. Perhaps the Geats fall not because of the loss of Beowulf alone but because the the outcome of a supernatural revenge system is heaped on top of it.

Next week, we hear what the shore guard says. Listen up come next Thursday!

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

An end to Geatish sailing (ll.217-228) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/12/29 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Leaving the sea mysterious
Beowulf as historical allegory (a sketch)
Closing

The Geats swiftly arrive on Daneland’s bright shores.

The ship then knew the ocean’s motion, was wind-hastened,
became foamy-necked, became seabird like,
until near the time of day they had left,
after their ship with curved prow had glided,
when those well-travelled ones saw land,
dazzling sea cliffs, steep hills,
an ample headland; then was sailing simple,
the journey at an end. From that ship sprang
the Geats onto the sands,
their boat they bound there – they shook their mailcoats,
war gear; they thanked God then,
the one that made their ship’s going smooth.
(Beowulfll.217-228)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

For a poem about sea-faring peoples, the poet’s definitely not spinning out what you’d expect. Every time that someone travels by sea it’s usually glossed over. There’s often something about it being swift, or sailors being lucky with conditions, but no real detail about it is given.

Maybe, in this poem for a people looking to settle into a fixed identity, the idea was to keep transitory acts (like sailing) to a minimum. If that’s the case, then the poet definitely did his/her job: there’s not a true sailing scene in the whole poem. Though, there is the matter of Beowulf and Breca’s swimming match.

Perhaps the Geats’ trip over to Daneland is not shown because it would interfere with the importance of the swimming match. After all, the sea would hold no mystery or power or be able to inspire as much of a response if details about safe passage across it were given. With the sailing scenes (and even Beowulf’s swimming back to Geatland after a major battle later in the poem) as short as they are, the sea retains its mystery. And with that mystery can come monsters, like those that Beowulf fights as he defends his friend.

Perhaps the power of this mystery was meant to extend further, as well. For, if the Anglo-Saxons of the British Isles wanted to feel like a grounded, rooted people, then making something as transitional as the sea a mystery could help them do so. For mysterious things are usually alienated or alien things.

An interesting detail is contained in line 222: “brimclifu blican.” I translated that second word, “blican,” to dazzling (in line with the Clark Hall & Meritt Anglo-Saxon Dictionary’s definition). Perhaps most of northern Europe had the white cliffs that are now associated with Britain (thanks in no small part to Matthew Arnold). So, is Daneland, in all things but figures and fealties, another Britain?

Going back to the Anglo-Saxons as a sea-faring people, they’re sure to have noticed the white cliffs of Britain facing France. So if Beowulf was written by the Anglo-Saxons, and not just translated from a language you might expect given peoples’ and places’ names, then maybe that’s a detail signalling that Daneland represents Britain.

If Daneland is understood as Britain, then perhaps Grendel is the Celts, or some sort of spirit or genius of the Celts that the Anglo-Saxons didn’t care for. Reading Grendel in this metaphorical way, it then becomes possible to interpret Beowulf himself within the same historical framework. Where Grendel is the embodiment of what is wrong with the place that the Anglo-Saxons (the Danes) have chosen to settle, Beowulf represents what is just and what is good – Beowulf is god’s instrument for the creation on earth of what is to be harmonious and perfect. Like the Anglo-Saxons he came from elsewhere, but frees those that he meets and is elevated to kingship because of his prowess and own merits rather than inheritance.

In fact, he becomes king because of the people’s accord when a new ruler has to be found after Hygelac’s line is ended. Ultimately, though, what Beowulf’s death could mean in this metaphorical interpretation of the hero gets tricky. Perhaps it is a kind of prophecy of what would come next for the Anglo-Saxons, after they had waned like their other heroic peoples, the Jews of the book of Exodus, had.

This entry wraps things up for 2013. Check back for the first post of 2014 on the third Thursday of January!

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.

Desperate Danes, Poetic License (ll.146b-163) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/09/28 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
More feuding, less sin
Grendel kin
Closing

Grendel’s rule over Heorot becomes news of the world, and the Danes’ plight becomes well known.

&nbsp”It was so for some time,
Twelve winters of anger the friends of Scyld suffered,
each became accustomed to such hardship,
rougher sorrow; because of that they became speakers,
sons of the age, knowledge of them was unhidden,
those troubled deeds of old, that Grendel lashed
out against Hrothgar for a long time, the hateful
monster’s way, years full of failures and feuding,
a perpetual siege. That kin would not treat
with any man of the Danes for even the shortest time,
deadly evil from afar, as few did hope,
nor were there any who believed that his
hand could be stayed with a bright death price;
the fierce enemy was, after all, the pursuer,
a dark death shadow over the veterans and youths,
those who tarried and planned, night upon night
he held the misty moors, men never knew
whither the fiendish monster rapidly went.”
(Beowulf ll.146b-163)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Once more we’re faced with the classic phrase: “fyrene ond fæhðe ” (l.153). However, I took a bit of a liberty in its translation. Rather than go with a usual English word for “fyrene” like “transgression,” or “sin,” I went with “failure.” This word rings true here because the phrase is used as a blanket term for the Danes’ relationship with Grendel over the twelve years of his terror. Pairing “failure” and “feud” reflects this relationship pretty much perfectly.

Why?

Because those twelve years are definitely twelve years of fueding. The Danes and Grendel exchange blows (though in a rather one sided way) because of some initial offense for all twelve of those winters. At the same time, the Danes attempt to end this feud in the ways that they’re used to doing so. Ways such as trying to parlay with him (l.154-155), and paying “a bright death price” (“beorhtre bote” (l.158)). Why Grendel should be paid off with a “death price” remains unanswered, though it implies that the Danes may have killed one of his at some earlier point. Or, it could be a sign that the Danes were simply trying everything and anything.

Of course, none of the tactics that the Danes under Hrothgar try succeed. So, in their feud with Grendel, they fail.

The Danes fail to understand what it is that has turned Grendel on them, and, maybe, they fail to understand that Grendel isn’t just monstrous in appearance, but also in his nature. Grendel can’t be dealt with in the same way that some other human clan or group could be dealt with.

Thus, translating “fyrene and faedthe” as “failure and feuding” describes perfectly the Danes experience over their terrible twelve years. The phrase also gels well with the idea of a “perpetual siege” (“singale sæce” (l.154)), since both are terribly one sided conflicts in one way or another. Plus, it alliterates much more smoothly than “sin and feuding” or “transgression and hostility.”

Getting back to the Danes’ trying to pay Grendel off to end the feud, the latter half of this extract suggests that there’s a bit more to this attempt. Particularly in line 159, where Grendel is called “the pursuer” (“ehtende” (the past tense of the verb “ehtan” (“to pursue”), but I have translated it as a noun)).

Referring to Grendel in such a way suggests that the payment the Danes tried to make to him wasn’t so much to repay Grendel for some past wrong they had done to him. Instead, it seems that the Danes are trying to pay Grendel to stop him from killing their own. How exactly this is supposed to work doesn’t make clear sense. After all, it’s a bit too much of an appeal to whatever humanity Grendel may share with the Danes. It’s enough to give you a strong sense that Grendel’s not just monstrous because of his appearance and actions, but because he is completely outside of the usual civil way that people in Beowulf‘s world interact.

The Danes’ trying to pay Grendel to stop his killings could also be because of a misunderstanding on their part. However, I don’t think that’s entirely the case. The poet’s reference to Grendel as “that kin” (“sibbe” (l.154)) implies that he was regarded as some distant relation of the Danes. Maybe this is a nod back to the scop’s noting that the monsters are the kin of Cain. From there, the Danes could surmise that Grendel, a monster, is related to Cain, the son of Adam, the father of humanity, and thus (distantly) related to them.

On a more meta level, the reference to monsters being the kin of Cain and the poet’s referring to Grendel as “the kin” here could be the Beowulf poet/scribe’s own commentary on the power and influence of stories (or the gullibility of people in the past). Perhaps Grendel has no relation to the Dane’s whatsoever, and they are only trying all that they are and loosely referring to him as “kin” because the scop’s history of the world told them such was so.

Next week, we’ll hear more about Grendel’s attacks and the Danes’ responses.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Grendel the grim and greedy (ll.138-146a) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/09/20 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Confrontation, or ambush?
Grendel’s reign
Closing

The poet describes how Grendel has terrorized the Danes, and has the area around Heorot in his goblin grip.

“Then was he easy to find roaming
about elsewhere seeking rest,
a place to recline and relax, to which he left a trail,
that token spoke truly of the object
of the hall-dwellers’ hate; they sought
refuge outside the hall once that fiend was running free.
So he ruled in defiance of right,
one of lesser stuff against all, until that
greatest of houses stood silent.”
(Beowulf ll.138-146a)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Each of these extracts has brought up questions. The first that comes up here is why the Danes don’t track Grendel back to his resting place, or lay in wait and ambush him there. The latter of those two is out since it would be considered underhanded.

Any tactic that involved facing an enemy in an indirect way would have been considered cowardly or deceitful – both of which were traits to be avoided. On the one hand a code of honour is definitely responsible for the Anglo-Saxons’ looking down on such indirect tactics as ambush, but, at least within the realm of literature, I think the reason that Grendel isn’t merely staked out is because of the prevalence of feuds. If you were trying to minimize or avoid trivial feuds, the best way to do so would be to deal directly with friends and enemies alike – any misunderstanding, after all, could burst into a feud.

After all, on top of their inter-generational nature, feuds also involved a complex system of monetary compensation, and not every family or group in the Anglo-Saxon world had a hoard of gold to which they could turn for such payments. Also speaking from literature, it would not surprise me if some of the more astute admirers of poetry at the time considered Sigurd’s ambushing the dragon Fafnir the spark that ignites the blaze of tragedy that engulfs him and his family.

As to why the Danes don’t just follow the “token [that] spoke truly” (“gesægd soðlice sweotolan tacne” (l.141)) back to Grendel’s resting place and attack him there, all I can put forward is Grendel’s strength. He has already overpowered the Danes in their own “home turf” so to speak, and so they probably figure that facing him on his own turf would not go any better for them. Even if they didn’t have the concept of a home field advantage, Grendel’s resting place would likely be somewhere in the moors, an environment that’s less than hospitable considering its boggy ground, swarming insect life, and whatever superstitious trappings were attached to it as a place that is “Other.”

Grendel’s rule of Heorot is here characterized as “in defiance of right,/one of lesser stuff against all” (“wið rihte wan,/ana wið eallum” (ll.144-145)).

First, the “one of lesser stuff” is my interpretation of the lone wan meaning “lacking,” “deficient,” or “wanting.” The reason I chose to unpack the word in that way is because it underscores the poet’s overturning of the proper sense of order at this point in the poem. Grendel, the representative of devilish forces is winning, while the Danes, not exactly paragons of virtue, but nonetheless people striving to do good as far as they understand it, are brought low. So turning wan into “one of lesser stuff” makes sense.

Grendel’s rule over Heorot and its surroundings at this point is a definite low point. Not only because the Danes are without their meeting/mead hall, but because it’s a building that stands as a high point of civil achievement. It’s a place that is made to be sturdy, and that’s finished with stunning gold eaves. The specificity of the decor isn’t accidental, no doubt putting gold into a building’s roof was a way that the Anglo-Saxons tried to curry favour with their god(s). Though later scholars, and maybe even the religious who wrote down Beowulf, would see Heorot as an example of pagan pride and vanity, it nonetheless is something that stands as a sign of a people doing good as they see it.

Strangely this sort of cultural clash between pagan and Christian world views is most prevalent before Beowulf enters the story. Maybe this shift away from the clash is because his character is quite overwhelmingly proto-Christian, coming in and bragging that he’ll beat Grendel by the grace of god and so on. Whatever the case, this clash of world views becomes even more prevalent in the poem’s coming lines.

Tongues in Jars will be updating normally again from here on out. So be sure to check back next week!

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Grendel’s complications (ll.126-137) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/09/06 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Grendel’s hesitation
“G” is for vendetta
Closing

In the aftermath of Grendel’s attack there is great sorrow. This sadness is amplified when Grendel shortly strikes again.

“Then, outside the hall at daybreak,
was Grendel’s war-strength seen by human eyes;
after that was there weeping to heaven,
a morning full of mourning. Famous warriors,
long tested true lords, sorrowful sat,
the mighty moaned, the lost thanes saddened them,
until they found the faint, loathful footprints that
the evil doing fiend had made. That was helpful to
the beast’s escape,hateful and sluggish. That night
was not long alone, nigh the next night he again brought
more violent death and seemed not to hesitate as before,
bringing violence and outrage; he came down heavily upon
them.”
(Beowulf ll.126-137)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

So apparently Grendel was holding back in his first visit. Based on the penultimate line of this week’s extract, Grendel “seemed not to hesitate as before” (“no mearn fore”(l.136)). But what was there to hesitate about?

The suggestion that Grendel was holding back implies that he had some scrap of humanity in him on that first night, and it was this that was picked up on in last week’s entry. So, for some reason, after that first attack Grendel descends into something worse.

Perhaps Grendel was merely testing Heorot and those that he found there. But why would he need to test them? Again, it seems that Grendel had something in him to help him to know that he had something in common with his targets. Grendel is the kin of Cain, after all.

So, even if he could feel some commonality with the thanes of Heorot, he would be feeling it from the perspective of one who has a cursed nature. It’s safe to say, then, that Grendel’s perspective, feelings of kinship/commonality aside, is different at its base. Different enough to realize that he was somehow better than them, or that they were not a threat, not something against which he would have to hold back.

As a quick aside, John Gardner’s Grendel is a great study in the ghoul’s character, and it seems that Gardner drew more from Beowulf for it than you might think.

Carrying forward the ideas of the feud between god and the monsters and the distant kinship between the Danes and Grendel (from last week’s entry), there’s a curious word on line 137. This word is “fæhðe,” which means “violence,” “outrage,” or “vendetta,” according to Clark Hall & Meritt’s Anglo-Saxon Dictionary.

Now, a “vendetta” isn’t quite the same thing as a “feud.” The former is something that’s generally more one-sided, something that a person embarks upon because of a perceived wrong, whereas the latter is usually something where both parties are at least dimly aware of some mutual wrong(s) that are the cause for their enduring dispute.

So, since the feud between god and monsters is something limited to the songs of the scops, it’s not likely that Grendel’s striking Heorot as part of the age old feud of which they sing. Whether it’s the noise, or being god’s preferred offspring, Grendel is raining violence down upon Heorot as part of a vendetta, a one-sided feud. To modern readers this could be something rooted in Grendel’s nature as a monster. But, to the poem’s early audiences, a thing like a vendetta would seem monstrous in itself.

Before authority became centralized in the form of kingdoms and fiefdoms, one of the great laws of Northern Europe was the feud. But it was, in the ideal case, something that involved both parties, and was a means of redressing a wrong that was great enough to legitimize the bloodshed inherent in such a conflict.

To bring a vendetta against someone or some other group would be seen as a flaunting of the law of the land, and the action of an imbalanced person. Thus, Grendel’s made to be extra monstrous because of the apparently unmotivated violence that he brings to the Danes. Not simply because he’s acting so violently, but because he’s carrying a vendetta to the hall.

In next week’s extract, Grendel’s assaults drive people away from Heorot, and word of the hall’s woe spreads across the world.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Further words on Grendel (ll.115-125) [Old English]

Posted on 2013/09/02 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The character of Grendel
Cathartic Violence
Closing

Grendel breaks into Heorot after a feast, and seizes thirty thanes, whom he handily devours.

“Knew he then what he sought, once night fell,
at the high house, how the Ring-Danes
after beer-drinking would be stayed there;
found he therein a fortune of princes
sleeping fast after the feast – they knew no sorrow,
men of the war spear. The unholy figure,
grim and greedy, was quickly enthused,
savage and severe, and at once he seized
thirty thanes; after that he went out
heading loudly home with his prey,
with that slaughter he returned to his dwelling.”
(Beowulf ll.115-125)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Grendel’s terrifying assault on Heorot is told of in these lines. But in them, there’s also something said about Grendel’s character.

First off, immediately we’re told that Grendel is capable of self-knowing. The very first clause of the extract is “knew he then what he sought” (“Gewat ða neosian” (l.115)). This self knowledge means that Grendel isn’t just a rampaging beast, but is something more. He’s the kin of Cain, sure, but that doesn’t remove a thinking brain from his body. So Grendel’s motives can be more complex than simply hunger or rage.

His enthusiasm for the slaughter also suggests some parts of his personality. Grendel is excitable and, perhaps because of the poetry used, it seems as if he glowers over the sight of the thanes. Almost as if he sees the thirty there and immediately begins to fantasize about a possible future wherein he’s devouring/stealing them all away. Unlike the Anglo-Saxons’ (likely) understanding of animals, Grendel has some degree of emotional feeling and seems like he’s capable of planning ahead. But, this emotion is tempered by something, at least in the way the poet describes it, more reasoned.

The Anglo-Saxon word for “seized” on line 122, “genam,” means just that “seized.” However, it’s not a word that was used on a day to day basis, rather, it’s from the Anglo Saxon legal vocabulary. So Grendel seized the thirty thanes in a legal way.

Perhaps this action of seizure, along with showing that Grendel is overly litigious, also suggests that Grendel is merely carrying on a feud, taking what is legally his, or doing so with the force of the law behind him. In the feud between god and the kin of Cain it’s not exactly clear how long it’s been since a blow was struck against god, and so taking thirty thanes might be Grendel’s way of evening things out.

Of course, since this is just one word, it’s entirely possible that “genam” was used merely because it fit the meter of the line. Not being bound up in the line’s alliteration (that job falls to “r” here) though, there’s not much in the way of formal reasons to use a word other than “genam.”

For a scene that describes such a ghoulish incident, there’s very little in the way of graphic description. No limbs are torn from bodies, no blood is drunk from wounds, no specific damage is done to any body whatever. Plus, given the way that Beowulf will describe this incident to Hygelac later on, adding in Grendel’s glove, it seems like a very clean snatching.

This clean description helps to strengthen the argument that Grendel’s actions have some force of law behind them. So long as graphic descriptions of violence are intended by the poet/writer to communicate a disruption of relations (the sort of thing that happens when warring armies meet, or rivals square off) its lack suggests the lack of a disruption of relations. So long as graphic descriptions of violence indicated such a disruption to Anglo-Saxons, this clean description of Grendel’s seizure could be read as an indication that Grendel is in the right in his stance against Heorot.

Yet, if you follow that interpretation, it would also mean that Beowulf is in the wrong. After all, the description of the fight between Grendel and Beowulf is quite brutal, going so far as to include a poetic rendering of an arm being ripped off. So if Grendel’s clean sweep of the thanes suggests his being in the right, Beowulf’s gruesome assault on Grendel suggests that he is in the wrong.

Assuming that it’s the other way around, though, Beowulf enters into the right, while Grendel’s lack of violence disempowers him. Even as this lack comes across in a wild act of violence against Heorot.

Yet, even read in such a traditional way, Grendel can still be read as a complex character. The lack of concrete physical description of the violence he perpetrates implies that his violence is unfulfilled. This violence is a desire, an urge, that has no expression.

Though ideas of the humours come centuries after Beowulf’s being composed/written, a long standing idea about the human body is that it houses certain energies. Holding these energies up generally meant that something would shortly go wrong, and some illness would result. Violence was often understood as one of the chief ways to expend this energy. Being unable to expend energy, even through violence, could be a terrible fate.

Perhaps that’s at the root of Grendel’s violence against Heorot. It’s not that he’s bothered by the noise, but the sound of others partying and expending energy, living life, reminds him of his unfulfilled urge. So Grendel lashes out, but as part of the curse of being kin of Cain, he is unable to expel his energies as he expresses his urges. Grendel can still be violent, of course, but he isn’t able to sate his urge to be so, it remains a fixed quantity.

In the next entry, the following morning finds Grendel’s gruesome visit and he strikes again.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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.

A Blogger's Beowulf

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

Tag Archives: Anglo-Saxon

On the coastguard and Anglo-Saxon nationalism (ll.237-247a) [Old English]

A thoughtful shore guard and Anglo-Saxon karma? (ll.229-236) [Old English]

An end to Geatish sailing (ll.217-228) [Old English]

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

Desperate Danes, Poetic License (ll.146b-163) [Old English]

Grendel the grim and greedy (ll.138-146a) [Old English]

Grendel’s complications (ll.126-137) [Old English]

Further words on Grendel (ll.115-125) [Old English]

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

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