On Hrothgar and "equipment" (ll.356-370) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/05/10 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Hrothgar as depressed Dane
Noble customs and “equipment”
Closing

Wulfgar brings Beowulf’s petition to Hrothgar. His tone makes a positive reply seem like a long shot.

“Then quickly he turned, to face where Hrothgar sat,
old and hoar among the throng of his thanes;
he went to the one of honourable deeds, stood shoulder to shoulder
with the Danish lord: knew he their noble customs.
Wulfgar spoke to his friend and lord:
‘Here are those who came, who ventured
forth going over the sea from the Geatish lands;
their chief champion
they call Beowulf, he is the petitioner,
the one asking, my lord, if he might mix
words with you. Do not propose to deny
your reply, gracious Hrothgar:
by his war-gear I think their worth
that of esteemed warriors; indeed he seems dependable,
the one warrior who has lead them so far.'”
(Beowulf ll.356-370)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Is this speech a sign of Wulfgar’s knowledge of the Dane’s “duguðe þeaw,” (“noble customs” (l.359)) or is it an honest plea to a forlorn lord?

The honorifics (“my lord” (“þeoden min” (l.365)), “gracious Hrothgar” (“glædman Hroðgar” (l.367))) seem like things said as parts of Wulfgar’s addressing Hrothgar. They sound like what’s required of someone lower speaking to the highest ranking individual in the Dane’s hierarchy.

But, it’s hard to read Wulfgar’s imploring Hrothgar to “not propose to deny/your reply” (“No ðu him wearne geteoh/ðinra gegncwida” (ll.366-67)) without hearing an imploring note. There’s something in those words that speaks to the Dane’s desperation. Perhaps Hrothgar has fallen into a depression after seeing so many warriors fall to Grendel’s might. Or, as Neil Gaiman would have it, Hrothgar is covering up some past misdeed of his with sorrow.

I believe that Hrothgar has fallen victim to depression.

Sitting amongst his warriors he’s no doubt reminded of how he valiantly fought to bring peace to his lands. And, being surrounded by those who are enjoying themselves in Heorot, he is no doubt reminded of the efforts that went into the construction of that glittering mead hall. And yet, empty seats all around him bring phantoms into his vision, ghosts of the past that hang off of his memory like overripe apples heavy with both savour and with worms.

Anyone in that state of mind is likely to wave away petitioners and those willing to help without a further thought. Hrothgar seems to have no reason to look out from the past, he has nothing to look forward too, after all.

Anyone in that sort of state would need someone like Wulfgar to talk them back to the present. Someone to inspire some hope in them, as Wulfgar attempts to. And, as we’ll see next week, there are hints that Wulfgar’s mentioning Beowulf’s name and his merit in bringing his fellow Geats so far that the attempt is successful. Hrothgar brightens – but stays well within the bounds of the customs of the nobility.

As high and noble as the customs of a ruling host may be, they bear a striking resemblance to the customs of modern day politicians. Both are full of seemingly empty words.

At least for our scholarly purposes, there aren’t many words of great interest in Wulfgar’s speech.

Even the words used for “noble customs” (l.359), “duguðe þeaw,” isn’t necessarily all that interesting.

The first word in the pair means “body of noble retainers, people, host, the heavenly host, strength,” and the second means “usage, custom, morals, morality.” So, like most other systems of conduct, there’s a suggestion of the Danes’ system having a higher origin (translating the phrase as “the custom of the heavenly host”). There’s also, perhaps reflecting poorly on Beowulf‘s time to our modern eyes, the translation “the custom of strength,” that could be construed as “might makes right.” Curious how heaven and power have that sort of relation – however distant.

More interesting in an archaic sort of way, part of the word “getawum” (“war-gear” (l.368)) once had a different meaning. This sense of “taw-u,” the root of “getawum,” once meant “genitalia” (along with “apparatus, and “implement”). But, even to Beowulf‘s early audiences, I’m willing to guess whatever sense of “genitalia” was inherent in “getawum” was a distant echo, something that only the scholarly among them would catch.

Nonetheless, maybe this sense (or the spirit?) of “getawum,” after some major transformations, came to rest in modern euphemisms like “bait and tackle.”

Next week we hear Hrothgar’s whispered reply to Wulfgar, and perhaps see the first stirrings of hope in this downcast ruler of a people.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Beowulf’s rhetoric (ll.340-347) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/04/19 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Introductory patterns
Is there a mic in that helmet?
Closing

Beowulf replies to Wulfgar with his origins, but masks his purpose with formality.

“‘One man among them courageously answered,
the proud man of the Weders, spoke after those words,
bold beneath his helm: “We are Hygelac’s
table-companions; Beowulf is my name.
I will explain to the son of Halfdane,
that famed lord, my errand,
your prince, if he will grant us such,
that we may greet him graciously.'”
(Beowulf ll.340-347)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Despite the brevity of this passage, there are some things that can be said about it.

Not the least of which is the continuation of a pattern we’ve seen before.

In 6 February’s entry (in which Beowulf introduces himself to the coastguard, ll258-269), we saw that Beowulf didn’t just say outright “I am Beowulf.” Instead he introduced his group as friends of Hygelac’s, and then introduced himself primarily through his father.

Once again, Beowulf introduces the group first, with a similar line explaining their relationship with Hygelac (l.342). But then, instead of introducing his father and merely claiming to be his son, we hear Beowulf say for the first time in the poem that takes his name, “Beowulf is my name” (“Beowulf is min nama” (l.343)).

Surely the herald of a great prince like Hrothgar commands more respect than a coastguard?

So then why does Beowulf simply give his own name (a name which makes no reference to his father)?

My theory is that this has to do with the intimacy of the hall setting.

Although this conversation is still very formalized, Heorot is nonetheless a place of leisure. It’s where Hrothgar and his thanes hang out and trade treasures and stories between battles and forays. The hall would even draw strangers into Hrothgar’s hospitality, at least, were it not for Grendel. As such, Beowulf has no need to show his “son of” card just yet.

Even so, the other curious thing about Beowulf’s shift in tone is that he keeps his purpose for from Hrothgar’s herald. Instead of declaiming for all to hear, “I am Beowulf! I’m here to kill your monster” (as a cg’d Ray Winstone did), he says that he’ll reveal just what his purpose is when he speaks to Hrothgar.

I think this feint is meant to show Beowulf’s social acumen. In a hall besieged for twelve years by some seemingly invincible terror, anyone (especially anyone as young as Beowulf’s supposed to be here) coming around claiming to be there to deal with Grendel is likely not going to be believed. Likely, for most of those twelve years such an approach hasn’t been useful. Those who did come in with boasts blaring were probably laughed out of the hall.

And once you’ve been laughed out of something it’s all the harder to win glory there.

All the more so if you appear ridiculous. It might seem Beowulf would were he still wearing his helmet, as the poet suggests on line 342. But this detail appears to bolster his position.

Maybe it’s all just to keep building up the mystery around these Geats among the Danes. The Geats’ helmets are supposed to have cheek-guards, and you’d think that they would protect the helmet’s wearer from sight as well as blows.

Or perhaps the poet is engaging in a bit of embellishment. Painting Beowulf into a bit of a caricature of a warrior. He keeps his helmet on so that he can be ever vigilant. Or maybe because it’s simply the outfit of a warrior and keeping his helmet on shows Beowulf’s seriousness.

Regardless, I definitely think it’s a poetic detail. Though his speaking “bold[ly] beneath his helm” could well be an image of sorts, suggesting that Beowulf spoke as deeply as if he were wearing a helmet. Maybe there’s even something about Beowulf’s tone itself being a source of protection in such an image.

Next week, Wulfgar takes Beowulf’s message and departs.

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.

The coastguard’s farewell (ll.312-319) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/03/28 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A boastful coastguard?
Meet the new god, same as the old god
Closing

The coastguard takes his leave of the Geats, wishing them god’s protection.

“He took the battle brave to the bright
high-souled hall, that he may thither them
go; that hero of combat turned his horse
about, spoke he these words next:
‘It is time for me to go. The almighty
father’s grace keep you healthy
amidst your quest! I am to the sea,
to hold the shore against fiendish foes.'”
(Beowulf ll.312-319)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

The coastguard’s being called “hero of combat” (“guðbeorna”) seems strange. That is, until you notice that it’s the third word in an alliterative sequence. But is it only there to hold up a preferred Old English poetic form?

Yeah, probably.

I mean, the coastguard does mention that he has to go back to the coast to guard against “fiendish foes” (“wrað werod” (l.319)). So there could be some verity to his being a “hero of combat.” But that term seems a little inflated to me.

Could the poet be having a laugh at the coastguard’s expense? “guðbeorna” fit the line that he had written and so he just ran with that and made the coastguard into a bit of a boaster at the end of his speech?

Maybe.

I mean, on the one hand, as much of an exile such a person might feel (even if he does have a crew out there), it definitely wouldn’t be wise to send some fop out to guard your coast.

The Danes wouldn’t have had the troops to keep a barracks there or anything like that. His crew included, the Danish coastguard in Beowulf probably wouldn’t exceed ten men. Tops. So he, the lead coastguard if you will, would definitely need to have proven his mettle in combat.

Though, it’s also possible that the position of coastguard is reserved for warriors who are past their prime. No longer able to perform as vigourously on the battlefield they’re charged to put their skills and battle-sharpened wits to the test in judging new comers and putting on a fearsome face. With a coast as quiet as the Dane’s must be (who, aside from heroes would want to come to a monster-terrorized-golden-hall party?), the job of coastguard definitely seems like something that would get filled by a veteran.

And maybe that’s what the poet was going for with the narrative riff on the coastguard’s past and then his own seemingly over-zealous admission of what he was heading off to do.

Throughout Beowulf, people give thanks to a generic male, father god. Many translations (and some instances in the original text) make many of these references into “lord.” As such, it’s very easy to read these instances of reference to god as references to the Christian god. Since “lord” is frequently used as a deific pronoun in Christianity.

However.

Christianity wasn’t the only religion to have a wise, solemn, wrathful, and benevolent patriarchical deity.

The Norse peoples (who definitely had some influence on Beowulf since it’s set largely in Daneland of all places) had Odin. The Germanic people had Woden. The Anglo-Saxon creators or audience for this poem were themselves Germanic.

So who’s to say that these generic references to god aren’t to these pagan gods? The Geats and Danes aren’t exactly quoting Old or New Testament verses at each other. Though there is that lengthy reference to Grendel as the kin of Cain and god’s war with the giants. That could be a reference to the apparently standard stories told among the peoples of northern Europe about unexplored places.

Knowing with certainty who the deity is that’s constantly being referred to is an impossibility. But the idea that it could be either the Christian god or one of the chief Pagan gods isn’t just a neat alternative. That could well have been the intention.

No matter where you place our version of Beowulf‘s composition within the 400 year window generally agreed upon (between 600 and 1000 AD) contemporary Christianity had yet to really spread over all of Europe. As such this story that’s ostensibly about a hero’s quests and fights with the supernatural could have been used as a way to infiltrate and convert.

Or, any male deity could be read into it as a way of making sure that the epic simply wasn’t too preachy.

Beowulf‘s being bundled with a collection of fantastic tales from the east in the Noel codex could in fact be the book creator’s way of sort of sweeping it under the rug because these god references weren’t clear then either. That book maker would have been a Christian monk of some sort or another after all.

So, when you’re reading Beowulf and come across a reference to the “alwalda” don’t just think surfer dude with a long white robe and beard, but think one-eyed, helmeted warrior god, too.

Next week, the Geats step into Heorot and duly unequip themselves.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Speculation along the way to Heorot (ll.301-311) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/03/21 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Gold as guardian
Of ships and mothers
Closing

The coastguard leads Beowulf and his entourage to Heorot.

“They went upon their way. The boat was bound,
the capacious craft tethered with cord,
secure at anchor. Boar-shapes shone
atop their cheek guards; ornamented gold,
glistening and firmament firm, securely held life:
war-hearted grim men. They all hurried onward,
going down together, until from that high hall of a building,
ornamented and gold-dappled for all to see
that it was foremost among humanity of all
the buildings beneath heaven, the ruler called for them;
light of the people over so great a land.”
(Beowulf ll.301-311)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Gold is pretty prevalent in this passage. It’d be easy just to dismiss the metal’s shining presence in the Geats’ helmets and on Heorot as indicators of wealth and prestige, but I think there’s more to it than that. Of course.

In both of these instances I think that the gold is present in the helmet and the hall as a ward against harm. Or maybe as an outward show of the value of the people under the helmets and in the hall.

Putting a monetary value on a life or a major injury isn’t something modern. The Anglo-Saxons had a law covering the same thing that required the perpetrator to pay their victim (or, in the case of murder, the victim’s next of kin) a fee called “wergild.” The major purpose of this fee was to stem the outbreak of feuds and to bring disparate groups together into a group that extended beyond family ties.

It’s a bit broad, but literally translated, “wergild” becomes “man price.”

This is where this theory gets a little crazy, mostly because of timing issues. If the concept of we-gild had been around for a few generations before Beowulf was put together/originally written, then what would stop payments from becoming a preventative measure? Once it was so established, it’s not much further to get to a point where the association of gold with prevention of harm takes on a magical or superstitious flavour.

With such perception of gold as a protective metal in the culture, it would make good sense for it to adorn helmet and horn alike. Thus, pointing out the gold in the helmets and in Heorot’s exterior firmly establishes the protective properties of both.

However, in this passage, I think that a contrast is implied.

If gold is a metal that the Anglo-Saxons of Beowulf’s time believed to have protective properties then it’s already clear to the audience that it hasn’t worked so well for Heorot. The mention of gold being in the Geats’ helmets, then, calls into question just how effective they’ll be in guarding their lives. It’s also possible to read the failure of Heorot’s golden exterior as evidence for Grendel’s chaotic influence. His presence as a kin of Cain causes the proper function of gold to cease.

If all of this rang true for the poem’s original audience, then it’s hard to believe how much more anticipation there would have been for the fight once Beowulf reveals that he’ll faced Grendel completely unarmed. Heck, you could even say that if all this is true and Grendel’s power to negate weapons extends to negating the protective properties of gold, then Beowulf’s facing him with his bare hands alone evens the field all the more.

“Capacious” of line 302 is, in Old English, “wide-bosomed,” or “sidfæþmed.”

While a modern interpretation of “wide-bosomed” might be simply “large breasted,” the two definitions of “sidfæþmed” suggest that the Anglo-Saxons regarded it as more a matter of volume than size. Considering that all children of the period were nursed, this is hardly surprising. The greater capacity a mother had for milk the more nourishment her child would get, giving that child a better chance to make it through childhood and come into healthy adolescence.

How that relates to a ship is beyond me, except for the idea that travelling in comfort is better than travelling in a cramped space. Plus, a boat with some room would make rowing much easier. Easier rowing means faster travel. So a capacious boat is definitely optimal.

Getting back to this passage in particular, what can be made of the repeat mentions of Beowulf’s boat being securely tethered?

Running with the connection between mothers and boats via “sidfæþmed,” and taking along for the jog the tradition of referring to boats with feminine pronouns, Beowulf’s boat could be regarded as his anima being securely left behind, enabling him to act without sentiment, if necessary. If you want to take the Jungian tack.

Much more straightforward is the interpretation that Beowulf’s ship is his only means of getting him back to his homeland. As such, its security is of the utmost importance.

Or, it could symbolize his identity as a true Geat. If he had no way of getting back home, his liege Hygelac could think him dead or gone native, erasing his status as outsider among the Danes and making him a quasi-exile.

Next week, the coastguard takes the Geats to Heorot’s doors and then takes his leave.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

The coastguard’s reply (Pt. 2) (ll.293-300) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/03/14 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The coastguard’s prayer
Two matters
Closing

The coastguard makes Beowulf a promise, and wishes him well.

“‘Also I’ll command my men
to guard your boat against the fiend,
relate a request to guard your newly tarred
ship on the shore, until it again bears
you dear men over the streaming surface
in its bound boards to the Geat’s borders:
that such a doer of good may have that fate,
to survive the battle rush in the hall.'”
(Beowulf ll.293-300)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

A coastguard promising to command his underlings to watch someone’s ship until their return sounds like a pretty routine part of a coastguard’s job. It could just be what coastguards say to those with whom they interact. But here, in the context of Beowulf’s fateful arrival in Daneland, it feels like there’s more to the coastguard’s words than a professional nicety.

The final two lines of this extract are spent wishing Beowulf luck against Grendel, why could that well wish not be extended further back to the extract’s very beginning on line 293?

Taken as a whole, those last two lines definitely fit in with the rest of this part of the coastguard’s reply.

The extract opens with the coastguard promising to command his men to guard Beowulf’s ship until his return and departure.

This is a crux.

It’s not that they’ll watch his boat until his return – they’ll keep his boat until his return and until he leaves Daneland. That the promise covers that much time, and is described in that way, suggests that the coastguard has some confidence in this new challenger.

Though, Beowulf’s return to his ship could be as a corpse (something that’s touched on further into the poem). In that scenario, if that is what the coastguard has in mind, then there is likely little confidence in the man’s tone and delivery. But a whole two lines are spent on the final section of this reply, something that I regard as a prayer, or at the very least, an invocation.

Again, this part of the coastguard’s reply doesn’t really directly refer to Beowulf. However, there’s a slight sarcasm in this section: Rather than “Beowulf” he says “such a doer of good” (“godfremmendra swylcum” (l.299)).

Whether or not Beowulf will indeed do any good has yet to be seen, so I think that the coastguard’s referring to Beowulf as such is a way for him to acknowledge the hope he has for Beowulf while also declining to fully embrace this hope. He’s likely seen too many other heroes come and fail before.

Combined with his promise, this guarded expression of hope makes this part of the coastguard’s reply into one long wish of luck. In that sense, it’s like a prayer, a focused statement meant to bring into being the hypothetical situation that it proposes (Beowulf’s doing good and returning alive).

Two little things here.

First, on line 295, the reference to Beowulf’s boat as “newly tarred” makes it clear that Beowulf’s boat is a really nice boat. After all, tarring was a means of waterproofing and so a newly tarred boat is one in the best state of repair. Though, being newly tarred could imply one of two things.

A boat might have just had a new coat of tar put on it, patching up all of the holes accumulated over years of sailing.

Or, a boat may have been newly tarred because it is itself a new boat.

Like Beowulf in truth, his boat could be a very new boat, something inexperienced and in need of some actual experience of the real world.

The other little thing is the word “lagu-streamas” (“streaming surface” (l.297)).

This combination of “surface” (“lagu”) and “streaming” (“streamas”) gives quite the insight into the Anglo-Saxon view of the ocean. It implies a great depth to the ocean, since it is just the surface that a boat travels along.

Compare that with the modern English means of describing sailing being things like “going out on the water,” and the same sense sort of lives on but is really not as pronounced. For “lagu-streamas” also carries implications of only the surface of the ocean being in motion, the rest of it left mysterious and impenetrable.

Beowulf and his fellow Geats are taken to Heorot next week – watch for it!

Or, you can find the next part here.

What’s found in Beowulf’s word hoard (ll.258-269) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/02/07 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Beowulf’s credentials
Words from the hoard
Closing

Beowulf unlocks his word hoard, and begins to answer the coastguard’s concerns.

“The eldest answered him,
with the wisdom of the band, unlocked his word hoard:
‘We are kin of the Geatish people
and of Hygelac’s **hearth retainers;
His people knew my father,
a noble progenitor known as Ecgtheow, –
he commanded many winters, before he went on his way,
full of years; each man of counsel
on the wide earth takes heed of him.
We through care of the worries of your lord,
son of Halfdane, have come seeking,
the protector of your people; your exhortation to us is great!'”
(Beowulf ll.258-269)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Being the main character’s first speech, this extract is surprisingly straightforward.

We get the poet introducing the speaker with a description of him and his answer rather than a name. We hear Beowulf tell the guard who they are, who they serve, who he is, and who his father is.

Hold on a second.

It’s standard in old heroic stories that people introduce themselves with mentions of their connections. But placing the fealty connection so close to the blood connection creates a parallel that carries some weight.

In defining who they are, Beowulf says that they are “Hygelac’s hearth retainers.” In defining who he is, he says that Ecgtheow is his father. But, no doubt with a characteristic wry smile, the poet has for more than ten lines ignored the guard’s admonishment from last week’s extract: “haste is best
in saying why you are come hence'” (“Ofost is selest/to gecyðanne hwanan eowre cyme syndon” (ll.256-57)).

So why spend so many lines introducing himself so indirectly? In part because of tradition. But also, I think, because the credentials that Beowulf lays down are of the utmost importance.

Hygelac is a great war leader from what little we’ve learned of him so far. And, from what Beowulf says, his father is a famed tactician. Along with wanting to show the guard just what he’s all about, I think Beowulf mentions these two men in the way that he does to communicate that he combines these qualities. Qualities that until now have appeared separately in all of those who have come to face Grendel.

The combination of a warrior’s spirit and a commander’s mind (also, a commander who survived for a long time, suggesting, in one way, that Ecgtheow was able to delay death itself) would surely be seen as what was needed to destroy Grendel.

What, then, can be said for the order of Beowulf’s laying down his credentials? Why not put his father first and his people second?

I think it’s a move meant to show humility, that Beowulf is not out to serve himself, but instead in the service of a whole people.

Again, much like the reference to a warrior like Hygelac, I believe this is meant to show Beowulf’s courage or strength of heart. What he fights for is not personal gain, but the benefit of whole groups of people. That makes him the perfect candidate for defeating Grendel, since he has the moral high ground against a monster that the poet has called kin of Cain, a lineage that marks him with grand immorality.

At least, as far as kinship ties go. If Beowulf’s ties bring in longevity, battle strength, and cunning, Grendel’s brings in murderousness, gluttony, and rage.

Some wondrous words are used in this passage.

“Yldest” (l.257) is usually fairly straightforward. It simply means “oldest,” or “chief.” In the context in which it appears here, this latter definition makes fine sense. And the probe into this word’s meaning could end there.

But if it’s taken to mean the “oldest,” then just how young are Beowulf’s companions?

As he is the hero of the story, it’s easy to see Beowulf as a young man who stands on an established reputation for prowess. But being reminded of the rest of his band like this makes that perception shaky. Especially if this trip is a means for Beowulf to come of age and prove his worth. Such a test seems tailored to someone in his teens. Does that mean that his companions are hardly able to grow beards? Or is the age difference just a matter of months?

Interpreting the word as “chief” is clearer, but why have a word that could mean either “oldest” or “chief”?

This dual definition implies a connection between the two, certainly.

And why not? seniority and authority often go together quite well, especially in medieval societies. Still, the connection one way makes me wonder if it could go the other way as well. If Beowulf is the oldest he can be the chief, but if he is the chief does that mean that he is, necessarily, the oldest?

Another curious compound appears in this passage, too. It’s the word translated as “hearth retainers” in line 261 above: “heorð-geneatas,” a combination of “heorð” (meaning “hearth”) and “neat” (meaning “companion, follower (esp. in war); dependent, vassal; tenant who works for a lord”). Because of the range of options for “geneatas,” the meaning of this one is difficult to bring out in Modern English.

Much like “hall hero”, I think that “hearth retainers” is a solid translation. This new compound gets across that those meant are close to the one they serve and that their master has given them job security of some sort – keeping them on retainer.

Next week, Beowulf continues to speak. Come on by this blog on Thursday to listen!

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

What the Danes’ coastguard says of Beowulf (ll.247b-257) [Old English]

Posted on 2014/01/31 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A matter of translation
Beowulf’s self control
Closing

The Dane’s coastal watchman gaurdedly compliments the Geats’ leader and calls on him to identify himself and his purpose.

“‘Never saw I a mightier man
upon this earth, than this one before me,
this man of might; is that not a retainer,
one worthy of weapons; never would his mien betray him,
a singular sight. Now, you of the far off dwelling place,
sea-farer, I would hear tell of
your singular purpose; haste is best
in saying why you are come hence.'”
(Beowulf ll.247b-257)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

The last word of line 249 doesn’t quite work. I’m not working to get a set meter into my translation of Beowulf, nor am I worried about rhythm. But even John R. Clark Hall and Herbert D. Meritt are bothered by the word at the end of line 249, that they translate as “retainer?” (Hall 302a).

This word is “seld-guma.”

Its only ascription in my dictionary is to this instance of it in Beowulf. Apparently the words “seld” and “guma” are not combined anywhere else in the extant body of Old English writing.

The former of the two words in this compound means “hall, palace, residence; seat, throne, dais,” and the latter means “man, lord, hero.” So literal combinations could be “hall hero,” “palace lord,” or “throne man.” One of these is better than simply “retainer,” I think. “Hall hero” does the best job of capturing the sense of “seld-guma.”

Just what is that sense?

I think, aside from its literal meaning, “seld-guma” connotes someone who is a regular attendant upon a hall or palace who has distinguished himself somehow. I’m pulling this connotation from the combination itself, since an appellation like “seld-guma” doesn’t seem to be something lightly given.

The Anglo-Saxons put a high value on halls, after all, and so to be called “seld-guma” could be considered a great commendation. What’s more, in this specific instance it must mean that Beowulf has a very dignified look about him since the coastguard is riffing off of his appearance alone. Association with a hall or residence would confer certain airs upon a person, and Beowulf very clearly carries himself with these in full effect.

Another way to think of the combination is that it connotes “household guard.” To lightly assign warriors to guard your house (and by extension your family, valuables, and own life) would be to invite peril. Thus, naming Beowulf as such not only signifies that he has this title back in Geatland, but also that he is a hall hero because a stranger recognizes such qualities in him.

Further along in this week’s extract, the coastguard says of Beowulf “never would his mien betray him” (“næfne him his wlite leoge” (l.250)). It’s my opinion that this is meant to build on Beowulf as a “seld-guma.”

As a warrior, even as a debater, it’s important that you control yourself as much as possible. Attacks can be telegraphed by the body in strange ways, after all.

With that in mind, saying that Beowulf’s countenance would never betray him suggests that he is in complete control of his expression, letting nothing at all slip out unintentionally.

Once more, this comes back to the coastguard assessing Beowulf on how he carries himself. Based on what’s said here, it must be very well indeed. Not to mention, if Beowulf can really keep a lid on things to the extent that’s suggested, it’s fair to guess that he’s a truly great warrior since he would leave his opponents guessing until he struck.

More generally, it must also mean that Beowulf could erase things like fear and joy from his face, making him just as dangerous with words as with swords, as we’ll see next week.

In next week’s extract, we hear, for the first time in the poem, from Beowulf himself.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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 Blogger's Beowulf

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

Tag Archives: Geats

On Hrothgar and "equipment" (ll.356-370) [Old English]

Beowulf’s rhetoric (ll.340-347) [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]

The coastguard’s farewell (ll.312-319) [Old English]

Speculation along the way to Heorot (ll.301-311) [Old English]

The coastguard’s reply (Pt. 2) (ll.293-300) [Old English]

What’s found in Beowulf’s word hoard (ll.258-269) [Old English]

What the Danes’ coastguard says of Beowulf (ll.247b-257) [Old English]

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