Two Fallen Greats [ll.2821-2835] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/10/05 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Showing Mourning
Seeking Meaning
Closing

{A dramatic rendition of the dragon battle that gives it an intense, resonant scope. Image found on *Zouch Magazine & Miscellany*.}

A reflection on Beowulf’s death dwells on the dragon.

“That which had happened was painfully felt
by the young man, when he on the ground saw
that dearest one pitiably suffering
at his life’s end. The slayer also lay so,
the terrible earth dragon was bereaved of life,
by ruin overwhelmed. In the hoard of rings no
longer could the coiled serpent be on guard,
once he by sword edge was carried off,
hard, battle-sharp remnant of hammers,so
that the wide flier by wounds was still and
fallen on earth near the treasure house. Never
after did he move about through the air by flight
in the middle of the night, in his rich possession
glorying, never could he make more appearances,
since he fell to earth at the war leader’s deed of the
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsphand.”
(Beowulf ll.2821-2835)

Old English:

Modern English:

The first question to surface here, like the hideous sea beasts pulled from Grendel’s Mother’s mire, is why a section of the poem that’s showing Wiglaf’s grief for Beowulf immediately after his death dwells so long on the dragon rather than Beowulf.

It could be that the poet/scribe went this way because so much of the rest of the poem is given over to Beowulf. Or it could be that Wiglaf’s attention is simply drawn to the dragon because of the sheer spectacle of the sight. Though, it could also be that Wiglaf looks over to the dragon for the sake of contrast, to put off the reality of Beowulf’s death for just a short time so that he, as all but Beowulf’s named successor, can have a brief respite before he must coldly go forth and fulfil his duty as the new Geatish leader.

Of course, it could also be the poet’s own voice that pulls away from Wiglaf at this point, leaving his perspective behind for a time to turn a little more omniscient, and to give us, the listers/readers a view of the dragon as it lay dead so that we can contrast it with Beowulf.

Germanic culture widely held that dragons were symbols of the greed that would undermine the gift-centric Germanic society. So perhaps the focus on the dragon and the recounting of how it can no longer do anyone any harm suggests that greed itself has been defeated, and by one so noble as to sacrifice his own good for going against the advice of his counsel and fighting the dragon.

Maybe even the defeat of greed and the destruction of the Geats themselves that is an almost inevitable result (since they’re now kingless and sitting on all of this gold) are related.

If this version of the poem is as Christian as some believe, then this shift over to the dragon shouldn’t be read as Wiglaf’s or the poet/scribe’s attempt to contrast a death with a death, but instead as a way to show that the perfection of a society through the defeat of its greatest evil leaves that society at its end.

If Beowulf was ever used as a missionary tale, then this part of the poem could well be that which attempts to sooth potential converts into the belief that in becoming Christian their previous beliefs die off and they enter into something more perfect.

Or, again, their physical being ends, but just as Beowulf persisted up until he defeats his society’s major evil, so too would the spirit of the assimilated society persist in its people. Plus, missionaries would probably say the new converts were all imbued with the spark of life that, in the Christian tradition, is generally regarded as a spoken thing – just as this story itself would’ve been at the time, even after having been written out.

So could this episode in the Beowulf saga be another key moment in the use of the poem as missionary propaganda, or is it just the poet/scribe’s representation of Wiglaf’s mourning? Leave a comment in the box to let me know your thoughts!

Next week, stanza three of “Dum Diane vitrea” will drop, and Wiglaf meets the cowardly thanes as they slink onto the scene.

And you can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Beowulf’s Death, and his Soul’s Departure [ll.2809-2820] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/09/28 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Ambiguity in Beowulf’s Death
Beowulf Doomed?
Closing

{Wiglaf listens to Beowulf’s final words. Image found on “Outpost 10F” of *The Poetry Guild*.}

Beowulf bestows his war garb unto Wiglaf, and then gives up the ghost.

He did off the golden ring about his neck,
the brave hearted prince, gave it to the thane,
the young spear warrior, his gold adorned helmet,
ring and mail shirt, commanded him to use them well:
“You are the last remaining of our kin,
of the Waegmundings; fate has swept away all
of my line as per the decree of destiny,
warriors in valour; I after them now shall go.”
That was the old one’s last word
of thoughts of the heart before he chose the pyre,
the hot battle flame; from his breast went
his soul to seek the judgment of the righteous.
(Beowulf ll.2809-2820)

Old English:

Modern English:

As will be the case with the death of any great literary figure, this passage is one that’s often studied. Beyond its importance to the story, we’re also once more confronted with some ambiguity around Beowulf’s deeds. Yet, rather than being confronted with ambiguity by the words of Beowulf himself, we’re confronted with ambiguity in the poet/scribe’s own phrasing.

At the passage’s end we’re told that Beowulf’s soul leaves to “seek the judgement of the righteous.” Just as the phrase “judgement of the righteous” is ambiguous in Modern English, since the litigous could defend its meaning either ‘the judgement handed down by the righteous,’ or ‘the judgement that is passed on the righteous,’ it’s the same in Old English. There it simply reads: “soðfæstra dom” (l.2820).

The problem here is that there’s no clarifying word or phrase either in the original or in most translations that strive to be accurate. As a result we’re left with something that leaves the interpretation up to the listener/reader.

But could this maybe be the point here? Could the poet/scribe who created the version of the poem that we have today have been going for ambiguity at this part of the poem?

Just as either side of the phrase’s meaning could be argued, so too could either side of the interpretation debate.

In brief, if it’s understood to mean that Beowulf is a righteous one going to the judgment that awaits him it sets him among the holy heathens whom Christ pulled from the upper levels of hell during its harrowing.

Alternately, if the phrase is interpreted as meaning that the righteous are passing judgment, there’s a strong implication that either righteousness is something a person earns after being judged worthy by those who have it (thereby becoming one of their peers).

Or, taking this meaning could mean that Beowulf really isn’t righteous at all, and that his being judged by them means that there will be a great deal of hardship in his afterlife.

Of these three possibilities, the most interesting is that Beowulf might be doomed in the end since he’s being judged by the righteous.

A truly puritanical Christian audience might be expecting as much from such a violent, alcoholic figure, but at the same time, that would seriously undermine any missionary value that this story had. After all, the Christian monks who recorded stories such as this from oral traditions would definitely have given them a spin that could be useful for bringing around the unconverted.

Of course, that gives the idea that this moment of ambiguity is intentional even more steam.

Yes, it could maybe spark debate among those who differ in their interpretations, but as long as this version was being told by a priest or religious, they would be there to point the way to their own version of the truth. If monks or religious actually went around reciting this poem, then this moment in particular would be the perfect one to serve as a crisis moment that could be turned around and explained so as to make Christ seem super appealing.

Unfortunately, the only way we’ll ever know for sure if any of this speculation about the ambiguity of the phrase “soðfæstra dom” is accurate is if another version of the poem shows up or the scribe of our version is definitively identified.

Until then, feel free to leave your thoughts on the phrase in the comments!

Next week, the second verse of “Dum Diane vitrea” will be up, along with what Wiglaf does next after Beowulf’s demise.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Translation and the Bejewelled Truth [ll.2794-2808] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/09/21 by NSCZach

A quick note: I realize that I had planned the first entry for the poem “Dum Diane vitrea” this past Tuesday. However, since I was quite distracted by travelling to Toronto for a Peter Gabriel concert by way of Guelph, that entry was not published. Watch for it next week, and my apologies for missing a beat. I’ve got my rhtyhm back now, though.

So, onwards!

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The Facets of Translation
Answering Questions Raised
Probing Possibility
Closing

{Is the dragon’s hoard perhaps much less substantial, but much more potent? Image found on the blog *PowerOfBabel*.}

Beowulf gives thanks for his seeing the dragon’s treasure, and gives Wiglaf instructions for his funerary arrangements.

“‘I for all of these precious things thank the Lord,
spoke these words the king of glory,
eternal lord, that I here look in on,
for the fact that I have been permitted to gain
such for my people before my day of death.
Now that I the treasure hoard have bought
with my old life, still attend to the
need of my people; for I may not be here longer.
Command the famed in battle to build a splendid barrow
after the pyre at the promontory over the sea;
it is to be a memorial to my people
high towering on Whale’s Ness,
so that seafarers may later call it
Beowulf’s Barrow, those who in ships
over the sea mists come sailing from afar.'”
(Beowulf ll.2794-2808)

Old English:

Modern English:

The most prominent feature of this week’s passage is the awkward opening sentence.

Its gist is straightfrward enough: Beowulf is thanking what we can safely guess is the Christian god for his successes, as he has done previously. However, if translating things fairly literally (perhaps too literally), we wind up with a second clause about the words being spoken by god (“wuldurcyninge wordum secge” ll.2795). Many translations omit this line since it appears to just repeat and expand upon Beowulf’s thanks to god, as it could come out as “[I…]speak these words to the king of glory.”

Yet, and this is where I exert a bit of extra pressure on the text, I’ve translated the second line as a reference to the jewels and the like being the words of god.

The reason for taking this route with the translation is simple: it gives the reader the opportunity to interpret the dragon’s hoard as the words of god, as some sort of cosmological truth as spoken directly by the creator of those cosmos. Opening up this possibility forces readers to take another look at the dragon, too. It’s still antagonistic in that it’s keeping the words of god to itself and needs to be killed for them to be distributed, but then just what kind of entity is it?

It might stretching things to the breaking point, but it seems that the dragon could be interpreted as the powerful priesthood or any entrenched exclusionary religious group, and Beowulf could then be considered some kind of scholar, wrenching the truth from those who are in places of religious power and being ready to redistribute it. Though, as we find out later in the poem, this doesn’t happen since the treasure is buried with Beowulf since the Geats consider it too dangerous to add massive wealth to their leader-less state.

In this reading of the hoard as cosmological truth, we need to consider what it means for Beowulf to die for it. One possibility is that in taking on such a major source of authority he destroys all of his own credibility, and as a result the truth that he uncovers can’t be successfully transmitted since without credibility (or in more contemporary terms, authority or auctoritas) no one will willingly accept what he has to say.

That brings us around the matters of the theif and of Wiglaf. In this interpretation of the dragon’s hoard as some sort of great truth, the theif could well be one who haplessly leaked one of its aspects and therefore set the whole of Beowulf’s kingdom astir. A little bit of knowledge can be much more dangerous than a lot, after all.

As per Wiglaf, he could be an acolyte of the elder scholar Beowulf. He could be a youth who has joined his cause when noone else was brave enough to, and who cared enough for the tradition of truth than the institution which had grown up and kept it from the masses.

The last question that this interpretation needs to face is whether or not it could have been knowingly injected into a poem written down by people working for the medieval church, an institution that was rarely free from accusations of withholding knowledge or working contrarily to the truth of things. Representing the church as a dragon, something commonly equated with the devil, could be risky in a medieval context, but I argue that this interpretation of the dragon’s hoard would hold up since the dragon could be explained as a symbol only for the corrupt within the Church and not necessarily the Church itself.

So, do you think that this interpretation holds water, or am I just stretching my own credibility by trying to keep my translation as literal as I can? Or, for that matter, have I missed something in my translation? Let me know in the comments!

Next week, the full complement of a Latin and Old English entry will return, with the first verse of “Dum Diane vitrea” and Beowulf’s further final words to Wiglaf.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

On Wiglaf’s Rushing Back [ll.2783-2793] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/09/14 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Loyal Wiglaf
As Beowulf Lay Bleeding
Closing

Wiglaf remains nameless, as he rushes back to show Beowulf the gold from the hoard.

“The messenger was in haste, eager in the journey back
By precious things he was urged on; anxiety oppressed him,
whether he would meet bold in spirit and alive
in that place the prince of the Weders,
deprived of strength, where he had earlier left him.
He then with the treasure the renowned prince,
his lord bleeding, found,
his life at an end; he then again began the
sprinkling of water, until the beginning of words
broke through his heart. The warrior king spoke,
old in sorrow – looked at the gold:”
(Beowulf ll.2783-2793)

Old English:

Modern English:

There’s a lot about loyalty in this passage. Wiglaf’s rushing back with gold in tow to show Beowulf, as per his final request, really highlights it.

In fact, that’s really all we’re treated to here, which is quite remarkable given all of the information we’ve been given in previous passages of the same length. When Wiglaf is in the hoard, the treasure is described and listed, when he and Beowulf are fighting the dragon, almost every lines shows us their manoeuvre or the dragon’s. But here, we just have Wiglaf rushing to show Beowulf the treasure.

It’s quite a distinct split from what’s come before. But it’s also a great way to signal that the big shift from being primarily about Beowulf to being about his death and the future of the Geats is finally about to come.

One word in particular stands out, though. When Wiglaf returns to Beowulf we’re immediately told that he’s found bleeding (“driorigne” l.2789). To note this with this word in particular is strange, since it suggests that before he left for the hoard Beowulf’s wound had somehow stopped bleeding, been stopped bleeding, or Wiglaf expected it to stop before he got back.

Regardless of what the case may be with the wound itself, that we’re given this detail really drives home the fact that this is it for Beowulf. Just as he is found bleeding his very life away, so too will the words that he next speaks be his last, as he releases the last of those two – effectively closing the word hoard.

Curiously, I imagine that his body will continue to bleed beyond his actual time of death, which, though maybe not apparent to a listening audience, acknowledges an idea that words are themselves a kind of adornment for life, something that can be woven and worn over something more plain like a brooch binding the collar of a simple cloak.

At the same time, Beowulf doesn’t mention anything about grand words that he’s spoken in the past when he tells Wiglaf that he has joy in his wound, but rather the hero says this because he has done nothing to incriminate himself. Perhaps then, even a listening audience would notice the warp and woof of the scop’s words as he sang the song of Beowulf.

Next week, Old English will return, but the return of Latin is still uncertain.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

The Emptiness of All that Gold [ll.2771b-82] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/08/17 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
The Hoard’s Sheer Immensity
The Golden Power
Closing

{The immensity of the Lost Underworld in Earthbound is just like that of the hoard: identity erasing. Image found on flyingomelette.com.}

The dragon is dwelled on, while Wiglaf wanders through the hoard.

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp”None of that sight there
was for the serpent, when the blade carried him off.
Then, I have heard, the hoard in the barrow, ancient
work of giants, was ransacked by one man, he loaded
his lap with drinking vessels and dishes of his own
choosing, the standard he also took, brightest of banners.
The sword earlier had injured – the blade was iron – that
of the aged lord, that was the treasure’s guardian for
a long time, terrifying fire brought
hot from the hoard, fiercely willing in
the middle of the night, until he a violent death died.”
(Beowulf ll.2771b-82)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

Already it’s been mentioned how Wiglaf is not referred to by name for some time after this point, but here the poet/scribe takes this lack of identity to a strange place.

Instead of referring to Wiglaf via synecdoche with a piece of a warrior’s equipment, or calling him a “thane” or “fighter,” the poet/scribe simply calls Wiglaf “one man” (“ānne mannan” (l.2774)).

The effect of this pronoun and its adjective is immense.

However, this immensity doesn’t come from the alienation that the poet/scribe subjects Wiglaf to, but rather from the sheer size of the hoard that the poet/scribe’s making Wiglaf suddenly so small implies. Don’t forget that because of that shining banner everything is now illuminated, so we can liken this part of the poem to a long panning shot that might be used in movies to show a suddenly-broken-into, vast treasure chamber in an ancient temple or tomb.

Yet, it’s curious that the poet/scribe describes the immensity of the hoard in this way, especially since there’s so much build up to it.

We hear about it when the thief stumbles into it (ll.2283-4), again when Beowulf and his thanes head to the barrow (ll.2412-3), and then again in Beowulf’s command to Wiglaf (ll.2745-6).

Plus, any Anglo-Saxon would have been practically salivating at the prospect of finding so much treasure all in one spot – becoming instantly wealthy and instantaneously being able to exercise huge influence over others through gifts, thereby shoring up his or her own reputation and social network so that they would be more secure than gold alone would allow.

In fact, it’s exactly within the gold-giving culture of the Anglo Saxons that we can find another reason for the poet/scribe’s describing the hoard as he does.

Rather than focus on how much there is, the poet/scribe has described the hoard through a kind of lack. It’s big and immense, but it’s the sort of thing that you can lose yourself in – even if you’re a loyal thane who’s already pledged your very being to help your lord in his dying moments.

And this is what makes the dragon’s hoard so dreadful. It’s big, it’s vast, it’s unwieldy.

No one could use that much gold for social reasons, and the temptation to fall into self-indulgence (as Heremod does in the story Hrothgar tells Beowulf (ll.1709-1722)) is practically irresistible. If there is a curse on the gold, that is the curse: to be instantly given so much that you don’t know what to do with yourself so you revert to an animalistic state.

Some have even theorized that the survivor who sings the “Lay of the Last Survivor” (ll.2247–66) somehow became the dragon: The last of his kind pining away over the treasure that could not buy back the lives of his fallen people or return them to their former glory.

This might also explain why the dragon is so prominently featured in this passage, despite his being long since dead. As Beowulf’s wishes have taken over Wiglaf’s identity, now the dragon’s identity, the miserly lord of plenty, threatens to do the same. Yet ultimately Wiglaf resists, for the poet/scribe sings that the dragon “a violent death died” (“hē morðre swealt” (l.2782)) to round out Wiglaf’s time in the hoard.

Next week, this blog will be on break. I’ve fallen too far behind in the recordings to keep heading onwards and since I finished “O Fortuna” this week, I want to give myself time to catch up before moving onto my next Latin text.

In the meantime be sure to check my past entries and recordings, and if you like what you read and hear, feel free to support my efforts here!

And, you can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Treasuring Words and Admiring Their Weave [ll.2756-2771a] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/08/10 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Finding Use for Treasure
A Shining Standard
Closing

{Shy of the characters, Wiglaf may have seen a standard just like this one. Image found on Wikipedia.}

Wiglaf hurries to the hoard, where he is mesmerized by the treasure that he finds.

“He, the triumphant in victory, when he beyond the seat
went, the young brave thane, saw many precious jewels,
glittering gold lay on the ground,
wondrous objects on the wall, and in that dragon’s lair,
daybreak flier of old, cups stood,
vessels of men of old, now lacking a burnisher,
deprived of adornment.* There were many a helmet,
old and rusty, a multitude of arm-rings
skillfully twisted. Treasure easily may,
gold in ground, overpower each one of
mankind, though one may hide it.
Also hanging he saw a standard all of gold
high over the hoard, greatest of marvels made by hand,
woven by skill of craft; from there light
shone out, so that he might see the surface of the floor,
could look at every part of those ornate objects.”
(Beowulf ll.2756-2771a)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

After the excitement of the battle with the dragon, and Beowulf’s heartfelt summary of his kingship, this passage is definitely something of a rest. But that doesn’t mean that it’s entirely silent, a point in the story where the poem’s original audiences could entirely rest.

For there is treasure about.

And, along with the treasure comes a very interesting passage: “cups stood,/vessels of men of old,now lacking a burnisher,/deprived of adornment” (“orcas stondan,/fyrnmanna fatu feormendlease,/hyrstum behrorene” (ll.2760-2762)).

What makes this passage more than what it seems is it’s implication about treasure and people’s relationship to it. Because “deprived of adornment” follows “now lacking a burnisher” it sounds as if the burnishing, the polishing, was these cups’ adornment. This makes sense since whatever precious metal they were made of would require maintenance of some sort to keep its shine.

But what’s more is that as this treasure was in the care of a characteristically miserly dragon, it didn’t receive that care that people would have given it. But add to this why people would care to preserve their treasure, especially the sorts of things described here. My own theory is that they would use these things and they would need them to be in their top shape.

Putting this all together you come out with the impression that the passage implies that treasure is ostensibly valuable only when it’s being used by people. And treasure can’t be used by the same person indefinitely, so the best way to keep treasure in use is to give it away. It’s given away to be used by the young, who can then maintain it and then give it away again, thus keeping the cycle going indefinitely.

Not to mention keeping the preciousness of the treasure in tact indefinitely.

However, this reading of treasure as the fuel in a perpetual motion machine of gifting and receiving is troubled by what happens to the treasure hoard that Beowulf and Wiglaf won. It all gets buried with Beowulf.

To be fair, the treasure may well have been buried for a strategic purpose. After all, having great wealth would likely bring down the Geats’ old enemies upon them much more quickly than the news of their loss alone.

Another illuminating part of this passage comes at it’s end. The standard that lights the cave in which Wiglaf finds the hoard is clearly very shiny (being described as “all of gold” (“eallgylden” (ll.2767))), and must have sunlight striking it. But this sparkling standard is also significant because it echoes an earlier light in a cave: That which appears when Beowulf kills Grendel’s Mother in her den (ll.1570-1572).

Because of the parallels – the light appears in a cave, comes from a fantastical source, flares up only after the defeat of a powerful monster of one sort or other – it’s tempting to say that Wiglaf’s assist in slaying the dragon is his own killing of Grendel’s Mother. This reading is also bolstered by Wiglaf’s taking treasures back with him to Beowulf just as Beowulf bore the hilt of the giants’ sword and Grendel’s head back to Hrothgar.

Yet, then, we run into the question: Is that where the parallels end? After the treasure is brought back to Beowulf and Wiglaf is cemented as the new leader of the Geats is he not still on the same trajectory as Beowulf?

Maybe he is, but because he isn’t Beowulf (even if he is, for now, nameless) it’s not his fate for a similar trajectory to land him in the same place as the poem’s lead character.

Next week, the third and final stanza of “O Fortuna” gets translated (and the whole thing gets posted as a recording), and Wiglaf takes as much treasure as he can back to the waiting Beowulf.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

On Requests and Namelessness [ll.2743b-2755] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/08/03 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Digging Deeper into Beowulf’s Request
Going Nameless
Closing

{J.R.R. Tolkien: Believer in *Beowulf*‘s being an elegy. Image found on *The-HobbitMovie.com*.}

Beowulf instructs Wiglaf to get some gold from the hoard to show him what he fought for, and Wiglaf runs off to oblige him.

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp”Now go you quickly
to see the hoard under the grey stone,
dear Wiglaf, now the serpent lay dead,
sleeping in death sorely wounded, deprived of treasure.
Be now in haste that I ancient riches,
the store of gold may see, clearly look at
the bright finely worked jewels, so that I may the more
peacefully after the wealth of treasure leave my
life and lordship; that which I have long held.’
I have heard that then the son of Weohstan quickly obeyed
after the spoken word of his lord in wounds and
in war weariness, bearing mailcoat
the broad ring-shirt, under the barrow’s roof.”
(Beowulf ll.2743b-2755)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

On the surface, Beowulf’s request seems simple enough. ‘Go and grab some gold, that I may be able to see it,’ but there’s more to it then a validation of his final battle. Within this request lay the very stuff of revenge.

Beowulf acknowledges that now the serpent is dead and thus “deprived of treasure” (“since bereafod” (l.2746)). Thus, were he to die without seeing what he had fought for then, he would, in a way, not have won at all.

For Beowulf would then not have been able to say that he had laid eyes on that for which he fought, while the dragon enjoyed the sight of it constantly. Further, he also wouldn’t have experienced it, and wouldn’t therefore have fulifilled the treasure’s basic purpose: to be used by being enjoyed through sight (just as a grammatical object is used simply by being linked to a grammatical subject).

However, the act of seeing it, of using it, also puts Beowulf on par with the dragon on the level of greed, since he is not able to dole out the treasure to his people, as any good king must, in person.

But, what’s curious about this passage is Wiglaf’s lacking reference by name. First he is the “son of Weohstan” and then he is referred to with a bit of metonymy when the poet simply says that he bore a mailcoat into the barrow (“hringnet beran/…under beorges hrof” (ll.2754-2755)).

So why does Wiglaf, the one who was instrumental in Beowulf’s victory, suddenly lose his name? Perhaps to keep the focus on Beowulf, rather than Wiglaf so that it truly does become an elegy rather than a story of succession, of hope.

It’s also possible that this is merely poetic license, but the fact is that Wiglaf is not referred to by name again until line 2852. That’s over one hundred lines later, and the point at which his fellow Geats recognize him as the new leader for the first time.

That Wiglaf is named for the occasion of recognition as the new authority strongly suggests that indeed he is occluded for the next 100 lines to keep Beowulf in the spotlight. Going out at Beowulf’s behest, Wiglaf isn’t really Wiglaf anymore, but he is made into Beowulf’s double, at least for the brief time that he scrambles out to the hoard, through it, and back.

It could even be argued, that Wiglaf’s washing Beowulf clean and then undoing his helmet are both acts that signify a complete rescindment of the will, perhaps as an acknowledgement of the end of a life. In doing these things Wiglaf drops his own desires and takes up Beowulf’s request entirely so that he can be a comfort to the old lord in his final moments.

Next week, the second stanza of “O Fortuna” will be posted, and Wiglaf, though nameless, finds himself immersed in a fabulous treasure room.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

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

Posted on 2012/07/27 by NSCZach

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

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

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

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

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps the answer can be found in the next part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

On Water and Words [ll.2720-2732a] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/07/19 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
A Good Washing
Passing (Things) On
Closing

{Wiglaf raising the washing water to Beowulf. Image found at the Tolkien Library}

Wiglaf tends to Beowulf and Beowulf begins to speak to Wiglaf, signalling that his death is imminent.

“Then he with hand, blood-stained,
the famed lord, a man unmatched for good,
washed his dear lord with water,
battle-worn, and unclasped his helm.
Beowulf spoke – he spoke through the pain,
the ache, of his miserably vexatious wound; well he knew,
that he had fulfilled the days of his life,
of earthen joy; that all of his life-time had
fled, death was immeasurably near:
‘Now I to the son of mine would give
the war garments, if it had been so granted
by fate that I any heir had,
flesh of my flesh.'”
(Beowulf ll.2720-32a)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

The washing of Beowulf requires some note here.

First, there’s the general importance of the act as a means of humbling yourself before someone whom you respect.

Then there’s the fact that it’s a simple act of subservience, the sort of thing that is an active display of obedience and respect.

And that interpretation of the act leads into the Christian significance. However, if this death is meant to mirror that of Christ in the New Testament, then there’s something interesting going on here.

In the NT and in the Catholic ritual recreating the Last Supper, it’s Christ who washes his disciples’ feet.

Wiglaf’s washing is more general, but if the parallels between these stories are followed, then Wiglaf is effectively becoming the Christ figure of the story, possibly in a more meaningful way than Beowulf.

Yes, Beowulf defeated the dragon, but that cost him his life, and Beowulf would never be characteristically elegiac if he came back to life afterwards (nor would the Anglo-Saxons have told it like that, regardless of whatever their source material may have been).

This transference of Christ-ness might even have been one of the original purposes of the poem as a conversion tool, since it’s the sort of succession that Anglo-Saxon’s would have understood. After all, it’s the exact same way that kingship would be transferred when no heir was available: through a ritualistic act and acknowledgement.

The opening of Beowulf’s speech also says a lot about the Christian intent of the written version of the poem.

If Beowulf is taken as a heroic heathen, someone who is Christian in all ways but name (ignore for a moment, his constant references to a single ‘Lord of Men’/’Ruler’/’King of Glory’), then he simply can’t have an heir. There can be no continuation of the virtuous heathens, since there is no further need for such people, the virtuous will, of course, be Christians. And so enter the transitional figure of Wiglaf, the one who reprimands the cowardly thanes and does his best to guide Geatland gently into the good night awaiting it after Beowulf’s death.

Beowulf signals his death not by saying that he has reached the end, as the poet/scribe does before we get his dialogue, but by saying that he has no heir to give his weapons to.

He has no offspring that he could call “flesh of my flesh” (or “belonging to my body” for a curiously medieval Christian rendering of “lice gelenge” (l.2732)) that can continue his line directly. And so, it passes to one who’s proven himself to be worthy: Wiglaf.

However, it’s important that Beowulf opens his speech with talk of handing down his war garb. Because Wiglaf is not his son, the war garb will not be touching the same flesh (more practically, it may also be less of a snug fit than on any son of Beowulf). As a result, Wiglaf is not going to be able to do the same things that Beowulf did with his gear, in both the literal and figurative senses.

And that a body patently different from Beowulf’s carries forward the symbols of the old way embodied by Beowulf’s war garb (arguably, his most precious possession) is a great metaphor for the spread of Christianity throughout Early Medieval Europe.

Check back here next week, for Isidore’s finishing off the first section of book 12 with further discussion of fertility lore, and for Beowulf’s quick review of his kingship and current predicament.

You can find the next part of Beowulf here.

Silent Sorrow Following Frabjous Joy [ll.2706-2719] (Old English)

Posted on 2012/07/13 by NSCZach

Abstract
Translation
Recordings
Strengthened by Juxtaposition
Who’s Heart-Wise?
Closing

{Wiglaf tends to Beowulf. Image found on *Wikipedia*.}

The poet revels over the victory of Beowulf and Wiglaf, but their joy is short lived as Beowulf’s wound is shown to be dire.

“The fiend had fallen – courage punished his life –
and those two both had killed it,
brother nobles. So should every man be,
loyal thanes ready for the need! Yet for that king it was
the final hour of victory for his own deeds,
his works in the world. Then that wound began,
the one the earth-drake had earlier dealt him,
to sear and swell; soon he discovered that
poison welled forth from within the wickedness that
marred his chest. Then the prince went
to him that was by the wall, wise at heart,
he sat on the stone; looked upon the work of giants,
how the stone arches were secured with columns,
beheld what the cave-dwelling held within.”
(Beowulf ll.2706-2719)

Old English:

{Forthcoming}

Modern English:

{Forthcoming}

The juxtaposition of the opening lines of this passage is perfectly suited to Anglo-Saxon thought.

Placing a bit of gnomic wisdom aside the revelation that Beowulf is indeed dying only strengthens that wisdom. After all, Wiglaf now proves himself to truly be one of the “loyal thanes” (“þegn” l.2709).

Within this passage we see him run over to his dying liege lord and take a seat beside him. For now, there is no dialogue, but instead Wiglaf looks over what they’ve won together. Without words of any sort he takes up the role of world interpreter for Beowulf as he lies against the wall, his wound festering in fast forward.

In the above translation the person being desribed as “wise at heart” (“wīs-hycgende” l.2716) is unclear, and so too is it in the original: “Ðā se æðeling giong/þæt hē bī wealle wīs-hycgende/gesæt on sesse” (ll.2715-2717).

This ambiguity shows not only the shared wisdom of these two, but it also works to further the idea that Beowulf has successfully passed on the role of Geatish ruler to the best candidate. Though his death and the cowardice of the other 11 thanes does prophesy that tribe’s beginning decline.

Turning to what either case might mean more specifically, if the phrase refers to Wiglaf, then it simply means that he is doing what he feels is right and the poet is validating this.

On the other hand, if this phrase refers to Beowulf, then it may be a bit of foreshadowing of a phrase that comes up in a passage nearly 100 lines away, or it may simply refer to the inborn wisdom that a fifty winters as a successful king brings.

Next week, Isidore writes of the ways in which animals are manipulated while conceiving, and Beowulf finally comes to terms with his end.

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: Old English

Two Fallen Greats [ll.2821-2835] (Old English)

Beowulf’s Death, and his Soul’s Departure [ll.2809-2820] (Old English)

Translation and the Bejewelled Truth [ll.2794-2808] (Old English)

On Wiglaf’s Rushing Back [ll.2783-2793] (Old English)

The Emptiness of All that Gold [ll.2771b-82] (Old English)

Treasuring Words and Admiring Their Weave [ll.2756-2771a] (Old English)

On Requests and Namelessness [ll.2743b-2755] (Old English)

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

On Water and Words [ll.2720-2732a] (Old English)

Silent Sorrow Following Frabjous Joy [ll.2706-2719] (Old English)