The Fragment of Elska

I.

I, now awake, have dreamt.

Though ‘tis unclear if indeed ‘twas so.

Misty mountains, whose clouds veil

Unseeing eyes, but lift souls, lost souls,

To mythic havens, where hill-gods

And elven goddesses linger and live —

In these lofty godsteads myself I found.

Embraced by the cold breeze,

I, a vagabond, a dreamland roamed

Where naked Nature,

In the fairest form of her unsullied beauty,

Enclosed her towns of mirth,

Her hidden heaths and turfy mounds;

And looked upon her people,

Forever free and independent,

Unbothered by the world without.

She, with the peaceful waves of her pristine shores

Caressing ancient stones on steep slopes,

Slopes grazed by sheep and horses wild —

Verdant were the pastures, and so will they ever be –

She called the sun and moon,

And, hark, they played, and paused,

While anon and henceforth the birds did sing

Above candle-lit barnyards and steeples.

II.

There she was, further up the mighty mount.

Like the nightingale’s, her tale-like song,

Soft and sweet, resounded clear.

Near she was, yet quite afar,

Her melody to me flowed, however,

As river water smoothly runs

Tow’rds valley fields and dale downs.

Enchanted, awe-struck – such was I.

The daughter of the mountain,

Slowly did she reveal herself to me.

Calmly she came,

Forth into the frosty wind,

Her graceful stride ‘gainst the storm.

Elska was she called.

Not even winter’s woes, nor its grinding gales

Could quench her spirit, warm and kind:

For though her ocean eyes may see the deep,

And bore with them the burdens of years,

How yet did they meet mine with friendly gaze,

Captivating effortlessly.

Thus we walked,

Travellers alike,

Down towards the valley vast,

Where spring and summer dance away

The sunlit days.

During my brief stay in Iceland I was able to compose this poem. It is a fragment, a brief vision or dream from the speaker, an idyll; although the speaker is not certain whether it is a dream or whether it is actual reality. The speaker starts off by recounting himself being lost in “a dreamland”, a land which people may recognise as, or connect with, Iceland. All of these happen in Part I. Part II sees the full personification of the land, of Iceland, as Elska, which in Icelandic means “love”. Elska, though introduced and seen only in passing, embodies certain characteristics of Icelandic nature and those of her people. The readers – and the speaker – never really get to know Elska in depth, as it is a fragment of a dream; something that is obscured by the reality of waking up. But the fragmented memories of the speaker of Elska show enough of the essence of her being, but only enough as to leave her to remain as the mysterious being that she is perceived to be. After all, the fragments of our dreams that rest with us upon our waking up are memories most poignant, those which leave us in a state surreal yet wanting — a state that makes us long for the unattainable reality found only in dreams.

Midsummer

Midsummer’s breeze,

the breath of June, no sooner blows

than floods the leaves of trees

and songs of birds

with your ‘membrance –

thoughts puffed into clouds

and sent back through the tears of the warm summer rain,

memories as keep our bond bound and sheltered

in my empty deep.

Empty it is, yet filled

with fragments of your once-attached soul,

splintered firmly upon the heart’s soft soil;

souls afore kindled leave embers which,

though turn cold, last awhile.

The loud silence

of these hollow summer days

echo the deep longing that follow

the blurred trail left behind

by your vagrant heart.

Vagabonds alike,

we so wander, called by empty summer

whose sunlit escapes bring not joy nor passion,

but wintered vigour that seek gladsome life in vain.

So we sail forth, you and I,

fooled by the season’s sparkling grin,

towards that which paradise

uncertainly points,

longing once more

to seek what in us abides though we know it not,

thus lost forever, with souls apart.

Night Gale

Dark is the night sky, a canvas

written upon with graceful strokes by poetic eve:

The stars, the glittering tears of its observing author,

thereat fashioned wanderers of never-ending space,

shed light upon us in our distant present,

Present unattainable with their ancient souls that

look and watch

from far upon their extant, undying

Past.

Ever do their spirits watch,

themselves long passed

away into the fading memory of old Universe. And yet.

Fixed into the tenderly woven sheet of  night,

gingerly they sparkle,

careful to keep peace

and leave us in wonder

to stand in awe.

We watch them, and they, us.

Deeds and lives echoed into their mysterious place,

beyond all knowledge.

And, when our lives be long passed,

there live on ourselves, in time, again —

all of earth, in the realm of stars,

all but memories that light the celestial way.

Mundane deeds, written upon the stellar nothingness,

lost perhaps to the present, but never forgotten

by the old souls that bear tales in starlight.

The New Historicist Approach to Beowulf

In his revolutionary essay entitled “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics”, Professor J.R.R. Tolkien remarked that “Beowulfiana is, while rich in many departments, specially poor in one. It is poor in criticism” (5). This comment certainly is not true of current Beowulfiana criticism anymore. It is no longer a question of approaching Beowulf as a poem instead of merely as an historical artifact, but a question of what works best in approaching and fully understanding the poem and the themes at work therein. This paper intends to analyze Beowulf through a New Historicist perspective, contextualizing the relevance of the poem’s author, readership, and of Anglo-Saxon England, and through this filter, to furthermore seek out themes and literary techniques that a modern audience may overlook.

The critical theory in question is indeed a useful tool for understanding Beowulf because it requires the readers to not only close-read the text, but also to make relevant cultural connections that would help them grasp the ideals and poetic techniques that the author has craftily weaved into the poem. What then is New Historicism? Stephen Greenblatt, in his introduction to The Power of Forms in the English Renaissance explains that

…literary works are no longer regarded either as a fixed set of texts that are set apart from all other forms of expression and that contain their own determinate meanings or as a stable set of reflections of historical facts that lie beyond them. The [New Historicist] critical practice…challenges the assumptions that guarantee a secure distinction between ‘literary foreground’ and ‘political background’ or, more generally, between artistic production and other kinds of social production. Such distinctions do in fact exist, but they are not intrinsic to the texts; rather they are made up and constantly redrawn by artists, audiences, and readers. These collective social constructions on the one hand define the range of aesthetic possibilities within a given representational mode and, on the other, link that mode to the complex network of institutions, practices, and beliefs that constitute the culture as a whole (1445).

In essence, the New Historicists assert that “literature is conceived to mirror the period’s beliefs, but to mirror them, as it were, from a safe distance” (Greenblatt 1444). With regards to Beowulf, this means that a New Historicist reading would necessitate the understanding of the background of the author, his audience, and of Anglo-Saxon society, language[1], and culture in order to fully appreciate the artistry at work in the poem; consequently, the absence of such an undertaking would place the readers in a difficult position where they are lost in vague references to unfamiliar ideals.

Most of the issues faced by modern readers in trying to understand Beowulf are due to the fact that the events depicted and the values that are prized in the poem are so far removed from their understanding of the world. Yet the key here is to understand that “every expressive act is embedded in a network of material practices” (Veeser xi).

The most influential material practices that directly affect major themes in Beowulf are the Christian tradition and the native Germanic heroic values. There is in Beowulf, a fusion “of the old and new”, a blending of ideals from Northern antiquity with Christian virtues (Tolkien Critics 20). These traditions do not, as modern readers might be inclined to suppose, create in the poem binary oppositions that heavily contradict each other, but instead we see “in the figure of Beowulf the heroic ideals of Germanic paganism and of Anglo-Saxon Christendom have been reconciled and fused, so that the hero exemplifies the best of both” (Brodeur 183).

The author and his audience were, without a doubt, Christian. Heather O’Donoghue explains that the “Anglo-Saxon authors were Christians, perhaps mostly clerics, and clerical culture dominated literary production” (11). There is plenty of evidence for this fact even within the text of Beowulf, not the least is the fact that the poet uses the Latin-borrowed term gígantas as one of his many nomenclatures when referring to the race of Grendel[2]. The poet’s audience moreover were “Christians whose conversion was neither partial nor superficial. He expects them to understand his allusions to biblical events without his troubling to be explicit about them” (Whitelock 280). The Anglo-Saxons were a deeply antiquarian people who strongly adhered to their Germanic past[3], and their author was no exception.

The Anglo-Saxons took special pride in their ancestry, and we see this pride expressed in the opening lines of Beowulf: “Hwæt wé Gár-Dena in géar-dagum / þéod-cyninga þrym gefrúnon” [Lo! The glory of the kings of the people of the Spear-Danes in days of old we have heard tell, how those princes did deeds of valour][4] (lines 1-2). E.G. Stanley comments that “the beginning of the poem with its piece of Danish history is relevant to England, to English kings” because “Beowulf could well have written late enough for at least some of the Danes mentioned in the poem to have been regarded by the poet and his audience as ancestors of Anglo-Saxon kings in England” (71). If the poem is read – in either the original Old English or in the translation – merely as an organic unity where external context is irrelevant, then the meaning of the opening lines becomes lost, and the lines may consequently be deemed unnecessary. Seeing the context of the opening lines with regards to the author and the audiences’ background, however, we begin to understand the sentiment that the Anglo-Saxons have felt upon hearing them recited in their mead-halls; their pride in the past and their heroic ancestors are at once invoked and their emotions stirred.

Another aspect of the poem that may be easily missed by a modern audience is the gravity of Hrothgar’s shame after the desolation of Grendel upon Heorot. The poem describes it thus:

Swá ðá mæl-ceare       maga Healfdenes

singála séað;                ne mihte snotor hæleð

wéan onwendan;        wæs þæt gewin tó swýð,

láþ ond longsum

[Even thus over the sorrows of that time did the son of Healfdene brood unceasingly, nor could that wise prince put aside his grief; too strong was that strife, too dire and weary to endure][5] (189-192).

This grief, to a modern audience, would seem to be simply grief on one level: one which Hrothgar experiences because his fellow men were murdered. But to an Anglo-Saxon audience, there is another level. Hrothgar is inconsolable not only because of the deaths of his retainers, but also because he cannot exact wergild, or man-price, from Grendel. Nor could he personally try to seek vengeance against a being as powerful and ruthless as Grendel (Greenblatt et al. 1: 38). Only a hero of Beowulf’s calibre could have defeated such an enemy.

Beowulf’s victory against Grendel meant not only the important preservation of Heorot, it also meant the restoration of Hrothgar’s honour and especially the advancing of Beowulf’s glory. The bard understood the importance of glory in the life of a heroic warrior. In their life in the mortal world, this quest for glory was the warrior’s primary goal. This belief can be exactly paralleled to that of the Anglo-Saxons’ Norse neighbours, a belief that was expressed in their old religion:

Odin came to know that the world would end in a great battle known as Ragnarök, during which the wolf Fenrir would swallow him. His son Vidar would then avenge him. Odin knew the fate of all the gods – who among them would survive Ragnarök and who would not – and also that the universe would be largely destroyed. His foreknowledge in some ways echoes the Norse warrior’s fatalism: death is inevitable, but word-fame lasts forever.

…The Twilight of the Gods is in many ways a metaphor for the personal Ragnarök that each Viking warrior faces when his time comes. His fate was decided long ago, just like those of his gods, and he goes to meet it with a brave heart, although he is spared the burden of knowledge that Odin carried. If it is his time, then he will die and go to wait for the day of Ragnarök. If not, then he can hope that there will be other battles.

It is not hard to see how these beliefs tended to produce fearless warriors who would face any odds and were not deterred by hardship. A hopeless battle was not something to be avoided; it was an opportunity to win undying word-fame in the mortal world and ultimately a place in the golden age after Ragnarök (Dougherty 28, 39).

Consequently, only a glorious and fame-worthy death would give justice to the life of Beowulf. Thus the poet provides Beowulf with his last fight against a dragon, not unlike the fight of the Norse warrior-god Thor against the Midgard Serpent. In very similar ways, they fight to preserve their society but also to secure their legendary status which gives them a place amongst the greatest of Germanic warriors-heroes.

A modern reader unfamiliar with northern medieval culture and beliefs will find it difficult to understand these complex messages within Beowulf. In uncovering these themes and messages, a New Historicist approach will yield the most successful results because it takes into account the history and context of both the author and the work, as well as the critics and readers who deal with them, which factors are of utmost import when dealing with a poem like Beowulf that is comparable to no other.

Works Cited:

Brodeur, Arthur. The Art of Beowulf. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969.    Print.

Dougherty, Martin. Vikings. London: Amber Books, 2013. Print.

Greenblatt, Stephen. “Introduction to The Power of Forms in the English Renaissance”. The        Critical Tradition: Classic Texts and Contemporary Trends, 1443- 1445. New York:           Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2007. Print.

Greenblatt, Stephen. Simpson, and Alfred David. The Norton Anthology of English           Literature. 2 vols. New York: W.W. Norton &Company, 1962-2013. Print.

Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2000. Print.

Hill, Thomas. “The Christian Language and Theme of Beowulf”. Companion to Old English         Poetry. Amsterdam: VU UP, 1994. Print.

O’Donohue, Heather. English Poetry and Old Norse Myth. Oxford: Oxford University Press,

2014. Print.

Stanley, E.G. “Manuscript – Sources – Audience”. Beowulf: A Norton Critical Editions, 71.          New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1975. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. London:         Harper Collins Publishers, 2014. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.   London: George Allen & Unwin Publishers, 1983. Print.

Tuso, Joseph. Beowulf: A Norton Critical Editions. New York: W.W. Norton & Company,            Inc., 1975. Print.

Veeser, H. Aram. The New Historicism. New York: Chapman and Hall Inc., 1989. Print.

Whitelock, Dorothy. “The Audience of Beowulf”. Old English Literature. Yale UP: 2002.                        Print.

[1] By an understanding of the language I cannot specifically refer to the reader’s actual fluency – translations in hand are useful, but for a more thorough understanding of the poem, a grasp of Old English, however minimal it is, will be greatly insightful.

[2] See Tolkien’s Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, p. 162

[3] Hill, 64

[4] Trans. Tolkien, Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, p.13

[5] Ibid p.18

Beowulf and the Aristotelian Tragic Hero

In this paper I argue that the titular character of Beowulf is, in accordance with Aristotle’s perspective, a tragic hero. I will apply Aristotle’s ideas from the Poetics into the plot and characterisation of Beowulf. I will first look into the definition of a tragedy in Chapter 6, and proceed to examine the idea of the tragic hero in Chapter 13. Therefrom I will work with the overall plot and structure of Beowulf, then direct my attention specifically towards the character Beowulf. My essay and criticism draw ideas from the works of J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Emmett Finnegan, Seamus Heaney, Arthur Brodeur, Frederick Klaeber, et al. I will also take to consideration the culture and ideals of the Anglo-Saxon audience to which the author of Beowulf wrote, observing how they might identify with the hero and the circumstances that affect him.

In setting the ground for us to expound on Aristotle’s idea of a tragic hero, it is of chief import to know and understand first the definition of a tragedy. Aristotle explains the essence of a tragedy in Chapter 6 of his Poetics:

Tragedy is…an imitation of a noble and complete action, having the proper magnitude; it employs language that has been artistically enhanced by each of the kinds of linguistic adornment, applied separately in the various parts of the play; it is presented in dramatic, not narrative form, and achieves, through the representation of pitiable and fearful incidents, the catharsis of such pitiable and fearful incidents.

…In addition to the arguments already given, the most important factors by means of which tragedy exerts an influence on the soul are the parts of the plot, the reversal and recognition[1].

In Chapter 13, we have the definition of a tragic hero, defined thus: “This would be a person who is neither perfect in virtue and justice, nor one who falls into misfortune through vice and depravity; but rather, one who succumbs through some miscalculation”. We are then equipped with the proper elements of tragedy: the catharsis, reversal, recognition, and suffering – and the hero who succumbs because of Hamartia.

Trying to incorporate Aristotelian ideas into Beowulf presents us with a minor, solvable problem. It is uncertain whether the author of Beowulf, whoever he may be, had any knowledge of Aristotle’s Poetics. Although he was most likely a cleric (O’Donohue 11), knowledgeable in Latin[2], possessing “a considerable learning in native lays and traditions” (Tolkien, Monsters and the Critics 26-27), and thus was a learned man. In any case, there is no evidence in the text that he was interested in purposely trying to assimilate Aristotelian ideals into his work. This does not mean, however, that they are not present in Beowulf. Rather, being elegiac in tone, we can find it rife with elements of a tragedy.

How, then, is Beowulf a tragedy? As an “imitation of a noble and complete action, having the proper magnitude”, the story depicts the actions of King Hrothgar, Ruler of the Danes, descendant of the Shieldings[3], and, more importantly, those of Beowulf, Géata dryhten, Ruler of the Geats (l. 2576). In style, it is written in Old English alliterative verse, abounding with kennings such as hron-ráde (10) and different names for mythological creatures such as eotenas, ylfe, orcneas, gígantas (112-113); “a product of thought and deep emotion” (Tolkien, Monsters and the Critics 20). Beowulf, moreover, depicts plenty of pitiable and fearful events (and the catharses of such) regarding the Danish and Geatish people.

We hear first of the desolation caused by Grendel’s gúð-cræft (127). What had started as a celebration of God’s creation actually brought about the attention of Grendel:

…sé þe in þrýstrum bád,

þæt hé dógora gehwám    dréam gehýrde

hlúdne in healle (87-89).

Grendel’s “powers of destruction were plain” (Heaney 127) “as dawn brightened” (Heaney 126). Thus we are presented with the story’s first example of peripeteia, anagnorisis, and consequently of suffering. Hrothgar himself admits to believing

…þæt ic mé ænigne

under swegles begong                  gesacan ne tealde.

Hwæt mé þæs on éple                  edwenden cwóm

gyrn æfter gomne,                        seoþðan Grendel wearð,

eald-gewinna,                               ingenga mín (1772-1774).

Herein comes Beowulf, our tragic hero; and along with him, the audiences’ realisation of what is meant to be a foreknown beleaguering of Hrothgar’s hall by Grendel. Hrothgar and Heorot do not appear only in Beowulf, but in a few other sources as well, most noteworthy of which is Widsith. R.W. Chambers remarks: “The chief value of the references to Heorot in Widsith lies in their correcting the impressions which we get from Beowulf” (79). By this he meant that “the poet meant Beowulf to stand out in contrast to the masters of Heorot, a house of heroes second to none in all northern story, but tainted by incest and the murder of kin[4]” (84).

We are thus given a very ironic picture of Heorot, which is furthermore intensified with the introduction of Unferth in the story. Unferth, whose name means Unpeace or Quarrel (Tolkien, Beowulf 209), is guilty of sifjaslit[5], the murder of kinsmen. “Þéah ðú þínum bróðrum tó banan wurde, / héafod-mægum” (587-588). And yet he is one of Hrothgar’s trusted men, his þyle.Being accused of sifjaslit was not something to be taken lightly in Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian societies. The death of the beloved god Baldr was caused by the betrayal of Loki, his kin. This triggered the events which would eventually lead to Ragnarök.

The same grievous offence is charged against Grendel’s clan, where God himself made them outcasts and set a curse upon their kin (ll. 107-114). It comes as no surprise, then, that a monster representative of kin-slaying would lay waste to a tribe whose roots are tainted with the same sin. Only a hero endowed with módgan mægnes, Metodes hyldo (670) would reasonably be able to defeat Grendel. The only reason why Beowulf won the battle, as the poet puts it, was because God’s favour was upon him – Beowulf’s might was a gift from God:

…hwæþre hé gemunde                 mægnes strenge,

gim-fæste gife,                             ðe him God scealde,

ond him tó An-waldan                 áre gelýfde,

frófre ond fultum (1270-1273).

It is the same favour that grants Beowulf victory in his battle against Grendel’s mother. Hrunting, Unferth’s sword, offers him no offensive nor defensive prowess against her. As Robert Emmett Finnegan puts it, “the defenses Beowulf’s society affords him against the evils of the mere are insufficient for victory….Even so, the poet attributes the hero’s ultimate salvation to God” (49). Beowulf himself exclaims:

Ic þæt unsófte                  ealdre gedíge,

wigge under wætere,       weorc genéþde

earfoðlíceæ                       ætrihte wæs

gúð getwæfed,                 nymðe mec God scylde (1555-1558).

And so Beowulf lives many years thereafter to become king of the Geats, where we “find the young proud Beowulf so much like Hrothgar so soon as the Link or Interlude of his return home is over (Tolkien, Beowulf 312). But it is in his rule here as king of the Geats where we will see his final and tragic encounter with the dragon.

Upon hearing about the dragon, Beowulf became “restless hastening toward death: the fate very nigh indeed that was to assail that aged one, to attack the guarded soul within and sunder life from body – not for long thereafter was the spirit of the prince in flesh entrammelled” (Tolkien, Beowulf 84). He had erstwhile not known how he would die (Tolkien, Beowulf 102), and so he “disdained with a host and mighty army to go against that creature flying far abroad. For himself he did not fear the contest, nor account as anything the valour of the serpent, nor his might and courage” (Tolkien, Beowulf 81-82). Too late does he realise that “the defences he brings against the beast are essentially those of his society, and are therefore essentially flawed” (Finnegan, 54).

Moreover, the blessing of God, which was present in Beowulf’s battle against Grendel and his mother, is alarmingly absent in his fight against the dragon. It may well be that it was not the “Almighty’s will” (Heaney 192). Or it may be wyrd that goes ever as it must (Tolkien, Beowulf, 243)[6].

Where, then, can we find Beowulf’s hamartia? “Is Beowulf’s decision to fight the dragon imprudent?”… “Wiglaf criticises Beowulf’s retaliation, and the retainers, Wiglaf testifies, tried to dissuade Beowulf from the attack” (Gwara 243). “Should the hero have accepted help?” (Gwara 267) Perhaps he should have, as Hrothgar would have advised (1771-1784). Had he more retainers with him when he fought the dragon, the outcome would of course be vastly different. However, the poet comments: “Appointed was it that the prince proven of old should find now the end of his fleeting days, of life in this world” (Tolkien, Beowulf 81). Finnegan explains his situation:

…as the hero becomes increasingly entrammeled in the meshes of the society of which he is a part, the victory becomes harder, as in the struggle with Grendel’s mother, until it finally becomes impossible. With the failure of the best of men of his time to overcome the dragon, the society which he as king represents is judged and found wanting (54).

Beowulf’s pagan society is ultimately found defenceless without the help of God. As the poet has lamented in lines 183-186:

Wa bíð þæm ðe sceal

þurh slíðe níð                    sáwle bescúfan

in fýres fæþm,                  frófre ne wénan,

wihte gewendan!

A more positive yet similar expression may be found in the last lines of The Wanderer:

Wel bið þam þe him are seceð,

Frofre to fæder on heofonum,     þærus eal seo fæstnung stondeð.

Beowulf as a Northern hero trusted in his own might, not in God’s power – nor could he, for he knew not God. Thus to be simply himself, the ideal hero, would yet be lacking, and the ideals and the values which he represents, though noble, are “found wanting”. And though this be so, the poet deals with the characters with reverence, and not with condemnation, as he epitaphs Beowulf with

manna mildust      ond mon-ðwærust,

leodum líðost       one lof-geornost (3181-3182).

[1] In Chapter 11 of the Poetics, Aristotle furthermore says, “these are the two parts of the plot, reversal and recognition, and there is also a third part, suffering”; a statement which we will add to his definition.

[2] See Tolkien’s Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, p. 162

[3] The Shieldings (Skjöldungs) themselves are descended from the Norse god Odin (Sturluson, Prose Edda 7).

[4] “Equally with the poet of Widsith, the poet of Beowulf cannot mention Hrothulf and Hrothgar together without foreboding evil” (Chambers 83).

[5] See Snorri Sturlusson’s “Gylfaginning”, Chapter 51.

[6] Gæð á wyrd swá hío scel (l. 455)

Works cited:

 

Chambers, R.W. Widsith: A Study in Old English Heroic Legend. Cambridge: University Press, 1912. Print.

Finnegan, Robert Emmett. Beowulf at the Mere (and elsewhere). Winnipeg: University of  Manitoba Press, 1978. Print.

Gwara, Scott. Heroic Identity in the World of Beowulf. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2008.

Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2000. Print.

O’Donohue, Heather. English Poetry and Old Norse Myth. Oxford: Oxford University Press,

2014. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. London:         Harper Collins Publishers, 2014. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.   London: George Allen & Unwin Publishers, 1983. Print.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works Consulted:

1979. and E. Keary. The Heroes of Asgard. New York: Mayflower Books, 1979. Print.

Anlezark, Daniel. Myths, Legends, and Heroes. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011.

Print.

Bloom, Harold. Bloom’s Modern Critical Interpretations: Beowulf, Updated Edition. New             York: Infobase Publishing, 2007.

Brodeur, Arthur. The Art of Beowulf. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969.    Print.

—. The Prose Edda. New York: American Scandinavian Foundation, 1916. Print.

Byock, Jesse. The Prose Edda. London: Penguin Books, 2005. Print.

Chambers, R.W. Widsith: A Study in Old English Heroic Legend. Cambridge: University Press, 1912. Print.

Crossley- Holland, Kevin. The Anglo-Saxon World: An Anthology. Oxford: Oxford

University Press, 2009. Print.

Dougherty, Martin. Vikings. London: Amber Books, 2013. Print.

Earl, James. Thinking About Beowulf. California: Stanford University Press, 1994. Print.

Finnegan, Robert Emmett. Beowulf at the Mere (and elsewhere). Winnipeg: University of  Manitoba Press, 1978. Print.

Greenblatt, Stephen. Simpson, and Alfred David. The Norton Anthology of English           Literature. 2 vols. New York: W.W. Norton &Company, 1962-2013. Print.

Gwara, Scott. Heroic Identity in the World of Beowulf. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2008.

Hall, John. A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1916.          Print.

Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2000. Print.

Jones, Gwyn. Kings Beasts and Heroes. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972. Print.

Jónsson, Guðni. Fornaldar Sögur Norðurlanda. Reykjavík: Prentsmiðjan Edda, 1950. Print.

Jónsson, Finnur. Sæmundar-Edda. Reykjavík: Prentsmiðja D. Östlunds, 1905. Print.

Jónsson, Guðni. Edda Snorra Sturlusonar. Reykjavík: Prentfell, 1949. Print.

Klaeber, Frederick. Beowulf. Toronto: University of Toronot Press, 2008. Print.

Larrington, Carolyne. The Poetic Edda. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Print.

Mitchell, Bruce. An Invitation to Old English and Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford: Blackwell          Publishers, 1995. Print.

Mitchell, B. and Robinson, F. A Guide to Old English. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons Ltd,           2012. Print.

New International Version. Caloocan: Image Builders Services and Publishing Foundation,           1984. Print.

O’Donohue, Heather. English Poetry and Old Norse Myth. Oxford: Oxford University Press,

2014. Print.

Portnoy, Phyllis. The Remnant: Essays on a Theme in Old English Verse. London: Runetree         Press, 2005. Print.

Stitt, J. Michael. Beowulf and the Bear’s Son. New York: Garland Publishing, 1992. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. London:         Harper Collins Publishers, 2014. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.   London: George Allen & Unwin Publishers, 1983. Print.

Tripp, Raymond P. Jr. More about the Fight with the Dragon. Lanham: University Press of            America, 1983. Print.

Zoega, Geir. A Concise Dictionary of Old Icelandic. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.        Print.

Beowulf: The Anglo-Saxon Thor

Any student versed in both Norse and Anglo-Saxon literatures may immediately recognise similarities between the Norse god Thor and the Anglo-Saxon hero, Beowulf. The text of Beowulf, it may be observed, suggests all throughout many parallelisms not only in the stories of the two characters, but also in the contexts in which both are situated. I would argue that Beowulf not only exemplifies aspects of Thor, but that, moreover, it is in the Beowulf poet’s intention to represent in Beowulf the human figure of the god himself. It is important to recognize this perspective especially in Beowulf’s final battle with the dragon, in order for us to be able to observe how the poet, with beautiful, elegiac undertones, wistfully celebrates Northern heroism.

It is a widely accepted fact in Beowulf’s readership that the author was a Christian writing for a Christian audience. Heather O’Donohue specifically implies that the author was most likely a cleric: “Anglo-Saxon authors were Christians, perhaps mostly clerics, and clerical culture dominated literary production” (11). J.R.R. Tolkien gives the clerical identity of the author more clarity as he expounds on him thus:

…he brought probably first to his task a knowledge of Christian poetry, especially that of the Caedmon school, and especially Genesis. He makes his minstrel sing in Heorot of the Creation of the earth and the lights of Heaven….Secondly, to his task the poet brought a considerable learning in native lays and traditions: only by learning and training could such things be acquired (Monsters and the Critics 26-27).

This blending of the old and new[1], the Christian and the pagan, is a possibility construed from the conditions of the poet’s native land. Harold Bloom thus describes a firmly Christian nation that has “established control of a mixed and somewhat turbulent Anglo-Scandinavian society” (37). It can then be asserted that Beowulf’s author was supplied with enough materials from the past and a sufficient understanding of his present time to be able to compose a poem that could recount the old days with a certain novelty. Furthermore, it can be said of Beowulf (and indeed of any Anglo-Saxon poetry) that the poems “concerned themselves with the resigned but wistful recreation of a distant and faded past, and meditations on ends and beginnings” (O’Donohue, 11).

The antiquarian author of Beowulf artfully draws forth some themes in Norse literature that may not be too apparent at first glance[2]. The principal of these – and my chief concern – is the insinuation of Thor’s characteristics and background into Beowulf. One of the first similarities that arises is the presence of the necklace of the Brosings. Beowulf receives it as an award after killing Grendel (1197-1201). Thor as well wears it in a quest in Þrymsviða:

Létu und hánum

hrynja lukla

ok kvenváðir

of kné falla,

en á brjósti

breiða steinna,

ok hagl ga

of höfuð typðu (19).

O‘Donohue additionally recounts three other common exploits of the heroes. “Both Thor and Beowulf, when young, contend with a sea monster or monsters, out in the ocean, and best their companion; their safe return is carefully noted….Both Thor and Beowulf wrestle with an old woman….Finally, both Thor and Beowulf have a close encounter with a giant’s glove”(20).

I observe two more relevant and related events. Both Beowulf and Thor have a final battle against a serpentine or dragon-like creature about to lay their kingdoms to waste. These occasions have been foreshadowed in the Völuspá for Thor and in the story of Sigemund (ll. 898-915) for Beowulf. The heroes eventually succeed in slaying the dragons, and likewise both die from the battle wounds. It is from these encounters that the heroes achieve their most praiseworthy deed. Tolkien may add:

…as far as we know anything about these old poets, we know this: the prince of the heroes of the North, supremely memorable – hans nafn mun uppi meðan veröldin stendr – was a dragon-slayer. And his most renowned deed, from which in Norse he derived his title Fáfnisbani, was the slaying of the prince of legendary worms (Monsters and the Critics 16).

He also mentions that Beowulf’s first major fight – the one against Grendel – makes for a perfect balance when contrasted against the climactic battle against the wyrm, the dragon[3]. Finnegan observes this buildup thus: “as the hero becomes increasingly entrammeled in the meshes of the society of which he is a part, the victory becomes harder, as in the struggle with Grendel’s mother, until it becomes finally impossible[4]” (54). There is here a sense that is deeply connected with Beowulfian and Viking society, where “a hopeless battle was not something to be avoided; it was an opportunity to win undying word-fame in the mortal world and ultimately a place in the golden age after Ragnarök” (Dougherty 39).

Seamus Heaney further emphasizes the importance and full meaning of the dragon in Beowulf. “He [the dragon] lodges himself in the imagination as wyrd [fate/destiny] rather than wyrm, more a destiny than a set of reptilian vertebrae” (xix). So represented then is the power of Fate – “Gæð a wyrd swa hio scel”, Fate goes ever as she must (line 445).

Fate in Beowulf is directly linked to God, who is oftentimes referred to in the poem as Metod (in line 180, for example), which is also a word for fate. It is he who decides ultimately the fate of the hero Beowulf. It may be said that his divine blessing is what gives Beowulf protection in his first two major encounters. In his fight with Grendel the poet declares thus:

Ac him Dryhten forgeaf

wig-speda gewiofu,         Wedera leodum,

frofor ond fultum,            þæt hie feond heora

durh anes cræft                ealle ofercomon,

selfes mihtum.                  Soð is gecyþed,

þæt mihtig God                manna cynnes

weold wide-ferð (696-702).

Here God is described as a seamster of fate who rules over mankind, weaving victory for the “Weather-Geats”. In Beowulf’s battle against Grendel’s mother, the poet notes that “halig God / geweold wig-sigor” – “holy God decided the victory” (1553-1554). These blessings are alarmingly absent in Beowulf’s final clash. Thus the hero, boastful – as a Northern hero is wont to be – in his own strength and might, is left to pay the final wages of his heroic endeavours: “the wages of heroism is death” (Tolkien, Monsters and the Critics 26). Finnegan notes that “the dragon fight, particularly when compared with the Grendel battle, is more overtly pagan in tone” (53). Recalling its connections with Thor’s encounter with the Midgard Serpent, this last battle indeed brings with it certain elements from Norse mythology.

What is interesting here is the silence of the poem about God’s actions; neither the poet nor any of the characters speak of God at this point. What the readers see instead is an unfolding of events taken right from the story of Thor’s fight with Jörmungandr. God’s actions are either suspended or withheld, and the pagan clash is allowed to take place without restraint. The aftereffects, as the poet presents them, are plaintively devastating. The gold that Beowulf fought for proves to be useless[5]. Beowulf’s death, moreover, signifies the end of his Geatish kingdom (O’Donohue 22-23).

It seems fitting to say that the poet is weaving the ending into a sombre celebration of Beowulf’s death. Victorious he was indeed, as was Thor, in ridding the world of the evil wyrm, but the poet laments the godlessness of the characters in Beowulf and perhaps the vanity of the heroes’ deaths. Hrólfs Saga Kraka ends in a similar, yet more outspoken note. Master Galterus, seemingly randomly inserted into the final passage of the saga, voices out what I believe to be a remark that Beowulf’s poet only hints at: “Sagði meistarinn Galterus, at mannligir kraftar máttu ekki standast við slíkum fjanda krafti, utan máttr guðs hefði á móti komit, — ‘ok stóð þér þat eitt fyrir sigrinum, Hrólfr konungr, at þú hafðir ekki skyn á skapara þínum’” (Förnaldar 104)[6].

It will feel even more woeful when the readers keep in mind that Heorot, the Great Hall of Hrothgar, a symbol of Valhalla transfigured into the mortal world[7], has been at this point burnt down by the dragon. We may say that it is a representation that helps the poet’s “resigned but wistful recreation” of the past (O’Donohue 11). Likewise, Beowulf’s dirge brings us back to the melancholic tone of an elegy, mourning the loss of a great leader beloved by all.

So the sole might and power of the Thor-like Beowulf, lacking the aid of the Almighty, equates to nought upon facing his Fated doom. Yet here also he finds his glory, his most renowned deed – a licence which in a more ancient time would have given him full permission to enter Valhalla. Fate and Metod have set aside this time for Beowulf, a king beloved and a warrior valiant, to receive lof, the fame, which he, as a Northern hero (right down to the marrow), seeks most eagerly and deserves indubitably.  Thus hans nafn mun uppi meðan veröldin stendr.

[1] Alluding to Tolkien’s quote in The Monsters and the Critics, p.20

[2] O’Donohue notes that we “can only expect carefully meditated allusions at best”. (11) The author has indeed put some careful meditation and deep thought into weaving the story of Beowulf together.

[3] See The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays, p.32

[4] Finnegan states that the armor is “symbolic of the defenses his society can afford him in the battle” (49)

[5] As Finnegan notes in p. 54

[6] In essence: “Human strength cannot stand such fiendish power, unless the strength of God is employed against it” (Byock)

[7] James Earl suggests this relationship between Heorot and Valhalla in Thinking about Beowulf, pp. 115-116

Bibliography/ Works Consulted:

1979. and E. Keary. The Heroes of Asgard. New York: Mayflower Books, 1979. Print.

Anlezark, Daniel. Myths, Legends, and Heroes. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011.

Print.

Bloom, Harold. Bloom’s Modern Critical Interpretations: Beowulf, Updated Edition. New             York: Infobase Publishing, 2007.

Brodeur, Arthur. The Art of Beowulf. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969.    Print.

—. The Prose Edda. New York: American Scandinavian Foundation, 1916. Print.

Byock, Jesse. The Prose Edda. London: Penguin Books, 2005. Print.

Crossley- Holland, Kevin. The Anglo-Saxon World: An Anthology. Oxford: Oxford

University Press, 2009. Print.

Dougherty, Martin. Vikings. London: Amber Books, 2013. Print.

Earl, James. Thinking About Beowulf. California: Stanford University Press, 1994. Print.

Finnegan, Robert Emmett. Beowulf at the Mere (and elsewhere). Winnipeg: University of  Manitoba Press, 1978. Print.

Greenblatt, Stephen. Simpson, and Alfred David. The Norton Anthology of English           Literature. 2 vols. New York: W.W. Norton &Company, 1962-2013. Print.

Gwara, Scott. Heroic Identity in the World of Beowulf. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2008.

Hall, John. A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1916.          Print.

Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2000. Print.

Jones, Gwyn. Kings Beasts and Heroes. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972. Print.

Jónsson, Guðni. Fornaldar Sögur Norðurlanda. Reykjavík: Prentsmiðjan Edda, 1950. Print.

Jónsson, Finnur. Sæmundar-Edda. Reykjavík: Prentsmiðja D. Östlunds, 1905. Print.

Jónsson, Guðni. Edda Snorra Sturlusonar. Reykjavík: Prentfell, 1949. Print.

Larrington, Carolyne. The Poetic Edda. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Print.

Mitchell, Bruce. An Invitation to Old English and Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford: Blackwell          Publishers, 1995. Print.

Mitchell, B. and Robinson, F. A Guide to Old English. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons Ltd,           2012. Print.

New International Version. Caloocan: Image Builders Services and Publishing Foundation,           1984. Print.

O’Donohue, Heather. English Poetry and Old Norse Myth. Oxford: Oxford University Press,

2014. Print.

Portnoy, Phyllis. The Remnant: Essays on a Theme in Old English Verse. London: Runetree         Press, 2005. Print.

Stitt, J. Michael. Beowulf and the Bear’s Son. New York: Garland Publishing, 1992. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. London:         Harper Collins Publishers, 2014. Print.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.   London: George Allen & Unwin Publishers, 1983. Print.

Tripp, Raymond P. Jr. More about the Fight with the Dragon. Lanham: University Press of            America, 1983. Print.

Zoega, Geir. A Concise Dictionary of Old Icelandic. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.        Print.

Wiglaf

No wassail have we but a winsome loaf-ward
Whose heart we hear ever honing for glory.
Men of might, Almighty’s ordained,
Athwart our threshold a threat awaketh:
A dragon flies dreadful from deep his barrow –
His gilded hall, once begirt by galdor ancient,
Ransacked and robbed by a ratty thrall.
Mark! Our hero wends unheedful tow’rds hellish, biting flames;
Ecgtheow’s son, evading death, with endeavors magnificent,
A protector brave, a powerful lord, pacing the halls of sovereign Fate;
The fire-drake he faceth, his thede perforce he guards,
Beowulf the brass-hearted, bairn-noblesse of the Geatish kings.
My liege, wherefore in a lonesome wise do you so lash against
This gruesome beast, this Geat-bane of gargantuan size?
To arms, men of the Atheling! Let our acts be in sagas told,
And in elegant songs be ever our ne’erending kinship live.
We are chosen, champions for challenging times,
Bestowed with swords, with spears trusted to win,
Warriors in bewuthered lands, born worthy of lofty praise.
I go, hence to gather strength that’s mine, my aid to give our princeling.

Amongst flames he fights, and with ferrous armaments
He hacks at the heinous wyrm: much horror be in the battlefield.
How striketh the serpent, what seething rage he shows;
Yet how more blessed with battle-sense is Beowulf our defender!
Such clanging of kings, clamours set afield,
Thunders from thrusting wills and tholing spirits –
The glorious drake against the godlike warrior,
In fateful frenzies, in fearsome engagement –
Lo and behold the hardy pair, gaze heavenward for that spectacle,
Remember ye this meeting, this moment unsurpassable.

—

To my injured lord rushed I: an incident grievous,
The dragon has dealt a deathblow to the Atheling.
It so befell that fangs have fiercely bit Beowulf:
The serpent’s swords, from out his slithery mass.
And still Beowulf the battle won, his bravery prevailed,
Our liege the longsome fight with lithesome skill overcame.

The wounded warrior quoth: ‘My Wiglaf, take this hoard,
This wonder of the wyrm, and wield it for our kingdom’s gain.
My glory last begets now these gifts unique;
And thus satisfied, I may sojourn into the sacred halls of my forbears,
Till perhaps a heavenly fight, in heroic tones, bids me battle.
Farewell to you, good Wiglaf; think it not woe, my passing,
But as grandest news for gladful men, and so atop garrets declare.
Cheers, be thou hale, and fare thee well.’

A downpour of drastic heart-wounds thence descended upon me.
But, ye cowards, ye kinless beasts, your king have ye abandoned,
Ye nithings of numb souls, there’s nought glorious in your deeds,
Running tow’rds rock crags, upon rills taking shelter.
For granted take ye his given trust? How glib ye declare your oaths!
In hellish havoc ye have hurried off yonder.
Away ye worthless men, save your wee hearts from lasting shame,
For as the ground stays no gormful man will pity you!
As for me, I mourn for my master, the Fearless,
Battle-ready and forbearing, embellished with a kindly heart.
Mere death and desolation I do fore-wit
For the wardless Weather-Geats, the welkin’s once-great lot.
Their king most caring, full of courage,
Now has passed on next to his proud fathers.
‘Mongst all of earth’s kings, most earnest was he
For acclaim, yet kind was he too to kinfolk great and low.
Thus I’ll mourn till the morrow, for a man such as he,
Leave me and let me be, forlorn as I am,
I’ll stand by the serpent-bane, till sunward They take him.

Sellic Work — A Review of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Beowulf

Undoubtedly J.R.R. Tolkien’s translation of Beowulf has long been awaited by avid fans and scholars of Beowulf and those of Tolkien himself. For those following the works of Tolkien, his translation is indeed an addition to the vast, mostly posthumous publications the world has already come to love dearly. To the scholars of Beowulf (and Anglo-Saxon literature), it is perhaps another big step into understanding further the themes and the ingenuity of the ancient English works. Any serious student of Anglo-Saxon literature would know of the publication of Tolkien’s lecture Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics. The lecture shed a new light into what had once been a severely understudied area of English literature, and consequently was it thus an obscure path full of misguided criticisms and misinterpretations of Beowulf. Now has come to us once more a work of technical genius and scholarly wisdom, penned by an author so loved and a professor so well-versed in the ancient Germanic texts.

            Many people know of J.R.R. Tolkien’s fictional works, yet very few know of his scholarly publications or even understand their impact on their respective branches. Long before he was famed as a writer, Tolkien was first renowned as a professor knowledgeable in the different areas of Northern literature. He was also a linguist and a philologist, fluent in diverse Germanic languages, dead and living. His works on Beowulf, then, are written as such by a highly-qualified and moreover passionate individual.

            Critics of course disagree. Tolkien’s writing has at times been judged as crass or stilted; but one may discover neither descriptions generally true in the translation of Beowulf. He has matched with equal skill the technical genius of the original author. And although readers used to verse translations of Beowulf will find it odd that Tolkien’s is written in prose, they may find it excusable upon understanding that artistic detail and precision have been major objectives in Tolkien’s mind as he set out to execute his work. The verse form sacrificed, the compensation then exists in the Shakespeare-like quality of his prose as expressed, I think, in this quote:

 

Then about the tomb rode warriors valiant, sons of princes, twelve men in all, who would their woe bewail, their king lament, a dirge upraising, that man praising, honouring his prowess and his mighty deeds, his worth esteeming – even as is meet that a man should his lord beloved in words extol, in his heart cherish, when forth he must from the raiment of flesh be taken far away. Thus bemourned the Geatish folk their master’s fall, comrades of his hearth, crying that he was ever of the kings of earth of men most generous and to men most gracious, to his people most tender and for praise most eager (lines 2659-2669).

 

More important though than his technical prowess in poetic prose and the Anglo-Saxon tongue (as evidenced in the Sellic Spell), Tolkien provides scholars with insightful commentaries, highly detailed in nature, on particularly important passages of the text (lines 131-150 for example). Revolutionary ideas and theories perhaps previously unexplored or unheard of about Beowulf are aplenty.

What is truly beautiful in this translation is the heartfelt passion J.R.R. Tolkien has weaved into his writings, which is furthermore showcased in his composition of the Sellic Spell and the Lays of Beowulf. Christopher Tolkien was no closer to the truth than when he remarked that ‘the fact that it has remained unpublished for so many years has even become a matter of reproach’. Reproachable it is indeed as all the wisdom instilled in Tolkien’s works on Beowulf have become important cornerstones of that research area; and this translation further asserts Tolkien’s authority on Beowulf, laying grounds for further studies and a deeper understanding on the subject matter. Thankfully it has been published; otherwise the world of English and Anglo-Saxon literature would have permanently lost another portal leading back to the ancient days and its people’s uptake of human existence.

SUMMER READS FOR THE TOLKIEN ENTHUSIAST

COMING UP: A REVIEW ON J.R.R. TOLKIEN’S TRANSLATION OF BEOWULF