Anglo-Saxon Literature Part 12

Early in the morning men came from far and near to see the hideous trophy on the gable of the hall: men came to rejoice in the great deliverance; for Heorot, they said, was now purged. Great was their joy.

Mounted men rode over the moor, tracking Grendel's retreat by his blood; they followed his path to the dismal pool where he had his habitation; then they turn homewards, riding together and conversing as they go.

They talk of Beowulf, they liken him with Sigemund, that hero of greatest name. When they come to galloping ground, they break away from the tales, and race over the turf. In another tale they talk of Heremod; but he was proud and cold, not like Beowulf, who is as genial as he is valiant. The early riders are back to Heorot in time to see the king and the queen moving from bower to hall, the king with his guard, the queen with her maidens. Then follows a n.o.ble scene. Hrogar sees the hideous trophy on the gable; he stands on the terrace, and utters a thanksgiving to G.o.d as stately as it is simple. He reviews the woe and the grief, the disgrace, the helplessness, and the utter despondency of himself and of his people; "and now a boy hath done the deed which we all with our united powers could not compa.s.s! Verily that woman is blessed that bare him; and if she yet lives, she may well say that G.o.d was very gracious to her in her childbearing. Beowulf, I will love thee as a son, and thou shalt lack nothing that it is in my power to give."

Beowulf spake: "We did our best in a risky tussle; would I could have brought you the fiend a captive. I could not hold him; he gave me the slip: but he left a limb behind; _that_ will be his death." Next Heorot is restored and beautified anew. Marvellous gold-embroidered hangings drape the walls, the admiration of those who have an eye for such things. The whole interior had been a wreck, the roof alone remained entire. Now, it was straight and fair once more; and now it was to be the scene of such a profusion of gifts as poet had never sung.

In honour of his victory Beowulf received a golden banner of quaint device, a helmet, and a coat of mail; but what drew all eyes was the ancient famous sword now brought forth from the treasure house, and borne up to the hero. Furthermore, at the king's word, eight splendid horses, cheek-adorned, were led into the hall; and on one of them was seen the saddle, the well-known saddle of Hrogar, wherein he, never aloof in battle-hour, sate when he mingled in the fray of war. "Take them," said the king, "take them, Beowulf, both horses and armour; and my blessing with them."

The companions of Beowulf were not forgotten: they all received appropriate gifts. The festivities proceed, and we have a picture of the course of the banquet. The minstrel's tale on that occasion was the Fearful Fray in the Castle of Finn, when Danes were there on a visit.

The song being ended, Waltheow the queen bears the cup to the king, and bids him be merry and bountiful. Her queenly counsel stops not here. The king had sons of his own; he should give no hint of any other succession to his seat; while he occupied the throne, he should be large in bounty and encircle himself with grateful champions. Next, with like ceremony she honours Beowulf, and hands the cup to him. She also presents her own special gifts to the deliverer:--bracelets, and a rich garment, and a collar surpa.s.sing all most famed in story since Hama captured the collar of the Brosings. The queen addresses Beowulf, wishes him joy of her gifts, exalts his merits, bids him befriend her son and be loyal to the king. She took her seat, and the revelry grew. Little deemed they, what next would happen, when the night should be dark, and Hrogar asleep in his bower!

The hall is made ready as a dormitory for the men-at-arms; the benches are slewed round, and the floor is spread from end to end with beds and bolsters. Every warrior's s.h.i.+eld is set upright at his head, and by the bench-posts stands his spear, supporting helmet and mail. Such was their custom; they slept as ever ready to rise and do service to their king.

Horror is renewed in the night; Grendel's fiendish dam visits the hall and kills one of the sleepers, aeschere by name.

In the morning the king is in great distress. He sends for Beowulf, who, after the purging of Heorot, had occupied a separate bower, like the king. Beowulf arrives, and hopes all is well. Hrogar spake:--"Ask not of welfare; sorrow is renewed for the Danish folk! My trusty friend aeschere is dead; my comrade tried in battle when the tug was for life, when the fight was foot to foot and helmets kissed:--oh! aeschere was what a thane should be! The cruel hag has wreaked on him her vengeance.

The country folk said there were two of them, one the semblance of a woman, the other the spectre of a man. Their haunt is in the remote land, in the crags of the wolf, the wind-beaten cliffs, and untrodden bogs, where the dismal stream plunges into the drear abyss of an awful lake, overhung with a dark and grisly wood rooted down to the water's edge, where a lurid flame plays nightly on the surface of the flood--and there lives not the man who knows its depth! So dreadful is the place that the hunted stag, hard driven by the hounds, will rather die on the bank than find a shelter there. A place of terror! When the wind rises, the waves mingle hurly-burly with the clouds, the air is stifling and rumbles with thunder. To thee alone we look for relief; darest thou explore the monster's lair, I will reward the adventure with ancient treasures, with coils of gold if thou return alive!"

Said Beowulf, the son of Ecgtheow:--"Sorrow not, experienced sire!

Better avenge a friend than idly deplore him:--each must wait the end of life, and should work while he may to make him a name--the best thing after life! Bestir thee, guardian of the folk! let us be quick upon the track of Grendel's housemate. I make thee a promise:--not highest cliff, not widest field, not darkest wood, nor deepest flood--go where he will--shall be his refuge! Bear up for one day, and may thy troubles end according to my wis.h.!.+" The king mounts, and with his retinue conducts Beowulf to the charmed lake: the wildness of the way, and the strange nature of the scenes, are all in keeping. The armed followers sit them down in a place where they command a view of the dismal water. Monstrous creatures writhe about the crags; the men shoot some of them.

Beowulf equips for his adventure. His sword was the famous Hrunting, lent to him by Hunferth, the boastful orator, he who had gibed at Beowulf on the day of his arrival. It was a sword of high repute; a h.o.a.rded treasure; its edge was iron; it was damascened with device of coiled twigs; it had never failed in fight the hand that dared to wield it. Now Beowulf spoke, ready for action: "Remember, n.o.ble Hrogar, how thou and I talked together, that if I lost life in thy service thou wouldest be as a father to me departed:--protect my comrades if I am taken; and the gifts thou gavest me, beloved Hrogar, send home to Higelac. When he looks on the treasures he will know that I found a bounteous master, and enjoyed life while it lasted. And let Hunfer have his old sword again: I will conquer fame with Hrunting, or die fighting." Act followed word: he was gone, and the wave had covered him.

He was most of the day before he reached the depths of the abyss. While yet on the downward way, he was met by the old water-wolf that had dwelt there a hundred years, who had perceived the approach of a human visitor. She clutched him and bore him off, till he found himself with his enemy in a vast chamber which excluded the water and was lighted by some strange fire-glow. At once the fight began, and Hrunting rang about the demon's head; but against such a being the sword was useless, the edge turned that never had failed before: he flung it from him and trusted to strength of arm. In his rage he charged so deadly that he felled the monster to the ground; but she recovered and Beowulf fell.

And now the furious wight thought to revenge Grendel; she plunged her knife at Beowulf's breast, and his life had ended there but for the good service of his ringed mail-serk. Protected by this armour, and helped by Him who giveth victory, he pa.s.sed the perilous moment, and was on his feet again. And now he espied among the armour in that place an old elfin sword, such as no other man might carry; this he seized, and with the force of despair he so smote that the fell hag lay dead:--the sword was gory, and the boy was fain of his work. With rage unsated, he ranged through the place till he came to where Grendel lay lifeless: he smote the head from the hateful carcase.

To Hrogar's men watching on the height the lake appeared as if mingled with blood, and this seemed to confirm their fears. The day was waning: the old men about Hrogar took counsel, and, concluding they should see Beowulf no more, they moved homeward. But Beowulf's followers, though sick at heart and with little hope, yet sate on in spite of dejection.

Meanwhile the huge, gigantic blade had melted marvellously away "likest unto ice, when the Father (he who hath power over times and seasons, that is, the true ruler) looseneth the chain of frost and unwindeth the wave-ropes":--so venomous was the gore of the fiend that had been slain therewith. Beowulf took the gigantic hilt and the monster's head, and, soaring up through the waters, he stood on the sh.o.r.e to the surprise and joy of his faithful comrades, who came eagerly about him to ease him of his dripping harness. Exulting they return to Heorot, Grendel's head carried by four men on a pole; they march straight up the hall to greet the king, and the guests are startled with the ghastly evidence of Beowulf's complete success. Beowulf tells his story and presents the hilt to Hrogar. The aged king extols the unparalleled achievements of Beowulf, and warns him against excessive exaltation of mind by the example of Heremod.

Soon after this we have the parting between the old king and the young hero, who declares his readiness to come with a thousand thanes at any time of Hrogar's need; while Hrogar's words are of love and admiration and confidence in his discretion: and so he lets him go not without large addition of gifts, and embraces, and kisses, and tears. "Thence Beowulf the warrior, elate with gold, trod the gra.s.sy plain, exulting in treasure; the sea-goer that rode at anchor awaited its lord; then as they went was Hrogar's liberality often praised." At the coast they are met by the coast-warden with an altered and respectful mien: they are soon afloat, and we hear the whistle of the wind through the rigging as the gallant craft bears away before the breeze to carry them all merrily homewards after well-sped adventure. The welcome is worthy of the work:--Higelac's reception of Beowulf, the joy of getting him back; Beowulf presenting to his liege lord the wealth he had won; old reminiscences called up and couched in song; an ancient sword brought out and presented to Beowulf, and with the sword a s.p.a.cious lords.h.i.+p, a n.o.ble mansion, and all seigneurial rights.

And so he dwelt until such time as he went forth with Higelac on his fatal expedition against the Frisians, who were backed by a strong alliance of Chauci, and Chattuarii, and Franks; and there Higelac fell, and his army perished. Beowulf, by prodigious swimming, reached his home again, where now was a young widowed queen and her infant son. She offered herself and her kingdom to Beowulf; he preferred the office of the faithful guardian. At a later time the young king fell in battle, and then Beowulf succeeded. He reigned fifty years a good king, and ended life with a supreme act of heroism. He fought and slew a fiery dragon which desolated his country, and was himself mortally wounded in the conflict. One single follower, Wiglaf by name, bolder or more faithful than the rest, was at his side in danger, though not to help; and he received the hero's dying words:--"I should have given my armour to my son if I had heir of my body. I have held this people fifty years; no neighbour has dared to challenge or molest me. I have lived with men on fair and equal terms; I have done no violence, caused no friends to perish, and that is a comfort to one deadly wounded who is soon to appear before the Ruler of men. Now, beloved Wiglaf, go thou quickly in under the h.o.a.ry stone of the dragon's vault, and bring the treasures out into the daylight, that I may behold the splendour of ancient wealth, and death may be the softer for the sight." When it was done, and the wondrous heap was before his eyes, the victorious warrior spake:--"For the riches on which I look I thank the Lord of all, the king of glory, the everlasting ruler, that I have been able before my death-day to acquire such for my people. Well spent is the remnant of my life to earn such a treasure; I charge thee with the care of the people; I can be no longer here. Order my warriors after the bale-fire to rear a mighty mound on the headland over the sea: it shall tower aloft on Hronesness for a memorial to my people: that sea-going men in time to come may call it Beowulf's Barrow, when foam-prowed s.h.i.+ps drive over the scowling flood on their distant courses." Then he removed a golden coil from his neck and gave it to the young thane; the same he did with his helmet inlaid with gold, the collar, and the mail-coat: he bade him use them as his own.

"Thou art the last of our race of the Waegmundings; fate has swept all my kindred off into Eternity; I must follow them." That was his latest word; his soul went out of his breast into the lot of the just.

Reflections and discourses proper to the occasion are spoken by Wiglaf, such as chiding of the timorous who stood aloof, and gloomy antic.i.p.ations of the future.

3,000 Thaet is sio faehtho and se feondscipe, wael nith wera, thaes the ic wen hafo, the us seceath to Sweona leode syan hie gefricgeath frean userne, ealdorleasne thone the aer geheold with hettendum hord and rice; folc raed fremede, oe furthur gen eorlscipe efnde.

Nu is ofost betost thaet we theod cyning thaer sceawian and thone gebringan, the us beagas geaf, on ad faere.

Ne scal anes hwaet meltan mid tham modigan, ac thaer is mathma hord, gold unrime grimme geceapod and nu aet sithestan sylfes feore beagas gebohte.

Tha sceal brond gretan aeled theccean, nalles eorl wegan maum to gemyndum, ne maegth scyne habban on healse hring weorthunge, ac sceal geomor mod golde bereafod oft nalles aene el land tredan; nu se here wisa hleahtor alegde, gamen and gleo dream.

This is the feud and this the foeman's hate the vengeful spite that I expect against us now will bring the Swedish bands; soon as they hear our chieftain high of life bereft-- who held till now 'gainst haters all the h.o.a.rd and realm; peace framed at home; and further off respect inspired.

Now speed is best that we our liege and king go look upon, And him escort, who us adorned, the pile towards.

Not things of petty worth shall with the mighty melt, but there a treasure main, uncounted gold costly procured and now at length with his great life jewels dear-bought; them shall flame devour, burning shall bury:-- never a warrior bear jewel of dear memory, nor maiden sheen have on her neck ring-decoration; nay, shall disconsolate gold-unadorned not once but oft tread strangers' land; now the leader in war laughter hath quenched game and all sound of glee.

And so this n.o.ble poem moves on to its close, ending, like the "Iliad,"

with a great bale-fire. Two closing lines record like an epitaph the praise of the dead in superlatives; not as a warrior, but as a man and a ruler: how that he was towards men the mildest and most affable, towards his people he was most gracious and most yearning for their esteem.

About the structure of this poem the same sort of questions are debated as those which Wolff raised about Homer--whether it is the work of a single poet, or a patchwork of older poems. Ludwig Ettmuller, of Zurich, who first gave the study of the "Beowulf" a German basis, regarded the poem as originally a purely heathen work, or a compilation of smaller heathen poems, upon which the editorial hands of later and Christian poets had left their manifest traces. In his translation, one of the most vigorous efforts in the whole of Beowulf literature, he has distinguished, by a typographical arrangement, the later additions from what he regards as the original poetry. He is guided, however, by considerations different from those that affect the Homeric debate. He is chiefly guided by the relative shades of the heathen and Christian elements. Wherever the touch of the Christian hand is manifest, he arranges such parts as additions and interpolations.[77]

Grein saw in the poem the unity of a single work, and he thought the motive allegorical. He interpreted the a.s.saults of the water-fiend as the night attacks of sea-robbers. I cannot see any such allegory as this, but I agree with him as to the unity of the poem, so far as unity is compatible with the traces of older materials. And I see allegory too, but in a different sense.

The material is mythical and heathen; but it is clarified by natural filtration through the Christian mind of the poet. Not only are the heathen myths inoffensive, but they are positively favourable to a train of Christian thought. Beowulf's descent into the abyss to extirpate the scourge is suggestive of that Article in the Apostles' Creed which had a peculiar fascination for the mind of the Dark and Middle Ages; the fight with the dragon; the victory that cost the victor his life; the one faithful friend while the rest are fearful--these incidents seem almost like reflections of evangelical history. Without seeing in the poem an allegorical design, we may imagine that, with the progress of Christianity, those parts of the old mythology which were most in harmony with Christian doctrines had the best chance of survival; and that, as a poet puts a new physiognomy on an old story without distorting the tradition, as we have seen in our own day the story of Arthur told again, not with the elaborate allegory of Spenser, but with a spiritual transfiguration which makes the "Idylls of the King" truly an epic of the nineteenth century, so I conceive that Beowulf was a genuine growth of that junction in time (define it where we may) when the heathen tales still kept their traditional interest, and yet the spirit of Christianity had taken full possession of the Saxon mind--at least, so much of it as was represented by this poetical literature.

We may not dismiss the "Beowulf" without hazarding an opinion as to the date of its production. It has been said to be older than the Saxon Conquest, and some of the materials are doubtless of this antiquity. But for the poem, as we have it, Kemble a.s.signed it to the seventh century; then Ettmuller thought it belonged to the ninth; then Grein went back halfway to the eighth, and this has been adopted by Mr. Arnold, and most generally followed. I think Ettmuller is the nearest to the mark; and I would rather go forward to the tenth than back to the eighth. A pardonable fancy might see the date conveyed in the poem itself. The dragon watches over an old h.o.a.rd of gold, and it is distinctly a heathen h.o.a.rd (haenum horde, 2,217) of heathen gold (haeen gold, 2,277). In the same context we find that the monster had watched over this earth-hidden treasure for 300 years; and if this may be something more than a poetical number, it may possibly indicate the time elapsed since the heathen age. Three hundred years would bring us to the close of the ninth or the beginning of the tenth century, a date which, on every consideration, I incline to think the most probable.[78]

All the traces of affinity with, or consciousness of, the "Beowulf" that we can discover--and they are very few--are such as to favour this date.

The only complete parallel to the fable is found in the Icelandic Saga of Grettir, who is a kind of northern Hercules. This hero performs many great feats, but there are three which belong to the supernatural. In one of these he wrestles with a fiend called Glam, and kills him; and though Glam is not the same as Grendel, yet the circ.u.mstances of the encounter are so full of parallels as to establish, at least, the literary affinity of the two stories. The other two supernatural feats are coupled, just in the same way as two of the feats of Beowulf are. It is two fights, one in a hall and one under a waterfall, with two monsters of one family. The fight with the troll-wife in the hall is a true parallel to Beowulf's fight with Grendel; but the fight with the troll in the cavern under the force is in great essentials and in minute details so identical with Beowulf's underwater adventure, that one may call it a prose version of the same thing under different names. A certain house was haunted. Men that were there alone by night were missing, and nothing more was heard of them. Grettir came and lay in that hall. The troll-wife came and he vanquished her. This he had done under an a.s.sumed name, but the priest of the district knows he can be no other than Grettir, and he asks Grettir what had become of the men who were lost. Grettir bids the priest come with him to the river. There was a waterfall, and a sheer cliff of fifty fathom down to the water, and under the force was seen the mouth of a cavern. They had a rope with them. The priest drives down a stake into a cleft of the rock and secured it with stones, and he sate by it. Grettir said, "I will search what there is in the force, but thou shalt watch the rope." He put a stone in the bight of the rope, and let it sink down in the water. He made ready, girt him with a short sword, and had no other weapon. He leaped off the cliff, and the priest saw the soles of his feet. Grettir dived under the force, and the eddy was so strong that he had to get to the very bottom before he could get inside the force, where the river stood off from the cliff. By a jutting rock he reached the cavern's mouth. In the cave there was a fire burning on the hearth. A giant sate there, who at once leaped up and struck at the intruder with a pike made equally to cut and to thrust. This weapon had a wooden shaft, and men called it a hepti-sax.[79] Grettir's sword demolishes this weapon, and the giant stretched after a sword that hung there in the cave. Then Grettir smote him and killed him, and his blood ran down with the stream past the rope where the priest sate to watch. The priest concluded that Grettir was dead, and it being now evening he went home. But Grettir explored the cave. He found the bones of two men, and put them into a skin. He swam to the rope and climbed up by it to the top of the cliff.

When the priest came to church next morning he found the bones in the bag, and a rune-stick whereon the event was carved; but Grettir was gone.

The ident.i.ty is so manifest that we have only to ask which people (if either) was the borrower, the English or the Danes. And here comes in the consideration that the geography of the "Beowulf" is Scandinavian.

There is no consciousness of Britain or England throughout the poem. If this raises a presumption that the Saxon poet got his story from a Dane, we naturally ask, When is this likely to have happened? and the answer must be that the earliest probable time begins after the Peace of Wedmore in 878.

In the "Blickling Homilies" there is a pa.s.sage which recalls the description of the mere in "Beowulf."[80] So far as this coincidence affects the question, it makes for the date here a.s.signed.

Beyond the "Beowulf" we have but small and fragmentary remains of the old heroic poetry. The most important pieces are "The Battle of Finn's Burgh," and "The Lay of King Waldhere." These are now often printed in the editions of the "Beowulf."

Ettmuller conjectured that the "Invitation from a True Lover Settled Abroad," was not a single lyric, but a beautiful incident taken from some epic poem.[81] A messenger comes with a token to a lady at home, by which she may credit his message; he bids her take s.h.i.+p as soon as she hears the voice of the cuckoo, and go out to him who has all things ready about him to give her a suitable reception.

Next we will consider

"THE RUINED CITY."[82]

The subject of this piece is a city in ruins. There is ma.s.sive masonry: the place was once handsomely built and decorated and held by warriors, but now all tumbled about; works of art exposed to view and forming a strange contrast with the desolation around; there is a wide pool of water, hot without fire; and there are the once-frequented baths. This is no vague poetic composition, but the portrait of a definite spot. It suits the old Brito-Roman ruin of Akeman after 577; and it suits no other place that I can think of in the habitable world. The old view that it was a fortress or castle seems misplaced in time, as well as incompatible with the expressions in the text.[83]

The poem begins:--

Wraetlic is thes weal stan wyrde gebraecon,

Stupendous is this wall of stone, strange the ruin!

The strongholds are bursten, the work of giants decaying, the roofs are fallen, the towers tottering, dwellings unroofed and mouldering, masonry weather-marked, shattered the places of shelter, time-scarred, tempest-marred, undermined of eld.

Eorth grap hafath waldend wyrhtan forweorene geleorene heard gripe hrusan oth hund cnea wer theoda gewitan.

Oft thes wag gebad raeg har and read fah rice aefter othrum ofstonden under stormum....

Earth's grasp holdeth the mighty workmen worn away lorn away in the hard grip of the grave till a hundred ages of men-folk do pa.s.s.

Oft this wall witnessed (weed-grown and lichen-spotted) one great man after another take shelter out of storms....

How did the swift sledge-hammer flash and furiously come down upon the rings when the st.u.r.dy artizan was rivetting the wall with clamps so wondrously together. Bright were the buildings, the bath-houses many, high-towered the pinnacles, frequent the war-clang, many the mead-halls, of merriment full, till all was overturned by Fate the violent. The walls crumbled widely; dismal days came on; death swept off the valiant men; the a.r.s.enals became ruinous foundations; decay sapped the burgh.

Pitifully crouched armies to earth. Therefore these halls are a dreary ruin, and these pictured gables;[84] the rafter-framed roof sheddeth its tiles; the pavement is crushed with the ruin, it is broken up in heaps; where erewhile many a baron--

glaedmod and goldbeorht gleoma gefraetwed wlonc and wingal wig hyrstum scan; seah on sinc on sylfor on searo gimmas; on ead, on aeht, on eorcan stan: on thas beorhtan burg bradan rices.

Stan hofu stodan; stream hate wearp widan wylme, weal eal befeng beorhtan bosme; thaer tha bathu waeron, hat on hrethre; thaet wes hythelic!

joyous and gold-bright gaudily jewelled haughty and wine-hot shone in his harness; looked on treasure, on silver, on gems of device; on wealth, on stores, on precious stones; on this bright borough of broad dominion.

There stood courts of stone!