Beowulf III: The Dragon
On my way to Toronto for a lecture on Kosovo, I only have time to post a few initial remarks on the last part of Beowulf and will expand this section later.
Beowulf has returned to Hygelac and reported on his great deeds, with a fairly dismal prediction that the marriage of Hrothgar's daughter will not bring peace, and Ingeld, reminded of past killings, will prefer revenge to his wife. Although this repetition of the narrative has been frequently criticized for clumsiness, the entire transitional passage--despite what Chickering calls its "flat-footed" pacing--has a dreamy film-like quality: From the reminiscence of the great fights to the presentation of the gifts to a reflection on Beowulf's unimpressive youth, we are led to his succession to the throne and his hearty old age. Some critics have thought--very foolishly, it seems to me--that in saying that Beowulf did not get drunk, break faith, and kill his friends is faint praise. Obviously, this is an unusual virtue among these drunken toughs. It is possible that the poet is making a pointed criticism of AS manners, but anyone who has been in a rough saloon at 2 AM will understand the point.
All goes well unto a cunning thief robs a dragon-hoard containing precious relics from pagan days. They passage is mutilated, making it a subject of conjecture just how the poet views the dragon and the hoard. Certainly, the treasure was a source of delight to pagans and an inspiration to sinful avarice. Later we shall be informed of a curse on the treasure, but that may be an after-thought. Here, all we are permitted to know is that the dragon's hoard has inspired a sinful desire to possess it, and the accomplishment of this desire brings death and destruction to the people.
It has been pointed out by critics that Beowulf and the dragon are parallel in a way that the hero was not parallel to his previous adversaries. Both are aged rulers, protecting and defending what is theirs, and both must take revenge on aggressors. But, I think it is clear, the parallel ends there. Dragons per se do not have a good reputation in Germanic literature: They are greedy, stupid, and violent. They do not belong to the Christian world, but like dinosaurs they are a survival or remembrance of a world before there was any moral code beyond courage and blood-loyalty.
We are then treated to one of the most beautiful and compelling passages of the entire poem: the song sung by the last survivor of the race that accumulated the hoard. All joy is gone, memory has departed, and all that is left is this treasure. It is sometimes the sense we get in a great museum, since museums are the treasure-hoard where we bury the productions and possessions of greater men. I think we are safe in assuming that this last survivor is a pagan, as his joys seem entirely pagan, and he probably immured himself in the underground treasury where he died. Some critics believe that originally the last survivor turned into the dragon--as Fafnir, guarding the treasure of the Nibelungen also turns into a dragon (if I am remembering the story correctly. In this elegy for lost youth, lost life, and lost civilization, we heard the sad song of heroic paganism, and it sets the stage for the old man Beowulf's last adventure. It also tells us that he will die and leave behind all earthly joys.
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Dr. Fleming,
Perhaps you would share, at some future time, the highlights of the lecture on Kosovo.
I have made a quick stop here on a late lunch break ("dinner" in our climes) and will quickly share some superficial thoughts.
Dr. Flemings words:
"From the reminiscence of the great fights to the presentation of the gifts to a reflection on Beowulf’s unimpressive youth, we are led to his succession to the throne and his hearty old age. Some critics have thought–very foolishly, it seems to me–that in saying that Beowulf did not get drunk, break faith, and kill his friends is faint praise. Obviously, this is an unusual virtue among these drunken toughs. It is possible that the poet is making a pointed criticism of AS manners, but anyone who has been in a rough saloon at 2 AM will understand the point."
I believe that I posted in Beowulf I or II that I viewed "Beowulf" as a poetic Bildungsroman or Entwicklungsroman. I see that postion reflected in the quote above.
Dr. Flemings words:
"All goes well unto a cunning thief robs a dragon-hoard containing precious relics from pagan days. They passage is mutilated, making it a subject of conjecture just how the poet views the dragon and the hoard. Certainly, the treasure was a source of delight to pagans and an inspiration to sinful avarice. Later we shall be informed of a curse on the treasure, but that may be an after-thought. Here, all we are permitted to know is that the dragon’s hoard has inspired a sinful desire to possess it, and the accomplishment of this desire brings death and destruction to the people."
The material of the Nibelungen is found in many places, including the Edda, the Nibelungenlied and in Wagner's treatment of the theme. Therein are dragons and hords of gold. In the Nibelungenlied, the treasure of the Nibelungs is transferred to the Burgundians by Siegfried. By becoming associated with the treasure, the Burgundians themselves become the Nibelungs and meet their doom according to wyrd. There is a magic associated with dragons and a downside or curse associated with treasure. I would note that in the Nibelungenlied, Siegfried is the thief, the one who "appropriated" the treasure, with him, despite his status as a hero, comes "Unheil" or "corruption" to the land of the Burgundians. (Had Siegfried not come, the Nibelungenhord would have never come to the Burgundians; the king would have never attempted to woo Brunhild, and the rift between the brothers and their sister would not have occurred. While there is death and destruction in the treasure itself, there must be an agent: the thief, or Loki in the pagen Germanic stories or Satan in the form of the serpent in the Garden.)
Dr. Fleming's words:
"We are then treated to one of the most beautiful and compelling passages of the entire poem: the song sung by the last survivor of the race that accumulated the hoard. All joy is gone, memory has departed, and all that is left is this treasure."
Here I think of scene four of Wagner's "das Rheingold":
"Rheingold! Rheingold! Reines Gold! Wie lauter und hell ...."
Dr. Fleming's words:
"Some critics believe that originally the last survivor turned into the dragon–as Fafnir, guarding the treasure of the Nibelungen also turns into a dragon (if I am remembering the story correctly. In this elegy for lost youth, lost life, and lost civilization, we heard the sad song of heroic paganism, and it sets the stage for the old man Beowulf’s last adventure. It also tells us that he will die and leave behind all earthly joys."
C.S. Lewis places such a dragon in "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" in The Chronicles of Narnia. I believe that the boy's name is Edward, a kid with an attitude who sleeps on a dragon hord and becomes a dragon. Of course, Tolkien puts the dragon and its hord as the goal of the band of dwarves in The Hobbit.
Again, I believe that I posted in Beowulf I or II, the scene on the Rhein when Hagen puts the dying pagan world - his world - and the emerging Christian world to the test by attempting to drown the priest in the Rhein that even as late as the 13th century, in which the extant copies of das Nibelungenlied are written, the putting off of the old pagan world and the putting on of the Christian on was understood to be painful.
It's been said that the wise man is often a sad man who in the end, can only say that things were this way or that. Perhaps this is one of the reasons we admire what Dr. Fleming described as "the most beautiful and compelling passages of the entire poem: the song sung by the last survivor of the race that accumulated the hoard. All joy is gone, memory has departed, and all that is left is this treasure " Or put another way, " In the end, we admire the wisdom of Beowulf more than his glorious achievements. And no doubt his grip as a young warrior was much stronger in the days of youth than in his final bout with the dragon. --The fire breather who is awakenened to a degree of
avarice that is all consuming. Beyond the justice of being a victim,
the dragon's cruelty, madness and destruction can only be stopped by "the mildest of men, the gentlest of worldly kings, kindest to his people and the most eager for fame." by giving his own life in defense of his kingdom and kin.
I still wonder if this poem is tragic or comic or if it simply illustrates what Socrates observed at the end of the Symposium in his conversation with Aristophanes, 'That the genius of comedy was the same as that with tragedy. "
As far as the monsters are concerned, the old critics Tolkien rebutted so well do have a point in asking: why does Beowulf fight against monsters, and not men, when clearly the poet has at his elbow all these other, richly complicated stories of blood feuds and betrayal that raise interesting moral questions and dilemmas?
Perhaps because they are too complicated. There are good and bad reasons to be given for and against Hengest's decision, for example, and I think Tom has pointed out that part of the tragic outlook of the Northern pagans was their understanding that loyalties will sometimes conflict in ways impossible to resolve. But with a monster, a man knows that it is evil he is up against, and if a monster is more terrifying than mere men, at least a hero feels no conflict about what he must do, in order to act both rightly and praise-worthily. A hero can only be a hero in a heroic situation; Arthur fighting the giant, not Arthur vowing revenge for the betrayal of Guinevere.
Fittingly, then, in the poem each monster is harder to kill than the last, as Beowulf grows in greatness and ages, and becomes worthier of a more difficult foe. Each monster is less human, too, and can be read as more purely embodying evil. I feel some pity for Grendel who is pained by light and music, and I can understand his mother's wish to take a life for the life her son, but the dragon has no human qualities at all, and there is nothing pitiable about it.
Tolkien says (I don't know myself) that dragons are actually rare in Northern literature—the only other significant example, besides the world-encircling serpent which is beyond human reach, being Fafnir. So the Beowulf poet is paying his hero the compliment of setting him in opposition to one of the rarest foes of the tradition, a fitting final enemy for a great life.
I agree with Tolkien that this is a real and not allegorical monster, and not an explicitly Christian symbol—as Tolkien puts it, he covets men's gold and not their souls—but while he is not a fallen soul the way Grendel is, the dragon is an evil thing, jealous of treasures he can have no use for. Even the cup whose loss sparks his anger is one he could never drink from. He is all greed. And if this poem is written to show the foolishness of any particular deadly sin, it is greed. In several places the poet explicitly warns against the perils of greed—think of Hrothgar's sermon, and the poet's aside near the end that this gold now lies in a barrow “as useless to men as it has ever been,” and some of the undercurrents of the side tales. Hence it makes sense that a hero who merit includes freedom from this particular fault would in the end find himself fighting desperately against an embodiment of it. (Yes, Beowulf wants to see the treasure before he dies, but because he takes comfort in believing it will be a gift for his people—blood money for his own death. So many of the gifts he receives we soon see him giving away—to his prince, his thanes, even Hrothgar's coastguard; the value of their beauty and richness to Beowulf is principally in the honor they bestow from the giver to the recipient, not their value as a hoard.)
I think the other, obvious point of the dragon is the idea that evil is always there, lurking, hidden perhaps for many years, within a country or a man, until it is awakened by some accident. Yet when it rouses itself, it must be fought, no matter how old a man is, or how alone, and even if the end means death for a king and his people. This too is one of the many correspondences in the poem between a noble pagan worldview, and the Christian poet's, whose own Hero was bit by a worm.
Dr. Fleming and Kate Dalton Boyer
Dr. Fleming's words:
"It has been pointed out by critics that Beowulf and the dragon are parallel in a way that the hero was not parallel to his previous adversaries. Both are aged rulers, protecting and defending what is theirs, and both must take revenge on aggressors. But, I think it is clear, the parallel ends there. Dragons per se do not have a good reputation in Germanic literature: They are greedy, stupid, and violent. They do not belong to the Christian world, but like dinosaurs they are a survival or remembrance of a world before there was any moral code beyond courage and blood-loyalty."
KDB @ 3, your words:
"I feel some pity for Grendel who is pained by light and music, and I can understand his mother’s wish to take a life for the life her son, but the dragon has no human qualities at all, and there is nothing pitiable about it."
Is there a contradiction or a paradox between the position of the critics to which Dr. Fleming refers and your position, KDB?
"I think the other, obvious point of the dragon is the idea that evil is always there, lurking, hidden perhaps for many years, within a country or a man, until it is awakened by some accident. Yet when it rouses itself, it must be fought, no matter how old a man is, or how alone, and even if the end means death for a king and his people. "
Kate,
This poems seems rather rugged and rough to me in the sense of being musical or lyrical. It is more appealing to ones understanding than pleasing to the senses. I defer to Mr. Peters to answer if it is because we are reading it in translation. But regardless of all this, it has remained an enduring poem in ways that thousands or probably millions of others have not. I think your post suggests why this is true. It circles around the permanent realities of being less than angels and more than beasts , and explores the emptiness of the ever present temptations of evil.
One of America's better poets once said that" poetry was built to be the conqueror of time. " Beowulf seems to have achieved this timeless quality and I think for many of the reasons you describe. Thanks for your post.
"It is possible that the poet is making a pointed criticism of AS manners, but anyone who has been in a rough saloon at 2 AM will understand the point." TJF
yes hemingway was referring to this in his novel To Have And To Have Not (i forget or was it Men Without Women) or was the latter a short story... I think it was the former. ?
What is it to be noble when 'noble' means to be the most aware of the forces arrayed Against us in the battle for Life... yet, when from the git-go due to fate - you're not even in the running? -?- ...
It's all unknowable Per Se - some more aware than others... but when you're just a bum or a decent blue collar or whatever - more limited than one's superiors (whether you acknowledge them or not) - what IS 'nobility' ? ...
Here's where i both subscribe to (for the masses) and depart (personally) from christianity... ME. no, neither narcissism nor egoism... ME as a part of the group to whom I owe loyalty FIRST, prior to me - when it matters to the 'whole'.
otherwise - let's party... dudes and dudettes..................... it's a longer TIME in our grave.
_______
Dr Fleming,
Will there ever be an mp3 of that lecture?
Brian Fagan @6 asked :
"yet, when from the git-go due to fate - you’re not even in the running? -?- …"
Beowulf answers :
"But God is able
this deadly foe from his deeds to turn!
For Wyrd oft saveth
earl undoomed if he doughty be! "
Courage, my friend, courage ! There is a difference between fate and destiny.
Mr. Peters:
I don't know whose essay or essays Tom is referring to, but I think the parallels he mentions are strained. Beowulf is presumably an old man, and if he is wiser he is also weaker, whereas we have every reason to believe a 300-plus-year-old dragon is in his prime. He certainly isn't having any trouble burning up the countryside. The treasure does not belong by rights to the dragon--he stole it, and is hoarding it in the most miserly fashion, and can make no use of it other than as a very lumpy bed. He is no shepherd to it, as Beowulf is to his people. Still, to the essential point, I would agree the two characters are presented as the preeminent warrior vs. the ultimate monster, and equally balanced on opposing sides in that sense.
And Mr. Reavis:
Tolkien says the verse is more like masonry than music, which is a fine analogy. I can't read Beowulf in the original, but I can (roughly) pronouce it, so at least hear the poem, and it appeals to me as rhythm more than melody--because it does have a rhythm, if a halting one, without a set beat or regular number of feet. I agree with you that is it not tuneful. But the windy alliteration (those th's and w's and s's), and the rough balance of the phrases between caesuras, is unquestionably poetic, and can be felt down in the sternum the same way one feels the beat of a slow, low-pitched drum.
Poetry is always tactile in a way prose isn't--that's part of what makes it a more powerful form.
It is a wonderfully moving poem, I wholeheartedly agree. I have been surprised by my strong reaction to it.
"sometimes courage also means surrender"
Indeed or knowing what to fear and what not to fear. It is different for different folks, but the seven deadly ones are : Greed, Fornication, Avarice, Wrath, Depression, Conceit and Arrogance. The first five or six are usually the domain, or at leat temptations, for the oligarchs and democrats who pretend to "lead" our country. Depression and conceit is the natural sanctuary and last refuge for the fools like you and me, who must work for them or at least tolerate their instruction.
Ms. Boyer and Mr. Reaves,
In addition to reading early Germanic poety aloud myself - something that at which I would never attempt to make a living since I am not very proficient at reading anything aloud - I have, as I said in Beowulf I or II had serval opportunities to hear a number of professionals give oral presentations in some wonderful settings such as the Taunus Mountains.
Beowulf is in alliterative accentual verse. When read aloud, these consonants link in sound and invite in themselves an anticipation of the next one: content and form move the bard and the listerners along. Beowulf is not metrical but like its other Germanic counterparts, here I am calling to mind das Hildebrandslied, it has rhythm. Strong beats appear with regularity in each line. Beowulf has four strong beats per line. Although I have never heard it done because mondern bards usually stay with the text, the weak syllables in the mouth of a talented poet could likely be manipulated like jazz improvisation. The beats repeat as the rhythm varies thoughout the poem.
Allteration and rhythm are intertwined: the strong beats alliterate. The same consonant is usually repeated in the first and the third beats in Beowulf. This is the tie which binds the two halves of any given line together.
On a cool night with the taste of good beer in the mouth, the smell of grilling sausage on a Lagerfeuer and the Gemütlichkeit of good fellowship, somewhere between Celtic Ringwall and the Roman Salburg, a reading of such poetry can be uplifting and savage, almost in similtude, as the content peeps through and then breaks through the form.
"On a cool night with the taste of good beer in the mouth, the smell of grilling sausage on a Lagerfeuer and the Gemütlichkeit of good fellowship, somewhere between Celtic Ringwall and the Roman Salburg, a reading of such poetry can be uplifting and savage, almost in similtude, as the content peeps through and then breaks through the form."
Mr. Peters,
I suggest you hone your skills and attend this years summer school in Rockford. There are such occassions during the course of the week when :
"Those moments rich and rare
charge the startled atmosphere
when things converge upon a sign
and music thrums ( as guests recline )
the heroic or the lyric line,
friendship sparkles with the wine
and unassuming grace intrudes
upon our fallen solitudes."
Having experienced it ( as you must have ) I highly recommend it.
"thanks robert. (i won’t say i wuv ya - you’ll send me to therapy…"
Not at all. Friendship is natural human therapy that somehow the Chronicles crew has been capable of maintaining or providing for nuts like us who still believe in such things. Carry on and bring yourself to Rockford this summer for a better understanding of the Crusades . The charge is much cheaper than therapy and the results are much better because it easier to live with understanding than superstition --- standing over --- Like the difference between looking at the real stars on a dark night or the false stars on a dark screen.
I am off to watch basketball and won't be back for a few days. I purchased my tickets early thinking this would be Coach Knights last season. ( But alas ! A teacher always knows more than his students.) My son attended his camps because he was a genius of sorts when it came to the game. He was a sort of poet/soldier but like most geniuses,( think Tom Fleming ) did not suffer fools or imperfections patiently. It was his achilles heel but he deserved little of the criticism made by mere mortals that made him infamous in his later years.My wife appreciated him because he always made the campers wash their dirty gear before packing it back home to their mommas.
In any event I wanted to give my old professor his due mead of praise for his poem quoted above. He always handed out poems in class without the authors name to avoid polemic and stupid categorys that the smart students always used to avoid reading the poem. He always said it was more important to make a poem your own than to boast of its origins or psychoanalyse the author. ( if it wasn't inspired what damn good is it afterall ? )In fact the first requirement in all of his classes was to tear out
the introductions to the poem or book and throw them away. In our age when boasting is all the rage, footnotes are everything.
Here is the full poem by John Senior. (RIP) Enjoy.
Wassail
Raise the Wassail high, good cheer
because the end of night is near,
and the Winter of our year!
If you find that bastard Glee
peeking through the jalousie
blame it on the Muse not me.
Ah, true Penelope, Despair,
to know that you are always there!
Like Antony on Egypt’s breast,
to give one’s all for a mauvais geste.
Life is restless, short and sad,
were it merry I’d go mad.
Oh, there’s merriment and cheer
but you will not find them here–
except those moments rich and rare
that charge the startled atmosphere
when things converge upon a sign
and music thrums (as guests recline)
the heroic or the lyric line,
friendship sparkles with the wine
and unassuming grace intrudes
upon our fallen solitudes.
Saint Bede tells how the Druid priest
described it at King Edwin’s feast
as like the starving sparrow’s flight
from a wintry night to night–
a sudden Summer in one door,
and out the other on the moor,
icy oceans of the air
divided by this instant where
we supper at the blazing hearth–
lost, little bird, amazed by mirth.
And Saint Paulinus answering:
Here is Winter, there is Spring,
if you have the needful thing.
A little reminder: Rem tene. Please keep the posts relevant to the topic and write in complete sentences without impressionistic punctuation. With all the good will I can muster for well-intended but confused people, I will not permit self-indulgent personal commentaries to interrupt the flow of conversation.
In citing the argument that Beowulf and the Dragon are parallels, I did not intend either to endorse the argument or to push it to the point of seeing them as alter-egos. Mrs. Boyer is perfectly correct to observe that the Dragon has grown stronger, probably, and not weaker, while Beowulf has aged. But some comparative basis has to exist, or we should see no point in any story. Hector is, by and large, a nobler if less great hero than Achilles, but we can see that they live in the same universe and are both young heroes from similar backgrounds, though Achilles acts as a loner while Hector is defending family and community. Near the end, Achilles is only brought back to reason when Priam appeals to his memory of his father, Peleus, and how he would grieve if Achilles' body suffered a similar outrage. Though good can never equate to evil, some parallelism is, nonetheless, useful both structurally and in making us take an interest in the tale. Speaking personally, I have'nt taken much interest in dragon-slaying since childhood, which is one of the reasons I did not find the Hobbit entirely satisfying.
The ASs, like other Germanic barbarians, loved gold, and the burials of their chiefs and kings seem very much like the dragon's hoard. For the Christian, there is obviously a serious moral and spiritual problem in devoting so much of live to the violent--or even non-violent acquisition of jewels and precious metals. To what extent is this tale a comment on what St. Paul and Aristotle called pleonexia and we, somewhat misleading call greed or covetousness--misleadingly because the Greek word describes the capitalist virtue of looking out for one's own interest and expanding one's wealth?
I wonder... could we compare the dragon ( raw evil with no particular source ) to something like capitalism that has no identifiable heart or soul? Or maybe a multi national drug company.
I suppose one might say that in its cancerous phase capitalism displays some of the dragon's single-minded and amoral lust for wealth for its own sake. Our late friend Dr. Kirk used to refer to "Fafnir-conservatism" indicating, both, mindless conservation of what has been received and ferocious tenacity in holding onto "what is mine."
So far, the only bid for a next book is the Chanson de Roland, a wonderful epic and easier to understand. But, should we consider a change of pace, perhaps? A brief work of history or philosophy, a play, a novel?
How about "The Last of the Mohicans" by James Fenimore Cooper? There are many parallels with our times that may be drawn. And many lessons of the character of men, good and evil.
The dragon-skin glove attests Kate Dalton Boyer's claim that the dragon is more animal-like than Grendel and his mother. A troll-skin glove would seem atrocious.
Regarding Dr. Fleming's question about the next book, I'd be happy to read something else from Northern literature, as I am not as well read in this area. Selections from the Prose or Poetic Edda? The Nibelungenlied? But I'd be content with anything.
Looks like I was wrong when I said in the previous Beowulf thread that I didn't see this particular dragon as being truly evil. It was the mindless part of it that threw me. Grendel and dam were conciously evil, unrepentant. The dragon is simply, as Woodcutter puts it, 'raw evil'. I would add, hoping that I'm not going too far here, that it is rather mindlessly evil, evil without thought, evil that is evil just because it is evil.
This contrasts with the popular conception infecting many people who are under the spell of Hollywood. I asked three people at work if dragons were supposed to be evil according to mythology, and they responded together, 'no'. Clearly they had watched movies like 'The Last Dragon'. Perhaps this shows just how out of touch with tradition people are today. I read almost nothing about dragons when I was growing up, but I still grew up knowing that dragons were supposed to be bad.
As much as I'd like to read 'Last of the Mohicans', the idea of staying with Northern European literature is rather appealing. Germanic would be great, but is there anything of Celtic or Slavic literature or mythology that we migth be willing to try?
The Kalevala might be worth a try?
I'd go along with that idea or maybe looking at some of Lady Gregory's stories of St Patrick and other Irish Saints since we are so close to that special day.
I found what seems to be reliable version on the internet at http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/kveng/. Better yet take a look at the amazing collection these folks have if even just to jog memories of titles read but forgotten.
Re future selections, I am going to have to stick to texts I have already made a careful study of, which rules out Finnish, Norse, and Germanic epics, even those I have read several times. It is merely a question of time. All the suggestions are good, though the Cooper is rather too long for a forum of this type. Celtic stories somehow rub me the wrong way--the irrational whimsy combined with strutting self-importance, the worst traits of the Irish, seem prominent both in Irish epic and tales, and in the pre-Christian writing the women are as slutty as a starlet.
On Slavic matters, the works I know best are the Serbian folk-ballads handed down for centuries and written down, mostly, in the early 19th century. They are usually fairly short, very evocative of history, and very strange. They took Europe by storm, once they were translated into German and France. There are also the works of the 19th century Prince Bishop of Montenegro, Peter Petrovic Njegos, available in translations of uncertain merit.
I would also be willing to undertake--not that I am an expert--Byzantine historical writings, simply because I have to be reading them over the next few months. These probably have a limited appeal.
Of "modern fiction," I would suggest Trollope, perhaps Balzac, and Maurice Barrès, though I do not know what of Barrès has been translated. He is too right-wing, apparently. Les déracinés, while not a great work of fiction, is a profound meditation on what happens to people uprooted from their traditions.
A section of Dante is a possibility. Perhaps Purgatorio? Or Shakespeare's Histories from Richard II to Henry VI?
Regarding my comment above about the dragon-skin glove, I'd like to point out that the corpses of trolls are treated in a disrespectful manner, but, as far as degrading things you can do with the corpse of a defeated foe goes, the displaying of an arm or head, for example, still accord some respect for the vanquished. They act as a trophy symbolizing an obstacle overcome. To use the hide of a slain foe to create a glove treats the defeated as one would treat cattle. Also, who first created the glove? Did Grendel or did he steal it from someone else, possibly a man? Do men and trolls think differently about dragons? Does one see them as more animal-like? I read that some have treated the reference to the dragon-skin glove (when Beowulf recounts the story to his uncle) as a poetic description of the remains Grendel's arm, but this seems unlikely. It seems more plausible that the "glove" ("a curious creel hung from [Grendel's] hand") is a kind of pouch, in this case made from dragon skin, carried by trolls in Old Norse stories. In short, the utilization of a dragon hide for textile purposes indicates an estimation of dragons as commodities. So, is the killing of a dragon a more arduous and deadly version of hunting or the removal of a beastly nuisance, not the facing off with a cunning, crafty and diabolical foe? Can a creature that is so dumb, and a mere commodity to be used for textile purposes, truly be "evil"?
In Tolkien, on the other hand, dragons do seem to be intelligent. Old Smaug was clever, but a relic of a bygone age out of place in the coming Age of Man. His corpse too was not used as a commodity, but he remained at the bottom of the lake, above whom the boatman would not travel out of superstitious fear.
I would be in the Byzantine historical writings.
Bouncing back to Mr. Peters, all I can say is that your memory of the class in the woods is the sort of thing that gives pedagogy a good name.
Tolkien's dragon, which is drawn so much from Beowulf's dragon, is indeed more humanly intelligent and more evil--he can speak English, and plot, and takes satisfaction in his vengefulness. But all of Tolkien's monsters and magical folk are anthrorpomorphized in that way; every character takes at least one side in his struggle between good vs. evil (some switching). In Beowulf the dragon is beyond (or before) morality; it is an evil thing, but as far as the reader can tell has not chosen to be evil. To that extent it is a pre-Christian monster. But just as every fight for goodness is something the Christian poet can applaud, so every monster, even if not personally responsible for his own wickedness, is something to destroy.
Obviously I think the poet has a lot to say against covetousness. And yet he also makes me feel very strongly the lure of those beautifully wrought, colorful things, the same way he makes the light and music of Heorot stand out so strongly against the black misery of Grendel. I've read that these great halls were wonderfully built, and we all know what some of the armaments and jewelry looked like, but most people must have lived in huts, and had very few possessions. Even the kings clearly had a hard time holding onto their own, and everyone must have been cold. Beowulf brings into high relief all that longing for honor and warmth and craftsmanship and swords that would not break--everything that is light against the darkness.
I think I could almost argue the poet undermines his own argument against the desire for treasure by showing the good side of this desire (Beowulf's giving away his gifts), and putting this longing in such vivid context that we have a clearer understanding of it. But then part of the appeal of this poet is his great compassion for the world he is describing.
I would vote for 1) the Song of Roland 2) the Serbian ballads and 3) a history play, in that order. In my car the person driving is the one who gets to pick the radio station. So, Tom, just let us know.
I cannot claim to know how much an audience who heard the a version of the Beowulf epic before it was written down or who heard or read it after it was written knew of other Germanic dragon stories, particularly of the story of Fafnir. We do not even no whether Fafnir was part of the Germanic dragon stories at the time Beowulf was written down.
In his best known form, Fafnir appears in the Völsunga saga of the 13th century, several hundred years after Beowulf. The historical parts of the Völsunga saga reflect events of the 5th or 6th century: the demise of the Burgundians.
Fafnir, Fafnar in Wagner's der Ring des Nibelungen, was the son of Hreidmar and the brother of Otr and
N.B. that Beowulf's companions do not flay the slain dragon, but push it over the cliff. But, in modern terms, would one display the head of a beast that killed one's friend or relative on the wall? And whatever commodity a dragon's skin may be, the companions, like in Tolkien, have an earned treasury of gold, a more pressing concern than skinning a dragon. (Sorry to keep rambling on about the hides of dragons, but it jumped out at me.)
Question: The third part of the poem mentions that both weapons and parts of the dragon's liar were constructed by giants. Would these be the giants of Genesis, a pagan understanding of giants, or a synthesis of the two? (While part of Grendel's genealogy can be traced to Cain, can't part also be traced the offspring of humans and giants?)
Question: Would the grave-mound of Beowulf, and the attendant "gold from the ground gone back to the Earth / as worthless to men as when it was won," be considered decadent, by either early Christian or pagan standards? This is the grave of a great king. I have seen this mound compared to Attila's, but the latter, or at least the circumstances surrounding it, would be more decadent, as those who created the grave were slaughtered so that the buried gold would remain a secret.
I accidentally hit "Submit Comment" at 33. Most unforgiving is the system!
I cannot claim to know how much an audience who heard the a version of the Beowulf epic before it was written down or who heard or read it after it was written knew of other Germanic dragon stories, particularly of the story of Fafnir. We do not even no whether Fafnir was part of the Germanic dragon stories at the time Beowulf was written down.
In his best known form, Fafnir appears in the Völsunga saga of the 13th century, several hundred years after Beowulf. The historical parts of the Völsunga saga reflect events of the 5th or 6th century: the demise of the Burgundians.
Fafnir, Fafnar in Wagner’s der Ring des Nibelungen, was the son of Hreidmar and the brother of Otr and Regin. They were a race of dwarves. Hreidmar had a hord of gold, with Fafnir being its fiercest and most capable guard. Otr was killed by Loki and Hreidmar received as Wergeld, the gold of the dwarf Andvari, gold that was cursed, Loki having stolen his gold and his magic ring (think Tolkien). Regin and Fafnir killed their father for the gold, Fafnir turned himself into a dragon to better protect the gold from his brother. Regin sent his foster son Sigurd to kill Fafnir, which Sigurd does. However, Sigurd, having been warned by birds, ultimately kills Regin. (Much more to the story.)
The point is that by the time we get to the Völsunga saga in the 13th century, the dragon into which Fafnir has turned himself resembles much more the serpent in the Garden, cunning and magical and something other than he appears: the dragon is Fafnir, and the serpent is Satan. Fafnir also resembles Smaug, on of the last great dragons of Middle Earth. (There is also an evolution of dragons in Tolkien's related works.)
Our dragon in Beowulf, as someone has already noted, is more primitive and beast like. What does seem to be similar is the "curse" or the hord of gold, the greed which draws men to it.
To M.A. Roberts: This may be a silly suggestion, but might dragons have shed their skin periodically like a snake? Perhaps trolls or others could find freshly shed dragon skin laying close to a dragon's lair and carefully obtain it, or even sneak into the lair when the dragon sleeps to get it? That might make for an amusing story if someone cared to write it.
TJF: I would have mentioned Shakespeare but though that perhaps his plays would be too involved for an 'interval' discussion while we get ready for Cochin. The Serbian stories would be fascinating, but perhaps if you are going to be spending time on the Byzantines anyway, and since Woodcutter seems to be in agreement, why not a Byzantine work? I would rather try Digenes Akrites if we could find translations of it anywhere, but I haven't even found it in print, and the only internet source is some college website where you have to be a student or faculty member and have a login just to see it.
The Alexiad can be found online, and Argonautica is online at sacred-texts.com with parallel Greek text. De administrando imperio would be fascinating, if we could take a section of that rather long work.
My own knowledge of Byzanium is broad but not deep, and largely superficial, very much in need of more substantial learning, so anything Byzantine is fine with me.
The Argonautica was popular in early Byzantium, but of course it was written much earlier, so it's not really 'Byzantine' in origin and I shouldn't have mentioned it with the others. On the other hand, why not consider it?
The Argonautica, though not a work I have studied seriously, would be a good choice: a rather short epic that looks back to Homer and forward to Vergil. The problem with Byzantine texts is availability. There is a Penguin paperback of the Alexiad, however, and also translations of Michael Psellus' Chronographia. At the very beginning of Byzantine history, there is Procopius, of course, but I can only find Latin translations of Choniates' work that covers that Fourth Crusade and only Greek texts for Laonicus Chalkondyles and Kritoboulos' works covering the fall of Constantinople. This is rather indicative of the estrangement between East and West. Perhaps someone knows of translations? (Wait, I now remember, there was a translation of Nicetas Choniates, but when I tried to order a used copy for our Summer School, the price was $699! It does exist in libraries, however, and it would not be very expensive to copy its 400+ pages. I don't know why Wayne State Press does not reprint.
I don't think a Shakespeare history would be too difficult to discuss--take it one play at a time, interspersed with other discussions. I used to read them every time I was ill for a week, which meant every year. Most of my misinformation about English history comes from this source.
OK, let us list the choices: Roland, Argonautica, Byzantine History (whether Psellos or Anna Komnena), Serbian folk ballads and/or Njegos' The Mountain Wreath, Richard II.
To Mr. Peters: My reference to Fafnir was not to suggest that dragon as source or background but as a parallel story that gave rise to a notion of Russell Kirk. One objection I had to the Hobbit was precisely the human, albeit slow-witted intelligence of Smaug. One could almost, as has been said, pity him. Some day it would be fun to talk about the way in which moderns made all that is dangerous and evil cute, especially in writing for children. Ferdinand the Bull, the reluctant dragon, misunderstood witches, sensitive and intelligent vampires, devils with dignity. On the other hand, heroic virtue is reduced either to bullies or geeky boys and awkward teenagers finding themselves--the Karate Kid or my least favorite take on the Arthurian story, The Once and Future King.
A couple of Kate Dalton Boyer's points toward the beginning of this excellent thread of remarks --
"why does Beowulf fight against monsters, and not men, when clearly the poet has at his elbow all these other, richly complicated stories of blood feuds and betrayal that raise interesting moral questions and dilemmas?"
"A hero can only be a hero in a heroic situation; Arthur fighting the giant, not Arthur vowing revenge for the betrayal of Guinevere."
-- seem to me to emphasize the poet's Christianity yet again.
Hence, for the poet, the aspect of his hero's career most worth focusing on is where the protagonist is casting out demons & defeating serpents, not feuding with his neighbors?
On a different note, since there's been discussion of anthropomorphic dragons & so on -- is it interesting to anyone else that while Beowulf is eloquent as well as mighty, none of his three main adversaries speak at all? (Even Polyphemus, by contrast, got a few lines in The Odyssey.)
Perhaps one point of this poem might be the perspective on monsters as creatures existing purely in the dimension of power, creatures that cannot (or will not) use language?
I meant "illuminate" or "point toward", vice "emphasize".
Perhaps the road to evil starts out with the smooth, slippery forked-tongue of the sophist -- using language without respecting its transcendent integrity -- and inevitably devolves into mute enraged idiocy a la the monsters defeated by Beowulf, or like Satan as presented by Dante?
Ockam's nominalism as the one of the first steps on the road which has led to modern witlessness?
G.S. @41 "Ockam’s nominalism as the one of the first steps on the road which has led to modern witlessness? "
God alone has revealed this to you.
TJF @20 " Rem tene. " I will not permit self-indulgent personal commentaries to interrupt the flow of conversation." Sorry.
I will try. Pace.
Kate @ 32 :" would vote for 1) the Song of Roland 2) the Serbian ballads and 3) a history play, in that order. In my car the person driving is the one who gets to pick the radio station."
I agree. There is a Doctor in the house, let us follow him to good health.
To all the other posters -- thanks for this delightful thread and your thoughtful comments.
Mr. Peters, isn't there a glancing reference to the Fafnir story in Beowulf? I can't find it quickly this morning but I thought I remembered the poet mentioning it.
To take up Mr. Wilson's suggestion for a moment: Shed snake skins are thin and brittle. They almost always break even as you pick them up; hence I think you'd need the hide and not just a shed to make a good glove--even of dragon skin. Plus a trophy would be more likely made of the skin of a killed enemy, not his shedding. There would be no psychological power in the latter.
And Tom, while I agree on the cuteness of so many monsters in general (and that observation would make a good essay), I partially disagree about Smaug. He is terribly strong and destructive. But I do think the fact that he can speak--and the oily craftiness of his conversations with Frodo--makes him less terrible and reduces him as an enemy. That big, voiceless spider inside the mountain is the truly bone-chilling monster in the Tolkien books. As someone said earlier, inarticulate or purposefully silent evil does feel stronger and more fundamental, and more terrifying.
One of the aspects of books like The Once and Future King that I dislike is the anachronistic angst inserted into the story. That's a modern state of mind that I don't think you find in medieval literature--there's certainly none in Beowulf--and it plays into this pettification of both evil and goodness. The older stories have grief and self-doubt and physical pain and weakness, but not this self-absorbed anxiety about what to do, which reduces every action, even good ones.
Dr. Fleming,
You wrote some beautiful prose. Thank you.
M.A. Roberts @ 34
You said:
I think you are right on all the above. It seems the pseudepigraphical Book of Enoch was in higher favor in the period wherein Beowulf was set down; this book expands in detail the Genesis account. Shortly after this time, the book fell out of favor and out of sight for centuries until discovered at the end of the nineteenth.
The reason I mention this is that Grendel is a water creature (nicor); that is, he is humanoid yet a monster. His degree of humanity or monstrosity is the interesting question. He is a son of Cain, yet he survived the flood. In other words, he partakes of Cain's cursed humanity, yet he is able to breathe underwater unhumanly. Now Enoch does not (as far as I can tell) describe descendants of Cain specifically, but it does describe giants and other humanoid beings as crossbreeds of humans with fallen angels. These beings, or shall we say genetic experiments, were the reason for the sending of the flood, the primary sin for which God said man "sinned continually."
The descendants of Cain would have survived up until the flood when only Noah and his family were saved. The survival of Cain's descendants under the waters of the universal flood would have required a supernatural component. That requirement would have been met by the monstrous genetic experiments spoken of in Enoch. Since the book was available at the time, it is not great stretch to connect the cursed brood in Enoch with the cursed descendants of Cain.
The last thread of evidence favoring this are the words eoten and nicor. Eoten is a giant, always supernatural. Its root probably means "eater" which fits neatly with the Book of Enoch, where the giants are described as eating away man's resources. Cain, though cursed, was a natural human, not a giant. Thus using the word eoten in reference to these beings at the bottom of the sea is a reference best elaborated in Enoch.
The word nicor in other sources is likewise supernatural, although always humanoid like the elves. In folklore, for example, the nicor lives at the bottom of dark bodies of water, where he captures the souls of unwary sea-farers in upturned jars. From time to time, he comes up from the depths and mingles with mere men until the villagers or farmers discover his true, evil, identity. And as in Beowulf, a brave man fares to the nicor's lair, there to free the lost souls from the jars and perhaps fetch some booty as well.
Thus I think that MA Roberts' notice of the giant constructions in the lair is on target and it is an unmistakeable allusion to the pseudepigraphical Book of Enoch, at the time held in good favor. That would make the descriptions a pagan understanding of giants normalized by way of Enoch to the pre-flood accounts in Genesis.
Woops. Sorry, I was excited over MA Roberts' interesting observations and went off topic away from the dragon.
preceding courage and the ability to have it is balance thereabouts, and thus sufficient harmony. when one has time - as in recently - the age of aquarius. That's good, really, we ought to continue not discontinue what they gave or contributed. Be sure to wear, some flowers in your hair... etc. And then also we inevitably in this world are warriors of necessity, and one is not to turn one's back on the battlefield. That too is courage...face it, and just DO it. Unless of course going to San Francisco... summertime will be a love-in there... we have our memories. Sometimes they're all that's left us.
as we discover also paradox - love too, no-?-is a battlefield
"More flowers I noted, yet I none could see -
But sweet, or color - it had stol'd from thee..." -W.S.
ahh -
RE: # 43
Mrs Boyer,
The Fafnir reference is around line 875. However, in the English tradition it is Sigemund and not his son Sigurd who kills the dragon.
Yes, thank you.
The conversation here has been both brainy and earthy; "first rate", I should say. I had hoped that "the last post of Beowulf" did not mean that this was it, but it appears it is so. Maybe Dr. Fleming could add one more installment on Beowulf himself -- the ideal king.
Talk on fiends and dragons is wonderful, but alas it seems that Beowulf is often left out of discussions on the poem bearing his name. However, I can see no better fitting topic for Chornicles: the leader who selflessly sacrifices himself for his people, for what is right, against overwhelming odds. And what more Christian topic in the realm of statecraft is there?
Fought Beowulf with spawn of Leviathan?