Michael Camille, This American Life, and Beowulf 3D

After the experience of Beowulf in 3D, I can't help asking why Hollywood reproduces the Middle Ages for entertainment. A while back, Michael Camille, author of Image on the Edge, appeared on This American life, where host Ira Glass took Michael to Medieval Times. Since the program is an hour long, his appearance is in the last 20 or so minutes of this episode and I find his explanation of how "medieval" Medieval Times is to be relevant to the spectacle of Beowulf 3D. What's interesting about Michael Camille's analysis of Medieval Times is that, although he points out historical inaccuracies, he also is thrilled by the tournament, describing it as "Spectacle. Circus. Populous. Lowbrow in the best possible way."

I have to say, I kind of feel that way about Beowulf. Although, some elements of the movie are absurd beyond belief, I find that in being populous, in being an absurd, over-the-top spectacle of images and blood and gore and monstrosity, it keeps to the spirit, if not to the text. Reworking the text to appeal to a modern audience (the millions of dollars in box office tickets) can be likened to poets elaborating and further embroidering the "text" of heroic conquest just to keep everyone interested. Granted, I did prefer reading the text, but I can go with the spirit of the film.

However, actually listening to the actors and the producers of the film, might make you think otherwise. We live in confusing times, my friends.

Beowulf - Story Featurette

Posted Nov 08, 2007

An inside look at the story behind Beowulf.

Slightly Strained Analogies to Medieval Literature: I'm Sure There's Plenty More Where this Came From

"Over the final four months of 2007, there was no position player more valuable to the Red Sox than Pedroia, who played his position like a 10-year veteran and who every time to the plate swung the bat like someone out of Beowulf."

Okay, I'm willing to go along with this one; I think carving a swathe through the Colorado Rockies can, in the interests of colorful sportswriting, be compared to decapitating Grendel's mother. Others are free to disagree, I suppose. But I think we can unanimously assert that, however dubious, this usage pales in comparison to Karl Rove's forays into the field.

Maybe It’s Just Me: The State of Women Thus Far

We keep coming across this same basic description of many of the women in these tales, and I begin to wonder if there is more to it than just a male-centric (misogynistic?) social construct. Almost without fail, when we encounter a woman with enough status to bear description, we see her in one of two places, both of which are strikingly similar. She is either borne on the back of a finely-arrayed and obviously costly mount, or finely-arrayed on the dais. These locations are meant to instantly impart to the reader a sense of the woman herself, in that she is important enough to have a description and that description places her in a position close to one of power.

We saw this in the Lais and the story of Ragnelle, where the woman in question is mounted on a horse. This horse and its trappings define the status of the woman visually, but imply the status of their man. Yes, she has a beautiful horse with all the trimmings, but who gave it to her? Another way of asking this question is, as a woman is still socially deemed as chattel, who owns this pretty trinket? Women serve their function first as the lady of some great man, as the chatelaine of his home and the mother of his heirs. It is with notable exception that the women appear as something other than a possession. In the Lais, some of the ladies were arrayed beautifully to indicate that they were somehow enchanted or blessed, as in the tale of Lanval, where the worth of the woman proves that she is an eligible and worthy partner for a knight by virtue of her beauty, and the beauty which surrounds her. Lanval’s lady appears before Arthur in such a show of wealth that he cannot argue her claims. This is not because he is struck dumb by the sight of her loveliness; this is because she is carrying her dowry with her, making it clear that whoever she is, she is of quality, and there may be unseen ramifications for challenging her (such as the appearance of her obviously well-placed male sponsor). In the tale of Ragnelle, her wealth is displayed not only to counteract her initial visage, but to indicate that, whatever may have happened with her step-dame and brother, her reputation and dowry are intact, thus making her eligible instead of outcast.

In Beowulf, Wealtheow reigns from the high table, the position of her power as lady of the lord. As she is married, her dowry taken and used, she no longer needs to be decked in costly trappings. Her sense of worth to her husband and people is now determined by what she is allowed to say and do. Wealtheow can speak her mind, issue challenges, and bestow great gifts without any obvious textual repercussions to indicate she has overstepped her bounds. Grendel’s mother is much the same in her own home, though the difference is that there is no longer a lord there to determine where the money is spent, and she is surrounded by a trove of the expensive and priceless. Grendel’s mother is also the head of the household, speaking from her position as both lord and lady, as both mother to a child and ruler of a powerful champion. In Gawain and the Green Knight, we see Guenevere following in their footsteps. She is “on a dais well-decked and duly-arrayed/ with costly silk curtains, a canopy over, / of Toulouse and Turkestan tapestries…the best gems/ ever brought into Britain, with bright pennies to pay” (Ln. 75-80). Arthur’s queen is dressed and displayed in such a way to show his power, and his power over her. Arthur can control this beauty, afford to dress her finely, and this indicates his own standing. Not only can he afford to and chooses to do it, he is not dipping into the funds of her dowry to accomplish it, rather he is importing goods from other conquests and other lands to add to her scenery. This image calls to mind the altar of a church, where the Virgin Mary is finely dressed and surrounded by richness to indicate her status through that of her Lord. Yes, in that instance, she has assuredly earned the trappings on her own merit as well, but in this manner she, and Guenevere, stand as the symbol of femininity and beauty, and because of who they are related to, necessarily also representing virtue and compassion. The lady of the house is also in charge of ministering aid to the people, viewing them as her responsibility, so that she is not just a pretty ornament, but also a functioning person with a job to do. She does this, at meals and social functions, by being on the dais, above all the others, but still servant to them as she is to her husband.

But here, Guenevere is given an added distinction. The “fair queen, without a flaw,/ she glanced with eyes of grey” (Ln. 81-2). At this point in the semester, I bet everyone anticipates that I am going to link her gray eyes with the most famous of gray eyes, those of the goddess Athena. This minor detail may add a new level to Guenevere, as now she is not just chattel and a figurehead, she has been linked to wisdom and so we can infer that she must have some of her own.

That Utterly Confused Categoy

Throughout Beowulf I was mostly interested in the character of Grendel's mother. This was going to be an entire post about her humanism, but when I started, I noticed something I couldn't stop thinking about so I'm going there instead. Take this post with a grain, it's mostly fleshing out ideas and it's going to be clunky.

I think the question of man or monster actually hinges on these few lines -

"...The second of them,
as far as they could discern most clearly,
had the shape of a woman; the other, misshapen
marched the exile's path in the form of a man,
except that he was larger than any other;
in bygone days he was called Grendel."
(94)

Reading this over and over again, I cannot help but notice how the line breaks run into one another and when read slowly, these are the most confused lines in the play.

"The second of them...had the shape of a woman; the other, misshapen/ marched the exile's path in the form of a man" can be read two ways when you take the line breaks into account. It can be read first that there is Grendel's mother and another figure with her. However, when you cut the line at "misshapen", you are left with a reading closer to "The shape of a woman which is the other and which is misshapen." Of course you read down one line and get to the correct reading, but the breaks here basically cause Grendel's mother and her as yet unnamed companion to bleed into one another.

Now, examining her companion who "marched the exile's path in the form of a man,/ except that he was larger than any other" this seems fairly straight forward within these five lines or so. However, let's go back to the first sighting of Beowulf which reads "I have never seen a greater earl on earth" (61) which the class agreed was that Beowulf looked like a man...just bigger. This sounds eerily like the next two lines, when taken on their own sounds like Grendel's mother is walking with Beowulf.

It's only at the final line, "in bygone days he was called 'Grendel'" that the categories become somewhat clearer, but there's no way to erase the confusion brought about by the breaks. There's also no way to erase the confusion of the categories here. Who is the good guy? Who's the human? Who's the monster? Is there any way to possibly answer that?

Last Words on Roland and Beowulf

I stumbled across a blog mentioning a comic book series from IDW Publishing coming out on the Beowulf story right after the movie. I know we pondered what Beowulf looked like in class, but here’s a rendering of him for this comic book.

I would like to discuss the deaths of both Beowulf and Roland in this posting. We have argued both to have substantial reason for the label of the other. Both heroes go above and beyond other warriors with the desire to kill many or, in Beowulf’s case, kill evil creatures. Their last breaths on earth are somewhat similar in agency and effect and I think it would be important to point out in terms of otherness and in further understanding the Christian/pagan ambiguity we find in Beowulf.

When Beowulf begins to die (a death which is not nearly as long and drawn out as Roland’s) he quickly alerts us that he wished to pass on his armor to his son, if he had one (136). Beowulf informs Wiglaf and the readers of his lack of an heir and he blames fate for not granting it. Beowulf proceeds to weigh his actions in a pre-judgment before he leaves this world. He can’t seem to find anything wrong with his past deeds. He vocalizes that he “sought no intrigues, nor swore many false or wrongful oaths” (137). Beowulf begins to reflect on his life, and justify that he has been a good man. Beowulf also feels redeemed by the fact he never committed, “the murder of kinsmen” (137). It is interesting that Beowulf would bring this up in his last words. He is alluding to the past stories of Hildeburh and allusions with Unferth (his fratricide) and Grendel (associated with Cain).

Beowulf then wants to view the treasure one last time and gives thanks for the goods, since they will be given to his people. He feels he has fulfilled his duty or worth to the people, even though it is later noted that the treasure doesn’t help the Geats. Materialism has consistently been a motif in the story, however, it fails to aid Beowulf’s people in the end. It is poignant that Beowulf’s last words are “I must follow them” (139). For all of Beowulf’s life, he has been the leader and later, king. Beowulf is steadfast and in many instances in his life, self-proclaims that he must take charge or do battle alone. Being a leader is the only identity Beowulf knows in this world. Now, he is ready to be subservient to the next world, his “final destiny.”

With Song of Roland, there is a one-sided dialogue with a Higher Being as well, and Roland feels confident in his self-worth. Roland is mortally wounded, yet he kills many more Saracens in an effort to achieve his self-worth. This is paralleled to the treasure Beowulf has placed for his people. Roland also hides his sword under him so the Saracens will not take the holy Christian relic. Here again, there is a protection or armor and swords to have them passed down to his people, just as Beowulf speaks of his armor. When Roland has finally placed himself in the best position to die, he begins to beseech forgiveness from God, and reflects on his life. Roland’s last words are for forgiveness and salvation in heaven. “Save Thou my soul from danger and despite / Of all the sins I did in all my life” (142). This is interesting because for all of the story, Roland has been the one mercilessly killing Saracens. In Roland’s judgment, he acknowledges he has done wrong and asks for mercy from God.

When a great character ends his legacy, he culminates in noble actions and words. Beowulf and Roland are two interesting characters to line up with their ends to evaluate the Christian/Pagan ambiguity assigned to Beowulf. In Roland, he has a clear knowledge of God and what he needs to do in order to get to heaven, which he accomplishes. Beowulf is certain that he is following his kinsmen to the other world, but no clear place is labeled. God is named as Ruler of men in the last new lines. Instead of making peace with God, Beowulf requests for a monument to be built in honor of him, so that he will have his fame on earth. In Roland’s final breaths, he is focused on his immortality in next world, and Beowulf is focused on making his immortality in this world with “Beowulf’s Barrow.”

Nonetheless, there is humility in the last words uttered by each hero. For Roland, it is a cry for mercy for sins committed on earth, and for Beowulf, it’s acceptance of the dependency he will need in the afterlife.

Lineage of Otherness

The Anglo-Saxon notion of lineage clearly defines the roles of self and Other, particularly when considering Beowulf. The terms of otherness are established by means of association with the male line since a collective us is set in opposition to “them.” However, Beowulf is outside the realm of this male power structure. As much as he protects his kin or comitatus, Beowulf is rootless and unsettled, a quality that leads him to reject the earthy stability of a male line.

The establishment of male lineage acts as an imperitive introduction to Beowulf as well other male characters. Beowulf is not just Beowulf; he is Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, perhaps to provide an expectation of Beowulf’s strength and character. The fact that Beowulf is referred to time and time again as “son of Ecgtheow” reestablishes his association with a lineage and his inclusion in Geatish society as a whole.

Although Beowulf lives in a society driven by male lineage and succession, he does not fully participate in his role as a man and a king. He is an exceptional protector of the Geats and the Scyldings, but since he does not produce an heir, his protection is limited to his lifespan. His intentions in non-participation are unclear. Beowulf functions outside the sphere of normal male activity, making him an Other. Perhaps to compensate for not continuing the male line of which his is a part, he is hyperfunctional in the other duties of the masculine leader. He defeats numerous monsters and presumably keeps his home safe from invasion. However, despite his functionality in the his protective duties, Beowulf rejects his other duties as king, alienating himself from his position in society.

While disassociation with lineage makes Beowulf an Other, Grendel’s association with his lineage characterizes him as monstrous. The poet traces Grendel’s lineage to Cain, linking Grendel to the heinous act of fratricide. The damning relationship to Cain ensures Grendel’s position as a monster before acting in a monstrous way. Beowulf’s ties to his father Ecgtheow place him within a dominant society, which he rejects by non-compliance to his male role. However, unlike Beowulf, Grendel acts in a way befitting his lineage.

I Want To Live Forever: Beowulf and Fame

Beowulf digresses from tale to tale, allowing sub-plots and intricate retellings to occur. This reliving of events is significant, but it causes the story to splinter off into peaceweavers and the deaths of a noblewoman’s family. In the end, it comes full circle, returning exactly to the ideas it had in the beginning. “We have heard of the glory of bygone days/ of the folk-kings of the spear-Danes, / how those noble lords did lofty deeds” (Ln. 1-3). These lines show we begin with a culture that already has its established traditions, folklore and war stories, and heroes, and so has developed cultural pride. The Danes seem tribal, with their social codes of loyal unity, and have names like subcultures within the tribe, sometimes referring to the region of origin (“West-Danes”), a practice to which they adhere (“Ring Danes”), or a description that could refer to the physical or the character (“Bright-Danes”). This is the audience’s first introduction to a culture, and even the modern reader can appreciate the sense of civic pride that emanates from these words.

We begin with the story with the story of the last great king, and we are told very little. He was powerful both locally and abroad, he had a son (who will later be of extreme importance), and he died. His “dear comrades” brought his body to a boat fully loaded with tribute, and in an elaborate aquatic funeral, “let the waves have him” (Ln. 29, 48). This is not some meaningless ritual; they are adhering to his specific wishes for such a burial. They do so out of respect for their ruler, but also out of love, as they “gave him to the Deep with grieving spirits, / mournful in mind” (Ln.49-50). That they “gave” implies a giving up, a relinquishing, and they do so with great, genuine emotion. No stoicism here. But the idea of presenting or even bequeathing the “Deep” with someone so important must have been daunting, as the word deep suggests something that is without bottom or unfathomable, and the capitalization adds emphasis. The “Deep” is the ultimate mystery, and his people are happy to encourage him to take one last chance for more lofty deeds. They have also been left with a new king, the son, well-regarded in his own right.

When Beowulf himself dies at the end, the story redoubles onto itself, repeating the similar scenes which opened the book. Now the son, who was a boy when we began, is being given over to the deep by his people “with heavy spirits/ they mourned their despair, the death of their lord” (Ln. 3146-9). Even if we had not read the book which is full of the specific tales of derring-do, we would know from these lines that this is the funeral of a beloved and benevolent ruler. The final lines reiterate this, “they said that he was of all the kings of the world/ the mildest of men and the most gentle, / the kindest to his folk and the most eager for fame” (Ln. 3180-3). There is a sense of sarcasm in calling the killer of monsters gentle and mild, which may be an attempt at levity on the part of the author or be the truth, that there was rarely any need for him to be so bloodthirsty again. It is interesting that he is called kind because it establishes the idea that being generous and compassionate also fall under the category of lofty deeds. Lastly is his enthusiasm for renown, in which all of his aforementioned qualities are combined to make him famous. The story ends on this note, possibly because the author wants to acknowledge that conceit in him after completing such an epic tale. But is it that this has been Beowulf’s goal all along, to be as good as his father was? Has he been doing all of this just to become distinctive? It is successful, and Beowulf’s fame has endured. Still, he is not the only one who is preserved and portrayed for posterity. His people, by adoption or birth, are also shown, their lives and misfortunes, even if ever so briefly. Even in the last section, as the Geats prepare the body for the pyre, an individual is singled out, given immortality and importance, as “a sorrowful song sang the Geatish woman, / with hair bound up” (Ln.3149-50). The field narrows from the king to the people to one woman mourning, and this accomplishes the task of presenting the lofty deeds of the ordinary as well as the extraordinary. It is this minor digression that aids the full circle, so that instead of the story ending as it began, with the death of a king and the beginning of his son’s rule, it ends with the people, represented by a woman, who is arguably the least valued in that culture, mourning and paying their respects. What began as a story of high ranked and rarified others ends as a tale of encouragement, inspiring us all to slay dragons. Beowulf inspires us to believe that fame and glory can be for everyone.

The Devine Power in Beowulf’s Hands

In “Elements of the Marvellous in the Characterization of Beowulf: A Reconsideration of the Textual Evidence,” Fred C. Robinson fails to acknowledge certain elements within the passages he examines that not only speak to Beowulf’s super-human or supernatural power, but elevate him to a status closely associated with the divine and transform him into an ‘other.’ Through a close examination of the text, and by re-examining the translation of certain passages, Robinson affirms Beowulf’s status as a ‘heroic hero’ or ‘man,’ rather than a ‘demi-god, ’ and asserts that his ‘super human strength has been largely fictionalized’ (80): Yet, Robinson seems to focus only on those details that support his arguments, and although he is persuasive at times, there are elements in the story that contradict his arguments.

It is curious how Robinson in his essay devotes little attention to the fight between Grendel and Beowulf. Robinson does point out that ‘Beowulf lacked the strength to hold the monster in the hall,’ yet he fails to acknowledge that the main character exhibits superhuman strength by literally ripping one of Grendel’s arms out of the socket with his bare hands, during the fight. Afterwards, King Hrothgar exhibits the arm for all to see, and at the same time is figuratively displaying Beowulf’s superhuman or supernatural power - Grendel’s dismemberment becomes symbolic of Beowulf’s superhuman strength. Beowulf’s strength is a characteristic that sets him apart from everyone else in the story, and it persistently establishes him as a ‘heroic hero,’ with all the virtues and characteristics assigned to a ‘hero’: In the same instance, it also elevates Beowulf above the image of a ‘mortal man,’ and pushes him into a realm that promises immortality and transforms the main character into an ‘other.’ Line 789, ‘he who among men was the strongest of might,’ seems to illustrate this. Moreover, Beowulf’s superhuman strength seems repeatedly invoked when the poet describes his hands and grip, which I think also become symbolic of his strength for it is through his hands and grip that he ‘mortally wounds’ Grendel. Robinson also fails to examine how Paganism and Christianity are instilled within Beowulf, and instill him with a supernatural strength.

In my previous blog, I argued that Beowulf simultaneously possesses both Pagan and Christian elements within his character. I think the poet in assigning certain Pagan qualities to Beowulf, illustrates him as possessing a higher nature or much greater power, a super-power, than humans. Complimenting this, is the idea of Beowulf as both a ‘Christ-like’ figure, and, as Janel pointed out in a comment, a ‘martyr.’ Beowulf is seen as encompassing this Christian idea of ‘good,’ as well as Christ’s nature, when he defeats Grendel; he is carrying out God’s work, and one could view Beowulf’s superhuman strength as coming from or facilitated by God so that he can carry out ‘God’s anger.’ Reinforcing this idea is the image of Beowulf’s hands which become symbolic of the strength he possesses, and further associates him with God. In Christianity the hand is symbolic of the power and might of God, and the repeated image of Beowulf’s hands, as well as this image of Beowulf as a Christ-like figure, further instills a divine quality to his actions. Like Christ in the Gospel of Luke,. who is able to cast a demon out of a man through the authority of his word because God spoke through him, Beowulf is able to defeat Grendel, ‘a fiend from hell,’ through his superhuman strength, a power instilled in him by God. In light of this, Beowulf surpasses the notions assigned to a ‘heroic hero’ because he’s placed simultaneously within a Pagan and Christian context that seems to push him into a realm where he surpasses ‘mans’ mortality, and becomes the ‘other,’ for he is more than human, and although he can be seen as less of a god, he is none-the-less instilled with a divine power.

In the section, “The Swimming Feat with Breca,” Robinson convincingly make us question the amount of time Beowulf spends in the water fighting off the ‘man eaters,’ and also points out that that the main character might be seen as fighting these monsters on a boat or raft. Despite this, Beowulf does not only fight one sea creature, but nine, and he describes himself submerged in the water. In lines 553 and 554, Beowulf states, “Down to the ocean floor, a grisly foe dragged me,’ and we see the main character literally defeat a sea monster under water. Later on, Beowulf states how the ‘storm of battle took away that mighty sea beast, through my own hand.’ The battle figuratively speaks to the fight and tension (storm) between ‘Good and Evil,’ and in light of my previous argument that asserts Beowulf’s associations with the power and might of God, once again his hands become symbolic of a divine power, or perhaps in this case, of a divine intervention. Although Beowulf doesn’t use his bare hands to kill the first sea creature, this last line seems to reaffirm his associations with a divine power, for it ends on the image of his hands.

There seem to be a lot of flaws in Robinson’s arguments; he fails to acknowledge a number of elements that illustrate Beowulf as being more than a ‘man’ and a ‘heroic hero.’ At one point, he also argues that Beowulf is not ‘conceived as a romance hero,’ but I wonder why he didn’t examine the different ways Beowulf can be seen as a tragic-hero?
By the time Beowulf fights the dragon he is spiritually wounded by his previous experiences because they have been driven by his flaw, his hunger and desire for fame. In fact the very last line seems to illustrate him as a tragic hero, for it asserts that he was ‘the most eager for fame’; this too seems to contradict Robinson’s argument that Beowulf exists as a ‘heroic hero.’ It will be interesting to hear our class’s reaction to Robinson’s essay, and even more, to discover if they’ve found any additional flaws in his arguments.

Of the Righteous Fate

When I first read Beowulf's battle with the dragon I was struck at how different this evil seemed to be compared to Grendel and his mother. Where Grendel is described as the root of all evil in every aspect non-redeemable, the dragon appears less monstrous in intention comparatively. Grendel kills to kill and has no other apparent reason, the dragon is guardian whose wrath has been righteously disturbed. In fact, I'm sure the dragon feels justified in burninating the countryside even if the Geats don't see it that way.

As a result of this simple righteousness, from the moment the dragon is introduced to Beowulf the outcome appears to be decidedly not in Beowulf's favor. In past battles Beowulf has felt assured of his dominance. Against Grendel, the evilest of the evil, his victory was assured as the righteous avenger. In progression with Grendel's mother we see that assurance of victory begin to fade. He has a hard time dealing with her in this battle and barely manages to succeed. Just as we were assured of his victory against Grendel we knew he would have a difficult time against the mother who was avenging her son. Beowulf acknowledges this fact when he instructs his party on what to do if he does not return; he understands he is in for a tough battle.

In preparation for the battle with the dragon, Beowulf suits up. He says, "I will forego boasting against this flying foe" (2528). He's in his best armor and he is ready for what could be the final battle of his life. The poet has already forewarned that Beowulf will die by iterating this is the last time he will prepare for battle. Beowulf almost recognizes this doom as he sets off spouting words of how everyman is led by fate. He believes everything will be as it will be invoking the wyrd. It seems to have come full circle since the dragon is a guardian a righteous being and he guards the final door to the greatest treasure for Beowulf. It is a cursed treasure that is eventually buried with him. But one thing is for certain, it was Beowulf's destiny to end there: "that fate was too great/which impelled the king of our people thither" (3085-86). In the end it seems that everything in this story comes down to whether the characters of this story believe that something will happen. Beowulf believes and is believed to be able to slay Grendel and his mother, he does so. He is at that point "victory-blessed man" (1311). Then Beowulf believes there is a possibility he will die, he does. Beowulf's conscious belief in either his immortality or mortality proves to be a crucial point in deciding fate.

EDIT: by request, I have added a link to the Trogdor video from which "burninating the countryside" is derived. In addition here is the site from which the original video and other gems like it may be found: Homestar Runner where the infamous Strongbad lives!

Grendel

Although a whole paper could be devoted to the portrayal of Grendel in John Gardner's "Grendel" to that of the original text, "Beowulf," I wanted to point out a few key differences that separate the two.

In the original text, it is easy to find reasons to associate Grendel with a monster. For instance, Grendel attacks the mead hall on a nightly basis slaughtering the warriors inside. "He wanted no peace with any man of the Danish army, nor ceased his deadly hatred, nor settled with money" (p.58 lines 155-156). Grendel's monstrosity is not only contributed to his violent tendencies, but also as the footnote on page 58 states, he did not provide the families of his victims with "wergild." Moreover, Grendel lives in isolation from the established society. He does not participate in the life of Heorot. Nor does he choose to be part of the comitatus. Also, the poet of "Beowulf" repeatedly refers to Grendel as "mankind's foe" or "soul slayer" or "heathen," etc. However, the only physical characteristics the author gives to Grendel are quite ambiguous. "The other, misshapen, marched the exile's path of the form of a man, except that he was larger than any other" (94 lines 1351-1353). Could Grendel be a man exiled from society for being physically different from the Danish warriors? Could this isolation have caused Grendel to act out in such violent and destructive ways? Or is Grendel's monstrosity as simple as, being a descendent of Cain?

As readers, we are never allowed to enter into the mind of Grendel. We never even hear him speak. I think this is one of the reason's I keep going back to Gardner's novel in my mind. In some ways it’s refreshing to hear the story from Grendel's point of view. It leads to the question of whether or not Grendel can be considered more monstrous because we are never allowed access into his world. The only access we have is through the world of Heorot.

In "Grendel," we are given access to Grendel's world and the world of Heorot through Grendel's eyes. We are even given more physical descriptions of Grendel. "I shake my two hairy fists at the sky" (p.5) and "I had teeth like a saw” (p.17). However, the thing that makes Grendel monstrous in this novel is his nihilistic view of the world. "I understood that the world was nothing" (p.21). Unlike the world of Heorot and its dependence on the warrior community, Grendel does not even find a connection with his mother. Gardner seems to be saying that there is something extremely unsettling about not finding meaning in the world in which you inhabit. Grendel's inability to connect with anything in his world is disturbing to the point that one can consider Grendel monstrous.

The Characterization of Beowulf

Reading Fred C. Robinson's essay parsing the textual evidence for Beowulf's "monstrosity" was a bit of a chastening experience. After all, I spent a good deal of my previous post holding forth on just this theme: Beowulf as Other, the monster needed to defeat the monster, and so forth. Robinson splashes a healthy dose of cold, linguistic water on these feverish speculations. Before honing in on the nuances of Old English diction, he sketches in his opening paragraph the ways in which the pathos and power of the poem depend on Beowulf's humanity. Reading all of this gave me a chagrined feeling of having cut myself off from my own moorings, because this "humanistic" interpretation of Beowulf, focusing on the poem as a story about being in the world, was (especially as articulated by J.R.R. Tolkien in his "The Monsters and the Critics" essay) one of my own personal and interpretative touchstones as an undergraduate. So, mea culpa.

Anyway, confessions and self-flagellations aside, I am not willing to retract all of my previous assertions. Nor do I think Robinson's essay is itself beyond all criticism. The piece, for example, opens with what I can only hope is a self-conscious use of Anglo-Saxon litotes: the breathtaking understatement that "Examples of the marvellous are not uncommon in Beowulf." Robinson goes on to describe "some of the fabulous wonders that the poet has admitted to his story." I may be over-reading, but formulation makes it sound as if the inclusion of these "fabulous wonders" was, or should have been, grudging and half-hearted. The poet reluctantly let Grendel, his mother, and the dragon gate-crash what would otherwise have been a poem about men fighting other men; the monsters and monstrous elements are extrinsic, not intrinsic. On the contrary, it seems to me that the monsters are not "admitted to" Beowulf, but that Beowulf is constructed around them.

Robinson maintains that "in general the wonders are carefully restricted to the devil's party" - fair enough. But as thorough and convincing as his textual reconsideration is, I still feel that Beowulf, recurrently throughout the poem and particularly in the eyes of others, is more than "only a strong man." Robinson nowhere engages with the use of aeglaeca as a term for Beowulf (and his fellow dragon-slayer Sigemund). Even in the sense of "awe-inspiring creature" or other such generic formulation rather than "monster" per se, this word still carries an elemental, uncanny connotation that elevates its referents above (or perhaps alienates them from) the human norm.

I wrote previously that, in the poem, only a monster can overcome a monster. This isn't true, and even if it is we shouldn't desire it, because where does that leave the human beings in the middle? But I still think that many people within the poem, like the Danes, and more particularly Hrothgar himself, believe it is true and construct Beowulf accordingly. I still point to the fact that the first thing Hrothgar says about Beowulf (after having known him when he was a boy) is that he has the strength of thirty men, and furthermore, that this quality immediately makes Hrothgar believe that Beowulf has come "as I would hope" to fight Grendel (379-384) - nothing that has been reported to Hrothgar about Beowulf and his band states or even implies this. Persistently thereafter, Hrothgar idolizes Beowulf, conspicuously honors and glorifies him, singles him out, others him - that is, when he is not lecturing him to "defend yourself from wickedness" (1758 - Hrothgar, throughout the poem, comes off as moody, mercurial, and temperamental, in pointed contrast to Beowulf's even temper). This habit drives Hrothgar into making a couple of ill-considered and politically sensitive remarks, such as adopting Beowulf as his son (946-947) or implying that he deserves to pre-empt Heardred in the Geatish royal succession (1850-1851 - although Hygd feels the same way and tries to convince Beowulf to do it).

Beowulf, to his credit, repeatedly resists Hrothgar's tendency to set him above and apart from the rest of humanity, both by admitting his near-defeats and personal dissatisfactions with the results of his monster fights and by sharing the credit and connecting himself with others: "Freely and gladly have we fought this fight" (958, emphasis added). He also passes on all of the lavish gifts he received from Hrothgar to Hygelac and Hygd, as a way of very self-consciously integrating himself into a human community, affirming kinship, and counteracting his "othering"; at the same time, his statement to Hygelac evinces his progressive isolation and the fragility of his human ties: "I have few / close kinsmen, my Hygelac, except for you" (2150-2151).

As a sidenote, and by way of extending my earlier interpretation about material culture and the role it plays in delineating the Self as opposed to the Other, we can observe how all human interactions in the poem are explicitly material. Beowulf is far from the only character who receives and passes on artifacts as a way of affirming solidarity and a shared sense of selfhood. Indeed, material culture - cups, rings, banners, as well as implements of battle - represent the terms, the signifiers, by which a communal sense of Self is constructed. An Other (an outlaw or slave the one who pillages the dragon's hoard) can be reintegrated, cease to be othered, by giving treasure; wergild is the same kind of thing. Material culture, made things, are so important for defining identity that death, for Beowulf, is described as a force coming to steal "his soul's treasure" (2422). Yet the dragon considers his hoard just as precious. The poem repeatedly portrays how, as a means of defining and organizing human society, material culture is ultimately useless. Weapons can prove as unreliable as men; Beowulf's sword glances off the dragon and his comrades flee. The great hoard over which Beowulf and the dragon fight seems to be fundamentally inhuman, dug out of the earth by an ancient people (2248-2249); possessing it "does [the dragon] no good" (2277), yet after Beowulf's death the liberated treasure remains "as useless to men as it was before" (3168).

To conclude my discussion of Beowulf as man or aeglaeca, the combat with the dragon brings this internal dynamic into high relief. Beowulf evokes his reputation for superhuman strength again by boasting of how "I slew Daeghrefn, champion of the Hugas, / with my bare hands" (2501-2502) and asserts that he would not "bear a sword / or weapon" (2518-2519) in this encounter if he could help it but that circumstances require him to carry "shield and byrnie" (2523). As with the earlier fights with Grendel and his mother, different circumstances bring different aspects of Beowulf to the fore: among humans in a human environment he can be "monstrous," but against and among monsters he must be human. Yet Beowulf then explicitly others himself, as he had anticipated by "scorn[ing]" (2345) to take his full army against the dragon, by dismissing his thanes from fighting alongside him: "It is not your way, / nor proper for any man except me alone, / that he should match his strength against this monster" (2532-2534). Rather than chalking this up to pride or hubris alone, we might better describe this decree (which seems to me to absolve the other Geats of some of the blame for running away) as a resolution by Beowulf to act the part of the aeglaeca which he may think they want and need him to be. Closing in combat, he and the dragon both become "great creatures" (aeglaecan, 2592), whereupon all of the thanes but Wiglaf abscond from the field.

The intervention of Wiglaf simultaneously restores Beowulf's humanity and enables him to overcome the dragon - a fascinating and moving paradox which permanently does away with the idea that only a monster can defeat a monster. Wiglaf's loyalty is part of "his nature" (2696), that is, not inspired or motivated by Beowulf's ring-giving; materialistic exchange, the poet seems to imply, will not foster a communal sense of selfhood unless predicated upon a deeper sense of kinship or simple kindness. When he enters the fray, he and Beowulf become, almost literally, one body, one person: "now sword and helmet, / byrnie and battle-dress, shall be ours together" (2659-2660). Once again, the material culture of battle limns humanity, in this case a common humanity of Beowulf and Wiglaf, over against the monstrous. Yet when, with the dragon killed, Wiglaf removes Beowulf's helmet, it constitutes not an othering gesture but a humane one. Finally and decisively, Beowulf becomes not an aeglaec or a superhuman hero but a dying old man.

In a poem as complex and finely balanced as Beowulf, it can probably be all too easy to tip the scales one way or the other, towards the monstrous or the human. Robinson, in his essay, may tilt too far towards the human, to the point of implicitly writing off the monstrous and marvellous as extrinsic interpolations. Yet his piece was, on the whole, a useful corrective to the opposite extreme. Although he can and often does become othered, even almost monstrous, under the pressure of circumstances or the expectations of his fellows, Beowulf ends the poem fully and wrenchingly human.

Cain figure in Beowulf and Roland

So, I brought up in class that I had found an article alluding to Ganelon as a Cain figure and I feel there’s an interesting type of othering going on between the Song of Roland and Beowulf. It is an othering that occurs in Christian context, but also proves a more dangerous adversary than that of the classic pagan – that is, the character of one who was originally a follower of Christianity and then turned away.

In “Cain as Convict and Convert? Cross Cultural logic in the Song of Roland” by Brewster E. Fitz, there is an assimilation to Ganelon with Judas and Cain. Ganelon is recognized as a Christian, but commits treason against his ‘brothers,” the Frank army. Ganelon has the ability to sin when he has all the potential for goodness, and this is seen Biblically by the actions of Cain and Judas. A person with an agency this strong is deemed as evil and creating offenses that can never be altered. In the same sense, Ganelon’s actions are unforgivable and destroy the strongest knight in Charlemagne’s army. In the article, Fitz calls Roland an imitatio christi (imitation of Christ) and that Ganelon’s rejection of Roland is also his rejection of Christianity (Fitz 817). I am not doing total justice to the article, but there is a lot of good information looking into the Cain story in relation to Ganelon and the Saracen army.

We see in several parts of Beowulf the depiction of Grendel as a descendant of Cain. The story provides a revised version of Genesis, where it is explained how the source of monsters comes to be from the lineage of Cain, the first murderer. Whenever the story of Cain arises the narrator exclaims how God rewarded that sin. In the Bible, Cain is forced to wander the earth with a mark (meant to warn others not to kill him). Placing Grendel in the Biblical lineage of Cain he is “marked” as an evil creature that kills without remorse. However, Cain was initially a human being loved by God. Cain was not born evil, but revered God and wanted to find favor with him. Cain chose to go against God and kill his brother. With this in mind, it would seem that Grendel had the opportunity to avoid evil. Though Grendel is depicted as a monster, he is not too monstrous, in fact, he is described as having a male form. Grendel’s being is actually human-like, save for his awesome strength, which can only be matched by Beowulf. We cannot make a claim to whether Grendel was at first Christian, but his association with Cain leads readers to question whether there was ever a turn from God. There are several places where Grendel is called demonic, which would sound like a clear refusal to Christianity.

We have spoken of pagans being those who are not Christians, but an even darker enemy is the people who have rejected Christianity. A prominent example of this can be found in Paradise Lost with the lines claiming that it is better to reign in hell than serve in heaven. Who’s a better example of rejecting God than Satan himself? Satan states in the story to remember that he also was once loved by God. The real enemy for the Christians isn’t simply pagans unaware of God, but those who knew full well of the Christian God and still persisted to denounce him.

Wrongness and Otherness

“How do the pagans in Beowulf differ from the pagans in The Song of Roland?” If the aim of the course is to examine the other within texts from the Middle Ages, then this question seems an apt topic to explore. Within these texts are two dissimilar constructions of difference within the same generalized “non-Christian” category. Yet, the treatment of the two groups of pagans is entirely different considering the pagans are characterized by a Christian author.

In The Song of Roland, the pagans are portrayed in no uncertain terms as Other. Although some Saracens are described in begrudgingly complimentary terms, the poet takes pains to ally their descriptions with condemnatory rhetoric. Saracens often speak with “evil” words, and the fate of their souls is in no way ambiguous. “The Paynim falls flat down with all his weight. / Then Satan comes and hales his soul away.” (laisse 96)

The poet of The Song of Roland tells the Franks how to view the Paynims, whereas in Beowulf, the author makes less effort to shape Beowulf’s morality based on his religious identity. Beowulf’s heroic actions shape his character, but the Saracens already exhibit vile characteristics, which their actions reinforce. While the Saracens are surely going to hell according to the poet of The Song of Roland, Beowulf’s poet does not go into the gritty details of Beowulf’s afterlife. The poet praises Beowulf's accomplishments, and it's clear that the poet is aware that the funeral pyre is a pagan ritual. The poet offers no negative or condemnatory commentary on Beowulf's funeral. As opposed to the death scenes of The Song of Roland, there is no devil to take Beowulf’s pagan soul to hell.

Roland’s infamous battle cry “Pagans are wrong and Christians are right” (laisse 79) constructs the terms of difference in The Song of Roland, and the language used to describe the vile infidels reinforces our hero’s axiom. However, morality in Beowulf is no where near as explicit. While the poet acknowledges that Beowulf and Hygelac are pagan kings, he describes them in hero’s language. Which begs the question, are pagans wrong in Beowulf? With no organizing binary, morality is vaguer and more debatable in Beowulf, whereas there is no debating who is right and who is Other in The Song of Roland.

As an aside, considering the Beowulf manuscript and how this text is the only known text of Beowulf, I thought about this episode of RadioLab that talks about the other versions of the Bible and other versions of the Trojan war. Listening to this story, it makes me wish archeologists could find other versions of Beowulf.

Beowulf, The Pagan & Christian

After reading the first section of “Beowulf,” I found that despite the fact that it seems to be written in a Christian context, the line between ‘Christian’ and ‘Pagan’ becomes blurred. One could even argue that Christianity and Paganism seem to be working almost simultaneously within Beowulf’s character, and I think that the main charcter, in encompassing such contrasting notions and religions, may evolve into what we’ve defined as the ‘other.’

On page sixty-two, Beowulf becomes associated with an animal figure, the boar, which can be seen simultaneously as a Pagan and a Christian symbol. Closely connected to the forest, the boar has the keen ability to uproot truffles, a mysterious fungus that ancient legends claim was produced by lightening; hence, the boar becomes closely associated with the supernatural. Yet, the boar is also symbolic of magic, prophecy, as well as warfare, and protection for warriors. In Christianity, the boar is symbolic for ferocious anger, for brutality, cruelty, as well as the ‘sins of the flesh.’ Beowulf, in wearing the symbol of the boar can be seen within a Pagan and Christian context; curiously he seems to exhibit a mixture of the characteristics assigned to the boar by Paganism and Christianity when fighting Grendel.

Beowulf possesses a super-human or supernatural strength. On page sixty-six Beowulf chooses not to use weapons in his fight against Grendel and asserts: “But with my grip I shall grapple with the fiend and fight for life, foe against foe.” During the fight, Beowulf exhibits superhuman strength by literally ripping one of Grendel’s arms out of his socket, which King Hrothgar exhibits for all to see. One could argue that Beowulf’s supernatural strength speaks to a Pagan element, and we also see this kind of unearthly strength or power on page seventy when Beowulf tells Unferth he spent five nights in the sea competing with Breca, only to be dragged down by a ‘mighty sea beast.’ Here, Beowulf is literally battling a ‘monster’ underneath the ocean, and his superhuman strength can not only be found in the physicality of the fight, but in the fact that the scene alludes to his unnatural ability to hold his breath under water, and control it for five days in the sea. In addition to this, he is able to fight in the sea with not only one ‘sea beast,’ but ‘nine maneaters,’ and this reinforces his supernatural strength that can be associated with the Pagan elements found in the story. Despite this, within the text, Beowulf’s supernatural strength becomes closely associated with the strength of the God; he also takes on the persona of Christ.

Beowulf and Grendel becomes representative of the Christian idea of ‘good versus evil’; they appear to be polar opposite, and one can argue that Beowulf exists figuratively as God or Christ, and in contrast, Grendel is the devil or Satan. On page fifty-six, Grendel becomes associated with ‘Cain’s race’; he can be seen as the man ‘falling from grace and into sin’ who is associated with Satan, the devil, and becomes known as ‘God’s adversary.’ In addition to this, he is described as an ‘unholy creature,’ as an ‘alien spirit,’ and lives in an underworld similar to Satan’s hell. In contrast, Beowulf can be seen as a Christ like figure not only because he possesses a ‘generous spirit (Page 61), and exhibits fairness (page 66), but because he literally ‘saves’ the Danes. In order to survive Grendel’s attacks, the Danes need a savior, and Beowulf, can be seen as a Christ like figure by the way he exhibits his desire to end their suffering, and ‘save’ them from Grendel. Moreover, if Beowulf is seen as encompassing this Christian idea of ‘good,’ when he defeats Grendel, he is carrying out God’s work. In other words, one could view Beowulf’s superhuman strength as coming from or facilitated by God so that he can carry out ‘God’s anger.’ Despite this, I think the image of Beowulf as a ‘savior,’ and as someone who exemplifies Christian ideas, becomes problematic when he ‘kills’ Grendel; it also becomes problematic if we take into consideration the materialism he exhibits, wanting treasures and acknowledgement for his deeds.

It will be interesting to see how Beowulf further exhibits the tension between Paganism and Christianity because I think it is in this contradiction where he may evolve in to the ‘other.’ He is already somewhat alienated from the rest of the characters, for he is both spiritually and politically elevated in comparison, but perhaps in the next sections the Pagan elements within his character, may give way to Christianity; this will determine a position that’s neither ‘monstrous’ or ‘other.’ I also wonder if his ‘savior’ qualities will become solely motivated by his materialism, and need for recognition; this may further complicate his character while pushing Beowulf into a realm that encompasses both the ‘monstrous’ and the ‘other.’

Geography, Material Culture, and the Other: Part Two

One of the main differences between The Song of Roland and Beowulf (a point I've touched on in a previous post), is that in Roland there is only one class of opponent; the enemies only come from one direction, and they combine aspects of the otherworldly Monstrous with the merely human Other. Admittedly, Ganelon springs his treason from the very heart of Frankish society, but his sins exclusively involve showing the Paynims where and how they can do the most damage. In his own person, Ganelon is not a threat and harms nobody directly.

In Beowulf, by contrast, we get a persistent sense of a war being waged on two fronts - and here is where the geography of Othering enters in. The poem often speaks of its world as lying "between the two seas" (858, 1685). R.M. Liuzza glosses this as referring to "the North and Baltic seas," but I think there is more to the expression than this. Beowulf contains two directions of danger, two frontiers that must be guarded. One "sea" is that which Beowulf and his fellow Geats cross on the way to Hrothgar's court, the sea that separates the Danes from the human Other and that the Danish coast-guard patrols against "enemies with fleets and armies" (242) - which the Geats seem heretofore to have been. The other "sea" is Grendelsmere, "the seacliff" (1420) to which Beowulf and his party come when tracking Grendel's mother as well as the ocean in which Beowulf went swimming with Breca: the world of the inhuman Monstrous. Crossing over from this world into the human world of the poem, Grendel and his mother appear as "great march-stalkers..., / alien spirits" (1348-1349). After describing his victory over Grendel's mother, Beowulf tells Hrothgar, "you need fear nothing, / from that side" (1674-1675). The qualification is significant: the monster-frontier may now be secure, Beowulf implies, but you should still look to the border with your human enemies - the Heathobards, for example, who will ultimately burn down Heorot Hall, or even Hrothgar's potentially treacherous nephew Hrothulf.

(Incidentally, that second sea, the one from which monsters emerge, is also the one from across which Scyld arrives as a foundling and to which he is committed again after his death. Scyld's providential mission from outside is only time something good and tangible, rather than monstrous, penetrates the boundary of the poem.)

King "Shield" provides a good segue into the question of material culture and its role in defining the Self and the Other in this poem. Beset by Grendel, the Danes in desperation pray "that the soul-slayer might offer assistance" (177). From the poet's perspective, at least, if not necessarily their own, they are invoking a devil to fight a devil, evincing an awareness that only a monster can defeat a monster. The human "monster" who comes to their assistance is Beowulf. "He has thirty / men's strength, strong in battle, / in his handgrip" (379-381), says Hrothgar before intuiting, apparently on the basis of such superhumanity, that Beowulf has come to fight "against Grendel's terror" (384). As a corollary to possessing such inhuman strength, Beowulf typically disdains the human material culture of battle: "I too will scorn....to bear a sword or a broad shield" (435, 437). Admitting him and his troop into Heorot, Hrothgar makes them leave behind their armor and weaponry; it's all the same to Beowulf, of course, but this measure also marks him out as an Other, the monster who will defeat the monster.

Beowulf, of course, then goes on to best Grendel in weaponless combat and rip off his arm barehanded. However, the key to this success is that Beowulf fights within Heorot, the heart of the human world. Heorot embodies the whole of "middle-earth" between the two seas, the "bright and shining plain, by seas embraced" (93) which is sung about within it. Fighting inside this human creation in all its firm and beautiful physicality, Beowulf needs no other way to reassert his humanity against the Monstrous. His inherent "otherness" is constricted and channeled by the architecture surrounding him.

Venturing out of this human domain, though, requires very different measures. Beowulf fought and killed the monsters on his swimming ordeal with a sword and describes how "my coat of armor offered help" (550) in those encounters. Similarly, before seeking out Grendel's mother in her lake, "Beowulf geared up / in his warrior's clothing" (1441-1442), and twice in the ensuing battle "his armored shirt offered him help" (1552). The world of the monstrous, as opposed to the human world embodied by Heorot, is, from the human perspective, a place where all boundaries are abolished and all otherness collapses; as Hrothgar describes it, fire burns on the lake and water and sky combine. In such an environment, Beowulf now needs the individual demarcation, the sense of integrality and selfhood, which only helmet and armor can provide.

The final twist to all of these matters occurs when, reaching the bottom of Grendelsmere, Beowulf discovers a weird mirror of Heorot and the human world above: "he was in some sort of battle-hall / where no water could harm him in any way, / and, for the hall's roof, he could not be reached / by the flood's sudden rush - he saw a firelight, / a glowing blaze shining brightly" (1513-1517). We learn that the monsters, creatures of indefiniteness and flux in human eyes, actually define their own boundaries and structure their own existence. The light appearing suddenly in this scene echoes, in a sense, the light described in the creation poem associated with Heorot. Moreover, in this luminous and structured environment, the monsters possess a material culture of their own. Grendel's mother sets upon Beowulf with a knife, and although the sword he brought from his own world proves useless here, he finds a new weapon of inhuman provenance with which to finish her off.

In Beowulf, as in The Song of Roland, geography and material culture provide a framework with which to physically define the Self, the Other, and the Monstrous, but once this framework is shattered, bypassed, or surmounted, such structures of difference seem far less rigid and entrenched.

Less by As Much As a Maiden’s Strength

Within a page of each other, Beowulf provides us with two of the most important female characters in the story, Wealhtheow, wife of Hrothgar, and Grendel’s mother. As women are typically othered in history, the moment any woman is mentioned she instantly bears further examination. It seems intentional that these two women are mentioned in such close proximity to the mention of the other, and that it was done so to emphasize their similarities and contrasts. The problem is that they seem to be more alike than different.

Wealhtheow presents Beowulf with a neck-ring that, according to legend, once belonged to Freya, goddess of fertility, and in some traditions warfare as well. Freya, a name that means “lady,” was in many ways the equivalent of the Greek queen of the gods. Hera was responsible for childbearing women and the home, and was fierce, even warlike, in her duties protecting both the individuals and the institutions. This connection helps those less familiar with Norse mythology make a connection which is vital, linking Wealhtheow to these goddesses in power and intention. She bestows her powerful emblem to the warrior Beowulf, who has rightly earned it with the maiming and murdering of the monster, Grendel, and in doing so gives her sons over to his keeping. Beowulf is now charged with being “mild in counsel,” “kind in…deeds,” and responsible for “keeping them in joys” (Ln. 1219-1226). Wealhtheow is acknowledging that she owes Beowulf the lives of her children, and her people, and makes that clear by publicly, and even ritualistically, entrusting him with their welfare. This is both a token of thanks as well as a continued duty, as now that Beowulf has proven his worth, he is being encouraged to continue to do so. This queen and mother wants the best for her offspring, to give them the best she can provide, and right now it appears that the best teacher and protector is epitomized by Beowulf. She is letting her children go, actively pushing them towards manhood and independence even though it may lessen her relationship with them. Any mother would do the same.

Grendel’s mother must have done the same for her son. She raised him, taught him all she could, sent him out into the world to find his own way, and still kept her duties as a mother intact with the implied promise that should her even need her protection, he would have it. When Grendel left Heorot mortally wounded from his encounter with Beowulf, he retreated to the woods, to safety, to his mother. Now that he is gone, she has come for revenge. Her origins are mysterious, dwelling “in those dreadful waters, the cold streams, ever since Cain” (Ln.1260-1). This mention links her to a race of cursed beings, children of the first murderer, and it is difficult to conceive of a group more othered than those who are descended from that line. Grendel’s mother is vicious in her sorrow, attacking with vigor, and before she leaves, retrieving the arm of her son which had been placed as a talisman or trophy in the great hall. Grendel is dead, but still she seeks to honor and protect him, make him intact and punish those who took her from him. The mention of these actions so close to those of Wealhtheow’s towards her own children unites these two women, and suddenly we realize that the lady-like and beautiful Wealhtheow would seek the same brutal justice for her own children. Though perhaps those actions are the more monstrous part of a woman’s nature, as represented by Grendel’s mother, they are no less true to human nature. It almost seems that despite being grotesque, women are honored by this society just as much for their strength and passion as they are for their beauty and kindness.