24 January 2022 10 Good and Evil

GOOD OR EVIL? YOUR CALL.

Goodness is the mind of the beholder. So it is with evil. The first task in determining who or what is good, or evil is to determine the criteria for each. The criteria for good and the criteria for evil aren’t always a simple inverse of one another. For example, much has been written about Grendel. The “evil” is obvious, at least from most human viewpoints. He kills beyond a need for sustenance. His physical appearance wreaks of darkness. Yet, other analysts argue that Grendel is worthy of our pity, that he is a victim of his upbringing and his environment, and that his limited intellectual powers limit his capacity for discerning good and evil.

Then there is Beowulf. The apparent good guy, the hero of the story. Right? His upbringing and environment have shaped him as well. Right? He has enough intellectual horsepower to tell good from evil. Right? For Beowulf, things are pretty straightforward. Save the good guys. Maim or kill the bad guys. Have pride in your deeds which is a virtue in his culture and is not judged as arrogance.    When he fights Grendel unarmed, he is lauded as courageous, but it he simply foolish. And so on. . .       

In his youth, Beowulf is a great warrior, characterized predominantly by his feats of strength and courage, including his fabled swimming match against Breca.1 He also perfectly embodies the manners and values dictated by the Germanic heroic code, including loyalty, courtesy, and pride. Nature or nurture? Can Beowulf discern good from evil (depending on your definitions)? His defeat of Grendel and Grendel’s mother validates his reputation for bravery and establishes him fully as a hero. Now, he must live up to his reputation and do it again and again. Poor guy! 

How are we supposed to figure out who is the bad guy and who the good? As I said, in the end, it’s your call. 

One Task Finished; Another Begins . . .

Lay down to his rest, already marked for death.       

. . . 

At their heads they placed their polished timber 

Battle-shields; and on the bench above them,

Each man’s kit was kept to hand:

A towering war-helmet, webbed mail-shirt 

And great-shafted spear. It was their habit 

Always and everywhere to be ready for action,

 At home or in the camp, in whatever case

And at whatever time the need arose

To rally round their lord. 

They were a right people. 1250

They went to sleep. 

And one paid dearly

For his night’s ease, as had happened to them often, 

Ever since Grendel occupied the gold-hall, 

Committing evil until the end came,

Death after his crimes. Then it became clear, 

Obvious to everyone once the fight was over, 

That an avenger lurked and was still alive, 

Grimly biding time. Grendel’s mother, 

Monstrous hell-bride, brooded on her wrongs.

She had been forced down into fearful waters, 1260

The cold depths, after Cain had killed

His father’s son, felled his own

Brother with the sword. 

Banished an outlaw,

Marked by having murdered, he moved into the wilds, 

Shunning company and joy. 

And from Cain there sprang

Misbegotten spirits, among them Grendel,

The banished and accursed, due to come to grips 

With that watcher in Heorot waiting to do battle. 

The monster wrenched and wrestled with him

But Beowulf was mindful of his mighty strength,     1270

The wondrous gifts God had showered on him:

He relied for help on the Lord of All,

On His care and favor. So he overcame the foe, 

Brought down the hell-brute. 

Broken and bowed,

Outcast from all sweetness, the enemy of mankind

Made for his death-den. 

But now his mother

Had sallied forth on a savage journey,

Grief-racked and ravenous, desperate for revenge.

She came to Heorot. There, inside the hall, 

Danes lay asleep, earls who would soon endure 1280

A great reversal once Grendel’s mother

Attacked and entered. 

Her onslaught was less

Only by as much as an Amazon warrior’s

 In less than an armored man’s

When the hefted sword, its hammered edge 

And gleaming blade slathered in blood, 

Razes the sturdy boar-ridge off a helmet.

Then in the hall, hard-honed swords

Were grabbed from the bench, many a broad shield

Lifted and braced; there was little thought of helmets   1290

Or woven mail when they woke in terror.

The hell-dam was in panic, desperate to get out

In mortal terror the moment she was found.

She had pounced and taken one of the retainers

In a tight hold, then headed for the fen.

To Hrothgar, this man was the most beloved

Of the friends he trusted between the two seas. 

She had done away with a great warrior,

Ambushed him at rest.

Beowulf was elsewhere.

Earlier, after the reward of the treasure, 1300

The Geat had been given another lodging.

There was an uproar in Heorot. 

She had snatched their trophy,

Grendel’s bloodied hand. It was a fresh blow                                                                                

To the afflicted bawn. 

The bargain was hard, 

Both parties having to pay

With the lives of friends. 

And the old lord,

The gray-haired warrior, was heartsore and weary 

When he heard the news: his highest-placed advisor, 

His dearest companion, was dead and gone.

Beowulf was quickly brought to the chamber: 1310

The winner of fights, the arch-warrior, 

Came first-footing in with his fellow troops 

To where the king in his wisdom waited, 

Still wondering whether Almighty God 

Would even turn the tide of his misfortunes.

So Beowulf entered with his band in attendance 

And the wooden floor-boards banged and rang 

As he advance, hurrying to address

The prince of the Ingwins, asking if he’d rested

Since the urgent summons had come as a surprise. 1320

Then Hrothgar, the Shieldings’ helmet, spoke: 

“Rest? What is rest? 

Sorrow has returned.

Alas for the Danes! 

Aeschere is dead.

He was Yrmenlaf’s elder brother 

And a soul mate to me, a true mentor,

My right-hand man when the ranks clashed 

And our boar-crests had to take a battering

In the line of action. 

Aechere was everything 

The world admires in a wise man and a friend.

Then this roaming killer came in a fury      1330

And slaughtered him in Heorot. 

Where she is hiding, 

Glutting on the corpse and glorying in her escape,

I cannot tell; she has taken up the feud

Because of last night, when you killed Grendel, 

Wrestled and racked him in ruinous combat

Since for too long he had terrorized us

With his depredations. 

He died in battle, 

Paid with his life; and now this powerful   

Other one arrives, this force for evil

Driven to avenge her kinsman’s death.    1340

 

Or so it seems to thanes in their grief, 

In the anguish every thane endures

At the loss of a ring-giver, now that the hand 

That bestowed so richly has been stilled in death.

“I have heard it said by my people in hall, 

Counselors who live in the upland country, 

That they have seen two such creatures

Prowling the moors, huge marauders

From some other world. 

One of these things,

As far as anyone ever can discern,      1350

Looks like a woman; the other, warped

In the shape of a man, moves beyond the pale 

Bigger than any man, an unnatural birth 

Called Grendel by country people

In former days. 

They are fatherless creatures 

And their whole ancestry is hidden in a past 

Of demons and ghosts. 

They dwell apart 

Among wolves on hills, on windswept crags 

And treacherous keshes, where cold streams

Pour down the mountain and disappear      1360

Under mist and moorland.

A few miles from here

A frost-stiffened wood waits and keeps watch 

Above a mere; the overhanging bank

Is a maze of tree roots mirrored in its surface

At night there, something uncanny happens: 

The water burns. 

And the mere bottom

Has never been sounded by the sons of men. 

On its bank, the heather-stepper halts:

The hart in flight from pursuing hounds

Will turn to face them with firm-set horns 1370

And die in the wood rather than dive 

Beneath its surface. That is no good place. 

When the wind blows up and stormy weather

Makes clouds scud and the skies weep, 

Out of its depths a dirty surge

Is pitched towards the heavens. 

Now help depends 

Again on you and you alone.

The gap of danger where the demon waits 

Is still unknown to you. 

Seek it if you dare.

I will compensate you for settling the feud     1380

As I did last time with lavish wealth,

Coffers of coiled gold, if you come back.”

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Wise sir, do not grieve. 

It is always better

To avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.

 For every one of us, living in this world

Means waiting for our end. 

Let whoever can Win glory before death. 

When a warrior is gone, 

That will be his best and only bulwark.

So arise, my lord, and let us immediately 1390

Set forth on the trail of this troll-dam.

I guarantee you: she will not get away,

Not to dens underground nor upland groves

Nor the ocean floor. 

She’ll have nowhere to flee to.

Endure your troubles today. 

Bear up

And be the man I expect you to be.”

With that the old lord sprung to his feet

And praised God for Beowulf’s pledge.

Then a bit and halter were brought for his horse

With the plaited mane. 

The wise king mounted    1400

The royal saddle and rode out in style

With a force of shield-bearers. 

The forest paths 

Were marked all over with the monster’s tracks,

Her trail on the ground wherever she had gone 

Across the dark moors, dragging away

The body of that thane, 

Hrothgar’s best

Counselor and overseer of the country.

So the noble prince proceeded undismayed

Up fells and screes, along narrow footpaths

And ways where they were forced into single file,   1410

Ledges on cliffs above lairs of water-monsters. 

He went in front with a few men,

Good judges of the lie of the land,

And suddenly discovered the dismal wood, 

Mountain trees growing out at an angle

Above gray stones: the bloodshot water 

Surged underneath. 

It was a sore blow

To all of the Danes, friends of the Shieldings, 

A hurt to each and every one

Of that noble company when they came upon   1420

Aechere’s head at the foot of the cliff.

Everybody gazed as the hot gore

Kept wallowing up and an urgent war-horn 

Repeated its notes: the whole party

Sat down to watch. 

The water was infested

With all kinds of reptiles. 

There were writhing sea-dragons

And monsters slouching on slopes by the cliff,

Serpents and wild things such as those that often

Surface at dawn to roam the sail-road

And doom the voyage. 

Down they plunged, 1430

Lashing in anger at the loud call

Of the battle bugle. 

An arrow from the bow 

Of the Geat chief got one of them

As he surged to the surface: the seasoned shaft 

Stuck deep in his flank and his freedom in the water

Got less and less. 

It was his last swim.

He was swiftly overwhelmed in the shallows, 

Prodded by barbed boar-spears,

Cornered, beaten, pulled up on the bank,

A strange lake-birth, a loathsome catch    1440

 

Men gazed at in awe.

Beowulf got ready,

Donned his war-gear, indifferent to death;

His mighty, hand-forged, fine-webbed mail 

Would soon meet with the menace under water.

It would keep the bone-cage of his body safe:

No enemy’s clasp could crush him in it,

No vicious arm lock choke his life out.

To guard his head he had a glittering helmet 

That was due to be muddied on the mere bottom

And blurred in the up swirl. 

It was of beaten gold, 1450

Princely headgear hooped and hasped

By a weapon-smith who had worked wonders

In days gone by and adorned it with boar-shapes; 

Since then it had resisted every sword.

And another item lent by Unferth

At that moment was of no small importance: 

The brehon handed him a hilted weapon,

A rare and ancient sword named Hrunting. 

The iron blade with its ill-boding patterns

Had been tempered in blood. 

It had never failed 1460

The hand of anyone who had hefted it in battle,

Anyone who had fought and faced the worst

In the gap of danger. 

This was not the first time

It had been called to perform heroic feats.

When he lent that blade to the better swordsman,

Unferth, the strong-built son of Ecglaf,

Could hardly have remember the ranting speech

He had made in his cups. 

He was not man enough

To face the turmoil of a fight under water

And the risk to his life. 

So there he lost fame and repute. 1470

It was different for the other

Rigged out in his gear, ready to do battle.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Wisest of kings, now that I have come

To the point of action, 

I ask you to recall

What we said earlier: that you, son of Halfdane

And gold-friend to retainers, that you, if I should fall 

And suffer death while serving your cause,

Would act like a father to me afterwards.

If this combat kills me, take care    1480

Of my young company, my comrades in arms. 

And be sure also, my beloved Hrothgar,

To send Hygelac the treasures I received. 

Let the lord of the Geats gaze on that gold, 

Let Hrethel’s son take note of it and see

That I found a ring-giver of rare magnificence

And enjoyed the good of his generosity.

And Unferth is to have what I inherited:

To that far-famed man I bequeath my own

Sharp-horned, wave-sheened wonder blade.    1490

With Hrunting I shall gain glory or die.

After these words, the prince of the Weather-Geats 

Was impatient to be away and plunged suddenly: 

Without more ado, he dived into the heaving Depths of the lake. 

[Note: Breca was Beowulf’s childhood friend. Breca and Beowulf engage in a strange swimming contest where they take on the open sea while wearing full armor and carrying swords, supposedly to defend themselves from sea monsters. It's not entirely clear who wins this contest, although Unferth suggests that Breca actually beat Beowulf.]

Background – Evil, Again 

Many readers have seen Beowulf’s monsters as embodiments of evil, representing the idea that evil is a mysterious, inhuman force. All three monsters emerge from darkness, inflicting fear and suffering on the poem’s human characters. Grendel, in particular, is closely allied with the forces of evil. He is a “fiend out of hell” (l.100) and a descendant of the cursed sinner Cain. However, none of the monsters acts out of sheer evil alone. Grendel’s mother is legitimately seeking vengeance for her son’s death. Even Grendel nurses “a hard grievance” (l.87), and we understand that even if his deeds are evil, Grendel acts out of isolation, envy, and fear. By giving the monsters comprehensible, human motives and at moments even showing us their points of view, Beowulf humanizes evil, suggesting that evil is both an unspeakable threat from the darkness and at the same time an ordinary part of human life. When we hear the poem’s stories of war between humans, of Beowulf and Hygelac emerging from the sea to slaughter their enemies, we might begin to wonder if there’s anything inhuman at all about Grendel or his mother.

Exploration 1: What motivation was operative in Grendel’s mother when she took Grendel’s arm? What would she do with it and why?

Exploration 2: Just before Beowulf slays the dragons, the poem describes him as “indifferent to death.” Is he ignorant of what he’s getting into, just hoping for more treasure, or simply up to the task at hand.

Exploration 3: At this point in the epic, have you spotted anything that serves as a literary symbol for any universal themes of good vs. evil. or the ambiguity of both? Consider the characteristics below:

Grendel

Committing evil until the end came

His father’s son, felled his own

Brother with the sword. 

Banished an outlaw

this force for evil

Grendel’s mother

Monstrous hell-bride, brooded on her wrongs

Beowulf

But Beowulf was mindful of his mighty strength,

The wondrous gifts God had showered on him

The winner of fights, the arch-warrior

Exploration 4: This excerpt, once again, states the centrality of death amid life. Can you write a counterpoint to it.

To avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.

For every one of us, living in this world

Means waiting for our end. 

Let whoever can Win glory before death. 

When a warrior is gone, 

That will be his best and only bulwark.

. . .