Monsters and Criminals:

Defining Humanity in Old English Poetry

Jennifer Neville

A modern dictionary defines a monster as something that exceeds the norm: a ‘monster fish’ is

one bigger than usual, a monstrous storm is an unprecedented one, and a monster is a creature with

terrifying powers.1 The Anglo-Saxons did not possess modern dictionaries, but they did have access

to Augustine, Isidore, and Pliny, three acknowledged experts on monsters. Anglo-Saxon monsters,

however, are not simply translated or transplanted from these authorities—not in their vernacular

poetry, at least. In the investigation that follows I shall briefly summarise some of the ideas that the

Anglo-Saxons inherited regarding monsters and then consider the ways in which Old English poets

defined their own. I shall argue that in Old English poetry a monster is someone who inverts (and

thus defines) humanity so as to threaten society.

The most prestigious of the Anglo-Saxons’ sources for ideas about monsters is probably Book

16 of Augustine’s De civitate Dei.2 Augustine provides a rather cagey3 definition of what constitutes

a monster as he seeks to answer the question of whether or not races with single eyes or feet turned

backward are descendants of the sons of Noah:

Quaeritur etiam, utrum ex filiis Noe uel potius ex illo uno homine, unde etiam ipsi extiterunt,

propagata esse credendum sit quaedam monstrosa hominum genera, quae gentium narrat his-

toria, sicut perhibentur quidam unum habere oculum in fronte media, quibusdam plantas uer-

sas esse post crura.... Quid dicam de Cynocephalis, quorum canina capita adque ipse latratus

magis bestias quam homines confitetur? Sed omnia genera hominum quae dicuntur esse, cre-

1 See, for example, Funk and Wagnalls Standard College Dictionary (Toronto: Fizthenry and Whitside, 1982), s.v. monster. Cf., however, the fuller range of meanings adduced in The Oxford English Dictionary, eds J. A. Simpson and E. S. C. Weiner, 2nd edn, 20 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989).2 See discussion of the privileged use of Augustine as opposed to classical sources like Virgil by the author of the Liber monstrorum in Andy Orchard, Pride and Prodigies: Studies in the Monsters of the Beowulf-Manuscript (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1995), pp. 89-94.3 Augustine admits that he concludes pedetemtin cauteque ‘cautiously and guardedly’ (De civitate Dei XVI.viii). Citations from De civitate Dei are taken from De civitate Dei contra Paganos Libri XXII, ed. J. E. C. Welldon, 2 vols (London: Macmillan, 1924). All translations are my own.

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dere non est necesse. Verum quisquis uspiam nascitur homo, id est animal rationale mortale,

quamlibet nostris inusitatam sensibus gerat corporis formam seu colorem siue motum siue

sonum siue qualibet ui, qualibet parte, qualibet qualitate naturam: ex illo uno protoplasto ori-

ginem ducere nullus fidelium dubitauerit. Apparet tamen quid in pluribus natura obtinuerit et

quid sit ipsa raritate mirabile. (De civitate Dei XVI.viii)

[It is also asked whether it is to be believed that certain races of monstrous men which history

describes are descended from the sons of Noah—or, rather, from that one man from whom in-

deed these men arose. For instance, it is said that one kind has a single eye in the middle of its

forehead, [while] one has its feet backwards behind its legs…. What should I say about the

Cynephali, whose dog-heads and barking reveal them to be beasts rather than men? But it is

not necessary to believe in all the races of men which are said to exist. Truly anyone born a

man anywhere, that is, a rational, mortal animal, however unfamiliar to our senses the shape

of the body he bears, or his colour or his motion or his sound or his nature in whatever force,

part, or quality, no one of the faithful could doubt that he derives his origin from that one pro-

toplast. Nevertheless, it is obvious what nature prevails among many and what is extraordin-

ary because of its rarity.]

Augustine’s answer is primarily a definition of what is human; a human being is an animal ra-

tionale mortale ‘a rational, mortal animal’. After considering a number of monstrous races, includ-

ing hermaphrodites, mouthless men, Pigmies, and Skipodes, his conclusion is that:

aut illa, quae talia da quibusdam gentibus scripta sunt, omnino nulla sunt; aut, si sunt, hom-

ines non sunt; aut ex Adam sunt, si homines sunt. (De civitate Dei XVI.viii)

[Either these things which have been written about certain races do not exist at all, or, if they

do, they are not men; conversely, if they are men, they are descendants of Adam.]

This definition offers two criteria for defining a monster or human being, both of which are not easy

to determine: whether the creature is descended from Adam and whether it is rational.

Book 11 of Isidore’s Etymologiae offers a different kind of definition, based primarily on the

etymological meaning of the word for ‘monster’:

DE PORTENTIS. Portenta esse Varro ait quae contra naturam nata videntur: sed non sunt contra

naturam, quia divina voluntate fiunt, cum voluntas Creatoris cuiusque conditae rei natura sit.

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Vnde et ipsi gentiles Deum modo Naturam, modo Deum appellant. Portentum ergo fit non

contra naturam, sed contra quam est nota natura. Portenta autem et ostenta, monstra atque

prodigia ideo nuncupantur, quod portendere atque ostendere, monstrare ac praedicare aliqua

futura videntur. (Etymologiae XI.iii)4

[Concerning portents: Varro said that portents are things which are born against nature, but

they are not against nature, because they are made by divine will, since the will of the Creator

and of hidden matter is nature. For this reason the gentiles sometimes called God ‘Nature’,

and sometimes ‘God’. Therefore a portent does not come into being against nature, but

against the nature that is known. Portents, wonders, monsters, and prodigies are called as they

are because they are seen to portend, show, demonstrate, and predict future things.]

Monsters are signs or portents; they demonstrate and portend the future. As such, the question of

whether they are human or not is irrelevant; what matters is that they are both unusual and meaning-

ful. Isidore thus juxtaposes human-like and clearly bestial monsters without comment,5 and, al-

though he does not always explain how or what these monsters mean,6 it is clear that monsters are

specifically designed by God to indicate important future events.

Pliny, on the other hand, appears to question, or, at least, side-step Isidore’s assertion of the

portentous possibilities of monsters. He states that, although one might think that the monstrous

races are portentous because of their strangeness, they are in fact merely part of the wonderful vari-

ety of nature:

Et de universitate quidem generis humani magna ex parte in relatione gentium diximus. neque

enim ritus moresque nunc tractabimus innumeros ac totidem paene quot sunt coetus hom-

inum; quaedam tamen haud omittenda duco, maximeque longius ab mari degentium, in

quibus prodigiosa aliqua et incredibilia multis visum iri haud dubito. quis enim Aethiopas

antequam cerneret credidit? aut quid non miraculo est cum primum in notitiam venit? quam

multa fieri non posse priusquam sunt facta iudicantur? naturae vero rerum vis atque maiestas

4 Citations from the Etymologiae are taken from Etymologiarum sive Originum Libri XX, ed. W. M. Lindsay, 2 vols (1911; Oxford: Clarendon, 1971).5 He includes Alexander, for example, among minotaurs, cyclops, and satyrs.6 Cf. Susan M. Kim, ‘Man-Eating Monsters and Ants as Big as Dogs: The Alienated Language of the Cotton Vitellius A.XV "Wonders of the East", in Animals and the Symbolic in Mediaeval Art and Literature, ed. L. A. J. R. Houwen (Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 1997), pp. 39-51 at 42.

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in omnibus momentis fide caret si quis modo partes eius ac non totam conplectatur animo….

(Historia naturalis VII.i.6)7

[Also about the human race in general I have spoken at length in the section on races. And I

will not now touch on their habits and customs, as they are innumerable, almost as many as

there are human societies. Still, I think there are some which must not be left out, especially

of those peoples who are farther from the sea, among whom, I have no doubt, there are some

things which to many will appear prodigious and unbelievable. For who believed in the

Ethiopians before seeing them? Or what isn’t miraculous when it first becomes known? How

many things are judged impossible before they are (actually) accomplished? Truly, the force

and grandeur of nature lacks credibility at every turn if one comprehends only its parts and

not the whole.]

Pliny thus does not attempt to distinguish between ‘people’ and ‘monsters’; all are part of a universe

that defies the belief of those who do not know it in all its variety. Contemplating the monstrous

races serves to demonstrate nature’s power rather than fortell future events:

Haec atque talia ex hominum genere ludibria sibi, nobis miracula, ingeniosa fecit natura. et

singula quidem quae facit in dies ac prope horas quis enumerare valeat? ad detegendam eius

potentiam satis sit inter prodigia posuisse gentes. (Historia naturalis VII.ii.32)

[Ingenious Nature has made these and similar (examples) from the races of men as sport for

herself and wonders for us. And who indeed is able to enumerate the individual things which

she does in a day and almost hourly? It is enough to reveal her power to have presented these

races among her wonders.]

For Pliny, then, the monstrous races are not really monsters at all; they are simply human beings

with characteristics and customs that have not previously been witnessed.

Despite their evident differences, all three of these sources refer to the same kinds of

creatures. In fact, examining the three together makes for monotonous reading, since one invariably

reads about the same series of dog-headed monsters, Ethiopians, hermaphrodites, and fauns, over

and over again. Although I have grossly simplified the accounts of these important authors, I shall

not delve further into them here.8 What is important for the present investigation is that all of these 7 Citations from the Historia naturalis are taken from Pliny: Natural History, ed. Harris Rackham, Loeb Classical Library 352 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1942).8 For further discussion of these authors in the context of medieval ideas about monsters, see Rudolf

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sources—and thus these different definitions of monsters—were available to the Anglo-Saxons.9

The question that I would like to address is whether these definitions are of any help in coming to

terms with monsters in Old English poetry—not whether we can trace signs of, for example, know-

ledge of Pliny in Beowulf, but whether these definitions of monsters are shared by Old English po-

ets.

I believe that, whatever other influence these authoritative sources may have had, their defini-

tions of monsters do not contribute to the definition of monsters in Old English poetry.10 Even Au-

gustine’s flexible criteria are not met by the monsters that stalk the Anglo-Saxon landscape: Grendel

and his mother must surely be considered monsters, but they are also clearly descendants of Adam

through Cain and so human—not monsters—according to Augustine’s guidelines.11 It might be ar-

gued that Grendel and his mother exemplify Augustine’s other criterion regarding a lack of rational-

ity, but the presence of that criterion would be difficult to sustain given the poet’s comments on

Grendel’s thoughts, simple as they are,12 and his mother’s entirely human desire for vengeance.13

Wittkower, ‘Marvels of the East: A Study in the History of Monsters’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institute 5 (1942), 159–97; John Block Friedman, The Monstrous Races in Medieval Art and Thought (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981); William E. Brynteson, ‘Beowulf, Monsters, and Manuscripts: Classical Associations’, Res Publica Litterarum: Studies in the Classical Tradition 5 (1982), 41–57; Kim, ‘Man-Eating Monsters’, pp. 39-51.9 The many manuscripts of Augustine’s writings surviving from this period are testament to his popularity—see Helmut Gneuss, ‘A Preliminary List of Manuscripts Written or Owned in England up to 1100’, Anglo-Saxon England 9 (1981), 1–60. Isidore and Pliny were also available to the Anglo-Saxons, at least to Aldhelm and Bede; see the detailed notes provided by Rudolf Ehwald (Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi 15) and C.W. Jones (Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 123A) respectively. All these sources are used in the Liber monstrorum; see Orchard, Pride and Prodigies, pp. 318–20.10 Thus, for example, the depiction of Grendel has a very different effect from the ‘reassurance’ provided by monster catalogues. For discussion of this reassuring effect, see Bruno Roy, ‘En Marge du Monde Connu: Les Races de Monstres’, in Aspects de la Marginalité au Moyen Age, eds Guy-H. Allard et al. (Montreal: L’Aurore, 1974), pp. 71–80, and Kim, ‘Man-Eating Monsters’, p. 40. For discussion of Grendel’s rather different effect, see Alain Renoir, ‘Point of View and Design for Terror in Beowulf’, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 63 (1962), 154–67, and Michael Lapidge, ‘Beowulf and the Psychology of Terror’, in Heroic Poetry in the Anglo-Saxon Period: Studies in Honor of Jess B. Bessinger, Jr., eds Helen Damico and John Leyerle, Studies in Medieval Culture 32 (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute, 1993), pp. 373–402.11 The size of the body of criticism arguing for Grendel’s humanity suggests in itself the poem’s ambiguity on this point. See, for example, Wayne Hanley, ‘Grendel’s Humanity Again’, In Geardagum 11 (1990), 5–13; Joseph L. Baird, ‘Grendel the Exile’, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 67 (1966), 375–81; Stephen C. Bandy, ‘Cain, Grendel, and the Giants of Beowulf’, Papers on Language and Literature 9 (1973), 235–49 at 241–2; Raymond P. Tripp, ‘Grendel Polytropos’, In Geardagum 6 (1984), 43–69 at 45; Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe, ‘Beowulf, lines 202b–836: Transformations and the Limits of the Human’, Texas Studies in Literature and Language 23 (1981), 484–94 at 486; Alexandra Hennessey Olsen, ‘The Aglaeca and the Law’, America Notes & Queries 20 (1982), 66–68 at 66–7.12 For example, his mod ahlog; / mynte…’his mind laughed; he intended....’ (lines 730a–31b); Grendel is even capable of forseeing his own imminent death: wiste þe geornor, / þæt his aldres wæs ende gegongen ‘he knew the more readily that he had reached the end of his life’ (lines 821b–22). All citations from Beowulf are taken from Beowulf and the Fight at Finnsburg, ed. Friedrich Klaeber, 3rd edn with first and second supplements (1922; Lexington, MA: D. C. Heath and Co., 1950). Citations from other Old English poems are taken from The Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records, eds G. P. Krapp and E. V. K. Dobbie, 6 vols (New York: Columbia University Press, 1931–42).13 Cf. Keven S. Kiernan, ‘Grendel’s Heroic Mother’, In Geardagum 6 (1984), 13–33; Orchard, Pride and Prodigies, p. 30; Edward B. Irving, Jr., A Reading of Beowulf (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968), p. 114.

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Isidore’s definition of monsters as portents is even more difficult to locate in Old English po-

etry.14 Hrothgar’s comments on Grendel in his ‘sermon’ to Beowulf (Beowulf, lines 1700-84)15 could

indicate that Grendel was seen as a portent: Hrothgar warns against succumbing to pride and then

describes his own bliss and downfall, thus perhaps implying that Grendel represents a punishment

for his pride.16 This ‘meaning’ for Grendel is never stated explicitly, however, and there are prob-

lems with it—not the least being the moral status of Beowulf’s freeing of Hrothgar from this pre-

sumably just punishment.17 Even more tellingly, the dragon is left uninterpreted within the poem.18

The dragon means the end of Beowulf’s illustrious career and Geatish society, but it is never la-

belled as such.

In addition, while Isidore’s criterion that monsters be unusual suits Grendel and his mother

well, it disqualifies what would otherwise seem to be a good candidate for monster-hood: the þyrs

in Maxims II, 19 which lurks in the fens like Grendel and Guthlac’s demons.20 I shall return to the

þyrs later; for now it is enough to note that, according to Maxims II, a þyrs lurking in a fen is not in

any way unusual. Indeed, it is as natural, necessary, and perhaps even as common for a þyrs to live

in the fens as it is for a fish to live in water:

Fugel uppe sceal

lacan on lyfte. Leax sceal on wæle14 There is one obvious place to find portentous creatures in Old English poetry: the translations of the Physiologus. Here the poet is clearly concerned to describe ‘natural’ phenomena which are meaningful, and so we might label the whale, panther, and partridge as ‘monsters’ in the Isidorian sense. These translations of texts from the Greek tradition may be the exception that proves the rule, however, for they do not offer any criteria for identifying monsters as opposed to animals, much less for distinguishing between human beings and monsters: the Physiologus interprets all creatures as signs, as monstra, even common, domestic animals like dogs.15 or discussion of this ‘sermon’, see, for example, Elaine Tuttle Hansen, ‘Hrothgar’s “Sermon” in Beowulf as Parental Wisdom’, Anglo-Saxon England 10 (1982), 53–67.16 Cf., for example, Margaret E. Goldsmith, The Mode and Meaning of ‘Beowulf’ (London: Athlone, 1970), pp. 176–7.17 Not all critics have seen a problem in this; see, for example, Fidel Fajardo-Acosta, ‘Intemperance, Fratricide, and the Elusiveness of Grendel’, English Studies 73 (1992), 205–10.18 The dragon has, of course, been interpreted extensively by critics. For some extreme examples of critical interpretation, see, for example, Edward L. Risden, Beasts of Time: Apocalyptic Beowulf (New York: Peter Lang, 1994), Raymond P. Tripp, Jr., More About the Fight with the Dragon: Beowulf 2208b-3182, Commentary, Edition, and Translation (Lanham: University Press of America, 1983), and Tomoaki Mizuno, ‘Beowulf as Terrible Stranger’, Journal of Indo-European Studies 17 (1989), 1–46.19 See Maxims II, line 42b.20 See Beowulf, lines 102–4a: wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten, / mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold, / fen ond fæsten ‘the grim spirit was named Grendel, the famous boundary-walker who held the moors, the fen and the stronghold’. Note that Grendel is also called a þyrs (line 426a). Cf. Guthlac A, lines 296–98.

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mid sceote scriðan.. Scur sceal on heofenum,

winde geblanden, in þas woruld cuman.

þeof sceal gangan þystrum wederum. Þyrs sceal on fenne gewunian

ana innan lande. (Maxims II, lines 38b-43a)

[The bird must play up in the air. The salmon must glide in the pool with the trout. The

shower in the heavens, blended by the wind, must come into this world. The thief must travel

in dark weather. The giant must dwell in the fen, alone in the land.]

In this context it is hardly surprising that Maxims II offers no interpretation for any of its creatures:

something as common as a fish living in water or a þyrs living in a fen cannot be portentous.

Pliny’s evident delight in nature’s strange abundance is similarly absent from Old English po-

etry. While Aldhelm’s popular riddle collection suggests that the Anglo-Saxons may have agreed

with the splendour of nature in general,21 their vernacular poetry tends not express this enthusiasm,

especially when dealing with creatures like Grendel. Grendel is in no way an interesting and won-

derful thing; the poet states explicitly that Beowulf ne his lifdagas leoda ænigum / nytte tealde ‘did

not consider [Grendel’s] life useful to any of the people’ (lines 793–94), and that no his lifgedal /

sarlic þuhte secga ænegum, ‘[Grendel’s] division from life did not seem sorrowful to any of the

men’ (lines 841a–42). Beowulf’s dragon may be an exception to this lack of interest and appreci-

ation:

Nalles æfter lyfte lacende hwearf

middelnihtum, maðmæhta wlonc

ansyn ywde, ac he eorðan gefeoll

for ðæs hildfruman hondgeweorce. (Beowulf, lines 2832–35)

[Not at all afterward could the dragon move playing through the air in the middle of the night,

or, proud in its treasures, show its shape, but rather it fell on the earth because of the hand-

work of this warrior.]

21 Aldhelm seeks to put forward the rerum...enigmata clandestina ‘secret mysteries of things’ (Verse Prologue, lines 7–8), which he draws from a variety of natural, literary, and manufactured objects; he ends his collection with a celebration of Creatura ‘Creation’ as a whole. For texts of Aldhelm’s Prologue and riddles, see Enigmata ex diversis rerum creaturis composita, ed. Rudolf Ehwald, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, pp. 99–149. The extensive Old English glosses that accompany the riddle on Creatura suggest that this topic was particularly interesting to the Anglo-Saxons—see Nancy Porter Stork, Through a Gloss Darkly: Aldhelm’s Riddles in the British Library MS Royal 12.C.xxiii (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1990), p. 73.

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It is possible to find in this description a tinge of regret for the death of a magnificent creature. On

the other hand, the reference to the dragon’s pride suggests that this description might more profit-

ably be compared with the grim satisfaction of The Battle of Brunanburh than the exultant wonder

of Pliny’s Historia naturalis: just as the Vikings and Scots had no need to boast of their ‘play’ with

Æthelstan and Edmund,22 so the dragon could no longer boast of its treasures. The description of the

disposal of the dragon likewise suggests that the poet’s attitude toward it may be summed up with

‘good riddance’ and that regret may be a modern rather than an Anglo-Saxon response: the poet

notes that, after the Geats gaze upon the syllicra wiht ‘strange creature’ (line 3038b) lying dead be-

side their lord, they shove it over the edge of the cliff with no more ceremony than Beowulf showed

to the nine niceras ‘sea-monsters’ left washed up on the shore (lines 565–67) after his youthful

swimming competition against Breca.

In sum, it is difficult to see traces of these authoritative definitions of monsters in Old English

poetry, despite the fact that they were known. For the rest of this paper, I shall attempt to determine

what criteria are used to define monsters in these texts. For argument’s sake, I shall assume that the

dragon, Grendel, and his mother are monsters. I shall begin by proposing some reasons for consid-

ering them monsters and then turn to other entities with similar characteristics—other ‘creatures’

that we might call Old English monsters.

Much has been said about the differences between Beowulf’s early and late monster-fights,

but here I would like to focus on what the Grendels and the dragon share. Grendel, his mother, and

the dragon are fitting opponents for Beowulf and so help to define him as a hero.23 They are also too

much for a normal person to deal with and uncommon to the point of singularity. These are import-

ant points. They may be necessary characteristics for monsters. I would like to argue, however, that

a different kind of characteristic is more crucial, namely that human society could not safely allow

either the Grendels or the dragon to be ‘left alone’, as a wolf or bear could be. Monsters intrude into

and threaten human society. This is important: monsters do not threaten individuals only, but society

as a whole.

22 …hreman ne þorfte… Gelpan ne þorfte ‘he had no need to boast…he had no need to exult’ (The Battle of Brunanburh, lines 39b, 44b).23 Cf. my Representations of the Natural World in Old English Poetry, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 27 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 129-38.

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The social dimension of the monsters’ threat has been commented on many times before, as

has the fact that Grendel and the dragon incorporate parodies or negative images of human society.24

The dragon, first of all, is characterised by his anti-social greed. Since the heroic society depicted in

Old English poetry depends upon the exchange of movable property to establish and maintain bonds

between men,25 a king is obliged to keep wealth in motion.26 The ritual of the gift-giving cements

society together and represents the human relationships that grant joy and security. The dragon, on

the other hand, takes and keeps treasure out of circulation. He thus attacks heroic culture at its

centre: he sits on the life-blood of society. His anti-social actions do not end there, of course, since

he also destroys the hall, the symbolic and physical focus of society.27 Finally, and most importantly,

he kills the king, the linch-pin of society and its primary defender.28

The cup that was stolen from the dragon may also be significant in the dragon’s characterisa-

tion. A cup is not a random piece of treasure; drinking from the king’s cup is paramount to making a

pledge to him,29 and a cup is thus an emotive symbol of joyful hall-life and heroic society in gen-

eral.30 This cup was intended to enter into the circle of exchange that bound society together: it was

meant to reinstate the slave back into society, to reconcile him with his lord.31 Though the text is

fragmented and difficult to follow at this point, it appears that the cup did in fact have the desired

effect. The cup changed hands at least once and ended up where it should have been, in the hands of

24 They literally make physical and give a body to the absence of positive traits. Cf. the discussion in Ian Duncan, ‘Epitaphs for Æglæcan: Narrative Strife in Beowulf’, in Modern Critical Interpretations: Beowulf, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea House, 1987), pp. 111–30 and Irving, A Reading of Beowulf, p. 15.25 This is true not only of relationships between men, of course; the husband-wife relationship was also cemented with the exchange of wealth: Cyning sceal mid ceape cwene gebicgan ‘the king must buy a queen with property’ (Maxims I, line 81). Thus a queen is gold-covered (Beowulf, l. 614a, Husband’s Message, line 14a), and treasure is said to be fitting on a woman (Maxims I, lines 125-26). For discussion of the place of the gold-covered queen in heroic poetry, see Hugh Magennis, Images of Community in Old English Poetry, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 18 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 106–10.26 The Beowulf-poet notes approvingly that Scyld Scefing’s son does what a young prince should do (i.e. reward his followers with gifts), and, more importantly, that Hrothgar beot ne aleh, beagas dælde, / sinc æt symle, ‘did not leave his boast unfulfilled, but rather shared out rings and treasure at the feast’ (Beowulf, lines 20–21a and 80–81a).27 Cf. Magennis, Images of Community, pp. 35–42; Kathryn Hume, ‘The Concept of the Hall in Old English Poetry’, Anglo-Saxon England 3 (1974), 63–74.28 Words like helm ‘covering’, eodor ‘enclosure’, and hleo ‘shelter’ are used in poetry almost exclusively in a metaphorical way, to refer to kings as protectors of social groups. See Peter Clemoes, ‘“Symbolic” Language in Old English Poetry’, in Modes of Interpretation in Old English Literature: Essays in Honour of Stanley B. Greenfield, eds Phyllis Rugg Brown, Georgia Ronan Crampton, and Fred C. Robinson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986), pp. 3–14 at 8.29 Fred C. Robinson, Beowulf and the Appositive Style (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1985), pp. 75–76.30 Cf. Magennis, Images of Community, pp. 42–48.31 Ibid., pp. 72–73.

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the king. The dragon, however, prevents the cup from recreating and reinforcing the bonds of soci-

ety. In fact, he reverses the effect that the exchange of treasure should have had, and thus the cup

results in the destruction of society, not its reaffirmation.

Grendel proves to be an even more fruitful source of negative images.32 The terms used in

Beowulf to describe Grendel suggest opposition to and negation of human expectation or hope.

Thus the race of Cain to which he belongs is not a positive, fruitful line (a tudor), but rather unty-

dras ‘evil progeny’ (line 111a). His eyes are like an unfæger ‘un-fair’ light (line 727b); his nails are

unheoru ‘not gentle’ (l. 987a); he murders unwearnum and unmurnlice, both ‘without hindrance’

and ‘unmourningly’ (line 741b).33 In all, he is a creature of unhælo (line 120b)—a creature both un-

healthy in himself and unhealthy for those around him.

Yet Grendel is called a healðegn a ‘hall-thegn’, like those who have drunk from the king’s

cups. Although it may be dangerous to place too much emphasis on a word whose authority has

been questioned,34 attempting to see Grendel in the role of a thegn reveals that he is to a great extent

a parody of the normal human member of society—or, better, a negation of that norm.35 Many crit-

ics have argued that the designation of Grendel as a healðegn indicates his envious desire to be a

member of society;36 his actions, including his unsuccessful attempts to approach the gifstol or

throne, can thus be seen as grotesque attempts to imitate social behaviour.37 Similarly, Grendel rules 32 The following two paragraphs follow closely the argument in chapter 3 of my Representations of the Natural World.33 Cf. Irving, A Reading of Beowulf, p. 15.34 The unexpectedness of this description of Grendel has led some critics to doubt the authority of this word. Some, including Trautmann, Sedgefield, and Holthausen, have suggested that helðegn is more logical, as it echoes the earlier description of Grendel as a feond on helle ‘enemy in hell’ (line 101b); conversely, some have argued for emending the earlier line to feond on healle ‘the enemy in the hall’. See ASPR IV, p. 123.35 Irving, Reading of Beowulf, p. 18. Cf. Magennis, Images of Community, p. 62.36 Harry Berger, Jr. and H. Marshall Leicester, Jr., ‘Social Structure as Doom: The Limits of Heroism in Beowulf’, in Old English Studies in Honour of John C. Pope, eds Robert B. Burlin and Edward B. Irving, Jr. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974), pp. 37–79 at 52. See also Joyce Hill, ‘Figures of Evil in Old English Poetry’, Leeds Studies in English 8 (1975), 5–19 at 10; Joseph L. Baird, ‘“For metode”: Beowulf 169’, English Studies 49 (1968), 418–23 at 423.37 Although I assume that it is Grendel who cannot approach the gifstol, there are other possible interpretations; it has been argued that it is Hrothgar who cannot approach his own throne. For discussion, see Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur, The Art of Beowulf (1959; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1960), pp. 200–05; Robert M. Estrich, ‘The Throne of HrothgarBeowulf, ll. 168–169’, Journal of English and Germanic Philology 43 (1944), 384–89; Stanley B. Greenfield ‘“Gifstol” and Goldhoard in Beowulf’, in Old English Studies in Honour of John C. Pope, eds R. B. Burlin and Edward B. Irving, Jr. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974) pp. 107–17 at 110–12; Arthur E. Du Bois, ‘Gifstol’, Modern Language Notes 69 (1954), 546–49; Robert Howren, ‘A Note on Beowulf 168–69’, Modern Language Notes 71 (1956), 317–18; David Clipsham, ‘Beowulf 168–169’, In Geardagum (1974), 19–24; R. E. Kaske, ‘The Gifstol Crux in Beowulf’, Leeds Studies in

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the fens like a perverse king and, for twelve years, Heorot as well; he also possesses a sele ‘hall’ of

his own in which there are weapons and treasure,38 but if this is an attempt to imitate Heorot, it is a

dark reflection, for, this is a lonely, dangerous place, a niðsele ‘battle hall’ (line 1513a), an inversion

of the safety of the communal hall in which resides the friendly company that Wealhtheow de-

scribes.39 She says:

Her is æghwylc eorl oþrum getrywe,

modes milde, mandrihtne hold,

þegnas syndon geþwære, þeod ealgearo.... (Beowulf, lines 1228–30)

[Here each man is true to each other, mild of heart, loyal to the lord; the thegns are harmoni-

ous, the people all willing.]

Grendel, of course, is in no way ‘mild of heart’ or ‘harmonious’; he is an atol angengea ‘a terrible

solitary walker’ (line 165a) whose mind appears perpetually reþe ‘fierce’ (lines 122a). In addition,

unlike Wealtheow’s loyal thegns, Grendel never renders tribute to Hrothgar after his war-like raids

as a thegn should do40; instead, he strives against him (lines 151b–52a), stands ana wið eallum

‘alone against them all’ (line 145a), and, instead of being ‘true’ to members of society, he kills and

eats them.

This consumption, like the dragon’s cup, may have far-reaching implications. Warriors who

have served their king well, who have fulfilled the agreements that sustain society, should receive a

reverent burial. The men who fall defending Hrothgar’s hall, however, receive no burial at all, no

public affirmation: they are, on the contrary, literally ‘incorporated’ into a negative, anti-social en-

tity.41 The issue of cannibalism is too complex to do justice to it here, but what is critical is not nu-

English 16 (1985), 142–51.38 Paul Beekman Taylor, ‘Grendel’s Monstrous Arts’, In Geardagum 6 (1984): 1–12 at 3.39 For Wealtheow’s role in the representation of this ideal society, see M. J. Enright, ‘The Lady with a Mead-Cup: Ritual, Group Cohesion and Hierarchy in the Germanic Warband’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien 22 (1988), 170–203. Cf. also J. M. Hill, The Cultural World in Beowulf (Toronto, Buffalo, NY, and London: University of Toronto Press, 1955), pp. 100–04.40 Hill, ‘Figures of Evil’, p. 10.41 Cf. Robinson’s discussion in his Beowulf and the Appositive Style (p. 62): ‘The term “uncuðne nið” [line 276b] is vague: unusual war? unheard-of affliction? strange persecution? The appositive phrase gives shocking clarification, for “hynðu ond hrafyl” [line 277a] would seem to mean "humiliating injury and cannibalism". Scholars seem heretofore to have taken the hapax legomenon hrafyl as a compound made up of hraw and fiell and to mean “the falling of corpses” or, vaguely, “death, slaughter.” But the element fyl should probably be understood not as a form of fiell but rather of fyll, “feast, satiety, fill,” hrafyl meaning “feasting on human bodies,” or “cannibalism.” The bodies of the Danes whom Grendel had been seizing in Heorot did not, strictly speaking, “fall,” but rather the monster snatched them up and gorged on them. (The element fyll is used repeatedly in the poem to describe Grendel’s grisly feasting on slain victims: cf. lines 125 [wælfylle], 734 [wistfylle], and 1333 [fylle].) It is this characteristic that makes his attacks so “strange”

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trition but the maintenance and regeneration of social order.42 On a very simple level, social taboos,

like those banning the consumption of certain things, are what define ‘us and them’; Grendel’s viol-

ent breaking of this very basic taboo threatens the stability of the society defined by it. On a literary

theoretical level, Grendel’s entry into the hall and physical incorporation of other hall-thegns into

himself43 threatens to break down what Derrida considers the most basic of the binary oppositions

that constitute society, that between inside and outside.44 On an anthropological level, human beings

both accuse others of cannibalism and engage in it themselves in a ritual struggle against the forces

of chaos, animality, destruction, and darkness.45 On a psychological level, Freud argues that human

beings control their primal disposition to aggression by directing their hostility outwards; those who

reside beyond their own social boundaries are seen as cannibals but also as victims worthy of being

tortured and eaten.46 Grendel’s cannibalistic gorging and the subsequent dismemberment and tri-

umphant display of him fit well into these patterns: first, forces of aggression are first externalised

as a monster, and then they are overcome in a violent act that affirms the structures and bonds of so-

ciety, that makes possible the return to the secure, joyful feast in the hall—a return, perhaps, to an

ideal Golden Age, where all differences are assimilated and subsumed.47

I have gone on at length about the social implications of Grendel and the dragon because I be-

lieve that it is the threat to society that determines their status as monsters. These social criteria are

also displayed in the Wonders of the East, a Latin text translated into Old English prose.48 There hu-

man-like creatures are carefully distinguished from humanity by ascribing to them animal heads or

limbs, radically non-human features, unusual colour, hairiness, fiery breath, and large size.49 The

(uncuð) and, to a people given to reverent burial customs, an abasement (hynðu)’.42 Peggy Reeves Sanday, Divine Hunger: Cannibalism as a Cultural System (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), p. 3.43 Note that he also usurps their title as healðegnas.44 Jacques Derrida, Dissemination, trans. Barbara Johnson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), p. 103.45 Sanday, Divine Hunger, p. 6.46 Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (New York: W. W. Norton, 1961), p. 61. Cf. Sanday, Divine Hunger, p. 51.47 Maggy Kilgour, From Communion to Cannibalism An Anatomy of Metaphors of Incorporation (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), p. 5.48 Text of The Wonders of the East is taken from Orchard, Pride and Prodigies, pp. 184-202; references will be cited by section number only. This paragraph follows the discussion in Chapter 2 of my Representations of the Natural World. 49 These examples are not illustrative, not exhaustive. Animal limbs: hi habbað olfenda fet and eoferes teð ‘they have camel’s feet and boar’s teeth’ (§27); longe sceancan swa fugelas ‘long legs like birds’ (§17); horses manan and eoferes tucxas and hunda heafda ‘horse’s manes and boar’s tusks and dog’s heads’ (§7). Non-human features: tu neb on anum heafde ‘two noses on one head’ (§11); earan swa fann ‘ears like fans’

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concluding proofs of strangeness, of distinction from humanity, however, are often statements about

these creatures’ social practices. While hostility is human enough, the anti-social act of cannibalism

is commonly attributed to the monstrous races;50 eating raw fish or flesh is also noted,51 as is giving

away women,52 and fleeing from human contact.53 In illustrations, they are often depicted nude. For

the Anglo-Saxons (and their sources) evidence of humanity resides in physical congruence to their

own appearance, diet, diplomatic relations, and clothing.54 That is, texts like The Wonders of the

East show how the Anglo-Saxons sought to define themselves in opposition to those outside both

their physical and social boundaries.

The careful distinctions between human and non-human that are displayed in the depiction of

the monstrous races may offer a useful perspective for the vexed question of whether or not Grendel

is human. Despite the inventory of headless men and giant hairy women, I believe that the basis of

distinction in The Wonders of the East is not the species to which a creature or person belongs. Of

course, the concept of a ‘species’ is a sixteenth-century invention, but it is also one so basic to our

way of looking at ourselves that it is worth noting its absence here. Augustine and Pliny suggest that

strange characteristics and customs do not necessarily render a monster non-human. Old English

texts, on the other hand, suggest that, although the human characteristics ascribed to Grendel and

the monstrous races may indicate that they are Homo sapiens, being Homo sapiens may not grant

them human status: human status is conferred on the basis of conformance to social rules. So

Grendel may have been a human being at one time, but he is not any more—not because he is huge,

(§21); butan heafdum,...on heora breostum heora eagan and muð ‘without heads, their eyes and mouths on their chests’ (§15). Unusual colour: the sigelwara ‘Ethiopians’, who are sweartes hiwes on ansyne ‘dark-coloured on their faces’ (§32); others’ bodies are on marmorstanes hwitnysse ‘the whiteness of marble’ (§27); some are even on þreosellices hiwes ‘tri-coloured’ (§12). Hairiness: some have beardas oþ cneow side and feax oð helan ‘beards down to their knees and hair to their heels’ (§8). Fiery breath: the breath of the Cynocephali byð swylce fyres lig ‘is like a fiery flame’ (§7). Large size: the Hostes have fet and sceancan twelf fota lange, sidan mid breostum seofon fota lange ‘feet and legs that are twelve feet long, sides and chests that are seven feet long’ (§13).50 E.g. swa hwylcne mann swa hi gefoð, þonne fretað hi hine ‘whichever man they capture, they devour’ (§13).51 E.g. be hreawan fisceon [Homodubii] libbað and þa etaþ ‘the Doubtfully-Men live on and eat raw fish’ (§8); others be hreawan flæsce and be hunige lifigeað ‘live on raw flesh and honey’ (§28).52 Gyf hwylc mann to him cymeð þonne gyfað hi him wif ær hi hine onweg lætan ‘if anyone comes to them, they give him a woman before they let him go away’ (§30).53 E.g. gif hi hwylcne man on ðam landum ongitað oððe geseoþ oððe him hwylc folligende bið, þonne feorriað hi and fleoð, and blode þæt hi swætað ‘if they perceive or see anyone on the land or if someone is following them, they flee far away and sweat blood’ (§12).54 John Block Friedman, ‘The Marvels-of-the-East Tradition in Anglo-Saxon Art’, in Sources of Anglo-Saxon Culture, eds Paul E. Szarmach and Virginia Darrow Oggins, Studies in Medieval Culture 20 (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute, 1986), pp. 319–41 at 322.

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as Beowulf also is55, but because he is a mearcstapa ‘boundary-walker’ (Beowulf, line 103a),

someone who stands outside of the social boundaries that define humanity. He is a monster, not

simply because he has glowing eyes, but because he breaks those boundaries, intrudes into human

society, performs acts forbidden by society, and thus threatens society’s very existence.56

With these criteria, it is possible to identify some other Old English monsters. An obvious

choice is Cain, who, from the Anglo-Saxon point of view demonstrated in the Old English Genesis,

violates the kin-bond which underlies Germanic society and is thus exiled to a place outside of hu-

man society. Indeed, the Beowulf-poet identifies Cain as the source of all monsters (lines 111–14).57

Similarly, Heremod, the evil king described by Hrothgar, attacks the fabric of society in exactly the

same way that the dragon does: he refuses to circulate treasure, to reward his followers and thus ce -

ment the bonds that hold society together (Beowulf, lines 1709–22). As a result, like Cain, Heremod

ana hwearf / ... mondreamum from ‘turned away alone from the joys of men’ (lines 1714b–15b) and

joined the Eotena, who may themselves be monsters.58 Like Grendel, he becomes leodbealu long-

sum ‘a long-lasting affliction to the people’ (line 1722a). To say that Heremod becomes a monster,

however, is not necessarily to argue that Heremod is a ‘man-dragon’;59 Heremod does not have to be

a dragon to be a ‘monster’. In this regard, one might note that Holofernes, who has no connections

with dragons, does share something with Grendel: he perverts the feasting ceremony.

Swa se inwidda ofer ealne dæg

dryhtguman sine drencte mid wine,

swiðmod sinces brytta, oðþæt hie on swiman lagon,

oferdrencte his duguðe ealle, swylce hie wæron deaðe geslegene,

agotene goda gehwylces. (Judith, lines 28-32a)

55 Hrothgar’s coast guard notes Beowulf’s exceptional size (lines 247b–49a).56 By these criteria, Beowulf emphatically is not a monster, but cf. Orchard, Pride and Prodigies, pp. 53–57 and 169–71.57 Note that calling Cain a monster contradicts Augustine’s definition, as Cain is both a descendant of Adam and rational—as are his descendants, presumably.58 He mid Eotenum wearð / on feonda geweald forð forlacen, / snude forsended ‘he was henceforth betrayed into the power of enemies among the giants [or the Jutes?], quickly put to death’ (902b–04a). For the identity of the Jutes, see R. E. Kaske, ‘The Eotenas in Beowulf’, in Old English Poetry: Fifteen Essays, ed. Robert P. Creed (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1967), pp. 285–310. Note that eotenas are unambiguously monsters at line 112a.59 Cf. Tripp, More About the Fight with the Dragon.

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[Thus the evil one, the arrogant distributer of treasure, drowned his own troop of men with

wine for the whole day, until they lay in a swoon, his entire host over-drunk, just as if they

were slain in death, with every good poured out of them.]

Through the actions of both Grendel and Holofernes, the sacred ritual of the feast, which should

consecrate warriors and king to each other, which should both create and celebrate society, results in

death. This subversion of human ceremony marks Holofernes as yet another monster, yet another

transgressor of the boundaries that define humanity. As a result, although Holofernes might appear

to a modern audience to be an almost pathetic and fully human victim, Judith’s treatment of him,

like the Geats’ treatment of the dragon, would probably inspire little sympathy in an Anglo-Saxon

audience.

It is possible to overstate the case for the social issues underlying the definition of monsters.

However, other types of Old English texts also suggest that the line between human beings like

Heremod and monsters like Grendel can be both very fine and easily transgressible, and that the

horror aroused by those who cross that line—willingly or not—is similar if not identical to that in-

spired by monsters defined by their physical characteristics.

Exile draws attention to the sharp divisions between the inside and the outside, for exiles are

forced to step outside the protective boundaries and definitions of human society into the violent

and chaotic natural world. 60 From a modern reader’s point of view the reason for this stepping out-

side is significant: Grendel is outside (both physically and socially) because he is a violent breaker

of laws, but the Wanderer is not to be tarred with the same brush, even though he, too, is outside in

more than one way: not only does he apparently spend a considerable amount of time outside in the

natural world, but, even when he manages to find shelter, he sits outside the circle of community,

sundor æt rune ‘apart in secret’ (The Wanderer, line111b). Although the Anglo-Saxons no doubt saw

a difference between these wretched, solitary dwellers,61 the suspicion associated with the exile

should not be overlooked, regardless of the Christian symbolism developed through it.62 Human be-

ings exist only in social places like the hall, where their roles, responsibilities, and relationships to

60 These boundaries are often represented by physical walls. The crumbling of such walls (as in The Ruin) thus summons up the feelings of loss experienced by those ‘No longer locked into a meaningful place in the intricate pattern of relationships’ (Edward B. Irving, Jr., ‘Image and Meaning in the Elegies’, in Old English Poetry: Fifteen Essays, pp. 153–66 at 157); for a similar discussion of the wall depicted in The Wanderer, see ibid., p. 163. Cf. also the protective walls of Jerusalem and Babylon in Daniel.61 The Wanderer is an anhaga (The Wanderer, line 1a); Grendel is an angenga (Beowulf, lines 165a and 449a).62 This Christian symbolism is not necessarily incompatible with a suspicious figure; see P. L. Henry, The Early English and Celtic Lyric (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1966), pp. 21-23.

15

each other are defined. Thus Maxims II locates the natural place of the king as being in the hall

dealing out treasure.63 Outside in the natural world, on the other hand, there are dragons, bears, fish,

and ‘people’ whose natures are at best ambiguous, at worst monstrous, including the thief travelling

alone in dark weather and the þyrs dwelling alone in the fen: þeof sceal gangan þystrum wederum.

Þyrs sceal on fenne gewunian / ana innan lande, ‘a thief must travel in dark weather; a þyrs must

dwell in the fen, alone in the land’ (Maxims II, lines 42–43a).

Both the þyrs and the thief are alienated from society; they are out-laws, because they live

outside the law. The þyrs may never have been human, of course, but, as has been argued earlier, his

species is not as important as the fact that he now resides outside the boundaries that define human-

ity. He may merely be another miserable exile, in fact. The thief, on the other hand, may be another

monster.

Much has been said about the powerful, elegaic poetry of exile, and thus it is important to

note that the suspicions raised by this argument do not, in fact, contradict the stirring melancholy of

poems like The Wanderer. Rather, they add to a modern reader’s appreciation of the seriousness of

becoming an exile. The state of the exile is precarious and miserable, for exiles lose everything: lost

in the natural world, they lose their status as members of society, a status which confers upon them

both power over others and the right to protection from those more powerful.64 They may even lose

their identities as human beings, becoming a member of the monstrous, sub-human races as Grendel

may have done or, worse, a feast for a wolf, like the ‘friendless, unhappy man’ in Maxims I:

Wineleas, wonsælig mon genimeð him wulfas to geferan,

felafæcne deor. Ful oft hine se gefera sliteð;

gryre sceal for greggum, græf deadum men;

hungre heofeð, nales þæt heafe bewindeð,

ne huru wæl wepeð wulf se græga,

morþorcwealm mæcga, ac hit a mare wile. (lines 146–51)

63 Cyning sceal on healle / beagas dælan, ‘a king must share out treasure in the hall’ (Maxims II, lines 28b-29a).64 The situation is especially dire for those who have been excommunicated: beo he utlah wið God and amansumod fram eallum Cristendome and wið þone cyning scyldig ealles þæs þe he age, ‘he is outlawed from God and excommunicated from all of Christendom and liable to the king for everything he owns’ (I Cnut 17). Citations from Anglo-Saxon law codes are taken from Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen, ed. Felix Liebermann, 3 vols (Halle: Niemeyer, 1903–16). Note that Cain is exiled both from his kin and from the sight of God (Genesis, lines 1047b–50). Cf. Henry, Early English and Celtic Lyric, p. 22.

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[The friendless, unhappy man takes wolves, a very deceitful beast, as his companions. Very

often that companion will tear him; there must be terror for the grey ones, (and) a grave for

dead men; the grey wolf laments his hunger, not at all does he raise up wailing (or) weep

about the slaughter, the murderous death of men, but always wants more.]

This passage is not without its ambiguities, however. The passage may be read in a slightly different

way: rather than wolves, the friendless man may take criminals and outlaws, men no better than

beasts, as companions.65 The possibility that ‘wolf’ may indicate not only a wild dog but also a

criminal is one that was once debated earnestly but has now been largely laid to rest:66 although the

Old Icelandic word vargr, a cognate for the Old English wearg, means both wolf and outlaw, this

kind of double meaning apparently prevailed only after the Anglo-Saxon period.67 In Old English, a

wulf was a wolf and a wearg was a criminal—or, perhaps, a monster.68 That is, while there may be a

clear distinction in philologists’ minds regarding the meaning of wearg, in Old English poetry (and

perhaps also in Old English law) the exile was not so clean-cut; a thief or outlaw worthy of being

‘shot on sight’ might not have seemed so different from a wolf.69 Charters add yet more information

to cloud the waters further: there are references in boundary clauses to places called wearge dune

and weargeburnan.70 While it is possible that these landmarks are ‘criminal hills’ and ‘criminal

brooks’ (that is, perhaps, places where criminals were hung),71 it seems equally likely that they may

be ‘wolf hills’ and ‘wolf streams’, like the ‘fox holes’ that mark other boundaries. 72

65 Cf. Henry, The Early English and Celtic Lyric, pp. 22–23.66 See Michael Jacoby, Wargus, vargr ‘Verbrecher’ ‘Wolf’: eine sprach- und rechtsgeschichtliche Untersuchung, Studia Germanistica Upsaliensia 12 (Uppsala:Almqvist & Wiksell, 1974) for bibliography. See also Bosworth-Toller, s.v. wearg. Cf. E. G. Stanley, ‘Old English Poetic Diction and the Interpretation of The Wanderer, The Seafarer, and The Penitent’s Prayer’, Anglia 73 (1956), 413–66 at 442 and idem., ‘Wolf, My Wolf!’, in Old English and New: Studies in Language and Linguistics in Honor of Frederic G. Cassidy, eds Joan H. Hall, Nick Doane and Dick Ringler (New York and London: Garland, 1992), pp. 46–62.67 Jacoby demonstrates that the double meaning of ‘criminal’ and ‘wolf’ for wearg did not exist before 1000 A.D.68 Wearg is also a term applied to the devil. Note that Richard Jordan defines wearg as ‘demon’ as well as ‘wolf’ and ‘criminal’—see Die altenglischen Säugetiernamen, Anglistische Forschungen 12 (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1903), p. 65.69 See II Cnut 4.2: ðeofas and ðeodsceaðan to timan forwurðan, buton hi geswican ‘thieves and criminals against the people must perish at that opportunity, unless they submit’. Also anyone providing shelter or food to an outlaw was guilty of a crime (see II Cnut 13.2).70 For wearge dune see charters S495 and S1565; for wearge burnan see S820; for wearge burninga see S1013. For details of texts in which these charters may be found, see P. H. Sawyer, Anglo-Saxon Charters: An Annotated List and Bibliography, Royal Historical Society Guides and Handbooks 8 (London: Offices of the Royal Historical Society, 1968).71 Wearh roda ‘criminal’s gallows’, for example, fairly certainly refers to a site of execution (see S647 and S685).72 For wolf-hills, see the wulfhleoþu ‘wolf slopes’ in Beowulf (line 1358a). For ‘fox holes’, see, for example, S343, S379, S575, and S647.

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I do not wish to ressurect the linguistic debate over the meaning of the word wearg. My point

is that becoming an outlaw meant losing all connection with society and that it is the reciprocal rela-

tionships that create and safeguard society that render a person a human being. Cut off from these

relationships, even a member of Homo sapiens could lose human status and become a monster not

dissimilar to savage wolves. Such a monster could be called a wearg.

This point adds another ambiguity to the passage from Maxims I. The passage seems to de-

scribe a tragic situation, in which an unlucky man meets even worse luck and dies a terrible death,

whether by wild beasts or criminals. The situation may not be as tragic as a modern reader sup-

poses, however. In Anglo-Saxon law, the ‘friendless’ man is a stranger,73 a potential thief, murderer,

or traitor; without a lord, kinsman, or witness to vouch for him, he is a loose cannon, dangerous un-

til destroyed or placed into a social framework.74 The friendless man in Maxims I thus may not be

an innocent victim, and an Anglo-Saxon audience may not have been sympathetic to his plight—

may have seen in him a figure as alien and frightening as his wolfish companions.75 The alien and

frightening nature of the freondleas man may be the source of the ambiguity that critics have per-

ceived in the word wearg rather than any linguistic slippage: the attitude toward the criminal may

not have been much different from that toward a savage beast. Both could be monsters.

In conclusion, the Beowulf-poet’s comment that the Danes did not receive wergild ‘compensa-

tion’ for the men eaten by Grendel (lines 157–58) may not have been a purely ironic touch.

Grendel’s refusal to conform to social rules is not an incidental point; it is the essence of his mon-

strousness. This criterion for defining monsters inevitably privileges man-shaped monsters. It does

not, however disqualify creatures like the dragon. In fact, the social criterion is even relevant to the

description of the niceras killed by Beowulf as a youth, since they invert the important social cere-

73 Cf. the use of the word giest ‘guest’. Guests may be, like the Geats in Hrothgar’s court, welcome visitors (Beowulf, line 1602b), but, in Beowulf, at least, the relationship between a guest and his or her host appears more often to be one of antagonism; other ‘guests’ in the poem include the monsters in Grendel’s mere (line 1441a), the dragon (line 2560a), Hengest in Finn’s court (line 1138a), Beowulf in Grendel’s mother’s lair (lines 1522b and 1545a), and (perhaps) the slave who robs the dragon’s lair (line 2228a).74 For example, by submitting first to imprisonment and then to trial by ordeal; see II Cnut 35: And freondleas man oððe feorran cuman swa geswenced weorðe þurh freondleaste, þæt he borh næbbe, æt frymtyhtlan, þone gebuge he hengenne & þær gebide, oð ðæt he ga to Godes ordale & gefare ðær þæt he mæge ‘a friendless man or visitor from afar is thus afflicted by his lack of friends, so that he does not have protection; at the first accusation he submits to imprisonment [or torture?] and waits there until he goes to God’s ordeal and fares there as he may’.75 If the man is ‘devoured’ by fellow-criminals, it is possible that suspicions of cannibalism may enter into the definition of criminals as well.

18

mony of the feast76 when they ‘invite’ their ‘guest’ to the bottom of the sea to be ‘incorporated’ into

themselves. In Old English poetry, it is this kind of reference to the social rules consituting human-

ity that provide the framework for defining the monstrous.

76 Magennis, Images of Community, pp.42–48, 60–73.

19