Amenities of Literature Part 5

[2] "The Six Days of the Creation" offered a subject for an heroic poem to Dracontius, a Spanish monk, in the fifth century, and who was censured for neglecting to honour the seventh by a description of the Sabbath of the Divine repose. It is preserved in "Bib. Patrum," vol.

viii., and has been published with notes. Genesis and Exodus--the fall of Adam--the Deluge--and the pa.s.sage of the Red Sea, were themes which invited the sacred effusions of Avitus, the Archbishop of Vienne, who flourished in the sixth century. His writings were collected by Pere Sirmond. This Archbishop attacked the Arians, but we have only fragments of these polemical pamphlets; as these were highly orthodox, what is wanting occasioned regrets in a former day.

Other histories in Latin verse drawn from the Old Testament are recorded.

[3] Among our ancestors all proper names were significant; and when they are not, we have the strongest presumptive reasons for suspecting that the name has been borrowed from some other tongue.

The piety of many monks in their pilgrimages in the Holy Land would induce them to acquire some knowledge of the Hebrew or even the Chaldee--Bede read Hebrew. A scholar who has justly observed this, somewhat cabalistically has discovered that "the initial word of Genesis in Chaldee," and printed in Hebraic characters [Hebrew: behadsin], exhibits the presumed name of the Saxon monk.

[4] This sort of cento seems to have been a favourite fancy with this masterly versifier; for of another Anglo-Saxon bard who composed on warlike subjects, this critic says--"If the names of Patroclus and Menelaus were subst.i.tuted for Byrthnoth and G.o.dric, some of the scenes might be almost literally translated into a cento of lines from Homer." Homer's claim to originality, however, is secure from any critical collation with the old Saxon monk.

[5] Notwithstanding the information with which I was favoured, I cannot divest myself of the notion that "the rebellion of the angels"

must be more explicitly described among the Jewish traditions than yet appears; because we find allusions to it in two of the apostolical writings. In the epistle of Jude, ver. 6: "_The angels which kept not their first estate_, but left their own habitation, He hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day." And in Peter, ii. 4: "_G.o.d spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to h.e.l.l_, and delivered them unto chains of darkness to be reserved unto judgment." These texts have admitted of some dispute; but it seems, however, probable that the apostles, just released from their Jewish bondage, had not emanc.i.p.ated themselves from the received Hebraical doctrines.

[6] Paradise Lost, ii. 594.

[7] Inferno, Canto iii. 5.

[8] Caedmon, p. 29.

[9] Paradise Lost, i. 221.

[10] Paradise Lost, i. 592.

[11] Paradise Lost, v. 798.

[12] Guest's "History of English Rhythms," ii. 23.

[13] This curious literary information has been disclosed by ROGER WILLIAMS, the founder of the State of Rhode Island, who was despatched to England in 1651, to obtain the repeal of a charter granted to Mr. Coddington. I give this remarkable pa.s.sage in the words of this Anglo-American:--"It pleased the Lord to call me for some time and with some persons to practise the Hebrew, the Greek, Latin, French and Dutch. _The secretary of the council, Mr. Milton, for my Dutch I read him, read me many more languages._ Grammar rules begin to be esteemed a tyranny. I taught two young gentlemen, a parliament-man's sons, as we teach our children English--by words, phrases, and constant talk, &c." This vague &c. stands so in the original, and leaves his "wondrous tale half-told." "Memoirs of Roger Williams, the Founder of the State of Rhode Island, by James D.

Knowles, Professor of Pastoral Duties in the Newton Theological Inst.i.tution," 1834, p. 264.

I am indebted for this curious notice to the prompt kindness of my most excellent friend ROBERT SOUTHEY; a name long dear to the public as it will be to posterity; an author, the accuracy of whose knowledge does not yield to its extent.

[14] Mr. SOUTHEY observes, in a letter now before me, that "VONDEL'S 'Lucifer' was published in 1654. His 'Samson,' the same subject as the 'Agonistes,' 1661. His 'Adam,' 1664. CaeDMON, ANDREINI, and VONDEL, each or all, may have led Milton to consider the subject of his 'Paradise Lost.' But Vondel is the one who is most likely to have impressed him. Neither the Dutch nor the language were regarded with disrespect in those days. Vondel was the greatest writer of that language, and the _Lucifer_ is esteemed the best of his tragedies.

Milton alone excepted, he was probably the greatest poet then living."

This critical note furnishes curious dates. Milton was blind when the _Lucifer_ was published; and there is so much of the personal feelings and condition of the poet himself in his "Samson Agonistes,"

that it is probable little or no resemblance could be traced in the Hollander. The "Adam" of Milton, and the whole "Paradise" itself, was completed in 1661. As for Caedmon, I submit the present chapter to Mr.

Southey's decision.

No great genius appears to have made such free and wise use of his reading as Milton has done, and which has led in several instances to an accusation of what some might term plagiarism. We are not certain that Milton, when not yet blind, may not have read some of those obscure modern Latin poets whom Lauder scented out.

[15] Guest's "History of English Rhythms."

[16] This speech, in which Satan appeals to and characterises his Infernals, may be read in Parfait's a.n.a.lysis of the Mystery.--_Hist.

du Theatre Francois_, i. 79.

[17] _L'Angeleida_ of VALVASONE, the _Adamo_ of ANDREINI, and others.--Hayley's Conjectures on the Origin of "Paradise Lost." See also Tiraboschi, and Ginguene.

[18] These singular attempts at art may be inspected in above fifty plates, in the Archaeologia, vol. xx. We may rejoice at their preservation, for art, even in the attempts of its children, may excite ideas which might not else have occurred to us.

BEOWULF; THE HERO-LIFE.

The Anglo-Saxon poetical narrative of "The Exploits of Beowulf" forms a striking contrast with the chronological paraphrase of Caedmon. Its genuine antiquity unquestionably renders it a singular curiosity; but it derives an additional interest from its representation of the primitive simplicity of a Homeric period--the infancy of customs and manners and emotions of that Hero-life, which the Homeric poems first painted for mankind:--that Hero-life of which Macpherson in his Ossian caught but imperfect conceptions from the fragments he may have collected, while he metamorphosed his ideal Celtic heroes into those of the sentimental romance of another age and another race.

The northern hordes under their petty chieftains, cast into a parallel position with those princes of Greece whose realms were provinces, and whose people were tribes, often resembled them in the like circ.u.mstances, the like characters, and the like manners. Such were those kinglings who could possess themselves of a territory in a single incursion, and whose younger brothers, stealing out of their lone bays, extended their dominion as "Sea-Kings" on the illimitable ocean.[1] The war-ship and the mead-hall bring us back to that early era of society, when great men knew only to be heroes, flattered by their bards, whose songs are ever the echoes of their age and their patrons.

We discover these heroes, Danes or Angles, as we find them in the Homeric period, audacious with the self-confidence of their bodily prowess; vaunting, and talkative of their sires and of themselves; the son ever known by denoting the father, and the father by his marriage alliance--that primitive mode of recognition, at a period when, amid the perpetual conflicts of rival chieftains, scarcely any but relations could be friends; the family bond was a sure claim to protection. Like the Homeric heroes, they were as unrelenting in their hatreds as indissoluble in their partisanship; suspicious of the stranger, but welcoming the guest; we find them rapacious, for plunder was their treasure, and prodigal in their distributions of their golden armlets and weighed silver, for their egotism was as boundless as their violence. Yet pride and glory fermented the coa.r.s.e leaven of these mighty marauders, who were even chivalric ere chivalry rose into an order. The religion of these ages was wild as their morality; few heroes but bore some relationship to Woden; and even in their rude paganised Christianity, some mythological name cast its l.u.s.tre in their genealogies. In the uncritical chronicles of the middle ages it is not always evident whether the mortal was not a divinity. Their mythic legends have thrown confusion into their national annals, often accepted by historians as authentic records.[2] But if antiquaries still wander among shadows, the poet cannot err. BEOWULF may be a G.o.d or a nonent.i.ty, but the poem which records his exploits must at least be true, true in the manners it paints and the emotions which the poet reveals--the emotions of his contemporaries.

BEOWULF,[3] a chieftain of the Western Danes, was the Achilles of the North. We first view him with his followers landing on the sh.o.r.es of a Danish kingling. A single ship with an armed company, in those predatory days, could alarm a whole realm. The petty independent provinces of Greece afford a parallel; for Thucydides has marked this period in society, when plunder well fought for was honoured as an heroic enterprise. When a vessel touched on a strange sh.o.r.e, the adventurers were questioned "whether they were thieves?" a designation which the inquirers did not intend as a term of reproach, nor was it scorned by the valiant;[4] for the spoliation of foreigners, at a time when the law of nations had no existence, seemed no disgrace, while it carried with it something of glory, when the chieftain's sword maintained the swarm of his followers, or acquired for himself an extended dominion.

Beowulf was a mailed knight, and his gilded ensign hung like a meteor in the air, and none knew the fate it portended. The warder of the coast, for in those days many a warder kept "ocean-watch" on the sea-cliffs, takes horse, and hastens to the invader; fearlessly he asks, "Whence, and what are ye? Soonest were best to give me answer."

The hero had come not to seek feud, nor to provoke insult, but with the free offering of his own life to relieve the sovereign of the Eastern Danes, whose thanes, for twelve years, had vainly perished, struggling with a mysterious being--one of the accursed progeny of Cain--a foul and solitary creature of the mora.s.s and the marsh. In the dead of the night this enemy of man, envious of glory and abhorrent of pleasure, glided into the great hall of state and revelry, raging athirst for the blood of the brave there reposing in slumber. The tale had spread in songs through all Gothland. This life-devourer, who comes veiled in a mist from the marshes, may be some mythic being; but though monstrous, it does little more than play the part of the Polyphemus of antiquity and the Ogre of modern fairyism.

In the timber-palace chambers were but small and few, and the guests of the petty sovereign slept in the one great hall, under whose echoing roof the Witenagemot a.s.sembled, and the royal banquet was held; there each man had his "bed and bolster" laid out, with his shield at his head, and his helmet, breastplate, and spear placed on a rack beside him--"at all times ready for combat both in house and field."

This scene is truly Homeric; and thus we find in the early state of Greece, for the historian records this continual wearing of armour, _like the barbarians_, because "their houses were unfenced, and travelling was unsafe."[5]

The watchman of the seas leaves not the coast, duteous in his lonely cares; while Beowulf, with his companions, marches onwards. They came to where the streets were paved; an indication in that age of a regal residence. The iron rings in their mailed coats rang as they trod in their "terrible armour." They reach the king's house; they hang up their shields against the lofty wall. They seat themselves on a bench, placing in a circle their mailed coats, their bucklers, and their javelins. This warlike array called forth an Ulysses, "famed for war and wisdom;" they parley; the thane hastens to announce the warlike but the friendly visitor; and the hero, so famed for valour, yet would not obtrude his person, standing behind the thane, "for he knew the rule of ceremony."

The prince of the East Danes joyfully exclaims, that "he had known Beowulf when a child; he remembered the name of his father, who married the only daughter of Hrethel the Goth. It is said that he has the strength of thirty men in the grip of his hand. G.o.d only could have sent him."

Beowulf, he whose beautiful ship had come over "the swan-path," may now peacefully show himself in his warlike array. Beowulf stood upon the dais; his "sark of netted mail" glittered where the armourer's skill had wrought around the war-net. Here we discover the ornamental artist as in the Homeric period. He found the prince of the East Danes, "old and bald" like Priam, seated among his earls. Our hero, whom we have observed so decorous in "his rule of ceremony," now launches forth in the commendation of his own prowess.

He who had come to vanquish a fiend exulted not less in a swimming-match in the seas, "when the waves were boiling with the fury of winter,"

during seven whole days and nights, combating with the walruses.

The exploits of Beowulf are of a supernatural cast; and this circ.u.mstance has bewildered his translator amid mythic allusions, and thus the hero sinks into the incarnation of a Saxon idol,--a protector of the human race. It is difficult to decide whether the marvellous incidents be mythical, or merely exaggerations of the northern poetic faculty. We, however, learn by these, that corporeal energies and an indomitable spirit were the glories of the hero-life; and the outbreaks of their self-complacency resulted from their own convictions, after many a fierce trial.

Such an heroic race we deem barbarous; but what are the n.o.bler spirits of all times but the creatures of their age? who, however favoured by circ.u.mstances, can only do that which is practicable in the condition of society.

Henforth, the son of Eglaff, sate at the feet of the king; jealousy stirred in his breast at the prowess of "the proud seafarer." This cynical minister of the king ridicules his youthful exploits, and sarcastically a.s.sured the hero, that "he has come to a worse matter now, should he dare to pa.s.s the s.p.a.ce of one night with the fiend." This personage is the Thersites of our northern Homer--

With witty malice studious to defame, Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim.

And like Thersites, the son of Eglaff receives a blasting reproach:--"I tell thee, son of Eglaff, drunken with mead, that I have greater strength upon the sea than any other man. We two (he alludes to his compet.i.tor), when we were but boys, with our naked swords in our hands, where the waves were fiercest, warred with the walruses. The whale-fish dragged me to the bottom of the sea, grim in his gripe; the mighty sea-beast received the war-rush through my hand. The sea became calm, so that I beheld the ocean promontories, as the light broke from the east.

Never since have the sea-sailors been hindered of their way; never have I heard of a harder battle by night under the concave of heaven, nor of a man more wretched on the ocean-streams. Of such ambushes and fervour of swords I have not heard aught of thee, else had the fiend I come to vanquish never accomplished such horrors against thy prince. I boast not, therefore, son of Eglaff! but never have I slaughtered those of my kin, for which hast thou incurred d.a.m.nation, though thy wit be good."

In this state of imperfect civilization, we discover already a right conception of the female character. At the banquet the queen appears; she greeted the young Goth, bearing in her own hand the bright sweet liquor in the twisted mead-cup. She went among the young and the old mindful of their races; the free-born queen then sate beside the monarch. There was laughter of heroes. A bard sung serene on "the origin of things," as Iopas sang at the court of Dido, and Demodocus at that of Alcinous. The same bard again excites joy in the hall by some warlike tale. Never was banquet without poet in the Homeric times.

Here our task ends, which was not to a.n.a.lyse the tale of Beowulf, but solely to exhibit the manners of a primeval epoch in society. The whole romance, though but short, bears another striking feature of the mighty minstrel of antiquity; it is far more dramatic than narrative, for the characters discover themselves more by dialogue than by action.

The literary history of this Anglo-Saxon metrical romance is too remarkable to be omitted. It not only cast a new light on a disputed object in our own literary history, but awoke the patriotism of a foreign nation. Beowulf had shared the fate of Caedmon, being preserved only in a single ma.n.u.script in the Cottonian Library, where it escaped from the destructive fire of 1731, not, however, without injury. In 1705, Wanley had attempted to describe it, but he did not surmount the difficulty. Our literary antiquaries, with Ritson for their leader, stubbornly a.s.serted that the Anglo-Saxons had no metrical romance, as they opined by their scanty remains. The learned historian of our Anglo-Saxons, in the progress of his ceaseless pursuit, unburied this hidden treasure--which at once refuted the prevalent notions; but this literary curiosity was fated to excite deeper emotions among the honest Danes.

The existing ma.n.u.script of "The Exploits of Beowulf" is of the tenth century; but the poem was evidently composed at a far remoter period; though, as all the personages of the romance are Danes, and all the circ.u.mstances are Danish, it may be conjectured, if it be an original Anglo-Saxon poem, that it was written when the Danes had a settlement in some parts of Britain. At Copenhagen the patriotism of literature is ardent. The learned there claimed Beowulf as their own, and alleged that the Anglo-Saxon was the version of a Danish poem; it became one of the most ancient monuments of the early history of their country, and not the least precious to them for its connexion with English affairs. The Danish antiquaries still amuse their imagination with the once Danish kingdom of Northumbria, and still call us "brothers;" as at Caen, where the whole academy still persist in disputations on the tapestry of Bayeux, and style themselves our "masters."

It was, therefore, a national mortification to the Danes that it was an Englishman who had first made known this relic; and further, that it existed only in the library of England. The learned THORKELIN was despatched on a literary expedition, and a careful transcript of the ma.n.u.script of Beowulf was brought to the learned and patriotic Danes. It was finished for the press, accompanied by a translation and a commentary, in 1807. At the siege of Copenhagen a British bomb fell on the study of the hapless scholar, annihilating "Beowulf," transcript, translation, and commentary, the toil of twenty years. It seemed to be felt, by the few whose losses by sieges never appear in royal Gazettes, as not one of the least in that sad day of warfare with "our brothers."