A brief introduction: this is a revised version of an essay I wrote at university almost 35 years ago. I enjoyed writing it so much that, when my parents (clearing out their loft) brought me a pile of boxes containing my university notes, I couldn’t help but leaf through it all over again. And, on finding that I enjoyed reading it, I decided to share it with you.
I should stress that I have edited it for language and style, as my writing has matured somewhat (!) over the last 35 years – but the ideas and structure are essentially the same as they were back then. I hope you find something in here to interest you.
In Old English literature, particularly the poetry, many different themes can be seen. These are elements that recur frequently throughout the text and may take the form of poetic imagery, metaphor or even simple description. Common themes include the ‘heroic code’ (battles etc), transience (found mainly in the elegies) and the natural world. The latter tends to be used in combination with other themes, and the treatment of its elements depends on context: the natural world in an elegy is likely to be presented in a more lyrical fashion than in the action-packed surroundings of a battle sequence.
References to the natural world can be divided into four groups: the sea or other watery bodies; the weather or elements; general geographical features; and animals or birds. Let’s look at each in turn.
With regard to the sea, the example that springs most immediately to mind is The Seafarer: its very name tells us that the sea is its chief focus. The poem begins in a literal sense and ends up dealing more in metaphor, but the essential connotation remains the same: that the sea represents exile, hardship, isolation and danger. The only way in which it is acknowledged in a more favourable light is as a pathway to heaven; but in general, when we look at other Old English poems, it becomes clear that the sea’s main function is to illustrate exile and separation. In The Wanderer, the ‘binding waves’ (‘waþema gebind’) are presented as a contrast to the delights of life with kinsmen and a lord in the wine-hall; this lifestyle is the essence of a warrior’s existence, as we see from the utterances of the solitary man (‘anhaga’) throughout the poem, and so the sea can be regarded as the ultimate misery, for it represents a life so totally different.
In these two elegies, then, the sea characterises absolute isolation: a cutting-off of the hero from life itself. Other poems, however, use water to indicate a barrier between two specified parties, as in, for example, The Wife’s Lament and The Battle of Maldon. Of course, these two poems are quite distinct in style and subject matter, but they have this theme in common. In The Battle of Maldon, the river Blackwater divides the Anglo-Saxons from their enemies, the Vikings, and in The Wife’s Lament, the ‘tumult of the waves’ (‘yþa gelac’) separates the heroine from her loved one who has suddenly, it seems, become hostile (or at least, his kinsmen have). But here the similarity ends. The Wife’s Lament is more reminiscent of the style of The Wanderer and The Seafarer, whereas in The Battle of Maldon, that piercing sense of exile is not to be found – and it is this that truly distinguishes the treatment of the sea and other bodies of water. To take one more example, the lake of monsters in Beowulf is viewed by all the characters as an extremely remote place whose inhabitants are excluded from normal human society: the descendants of the biblical Cain. Thus we can conclude that the image of the sea (or other watery expanse) is drawn upon, in Old English literature, whenever there is a need for the portrayal of isolation.
Almost hand in hand with this goes another feature of the natural world: the weather or elements. We frequently hear of the sea being ice-cold or storm-ridden, for example in The Seafarer: ‘Storms there beat the stony cliffs’ (‘Stormas þær stanclifu beotan’). Other types of weather include frost, snow, hail, wind and even icicles: all can be seen as hostile towards man, and this compounds the generally harsh impression we have already received of the sea and related environments. The Wanderer, in his state of misery, can only be depressed further by such enmity from the elements; his wine-hall used to protect him from such things, and its loss is stressed by showing us the Wanderer at the mercy of the weather, with no roof over his head. Indeed, pathetic fallacy is at work here, for the hail and snow seem to be characteristic of the ‘paths of exile’ so frequently alluded to in Old English literature: weather is often used to emphasise the hardships being described, and even as a kind of symbol to indicate how we are to view the situation. Not only do we hear of, for instance, the Seafarer’s feet being ‘Fettered by cold… bound by frost’ (‘Calde geþrungen… forste gebunden’), but the adverse conditions are also seen to affect other participants in the scene, such as the ‘icy-feathered’ (‘isigfeþera’) tern.
Of course, the elegies are not the only poems in which the elements play a significant part; Beowulf too has its moments. Perhaps the most significant is the description of the mere where Grendel and his mother live; once again, we see that combination of gloomy skies and perilous water: ‘thence a maelstrom of the waves rises up, / dark to the clouds, when the wind stirs / grievous storms’ (‘þonon ýðgeblond úp ástígeð / won tó wolcnum þonne wind styreþ / láð gewidru’). The passage itself is not particularly elegiac, but it still indicates the total seclusion of the monsters (‘niceras’) from normal life – or at least, when it pleases them; for the difference here is that Grendel and his mother do in fact take steps to come into contact with the humans. In this poem, the separation is desired, rather than regretted, by Hrothgar and his thanes. This distinction is perhaps made by the presence of ‘fire on the water’ (‘fýr on flóde’), as opposed to the ‘ice-cold sea’ (‘iscealdne sæ’): two contrasting views of hostile water indicate two opposing attitudes towards the isolation each induces.
The third group of references to the natural world is that dealing with general geographical features. Again, these appear most predominantly in connection with the sea and the weather, as geographical features are frequently affected by the latter, and, within the literature, this theme is treated in a very similar way to the former. In most cases, these features of landscape represent what is – or was – beautiful but which has acquired some negative value. As with the other two groups, this theme is most apparent in the elegies. In The Wife’s Lament, for example, the grove of which the wife speaks might generally be considered attractive, but as its primary function is to denote her separation from her husband, any beauty there may be in it is consequently saturated with sorrow. She likewise mentions other aspects of the scenery around her in the same voice of longing: ‘Here dwell dim valleys, dunes upheavened, / bitter tree-bastions waxed black with briars’ (‘sindon dena dimme, duna uphea, / bitre burgtunas brerum beweaxne’). In these lines she describes her surroundings, and the way they appear, to both her and us, serves to emphasise her state of mind. To complete the picture, she turns to thoughts of her ‘disconsolate lord’ (‘wine werigmod’), whom she imagines to be sitting ‘under scathing cliffs, salt-rimed in storm’ (‘under stanhliþe storme behrimed’), thus both afflicted by the weather and dominated by his environment.
Beowulf too contains a number of references to the natural landscape, but these are almost exclusively confined to the depiction of the fen or ‘marshy tract’ (‘fenhleoðu’) inhabited by Grendel and his mother. For full effect, this geography is spoken of only in conjunction with negative or unpleasant characteristics, for example ‘wolf-slopes’ (‘wulfhleoþu’), ‘windy headlands’ (‘windige næssas’) and ‘misty bluffs’ (‘misthleoþum’), thus removing any possible attraction from the painting of the scenery; it becomes clear that this is an abode of monsters.
Not only do these geographical features serve as metaphorical symbols of separation, hardship and danger, they can also be depicted in a more literal sense, demonstrating their effect on men psychologically, in terms of men’s general attitude towards the features themselves. It is interesting to compare their presentation in two very dissimilar poems: The Seafarer and The Battle of Maldon. In the former, the groves and meadows ‘urge on / the eager of spirit / the mind to travel’ (‘gemoniað / modes fusne / sefan to siþe’); in other words, they actively induce him to flee from them. In the latter poem, however, the forest is the place towards which the cowards flee. The Seafarer views the groves, perhaps, as places of danger, where a man can lose his soul for being tempted by and taking part in worldly affairs; and only rejection of this beauty, by means of the sea, can save him. The Battle of Maldon, on the other hand, is heroic rather than elegiac and, therefore, treats its forest differently: it is seen as a place of safety, a refuge from the battle. It is still regarded as a part of human society, as it encloses the Anglo-Saxons’ stronghold, but because of the heroic nature of this poem – and contrary to The Seafarer – this society is not to be feared but welcomed. In these two poems, then, we see a new approach to the use of geographical features: instead of representing isolation in themselves, they are symbols of community, and any resulting exile is due to the individual mind and personal choice, rather than unfortunate circumstances beyond one’s control.
The last group of references to the natural world is that involving animals and birds; there are numerous allusions to various species throughout Old English literature. Sometimes they are used merely in comparisons or kennings [kenning = a compound expression with metaphorical meaning], such as ‘wolves of slaughter’ (‘wælwulfas’) for the Vikings, or ‘whale-road’ (‘hwælweg’) for the sea; and this reminds us just how aware of animals the Anglo-Saxons were, and how much they were a natural part of their lives. Most of the time, however, animals are included in Old English poetry for the same reasons as the sea, weather and landscape: to illustrate a particular state of mind, atmosphere or situation. For example, the elegies frequently feature sea-birds. In The Wanderer we see them bathing, which contrasts their familiarity in that environment with the Wanderer’s overwhelming sense of alienation in the same land. His solitude is emphasised with the appearance of the ‘floating ones’, or ‘spirits of seafarers’ (‘fleotendra ferð’), which tantalise him with memories of happiness and comradeship, only to drift away again. They symbolise the loneliness of the ‘paths of exile’, as do the many birds that appear in The Seafarer: wild swan, gannet, curlew, seagull, tern and eagle. In most of these instances it is the aural impact that is important; the cries of the various birds are a contrast to the noises and delights of the mead-hall, and the comparison – the reduction of man to bird (as in the case of the ‘fleotendra ferð’) – is a sad comment on the sorry state of the hero in his present condition. It is as if his life has been diminished beyond what is normally considered fit for a human. The depiction of the ‘icy-feathered’ (‘isigfeþera’) tern and the ‘dewy-feathered’ (‘urigfeþra’) eagle show how the hostile weather affects even those usual participants in the scene, thus enhancing the impression of what it must be like for the man; and when we add to this list the cuckoo with its ‘sad voice’ (‘geomran reorde’), it becomes increasingly evident that such birds have a large part to play in the elegies. In most cases this is because of their connection with the sea, which we have already established as being essentially a synonym for exile.
Of course, sea-birds are not the only members of the animal kingdom present in Old English literature. The heroic poems also contain creatures, but here their associations are, naturally, with concepts such as battle and slaughter; hence we find war-horses, birds and animals of prey such as hawks, and the ‘stag harassed by hounds’ (‘haéðstapa hundum geswenced’). The horses and hawks are representative of the warriors’ lifestyle: their interest in battle and their relationship with their lord. In The Battle of Maldon, we are told of Godric that he ‘left the good man that had made him the gift of many a warhorse’ (‘þone godan forlet / þe him mænigne oft mear gesealde’). The convention of the ‘gift-lord’, illustrated here by means of the horse, tells us much more about the nature of Godric’s offence; his earlier abandonment of a hawk too has semi-symbolic significance.
Having dealt with those animals which are connected with comradeship and loyalty – in other words, the essence of a true warrior’s life – we must also look at those that are associated, even today, with death and the end of a fellowship. It is, as one would expect, primarily The Battle of Maldon that involves these creatures; but the bird and grey wolf are also seen to figure in The Wanderer, where they carry away (or kill) the hero’s kinsmen. In this function, in the context of the elegies, they help in the process of separation rather than being a manifestation of the situation once it has occurred. Returning to The Battle of Maldon, the ravens and the eagle that circle round, hungry for food (‘æses georn’), are indicative of the imminent slaughter; but because of the heroic nature of the poem, the presence of these birds is seen in a more conventional light, with less of the poignancy displayed in the elegies. However, wherever they appear – whether in a heroic poem or in an elegy – the implication is clear: just like the sea-birds, they illustrate the separation (past, present or future) of man from this life. Whether this is the death of oneself or of one’s kinsmen, the effect is the same: even in the heroic poems, a touch of the elegiac form is found.
Having considered, then, all the aspects of the natural world to be found in Old English literature, it can be concluded that its basic function is to enhance the atmosphere of sorrow, elegy or nostalgia that is a key component of much of the poetry. The Wanderer, The Seafarer and The Wife’s Lament virtually depend on such imagery, as much of it takes the form of conventional expression of certain attitudes or moods. Nor are the heroic poems, such as Beowulf and The Battle of Maldon, lacking in language of this kind; they are connected to the elegies, most notably The Wanderer, by the theme of comradeship and, more importantly, its loss. Separation from a loved one is effectively expressed by the image (or reality) of the sea or other physical barriers; and the enmity of weather, landscape or other creatures combines with this initial hardship to create circumstances that are both painful and frequently insuperable. The natural world in Old English literature has the potential to be beautiful, but the instances in which it is employed as a device make this impossible; and the only emotion it ends up provoking is sorrow.
© Gwyneth Marshman 2024
Originally published (with slight differences) on the Bookylicious website (2017)