Review of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, Together with Sellic Spell Edited by Christopher Tolkien
By: Michael A. Arnold
Obviously,
Ashburnham House is an ironic name for the place where this
magnificent poem was almost lost to ash and fire, but in a way this
is very fitting. Irony is deeply enthused in the poem itself –
pretty much from the very first few lines. Ending a summary of the
legendary Viking king Shyld Sheafing (who as a boy was mysteriously
found washed up on the shore in a boat and went on to conquer and
subdue the neighboring tribes), the author of Beowulf
says ‘þæt wæs god cyning’ – that
was a good king, a line that in context seems dripping with that
typically British form of ironic understatement and self-deprecation
- and few people would have known more about this than J.R.R.
Tolkien. It was both one of his favourite poems and something he
taught for many years as Professor of Anglo-Saxon literature at
Oxford University. Recently his translation of the poem was
published, along with many other goodies for people interested in the
poem. However, as another example of irony, while J.R.R. Tolkien’s
famous essays on the poem, particularly ‘Beowulf: Monsters and
the Critics’, are a seminal work of Beowulf scholarship and
required reading for anyone who has more than just a passing interest
in the poem, Tolkien’s translation of the poem is rather bad.
However Tolkien cannot really be blamed for this, and there are
certain things a potential reader must be made aware of.
First of all,
Tolkien’s translation of Beowulf was not an attempt at anything
artistic, like his translation of Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight
(which was published in his lifetime) or his original,
medieval-inspired poetry like The
Death of Arthur
and The
Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun,
both of which were published posthumously. It is instead basically
little more than lecture notes. It is in prose, but occasionally
imitates the original Anglo-Saxon poetic style through the occasional
use of alliteration – without much forewarning or without much
reason. Alliteration was absolutely essential to the sound and rhythm
of Anglo-Saxon poetry, and usually worked on a system of three or
four strong stresses on the same sound, and in as concise a line as
possible - usually with a break in the line in the middle acting as
some kind of pause. For example:
Strong
are the stresses
that sharply
are struck
Or
for examples taken from Tolkien’s translation:
Great
gobbets gorging down (page 34)
Laid
the light of battle (page 45)
Greif
after gladness when Grendel came... (page 64-65
Beowulf’s
sword ... failed him in the fight (page 91)
In most other
translations this Anglo-Saxon poetic form is used to imitate the
style of Anglo-Saxon poetry in modern English, but this is not the
only thing that can be done with it. It could also be used to draw
attention to parallels between characters such as in the 1999 Seamus
Heaney translation of this poem, such as during Beowulf’s
battle with the dragon:
and
Beowulf drove his sword into the wall. The dragon died of it.
His
daring had given him total possession
of
the treasure hoard
In
this section, Heaney is suggesting some kind of a link between
Beowulf and the dragon by using words beginning with D four times.
‘Drove … dragon died … daring’ like a line
in Anglo-Saxon verse, only the word ‘daring’ is by a line
break, both for the sake of the form Heaney has picked and also
because the poet Heaney is suggesting that daring is not just
separate from the dragon itself, but also from the act of killing it.
There is more to bravery than just standing up to monsters. This is
alliterative verse being used for an artistic purpose, Tolkien’s
translation does not attempt anything this complex. This is not (at
all) to suggest that alliteration is needed, especially in a prose
translation, but the fact that alliteration is used almost randomly
in some parts, and not throughout makes Tolkien’s text feel a
bit disjointed.
But this is just an
indication that this text is a rough sketch that Tolkien could refer
back to whenever he needed, rather than an attempt at a good
translation. Christopher Tolkien basically admits in his introduction
to the book that this text is little more than lecture notes, and
goes on to detail how J.R.R Tolkien tinkered with the text his entire
life – changing words and adding notes to the manuscript
whenever the mood took him. If Tolkien had tried to translate the
poem more seriously, he probably would have tried to have done it
imitating Anglo-Saxon verse, instead of the prose style found here.
Tolkien himself even wrote in his essay ‘Translating Beowulf’
that to translate a poem like Beowulf into prose would be ‘an
abuse’, and yet here is a prose translation from that same
author. Basically, there is an unmistakable sense that this is not a
text Tolkien would have actually wanted published at all.
However, despite all
the criticisms that could be made of this text as a translation, it
is still very interesting. Even the use of the archaic, flowery,
poetic words, which can be strange to a contemporary reader, can be
justified because (as Tolkien argued in ‘Translating Beowulf’)
the poem was written in a heightened, poetic form of Old English –
which Tolkien’s version is reflecting. There is also the
occasional, very beautiful line or phrase, such as:
Darkling night and
the shapes of mantling shadow came gilding over the world, dark
beneath the clouds. (page 31)
Defeated and death
doomed to the water-demons’ mere. (Page 37)
But
it is the commentary on the poem that is the major selling point of
this book. They are the result of a lifetime of reading and teaching
the poem, and are full of fantastic observations and detail. An
example is connecting the story of Shyld Shefing, which opens the
poem, with the legend of King Arthur. There is something poetic in
the fact that Shyld not only is washed up by the sea as a baby, from
some other mysterious place, but in his death is returned to the sea
as it apparently vanishes without a trace. Or at least, that is the
implication in the line ‘None can report with truth, nor lords
in their halls, nor mighty men beneath the sky, who received that
load’.
There is also, in
the back of the book, a text in Old English written by Tolkien.
Tolkien’s skill with Old English is exceptional (also, as a
side note, the language of the Roherrum in The
Lord of the Rings
is Old English, which is spoken in the extended version of the films,
and the names are often from Old English. King Theoden, for example –
‘þeoden’ translates to ‘leader of men’)
and here it really does show. To be honest, people who know Old
English well are going to get the most out of this book. I only have
a passing knowledge of Old English, and cannot read it without a
dictionary close by, but even then I was able to get a feel for just
how talented he was with the language. It really is impressive to
see.
So the question will
inevitably be asked, is this a good book? Well, it entirely depends
on what you as a reader are looking to get out of it. As a
translation of Beowulf
it is not great. There are worse translations, and there are
translations that are in every way superior. My personal
recommendation, if Beowulf
appeals to you, is to first read the Seamus Heaney translation –
since it is beautiful and has a great feel, and then if you want to
go deeper into the actual text then get the Howell D. Chickering
translation - which is my personal favourite translation, and is far
more accurate than the Heaney version (it is called ‘the
Heaneywulf’ because although it is a fine poem, it is not a
very accurate translation of Beowulf).
If this is a book that appeals because you are a fan of Tolkien then
you might see some interesting parallels between this story and his
famous legendarium and Middle Earth. If you are a serious student of
the poem, while the translation might be lacking – everything
else in this book will more than reward the purchase. So what can
ultimately be said about this book is: what each reader gets out of
this book will entirely depend on what they want to get from it.
23 of October 1731, London - A fire is raging at the luxurious
Ashburnham House. As flames are flowing out of every exit point, the
scholar, classicist and theologian Dr. Richard Bentley jumps out of a
window with a huge medieval codex in his hands (the Codex
Alexandrinus - not important to us) while inside many other priceless
medieval codices are going up in smoke. There are reports that parts
of this collection, originally collected by the 16th century
antiquarian Robert Cotton, are being thrown outside in an attempt to
save them - sending hundreds of pages of ancient manuscript floating
down the River Themes, never to be recovered. While much was lost,
one of the things that survived (although badly singed) was the
Nowell Codex that contains the only manuscript of the great Old
English poem Beowulf.