Jennifer NEVILLE, Royal Holloway, London
Living Outside the Law:
‘Justice’ for Foreigners and Criminals in Anglo-Saxon England
Fugel uppe sceal
lacan on lyfte. Leax sceal on wæle
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 38b-43a)1
‘The bird must play up in the air. The salmon must glide in
the pool with the trout. The shower in the heavens, blended
with wind, must come into this world. The thief must travel
in dark weather. The giant must dwell in the fen, alone in
the land.’
Such is the way of the world; there is no way of avoiding it. Proverbial
literature like Maxims II presents its audience with unanswerable truths
and unshakable convictions: who could possibly argue with the logic that
birds must fly, fish must swim, and the rain must fall? These are the laws
of nature. Nevertheless, the proverbial truths contained in Maxims II
include not only the laws of nature but also ‘the laws of the land’—
humanly made, social laws, which are not only potentially fallible but also
1
Texts from Old English poetry are taken from G. D. KRAPP and E. V. K. DOBBIE,
eds., The Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records, 6 vols., New York: Columbia UP, 1931-53.
All translations are my own.
potentially partisan, and which are nevertheless ‘guaranteed’ by the
context of the inevitable laws of nature. 2 These laws of the land reflect a
system of unanswerable truths and unshakeable convictions which a
modern audience might not accept as readily as the behaviour of birds,
fish, and rain.
In this investigation I shall examine some of the ‘unanswerable truths’
about foreigners and criminals that can be discerned in Old English
literature. Although it can be tempting to reject these attitudes as merely
chauvinistic, it is probably more useful to view them as part of a system of
thought—a system of thought which contributed not only to poetic texts
like Beowulf, The Wanderer, and Wulf and Eadwacer, but also to AngloSaxon law codes. One could argue that this system has nothing to do with
what one might now call ‘justice’. On the other hand, this system has
everything to do with the way the Anglo-Saxon people saw themselves—
with their methods of constructing their own identity.
My aim will be to outline some of the ways in which the AngloSaxons categorised and defined who they were, and, just as importantly,
who they were not. In fact, my argument is primarily about categories:
about distinctions which are not made—for example, between criminals
and monsters—and about distinctions which are—for example, between
the people who are ‘law-worthy’ and the others who are not. My point will
be that the boundaries and distinctions are not located where a modern
audience might expect them to be. The categories of ‘natural’ and
2
Cf. C. A. LARRINGTON, A Store of Common Sense: Gnomic Theme and Style in
Old Icelandic Poetry and Old English Wisdom Poetry, Oxford: Clarendon, 1993, p.
125. See also Jill MANN, ‘Proverbial Wisdom in the Ysengrimus’, New Literary
‘supernatural’, class and race, legal status and species appear to have been
arranged and understood in Anglo-Saxon England in ways very different
from those accepted as natural and inevitable today. The differences have
implications for the way in which modern readers interpret Old English
literature.
Although there is not space in such a study to do justice to the
complex field of the Anglo-Saxon legal system, it is useful to begin by
noting some general characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon law codes. First of
all, the law operated on the basis of re-payment and punishment, not
reform: if someone committed a crime, he or she3 had to pay, either in the
form of a fine or physical punishment.4 Although the details of physical
punishments and fines varied from code to code, Ine’s pronouncement on
stealing (circa 688-95 AD)5 may be taken as an introductory example:
Gif hwa stalie, swa his wif nyte & his bearn, geselle LX
scillinga to wite. Gif he ðonne stalie on gewitnesse ealles
his hiredes, gongen hie ealle on ðeowot. X wintre cniht
mæg bion ðiefðe gewita. (Ine 7)
‘If someone steals in such a way that his wife and his
children do not know, let him pay sixty shillings as a
penalty. If he steals with the knowledge of all his
3
4
5
History 16 (1984), 93-109: 93.
The gender referred to throughout the law codes is male, but female criminals are
occasionally specifically noted; in these cases, their punishment is different
although not necessarily less severe. See, for example, IV Æthelstan 6,4, in which a
free woman accused of theft is thrown from a cliff or drowned (rather than merely
killed), and IV Æthelstan 6,7, in which a female slave accused of theft is burnt
(rather than merely stoned). Texts for the Anglo-Saxon laws are taken from Felix
LIEBERMANN, ed., Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen, vol. 1, Halle: Niemeyer, 190316.
For discussion of the implications of the inscribing of guilt upon the criminal’s
body, see Katherine O’BRIEN O’KEEFFE, ‘Body and Law in Anglo-Saxon
England’, Anglo-Saxon England 27 (1998), 209-32.
All dates are taken from Liebermann, Gesetze, unless otherwise noted.
household, let them all go into slavery. A ten-year old can
be conscious of theft.’
The penalty could be much higher if a thief were actually caught in the act:
Gif ðeof sie gefongen, swelte he deaðe, oððe his lif be his
were man aliese. (Ine 12)6
‘If a thief should be seized [in the act of stealing], let him
perish in death, or let his life be redeemed according to his
price.’
I shall return to the issue of a man’s ‘price’; here my main concern is to
point out what now appears to be a rather severe form of ‘justice’ for a
petty crime, and to note that a man’s life was translatable into a price.
Such law codes were instituted by a king, and punishment for
infringement of these laws was directly or indirectly related to the king’s
authority.7 Fines could be paid to both the victim and the king, 8 and those
who flouted the king’s laws could be fined for their oferhyrnesse
‘disregard’ of the king’s authority.9 However, it seems that for some
situations the king’s laws were additional to the ‘basic’ law of the kinfeud; royal laws sought to supplement the basic, unwritten law that a
kinsman would avenge a kinsman’s death but did not attempt to take over
primary responsibility for what might now seem to be an essential area of
criminal law. For example, Edmund legislates in anticipation of a number
of different responses to a murder (circa 943-6 AD):
Gif hwa heonanforð ænigne man ofslea, ðæt he wege sylf
ða fæhþe, butan he hy mid freonda fylste binnan twelf
monðum forgylde be fullan were, sy swa boren swa he sy.
6
7
8
9
Cf. also Wihtræd 26.
For discussion of some of the complex interactions between royal authority and the
promulgation of laws, see Pauline Stafford, ‘The Laws of Cnut and the History of
Anglo-Saxon Royal Promises’, Anglo-Saxon England 10 (1982), 173-90.
See, for example, Æthelberht 9 and Hlothhere 11.
See, for example, II Edward 1 and 2.
Gif hine þonne seo mægð forlete, & him foregyldan nellen,
ðonne wille ic, ðæt eall seo mægð sy unfah, butan ðam
handdædan, gif hy him syððan ne doð mete ne munde. Gif
ðonne syððan hwilc his maga hine feormige, ðonne beo he
scyldig ealles ðæs ðe he age wið þone cyning & wege ða
fæhðe wið þa mægðe…. (II Eadmund 1)
‘If anyone henceforth should kill any man, let him bear the
feud himself, unless, with the aid of friends, he compensates
the deed with the full payment [for the victim’s life] within
twelve months, however high-born he may be. If his
kinsmen abandon him and do not wish to pay for him, then I
rule that all his kinsmen are not guilty [that is, not involved
in the feud and not liable to vengeance], with the exception
of the one who did the deed, so long as they do not
afterwards give him food or protection. If any of his
kinsmen harbour him afterwards, then he is liable for all
that he owns to the king and bears the feud with his kin…’
In the case of murder, it appears that the king and his law need not become
involved unless the straightforward path of the feud is derailed. If the man
and his kin pay the price of the victim’s life, no external legal proceedings
are necessary. If the man’s kinsmen refuse to get involved, they are free
from guilt or responsibility, and the unlucky murderer must face the wrath
of his victim’s family without help. Having collectively decided to abstain
from defending their kinsman, however, members of his family must not
thereafter involve themselves in the case, for if one of the murderer’s
kinsmen relents and helps him after the promise of non-involvement, the
king and his law are implicated. The breaking of the earlier promise not to
get involved is punished by the confiscation of property, and the family as
a whole is henceforth liable to bear the vengeance demanded by the law of
the feud.
These examples are relatively simple and straightforward, and, as I
have focused exclusively upon theft and murder, they do not give a truly
representative sample of Anglo-Saxon law codes. The codes themselves
legislate on a much wider range of issues, including rape, illegitimate
children, marriage, buying and selling, heathen practices, damages to or
loss of cattle, dealing with slaves, inter-race relations, respect for Church
property, the management of forest resources, the lending of weapons, and
the granting of asylum. Some of these issues will be touched on in the
course of this discussion, but in general this article cannot and does not
claim to represent a full or deep discussion of the Anglo-Saxon legal
system.
One aspect of the examples given above which is not self-evident but
nevertheless underlies these and all other Anglo-Saxon laws is the fact that
the laws were not applicable to all. The lack of universal coverage is not,
of course, a situation unique to Anglo-Saxon society; in every time and
place there are people who are—or claim to be—‘above the law’. In
Anglo-Saxon society, however, it was not a case of one group being
privileged by its exemption from the law, but rather a case of a certain
group being privileged by its coverage and protection under the law. That
is, the law applied to one particular group; everyone else was ‘beneath the
law’ and so received justice, if at all, only through their connections to this
privileged group. For the purposes of this investigation especially, it is
important to consider who was ‘worthy’ of the law and who was not. The
distinction between the ‘law-worthy’ and the ‘non-law-worthy’ was made
on the basis of three criteria: class, race, and social behaviour.
Although generalisations are always dangerous, one may safely say
that in general the law was primarily designed to protect the members of
the upper class from each other but also from non-members; when the law
does consider members of the lower classes, it tends to do so for the
benefit of the upper class.10 This upper class was composed of kings,
thegns, and ceorls—loosely speaking, a military elite which included
rulers, warriors, and land-owners. There was also a religious elite, which
was not entirely distinct from the military one, although sometimes subject
to different rules and expectations.11 The distinctions between these classes
are identified by the ‘price’ mentioned previously and generally reflect the
level of wealth possessed by an individual. Thus a king like Cnut (in circa
1018-23)12 taxed the different classes of the elite at different levels, and
upon their deaths each owed the king a different amount:
Eorles swa ðærto gebyrige, þæt syndon viii hors, iiii
gesadelode & iiii unsadelode, & iiii helmas & iiii byrnan &
viii spera & eallswa fela scylda & iiii swurd & twa hund
mances goldes. & syððan cingces þegnas, þe him nyhste
syndan: iiii hors, ii gesadelode & ii unsadelode, & ii swurd
& iiii spera & swa feala scylda & helm & byrnan & l
mances goldes. & medemra þegna: hors & his geræda & his
wæpn oððe his healsfang on wessexan; & on myrcan ii
pund & on eastenglan ii pund. (II Cnut 71)
‘Thus what is proper for an earl, that is, eight horses—four
saddled and four unsaddled—and four helmets, four mailcoats, eight spears, the same number of shields, four
swords, and two hundred mancuses of gold. And then for
the king’s thegns, who are closest to him: four horses—two
saddled and two unsaddled—and two swords, four spears,
the same number of shields, a helmet, a mail-coat, and one
10
11
12
N. J. HIGHAM, An English Empire: Bede and the Early Anglo-Saxon Kings,
Manchester: Manchester UP, 1995, p. 218.
See, for example, Cnut’s specifically ecclesiastical rules; in I Cnut 5, for example,
priests accused of crimes follow a method for clearing themselves particular to
those involved in the Church.
For this revision of Liebermann’s date (1027-34), see Dorothy WHITELOCK
‘Wulfstan and the Laws of Cnut’, English Historical Review 63 (1948), 433-52;
idem., ‘Wulfstan’s Authorship of Cnut’s Laws’, English Historical Review 69
(1955), 72-85. Cf. also discussion in A. G. KENNEDY, ‘Cnut’s Law Code of
1018’, Anglo-Saxon England 11 (1983), 57-81.
mancus of gold. And for a medial thegn: one horse and its
gear, and his weapon or his price among the West Saxons,
and among the Mercians two pounds, and among the East
Angles two pounds.’
This text demonstrates that there were fine distinctions made between
various members of the nobility, in addition to the larger distinctions
between the free and the unfree, and this distinction in ‘worth’ is reflected
in the approach of the law to each of these classes. For example, as an earl
was ‘worth’ more than a thegn, a crime committed against an earl, whether
murder, theft, or raping his maidservant, was punished at a higher rate than
a crime committed against a thegn. The distinctions are particularly clear in
Alfred’s laws (circa 871-901) regarding ‘break-and-entry’:
Cyninges burgbryce bið CXX scillinga ærcebiscepes
hundnigontig scillinga, oðres biscepes & ealdormonnes LX
scillinga, twelfhyndes monnes XXX scillinga syxhyndes
monnes XV scillinga; ceorles edorbryce V scillinga. (Alfred
40)
‘The fine for breaking into the king’s fortified dwelling is
120 shillings; for [that of] an archbishop ninety shillings;
for [that of] a bishop or aldorman sixty shillings; for [that
of] a man worth 1200 shillings [the fine is] thirty shillings;
for [that of] a man worth 600 shillings [it is] fifteen
shillings; for breaking a ceorl’s fences [the fine is] five
shillings.’
Similarly, if a theft were committed by an earl, he would have to redeem
his life at a higher price than a thegn or ceorl.13 Despite these distinctions
of worth, and despite the fact that the term ceorl eventually lost status and
13
See, for example, Alfred & Guthrum 3. For the sliding scale of redemption based
on rank, see also Ine 30, Ine 36, Alfred 6,1, and Alfred 32. In the same way, the
fine for theft by a slave could be half that of the fine for theft by a freeman; see, for
example, II Æthelstan 19.
came to mean ‘farmer’ and even ‘labourer’, all these people were members
of the upper class, the only people permitted by law to carry weapons.14
Class might not, however, have purely been a result of property or
profession. It might also have been a consequence of race. 15 Although the
lack of evidence makes conclusions difficult, it seems likely that the
majority of the under-classes was made up of native Britons labouring on
the land for Anglo-Saxon overlords.16 Such an assumption is supported
(although not proven) by the fact that the Old English word wealh meant
both ‘slave’ and ‘Welsh’.17 While these Britons could gain property and
prestige and enter into the ceorl class,18 and while ethnic Anglo-Saxons
could be sold into slavery or even sell themselves into slavery for debt, 19
for a great deal of the Anglo-Saxon period it seems that mixture between
the two races was limited. In its exclusion of all but the nobility from its
protection, the Anglo-Saxon legal system thus appears not to have applied
to the ‘non-English’, to those not related by blood to the ruling overclass.20
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
See Ine 29.
Note, however, that class divisions could take precedence over family ties. See Ine
74,2: freemen and slaves of the same family need not associate with each other.
HIGHAM, English Empire, pp. 226-40.
See, for example, Exeter Book Riddle 12 (4 and 8) and Exeter Book Riddle 52 (6),
where the people described appear to be slaves; The Battle of Brunanburh, on the
other hand, clearly refers to the ethnic group overcome by the Anglo-Saxons, not a
group of slaves (72).
See, for example, Ine 24; in this example, however, it is worth noting that a Welsh
landowner may have been worth half as much as an English landowner with similar
holdings. See F. L. ATTENBOROUGH, The Laws of the Earliest English Kings,
Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1922, p. 186.
See David A. E. PELTERET, Slavery in Early Mediaeval England from the Reign
of Alfred until the Twelfth Century, Woodbridge: Boydell, 1995.
HIGHAM, English Empire, pp. 239-40.
The third criterion for law-worthiness is one which even modern
thinkers might accept as reasonable and just: previous behaviour. Someone
who was tihtbysig ‘crime-busy’ (I Æthelred 1), who had been previously
accused of a crime, or who had a bad reputation, was denied many of the
protections and procedures of the law. For example, as even a cursory
reading of the laws shows, the oath is a constant and central feature of
Anglo-Saxon legal procedures; by one’s own and one’s witnesses’ oaths
one could clear oneself of any crime.21 A previous conviction of crime
could result in the loss of this right, and, as a result, such a person would
have to submit to ordeal rather than be permitted to give an oath:
Eac we cwædon be þam mannum ðe mansworan wæran, gif
ðæt geswutelod wære, oððe him að burste oððe ofercyðed
wære, þæt hy siððan aðwyrðe næran, ac ordales wyrðe. (I
Edward 3)
‘Likewise we have said regarding those who have been
perjurers, if that has been made clear, or if the oath has
failed them or been refuted, that they shall never be worthy
of the oath afterwards, but rather [only] worthy of the
ordeal.’
I shall examine some details of the ordeal later, but it is worth noting here
that being obliged to clear oneself through the ordeal rather than through
an oath was a very significant change in legal status and one that seriously
damaged one’s chances of being found innocent: it is much easier to
arrange for trusted friends and family to lie on one’s behalf than to
convince hot iron not to burn one’s hands. 22 The law could be yet more
21
22
This appears to be the usual way of dealing with accusation; stipulations for oaths
of different values are ubiquitous. See, for example, Ine 46, Ine 54, and Alfred 4, 12.
For the ordeal by hot iron, see Dom be Hatan Isene and Wætre (LIEBERMANN,
Gesetze, pp. 386-7); see also comments in ATTENBOROUGH, Laws, pp. 187-8.
Cf. comments on the ‘perversion’ of oath-swearing in Simon KEYNES, ‘The
Fonthill Letter’, in Words, Texts and Manuscripts: Studies Presented to Helmut
harsh for repeat offenders. If he declined the opportunity to clear himself,
however precariously, through the ordeal, the tihtbysig man might be
hunted down, to be taken dead or alive:
And se ðe tyhtbysig sig & folce ungetrywe & þas gemot
forbuge þriwa: þonne sceawie man of þam feorðan gemote
þa ðe him to ridan; & finde þonne gyt borh, gif he mæge.
Gif he þonne ne mage, gewylde man hine, swa hwæðer swa
man mæge, swa cucne swa deadne, & niman eall þæt he
ahte. (II Cnut 25)
‘And [regarding] the one who is of bad repute and faithless
to the people and avoids the meeting three times, select then
men from the fourth meeting to ride out after him. Let him
find protection still, if he can. If he cannot, let them
overpower him however they can, whether alive or dead,
and sieze all that he owns.’
Offending against the law could therefore result in the loss of not only
oath-worthiness but also ‘law-worthiness’; it could deprive one of the
protection of the law.
Being deprived of the privileges of the law was clearly a serious
event. It is worth thinking further about the consequences of being
deprived of the protection of the law, especially in light of the large
proportion of the population which might have been considered ‘un-lawworthy’. Someone not ‘law-worthy’ could be killed, maimed, and stolen
from without fear of repercussions. For example, under the laws of
Wihtræd (circa 695-6) a thief could be slain without concern for feud or
vengeance:
Gif man leud ofslea an þeofðe, licge buton wyrgelde.
(Wihtræd 25)23
23
Gneuss on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, ed. M. Korhammer with Karl
Reichl and Hans Sauer, Cambridge: Brewer, 1992, pp. 53-97: 75.
Cf. also Ine 16.
‘If a layman kills a thief, let him [the thief] lie without
payment [for the murder].’
Other laws suggest that criminals could be mutilated and left to die slowly,
despite the numerous laws protecting the various body parts of the ‘lawworthy’ from injury:24
Gif limlæweo lama, þe forworht wære, weorþe forlæten, &
he æfter þam ðreo niht alibbe, siððan man mot hylpan be
bisceopes leafe, se ðe wylle beorgan sare & saule. (Edward
and Guthrum 10)
‘If a man lame from mutilation, who has been condemned,
should be abandoned, and if he is alive after three nights,
then one who wants to spare his injuries and his soul can
help him with the bishop’s permission.’
It may seem relatively just that a criminal should not receive the benefit of
the law, but not only tihtbysig men could find themselves in the position of
having no protection under the law; the vast majority of people, even lawabiding people, did not receive this benefit. There was nothing in the law
to prevent killing, maiming, or stealing from a slave, for example, unless
he or she belonged to someone who was ‘law-worthy’ and who was willing
to stand up on his or her behalf.25 In such a case, there was a chance that
the crime would be punished. The punishment could reflect the victim’s
status, and the law codes which detail these distinctions among the underclasses disclose structures in Anglo-Saxon society of which Old English
poetry provides no idea. For example, the laws of Æthelberht (circa 601-4
AD)
note the following penalties for killing various ranks of a particular
kind of servant:
24
25
See, for example, Alfred 44-77, which literally cover injuries from head to toe.
In the same way, slaves who were accused of committing crimes could be cleared
not by their own oath but by that of their lord’s. See, for example, Wihtræd 23-4.
Gif læt ofslæhð, þone selestan lxxx scillinga forgelde; gif
þane oþerne ofslæhð, lx scillingum forgelde; ðane þriddan
xl scillingum forgelden. (Æthelberht 26)26
‘If someone kills a læt27 of the best kind, let him pay eighty
shillings; if he slays one of the second kind, let him pay
sixty shillings; for the third kind let him pay forty shillings.’
Punishment could also, however, reflect the status of the owner, not the
victim; in either case, it was clearly the owner rather than the victim whom
the law considered to have been wronged, since it was the owner, not the
victim, who received any fines that were payable. Thus, for example, the
fine for ‘lying with’ a nobleman’s maidservant varied depending upon the
rank of the nobleman:
Gif wið eorles birele man geligeþ, XII scillinga gebete….
Gif wið ceorles birelan man geligeþ, VI scillingum
gebete… (Æthelberht 14, 16)
‘If someone lies with an earl’s cup-bearer, let him pay
twelve shillings. If someone lies with a ceorl’s cup-bearer,
let him pay six shillings…’
As the law dealt with crimes against slaves in terms of damage to a
nobleman’s property (and, perhaps more importantly, damage to a
nobleman’s honour) rather than attacks on human beings, one might well
ask what redress under the law a slave might have for abuse by his or her
owner. In keeping with its almost exclusive concern with the upper classes,
the law provided very little protection for the owned. 28 If a crime were
committed by an owner against a slave, there was not much that could be
done for him or her, unless the abuse was particularly extreme:
26
27
28
Cf. also Æthelberht 10-11.
For discussion of the læt, see ATTENBOROUGH, Laws, p. 177.
Cf. also the discussion in Leo CARRUTHERS, ‘Liberté et Esclavage dans la
Société Anglo-Saxonne’, Bulletin des Anglicistes Médiévistes 56 (1999), 1-25: 12.
Se ðe slea his agenne þeowne esne oððe his mennen, & he
ne sie idæges dead, ðeah he libbe twa niht oððe ðreo, ne bið
he ealles swa scyldig, forþon þe hit wæs his agen fioh. Gif
he ðonne sie idæges dead, ðonne sitte sio scyld on him.
(Alfred Introduction 17)
‘[Regarding] one who strikes his own slave, servant, or
female slave: if [the slave] is not dead on the day, even
though he might [thereafter] live [only] two or three nights,
he is not at all so guilty, because it was his own property. If,
however, [the slave] is dead on the day, then the guilt rests
on him.’
With this background in mind, one may reconsider the thief in
Maxims II. As I have noted, the context surrounding this thief has
particular consequences. The thief is not only travelling outside in the
natural world, apparently amongst the birds and fish and rain; he is also
being ascribed his natural place: just as it is natural for a fish to be in
water, so it is natural for a thief to travel in dark weather. There may
appear to be little else one can say about this thief, but the implications of
the ‘natural place’ should not be passed over too quickly. The proverbial
form in which this statement appears and the context of incontrovertible
facts about the natural world create a fixed, static, unquestionable reality:
the thief’s place is natural, inescapable, and just. We might simply accept
this, as the Anglo-Saxon poet no doubt expected the audience to do, but it
is worth recalling what comes along with ‘dark weather’. Bad weather is
associated with exile, most famously in The Wanderer and The Seafarer. It
is also associated with harsh, forbidding, inhospitable landscapes, most
notably in Beowulf.29 Thus, in addition to living without the protection of
the law, the thief here is consigned to a place typically associated with
29
See Beowulf 1356b-61a and 1373-6a.
social deprivation and monsters. The other company that the thief keeps
seems to push the implications of this place even further: the harsh,
forbidding, inhospitable landscapes indicate a state more than a ‘place’.
In the poem, and perhaps also out in the natural world, the thief is
followed by a þyrs. I have translated þyrs as ‘giant’, but the creature’s
identity and nature are unclear.30 One charter (S222) indicates a landmark
labelled as a þyrs pyt ‘giant’s pit’, but provides little indication of what
either the pit or the þyrs was like.31 Glossaries link the þyrs with Cacus (a
giant son of Vulcan), the Cyclops, Orcus (the god of the dead), or a devil
from hell32—all of which suggest large, unpleasant, superhuman creatures
but are unhelpful in establishing specific generic qualities for the þyrs. A
gloss to Aldhelm’s prose De virinitate suggests that the Marsi, a people
from central Italy who were famous as fighters, were like the þyrs, and,
rather confusingly, links them with wyrmgalera ‘snake charmers’.33 Thus
the lines in Maxims II, brief as they are, provide a comparative wealth of
information about the þyrs, for they state its place of residence, the fens.
Other texts can supply some idea of what kinds of creatures live in fens.
30
31
32
33
For discussion of the þyrs, see E. G. STANLEY, ‘Two Old English Poetic Phrases
Insufficiently Understood for Literary Criticism: Þing Gehegan and Seonoþ
Gehagan’, in Old English Poetry: Essays on Style, ed. Daniel G. Calder, Berkeley,
Los Angeles, and London: California UP, 1979, pp. 67-90: 69-71.
Charters are cited by their number in P. H. SAWYER, ed., Anglo-Saxon Charters:
An Annotated List and Bibliography, Royal Historical Society Guides and
Handbooks 8, London: Offices of the Royal Historical Society, 1968.
W. G. STRYKER, ‘The Latin-Old English Glossary in MS Cotton Cleopatra A3’,
diss., Stanford University, 1951: for Cacus, see no. 1388; for the cyclops, see no.
1507; for Orcus and the devil from hell, see no. 4502.
Arthur S. NAPIER, ed., Old English Glosses: Chiefly Unpublished, Anecdota
oxoniensia Mediaeval and modern series 11, Oxford: Clarendon, 1900, no. 3271.
For example, Guthlac reveals that wastelands34 are the typical haunting
grounds of devils:
Wid is þes westen, wræcsetla fela,
eardas onhæle earmra gæsta.
Sindon wærlogan þe þa wic bugað. (Guthlac 296-8)
‘This wilderness is wide—[there are] many places of exile
and secret dwelling places of wretched spirits. They are
devils [‘covenant-breakers’] who dwell in this place.’
The most famous source of information on the þyrs, however, is
Beowulf. In his first speech to Hrothgar, the hero proposes that he has
relevant work-experience which uniquely suits him for his struggle against
Grendel:
… ic of searwum cwom,
fah from feondum, þær ic fife geband,
yðde eotena cyn ond on yðum slog
niceras nihtes, nearoþearfe dreah,
wræc Wedera nið (wean ahsodon),
forgrand gramum, ond nu wið Grendel sceal,
wið þam aglæcan, ana gehegan
ðing wið þyrse. (Beowulf 419b-26a)
‘I came away from those skilful works, stained from
[the blood of my] enemies; there I bound five,
inundated the race of giants and slew sea-monsters at
night among the waves; I endured severe straits,
avenged the hostilities against the Weather-Geats (they
had asked for woe!), ground down the grim ones. And
now against Grendel, against the awesome combatant,
I alone must settle the affair with the þyrs.’
The Beowulf-poet is also in agreement with Maxim II’s statement regarding
the natural habitat of a þyrs:
34
Prose versions of the life of St Guthlac specify that the wasteland was a fen near
Grantchester. For text see Bertram COLGRAVE, ed. and trans., Two Lives of Saint
Cuthbert: A Life by an Anonymous Monk of Lindisfarne and Bede’s Prose Life,
Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold,
fen ond fæsten… (Beowulf 102-4a)
‘The grim spirit was named Grendel, the famous boundarywalker who held the moors, the fen and the stronghold.’
In the context of pagan gods, mythical criminals, devils, and Grendel, the
creature described in Maxims II as ‘dwelling alone in the land’ appears to
be some kind of monster or evil spirit—something apparently supernatural.
By the end of this paper, however, I would like to suggest that the
þyrs might not have been a supernatural creature at all. Instead, it might
have been what we would now consider to be a human being: a criminal
like the thief, or perhaps a foreigner. Once again, my point will be that
modern categories do not match up neatly with those of the Anglo-Saxons;
in fact, as I hope to show, foreigners and criminals share striking
similarities with monsters and demons. Some hints of this overlap can be
seen already in the passages I have cited from Guthlac and Beowulf. The
Guthlac-poet describes its devils as wræcca ‘exiles’ and wærloga
‘covenant-breakers’, terms equally applicable to human criminals, and
Grendel, of course, is notoriously difficult to define. He has been
identified, among other things, as a devil,35 a draugr,36 one of the
35
36
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1940, 2nd ed. 1985.
The poet refers to the death of Grendel and his mother as deofla hryre ‘the fall of
devils’ (1680a). Cf. also L. MALMBERG, ‘Grendel and the Devil’,
Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 78 (1977), 241-3; Kemp MALONE, ‘Grendel and
His Abode’, in Studia Philologica et Litteraria in Honorem L. Spitzer, eds. A. G.
Hatcher and K. L. Selig, Berne: Francke Verlag, 1958, pp. 297-308: 298; C. J. E.
BALL, ‘Beowulf 99-101’, Notes & Queries 216 (1971), 163; J. SMITH, ‘BeowulfII’, English 26 (1977), 3-22: 13.
A draugr is a walking corpse from Norse legend; see N. K. CHADWICK, ‘Norse
Ghosts: A Study in the Draugr and the Haugbúi’, Folk-Lore 57 (1946), 50-65, 10627; and idem., ‘The Monsters and Beowulf’, in The Anglo-Saxons: Studies in Some
Aspects of their History and Culture Presented to Bruce Dickins, ed. P. Clemoes,
monstrous races of the East which dominate the prose material
accompanying the poem,37 a descendant of the Old Testament pre-diluvian
giants,38 or a human outlaw,39 not to mention various allegorical figures. 40
37
38
39
40
London: Bowes and Bowes, 1959, pp. 171-203; cf. also 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: 375-7.
But cf. John Block FRIEDMAN, The Monstrous Races in Medieval Art and
Thought, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981, pp. 103-6. For
discussion of the relationship between Beowulf and the Liber monstrorum, see
Andy ORCHARD, Pride and Prodigies: Studies in the Monsters of the BeowulfManuscript, Cambridge: Brewer, 1995, pp. 109-14; L. G. WHITBREAD, ‘The
Liber Monstrorum and Beowulf’, Mediaeval Studies 36 (1974), 434-71; Michael
LAPIDGE, ‘Beowulf, Aldhelm, the Liber Monstrorum and Wessex’, Studi
Medievale 23 (1982), 151-92; Ann Knock, ‘The Liber Monstrorum: An
Unpublished Manuscript and Some Reconsiderations’, Scriptorium 32 (1978), 1928; Ann Knock, rev. of Liber monstrorum de diversis generibus: Libro delle
Mirabili Difformità, by C. Bologna, Medium Ævum 48 (1979), 259-62: 261.
Ruth MELLINKOFF, ‘Cain’s Monstrous Progeny in Beowulf: Part I, Noachic
Tradition’, Anglo-Saxon England 8 (1979), 143-62; Ruth MELLINKOFF, ‘Cain’s
Monstrous Progeny in Beowulf: Part II, Post-Diluvian Survival,’ Anglo-Saxon
England 9 (1981), 183-197; Margaret E. GOLDSMITH, The Mode and Meaning of
Beowulf, London: Athlone Press, 1970, pp. 107-8.
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: 241-2; R. P. TRIPP, Jr, ‘Grendel
Polytropos’, In Geardagum 6 (1984), 43-69: 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: 486; A. H. OLSEN, ‘The
Aglaeca and the Law’, American Notes & Queries 20 (1982), 66-8: 66-7. For
discussion of the ironic application of human epithets to Grendel, see J. G.
JOHANSEN, ‘Grendel the Brave? Beowulf, line 834’, English Studies 63 (1982),
193-7: 196. The possibility of crossing over from the human to the monstrous has
been discussed often with reference to Grettir. See ORCHARD, Pride and
Prodigies, pp. 152-68; S. L. DRAGLAND, ‘Monster-man in Beowulf’,
Neophilologus 61 (1977), 606-18. The discussion of the relationship between
Beowulf and Grettis Saga is vast; for summaries see P. A. JORGENSEN, ‘Grendel,
Grettir and Two Skaldic Stanzas’, Scriptia Islandica 25 (1975), 54-61; R. L.
HARRIS, ‘The Death of Grettir and Grendel: A New Parallel’, Scripta Islandica 24
(1973), 25-53; ORCHARD, Pride and Prodigies, pp. 140-1.
For example, for Grendel as a symbol of intemperance and fratricide, see Fidel
FAJARDO-ACOSTA, ‘Intemperance, Fratricide, and the Elusiveness of Grendel’,
English Studies 73 (1992), 205-10.
With so much ambiguity regarding what Grendel is, it seems to me that the
poet did not particularly intend there to be a clear understanding of
Grendel’s nature.41 Nevertheless, one thing is clear: Grendel is not ‘human’
from an Anglo-Saxon point of view. I would like to argue that he shares
this non-human status with the þyrs and also with criminals and foreigners.
What is crucial for this argument, of course, is defining what ‘not human
from an Anglo-Saxon point of view’ means.
We can begin to observe the non-human status of foreigners in Wulf
and Eadwacer:
Leodum is minum swylce him mon lac gife;
willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.
Ungelic is us.
Wulf is on iege, ic on oþerre.
Fæst is þæt eglond, fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige;
willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.
Ungelice is us. (Wulf and Eadwacer 1-8)
‘For my people it is as if someone gave them an offering;
they will devour him, if he comes in a troop. We are not
alike. Wulf is on an island; I am on another. That island is
securely surrounded with fens. There are men fierce for
slaughter there on the island; they will devour him if he
comes in a troop. We are not alike.’
Wulf and Eadwacer is, of course, a notoriously ambiguous poem, and I do
not propose to solve any of its problems here.42 Rather, I would like to
41
42
Cf. LAPIDGE, ‘Beowulf and the Psychology of Terror’, p. 377.
My comments naturally rest upon some assumptions. For example, I assume that
the poem is about relationships between people, not dogs and wolves (as, for
example W. J. SEDGEFIELD does in ‘OE Notes I: “Wulf and Eadwacer”’, Modern
Language Notes 26 (1931), 74-5). I also assume that the import is primarily secular,
not religious (as, for example, M. J. SWANTON does in ‘“The Wife’s Lament” and
“The Husband’s Message”: A Reconsideration’, Anglia 82 (1964), 269-90). For
draw attention to the repeated pronouncement ungelice is us ‘we are not
alike’ or, more literally, ‘it is not the same for us’ (3 and 8). This statement
may sum up a central theme of the poem, regardless of the details of its
plot, for Wulf and Eadwacer appears to be a poem about alienation, and the
poet is emphatic about the differences and distinctions between peoples.
This state of being ungelic, ‘not alike’, is expressed in the poem as
implacable hostility between the two peoples: even the speaker, despite her
apparent sympathy for Wulf, describes the ‘other island’ in terms reserved
for wastelands, not habitable places. The reference to fens recalls Maxims
II, Guthlac, and Beowulf; fens are the dwelling places of monsters and
devils, not places suitable or habitable for human beings. In addition,
despite her longing for her lover, the speaker describes his people in the
negative, violent terms usually reserved for heathens and animals in other
Old English texts: they are wælreowe ‘fierce for slaughter’, like the Viking
wælwulfas ‘slaughter-wolves’ in The Battle of Maldon (96a), like the
wælgrædige ‘slaughter-greedy’ cannibals in Andreas (135a), like the
wælhreow ‘slaughter-fierce’ heathen troop that overcomes Jerusalem in
Daniel (52a), and like the ravenous, wælgifre ‘slaughter-eager’ ravens who
attend on battles in, for example, Elene (112a) and Judith (207a and 295b)
Comparing this characterisation of both land and people with the
lands and peoples described in texts like The Wonders of the East can
some other approaches to the poem, see Janemarie LUECKE, ‘Wulf and Eadwacer:
Hints for Reading from Beowulf and Anthropology,’ in The Old English Elegies:
New Essays in Criticism and Research, ed. Martin Green, London and Toronto:
Associated University Presses, 1983, pp. 190-203; Patricia A. BELANOFF,
‘Women’s Songs, Women’s Language: Wulf and Eadwacer and The Wife’s
Lament’, in New Readings on Women in Old English Literature, eds. Helen Damico
and Alexandra Hennessey Olsen, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1990,
pp. 193-203.
illuminate the fear and loathing directed at foreigners further. 43 The
Wonders of the East, of course, is a text about monsters, not neighbours,
and thus its attitude toward ‘foreigners’ is extreme. Nevertheless, the
attitude betrayed in The Wonders of the East is parallel in instructive ways
to that in Wulf and Eadwacer and other Old English texts.
One of the major issues in The Wonders of the East revolves around
the problem of distinguishing human-like but foreign creatures from
human beings.44 This distinguishing is done by ascribing to questionable
entities a number of alien characteristics, including, for example, animal
heads or limbs,45 radically non-human features (such as ears they can wrap
around their bodies),46 unusual colour,47 hairiness,48 fiery breath,49 and
large size.50 Other proofs of strangeness and distinction from humanity
derive from unusual social practices. For example, some of these creatures
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
For text of The Wonders of the East, see ORCHARD, Pride and Prodigies.
References to this text will be made by section number only.
The argument in this paragraph follows that in my Representations of the Natural
World, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 27, Cambridge: Cambridge
UP, 1999, pp. 31-5.
For example, some habbað olfenda fet and eoferes teð ‘have camel’s feet and
boar’s teeth’ (§27), or longe sceancan swa fugelas ‘long legs like birds’ (§17), or
horses manan and eoferes tucxas and hunda heafda ‘horse’s manes and boar’s
tusks and dog’s heads’ (§7).
Thus some habbað micel heafod & earan swa fann. Oþer eare hy him on niht
underbredað, & mid oþran hy wreoð him ‘have large heads and ears like fans; at
night they spread one ear beneath themselves and with the other they cover
themselves’ (§21).
The sigelwara ‘Ethiopians’, for example, are sweartes hiwes on ansyne ‘darkcoloured on their faces’ (§32); others’ bodies are on marmorstanes hwitnysse ‘the
whiteness of marble’ (§27); some are even on þreosellices hiwes ‘tri-coloured’
(§12).
For example, some have beardas oþ cneow side and feax oð helan ‘beards down to
their knees and hair to their heels’ (§8).
The breath of the Cynocephali byð swylce fyres lig ‘is like a fiery flame’ (§7).
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).
eat raw fish or flesh,51 some flee from human contact,52 some give away
women,53 and, in illustrations, at least, they do not wear clothing. 54
The most important distinguishing characteristic of these foreign
peoples, however, is the danger they pose to human beings, a danger which
can perhaps be summed up in the story of the Donestre:
Ðonne is sum ealond in þære Readan sæ, þær is mancyn
þæt is mid us Donestre nemned, þa sindon geweaxene swa
frihteras fram þam heafde oð ðone nafelan, and se oðer dæl
bið mennisce onlic. And hie cunnon mennisce gereord.
Þonne hie fremdes cynnes mannan geseoð, þonne hie
nemnað hine and his magas cuþra mid manna naman, and
mid leaslicum wordum hie hine beswicað, and hine gefoð,
and æfter þan hie hine fretað ealne buton his heafde and
þonne sittað and wepað ofer þam heafde. (Wonders of the
East §21.)
‘There is an island in the Red Sea where there is a race of
men who among us are called the Donestre. They are
formed like soothsayers55 from the head to the navel, and
the other half is manlike in appearance. And they know
human speech. When they see a man of a foreign race, they
name him and his familiar kinsmen with human names, and
through lying words they deceive him, and seize him, and
after that they devour him entirely except for his head. And
then they sit and weep over the head.’
51
52
53
54
55
For example, be hreawan fisceon [Homodubii] libbað and þa etaþ ‘the DoubtfullyMen live on and eat raw fish’ (§8); others be hreawan flæsce and be hunige lifigeað
‘live on raw flesh and honey’ (§28).
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).
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).
Cf. discussion in FRIEDMAN, Monstrous Races, p. 31.
I am not certain of the significance of the ‘soothsayer’ component of the Donestre’s
anatomy. Illustrations of the Donestre display a lion-headed and clawed giant; see
FRIEDMAN, Monstrous Races, p. 16.
Despite being called a mancyn ‘race of men’, the Donestre are only—and
dangerously—like human beings. Their appearance is deceptive; in reality
they are fierce, cunning, man-eating monsters, whose knowledge of human
speech and manlike appearance allows them to lure human victims to their
deaths. In fact, the Donestre illustrate the great need for the distinctions
which The Wonders of the East emphasise: mistaking a monster for a
human being can be fatal. The text as a whole appears to demonstrate that
its subjects are not human at all but rather savage beasts, living among
savage beasts, in savage lands.
The description of foreigners in Wulf and Eadwacer should be seen in
this context. Although Wulf and Eadwacer apparently transpires in the
‘civilised’ world rather than the monstrous East, it shares many similarities
with some of the exotic locations described in The Wonders of the East:
the horrible, fen-surrounded island and the men fierce for slaughter would
not appear out of place in the neighbourhood of the Donestre. The odd,
perhaps metaphorical statement, willað hy hine aþecgan ‘they will devour
him’ (Wulf and Eadwacer 2 and 7), may also appear more meaningful with
such neighbours in mind. Although the statement seems to refer to the
speaker’s own people, in the context of savage men and hostile lands the
implied cannibalism reminds one very strongly of monsters in The
Wonders of the East.
The story of relations between peoples in Wulf and Eadwacer and The
Wonders of the East appears to contrast very strongly with the polite—
even affectionate—relations between the Danish king, Hrothgar, and the
Geatish hero, Beowulf. However, consciousness of the extremely negative
attitudes toward foreigners in other Old English texts can deepen our
understanding of the activities that underly these positive relations in
Beowulf. In fact, the greeting offered to Beowulf and his companions when
they first arrive in Denmark is notable for its suspicion, if not its hostility:
the mounted coastguard blocks their passage, shakes his spear, informs
them that they have no right to be there, and demands to know their
identities and intentions (Beowulf 234-47a). From this point forward the
hero must participate in a series of ceremonial speeches and acts to
demonstrate his worthiness to be accepted as Hrothgar’s champion,
including his first introductory speech to Hrothgar, his response to
Unferth’s flying, and his acceptance of and vow over the cup offered by
Wealhtheow.56 Through these courtly performances, members of the two
races are able to bridge the differences between them and overcome the
space between ‘us and them’. As I have noted, Beowulf and Hrothgar
achieve this bridging very successfully, to the point that Hrothgar becomes
willing to adopt Beowulf as his own son (Beowulf 1175-6a). Before this
point, however, both parties carefully observe courtly procedures, and
shared knowledge and experiences prove crucial: Beowulf is accepted into
the hall partly because Hrothgar has heard of his prowess before (377-81a),
but also because Hrothgar previously befriended his father (459-72).
Despite this positive example of inter-tribal relations, other Old
English texts confirm the monstrousness of foreigners. In fact, the use of
the epithet ‘foreign’ often has a rhetorical function in Old English poetry,
56
For discussion of Wealhtheow’s role and the importance of the cup-ceremony, see,
for example, M. J. ENRIGHT, ‘The Lady with a Mead-Cup: Ritual, Group
Cohesion and Hierarchy in the Germanic Warband’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien
22 (1988), 170-203; Fred C. ROBINSON, Beowulf and the Appositive Style,
Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1985, pp. 75-9; Hugh MAGENNIS,
Images of Community in Old English Poetry, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon
England 18, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, pp. 60-7.
where ‘foreigners’ can be alien enemies or even cannibals. This is
particularly true in Andreas and Elene, where the elþeod ‘foreigners’ are,
respectively, the demonic, apostle-eating Myrmedonians and the barbarian
Huns,57 but it is also true in less exotic cases. For example, The Fortunes of
Men presents being among foreigners as one of the dire fates that any
person could dread:
Sum sceal on feþe on feorwegas
nyde gongan ond his nest beran,
tredan uriglast elþeodigra,
frecne foldan; ah he feormendra
lyt lifgendra, lað biþ æghwær
fore his wonsceaftum wineleas hæle.
(The Fortunes of Men 27-32)
‘Some must out of necessity travel on foot on distant paths
and carry his provisions, walk the dewy path of foreigners
in a strange land; [such a man] possesses few living
providers; the friendless one is hated everywhere because of
his bleak fortune.’
This terrible fate could be appropriated in religious writings as an
example of the great suffering that a Christian might be expected to bear.
For example, in Alfred’s translation of Gregory’s Cura Pastoralis, living
among foreigners is presented as comparable with the discomfort of being
ill.
Eac is to cyðanne ðæm mettrumum, gif hie willen geliefan
ðætte Godes rice hiera sie, ðæt hie ðonne her on worulde
ðoligen earfeðu ðæm timum ðe hie ðyrfen, sua sua mon
sceal on elðiode. (Cura Pastoralis xxxvi)58
57
58
See, for example, Andreas 63a, 199a, and 946a; Elene 82a and 139a. In Andreas it
is noteworthy that the many other instances of variations of elþeod refer to people
foreign to the Myrmedonians; see, for example, Andreas 1073a.
For text see Henry SWEET, ed., King Alfred’s West-Saxon Version of Gregory’s
Pastoral Care, EETS os 45, London: Trübner, 1871, p. 253 (lines 8-11).
‘Also it must be said to the sick, if they want to believe that
God’s kingdom is theirs, that they should suffer hardship
here in the world during the times that they need [to suffer],
just as some must among a foreign people.’
In the same way, the dire expectations associated with living among
foreigners is exploited in The Seafarer as a way of dramatising the
discomfort and extreme conditions of exile that the speaker is willing to
endure for God:
Monað modes lust mæla gehwylce
ferð to feran, þæt ic feor heonan
elþeodigra eard gesece. (The Seafarer 36-8)
‘My mind’s desire admonishes me every time to travel
forth, so that far from here I might seek the land of
foreigners.’
Likewise, the deprivation and suffering undertaken by saints is often
expressed by stating that they lived willingly among foreigners. For
example, Bede notes of Egbert that he in Hibernia diutius exulauerat pro
Christo ‘lived in exile in Ireland for a long time for the sake of Christ’. 59
That is, despite the often-stated holiness of Ireland and its missionaries,
living abroad remained a sacrifice. The enormity of this sacrifice is clearer
once the extremely negative connotations of ‘foreigners’ are understood.
Living among such people did not merely entail missing friends and family
or enduring unfamiliar customs. Rather, it entailed living among people
imagined as savage, dangerous, even monstrous—‘people’ who might be
expected to turn on and devour even a devout visitor.
Such description of foreigners is, of course, clearly rhetorical,
especially in religious texts: the objective of these descriptions is not to
59
Bede, Historia ecclesiastica iii.4. Text is taken from Bertram COLGRAVE and R.
A. B. MYNORS, eds., Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Oxford:
reflect the reality of foreign behaviour but to make points about, for
example, correct Christian attitudes toward the world. Actually being
‘foreign’, however, was more than a rhetorical issue, especially since the
negative attitudes exploited in poetic texts appear to have been
characteristic of ‘real life’ as well. The need to overcome the hostility
associated with foreigners is shown, for example, by Alfred’s injunction
that people should be fair and just to foreigners:
Utan cumene & elðeodige ne geswenc ðu no, forðon ðe ge
wæron giu elðeodige on Egipta londe. (Alfred’s
Introduction to the Laws 33)
‘Do not afflict visitors and foreigners, because previously
you were foreigners in the land of Egypt.’
This is just one example of a motif that appears frequently, for example, in
law codes, homilies, and Bede’s Ecclesiastical History.60
Despite this understanding and merciful attitude, however, other law
codes suggest a rather more hostile welcome for the foreigner, and being
foreign apparently had distinct legal repercussions. For example, the laws
of Wihtræd specify that the movement of foreigners should be strictly
curtailed:
Gif feorran cumen man oþþe fræmde buton wege gange &
he þonne nawðer ne hryme ne he horn ne blawe, for ðeof he
bið to profianne: oþþe to sleanne oþþe to alysenne.
(Wihtræd 28)61
60
61
Clarendon, 1969, 2nd ed. 1991, p. 224.
See, for example, II Cnut 35; sermon no. 59 ‘Sermo Lupi’ (in A. NAPIER, ed.,
Wulfstan: Sammlung der ihm zugeschriebenen Homilien nebst Untersuchungen
über ihr Echtheit, Sammlung englischer Denkmäler in kritischen Ausgaben 4,
Berlin: Weidmann, 1883, p. 309); Bede, Historia ecclesiastica iii.6 (in
COLGRAVE and MYNORS, Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, p. 230).
Cf. also Ine 20.
‘If a man who has come from afar or a foreigner goes off
the [main] road, and if he neither shouts nor blows a horn
[to warn of his approach], he is to be considered a thief,
either to be slain or redeemed [by a fine].’
The attitude toward this ‘tourist’ can usefully be compared with the
coastguard’s attitude toward Beowulf and his companions. In both cases,
foreigners are received with suspicion and directed to follow the main
road. The coastguard does not provide any other instructions, but here we
find some indication of what might have happened if, for example,
Beowulf and his men had taken a detour to explore the vicinity. A
foreigner must broadcast his approach and warn the natives of his
presence, which is assumed to be inherently dangerous. If he does not
provide this warning, he is automatically a criminal, guilty until proven
innocent, and liable to be ‘shot on sight’, just like the thieves and public
criminals addressed in Cnut’s later laws: ðeofas and ðeodsceaðan to timan
forwurðan, buton hi geswican ‘thieves and criminals against the people
must perish at that opportunity, unless they submit’ (II Cnut 4). Finding a
foreigner unexpectedly was apparently like stumbling upon a dangerous
wild animal; the correct procedure was ‘shoot first; ask questions later’.
Cnut’s laws also suggest some of the other implications of being a
foreigner in lands governed by Anglo-Saxon laws:
And gif 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. (II
Cnut 35)
‘And if a friendless man or visitor from afar is thus afflicted
by his lack of friends, that he does not have protection, at
the first accusation let him submit to imprisonment and wait
there until he should go to God’s ordeal and fare there as he
may.’ (II Cnut 35)
The main issue here is that the foreigner does not have anyone to vouch for
him; unlike the slave, whose lord can swear an oath on his behalf, but
rather like the tihtbysig man, the foreigner may find himself freondleas
‘friendless’, and in such a situation he is guilty until proven innocent. As a
result, he is imprisoned until given a chance to prove himself by ordeal.
For example, the accused might be required to plunge his hand into boiling
water to retrieve a stone—either up to his wrist or up to his elbow,
depending upon the seriousness of the crime. The hand would then be
wrapped for three days, whereupon it would be inspected. Its ‘foulness’ or
‘cleanness’ at this point would determine his guilt or innocence. 62 As one
might imagine, the lack of sterilisation at the time prejudiced ‘justice’
toward guilt rather than innocence. Another form of ordeal involved the
accused being bound and thrown into water, with the expectation that the
water, which had been previously consecrated by a priest, would expel the
guilty and accept the innocent; that is, the guilty would float and the
innocent sink.63 Those who failed the ordeal could face being beheaded or
outlawed.64
The main point I would like to make here is the easy transition from
foreigner to criminal. As in the poetic texts, foreigners are viewed with
suspicion if not outright hostility from the start; the law appears to reflect
an expectation that foreigners are wælreowe weras ‘men fierce for
slaughter’, like those described in Wulf and Eadwacer. By virtue of their
unfamiliarity, such men appear to have always been very close to being
62
63
See IV Æthelstan 7.
See II Æthelstan 23.
outlaws—to being, in fact, monsters like the foreigners described in The
Wonders of the East.
In this context, the question regarding what kind of creature Grendel
is can be seen in a different light. There are a number of good reasons why
Grendel cannot be a human being, but the reasons might be different for a
modern as opposed to an Anglo-Saxon audience. A modern reader might
expect Grendel’s great size, his iron-hard claws, and his glowing eyes to
disqualify him from being human. For an Anglo-Saxon audience, however,
these features might have been symptoms associated with more important
characteristics, including being a mearcstapa ‘a boundary-walker’, being
of unknown parentage, being a cannibal like the foreigners described in
The Wonders of the East, and also being a criminal, someone outside the
law. In fact, the poet specifically mentions Grendel’s refusal to conform to
the laws designed to protect the ‘law-worthy’. Grendel not only kills
people; he completely ignores the rules demanding that a man’s price be
paid when a crime takes place against him:
…Grendel wan
hwile wið Hroþgar, heteniðas wæg,
fyrene ond fæhðe fela missera,
singale sæce, sibbe ne wolde
wið manna hwone mægenes Deniga,
feorhbealo feorran, fea þingian,
ne þær nænig witena wenan þorfte
beorhtre bote to banan folmum… (Beowulf 151b-8)
‘Grendel strove against Hrothgar for a time, brought hateful
hostility, crime and feud for many years, an unending battle.
In no way did he want peaceful terms with any one of the
Danish race, or to desist from that murder, or to settle [it]
64
See, for example, I Æthelred 1.
with a fee, nor did any of the counsellors have any need to
expect a brighter remedy from the hands of the killer.’
The legal details in this passage are not merely an ironic touch, for
Grendel’s refusal to conform to social rules is not an incidental point; it is
essential to his monstrousness. Like the foreign races in The Wonders of
the East and like the foreigners in Wulf and Eadwacer, Grendel’s
monstrousness can be seen to derive from his difference and exclusion
from a known, law-ordered society.
Of course, the social aspects of Grendel’s depiction as a monster have
been noted many times before.65 The insights derived from understanding
Grendel’s social characteristics can, however, usefully be extended to
include others excluded from society—to enlarge the number of ‘monsters’
depicted in Old English poetry. An obvious choice is Cain, who violates
the kin-bond which underlies Germanic society and is thus exiled to a
place outside of human society; indeed, the Beowulf-poet identifies him as
the source of all monsters (Beowulf 111-4). Cain is not only the source of
monsters in a biological sense, however. He can be viewed as the source of
monsters on both a genetic and a legal level, for he is both the ancestor of
monsters and the originator of violent crime, the activity which transforms
human beings into monster. One of his ‘legal’ rather than ‘genetic’
offspring is Heremod, the evil king described in Beowulf. Like Cain,
Heremod is initially a human being, but, having committed crimes against
the laws of society, he ana hwearf, / mære þeoden, mondreamum from ‘the
notorious prince turned away alone from the joys of men’ (Beowulf 1714b-
65
See, for example, my discussion in Representations of the Natural World, pp. 70-81
and the references cited there.
5b). Heremod does not, however, simply disappear into the wilderness.
The poet informs us
He mid Eotenum wearð
on feonda geweald forð forlacen,
snude forsended. (Beowulf 902b-4a)
He was henceforth betrayed into the power of enemies
among the Eotena, quickly put to death. (Beowulf 902b-4a)
The Eotena may be Jutes, or they may be ‘giants’.66 Given the attitudes
toward foreign peoples, the distinction may have been slight; in this case,
at least, it makes little difference, for the entities among whom Heremod
finds himself after turning away from the joys of men treat him with the
savagery expected from both monsters and foreigners. It has been argued
elsewhere that Heremod in his greed actually turns into a monster—into a
dragon, in fact.67 I am not convinced that Heremod is transformed into a
dragon, but I think that the text does describe a transformation of a
different sort—the transformation of a human being into a monster. This is
not a magical process but a legal one, the process of becoming an utlaga,
an outlaw or exile.
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 world beyond
those boundaries. From a modern reader’s point of view the reason for this
‘stepping outside’ is significant. Grendel and Heremod are outside (both
physically and socially) because they are violent breakers of laws, but the
66
67
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.
Raymond P. TRIPP, Jr, More About the Fight with the Dragon: Beowulf 2208b3182, Commentary, Edition, and Translation, Lanham: University Press of
Wanderer, for example, 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 out in the wilderness, but,
even when he manages to find shelter, he sits outside the circle of
community, sundor æt rune ‘apart in secret’ (The Wanderer 111b).
Although the Anglo-Saxons no doubt saw differences between such
wretched, solitary dwellers,68 the suspicion associated with the exile
should not be overlooked, regardless of the Christian symbolism developed
through it.69
The reasons for this suspicion are suggested in some of the laws
enacted (circa 925-35) to deal with those who had lost their lords:
Ond we cwædon be þam hlafordleasan mannum, ðe mon
nan ryht ætbegytan ne mæg, þæt mon beode ðære mægþe,
ðæt hi hine to folcryhte gehamette & him hlaford finden on
folcgemote. & gif hi hine ðonne begytan nyllen oððe ne
mægen to þam andagan, ðonne beo he syþþan flyma, &
hine lecge for ðeof se þe him tocume. (II Athelstan 2)
‘Regarding lordless men, from whom no justice can be
obtained, I have decreed that such a man’s kindred should
be commanded to find him a home according to the
common law and find him a lord in the popular assembly.
And if they then will not or cannot produce him on the
appointed day, then let him henceforth be a fugitive, and let
anyone who comes upon him consider him a thief.’
Such a decree makes clear some of the problems that could be faced by a
‘lordless man’ like the Wanderer—particularly one without any surviving
68
69
America, 1983.
The Wanderer is an anhaga (The Wanderer 1a); Grendel is an angenga (Beowulf
165a and 449a).
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. 21-3.
kin. In fact, a man without a lord or kindred has no way of interacting with
the law and thus is always very close to being an outlaw and
uncomfortably close to being a monster.
Human beings exist in social places like the hall, where their roles,
responsibilities, and relationships to each other are defined. Thus Maxims
II locates the natural place of the king as being inside the hall dealing out
treasure: Cyning sceal on healle / beagas dælan ‘a king must share out
treasure in the hall’ (Maxims II 28b-29a). Outside in the natural world, on
the other hand, there are dragons, bears, fish, and ‘creatures’ 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. Both the þyrs
and the thief are alienated from society; they are outlaws, because they live
outside the law. The þyrs may never have been human, but his species is
not as important as the fact that he now resides outside the boundaries that
define humanity. In fact, given the permeable boundary separating
criminals, foreigners, and monsters, he may merely be another miserable
exile—or even an unfortunate lost tourist.
Much has been said about the powerful, elegiac poetry of exile, and it
is important to note that the suspicions raised by this examination 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—sometimes
including the protection of God himself. That is, sometimes exile included
excommunication as well:
& eac we beodað on Godes ælmihtiges naman & on ealra
his haligra, þæt nan man swa dyrstig ne sy, þæt on
gehadodre nunnan oððe on mynecenan gewifige. & gyf hit
hwa gedon hæbbe, beo he utlah wið God & amansumod
fram eallum Cristendome & wið þone cyning scyldig ealles
þæs þe he age… (I Cnut 16-17)
‘And also we command in the name of almighty God and all
his saints that no man be so foolish as to marry a
consecrated nun. And if he has done so, let him be outlawed
from God and excommunicated from all of Christendom
and liable to the king for everything he owns…’
In the Old English poetic version of the Biblical story, Cain, too, is exiled
both from his kin and from the sight of God (Genesis 1047b-50)70
Such exiles may lose even more; they may lose their identities as
human beings, becoming a member of the monstrous, sub-human races as
Grendel or the þyrs 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.
(Maxims I 146-51)
‘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.’
70
Cf. HENRY, Early English and Celtic Lyric, p. 22.
Given the law codes discussed thus far, it might be fair to assume that this
‘friendless’ man was a foreigner, although he could equally be a thief. The
story might thus be seen to reconfirm the dire plight of foreigners and
criminals. This story about a ‘friendless’ man is not without its
ambiguities, however, and it 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.71 The possibility that ‘wolf’ means not
‘wild dog’ but rather ‘criminal’72 is one that was once debated earnestly
but has now been largely laid to rest: 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 AngloSaxon period.73 In Old English, a wulf was a wolf and a wearg was a
criminal, or, perhaps, a monster.74 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 utlaga, the one
living outside the law, was not so clean-cut. A thief or outlaw worthy of
being ‘shot on sight’ might not have seemed so very different from a wolf.
71
72
73
74
Cf. HENRY, Early English and Celtic Lyric, pp. 22-3.
For bibliography see Michael JACOBY, Wargus, vargr ‘Verbrecher’ ‘Wolf’: eine
sprach- und rechtsgeschichtliche Untersuchung, Studia Germanistica Upsaliensia
12, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1974. See also Joseph BOSWORTH and T.
Northcote TOLLER, An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1898, new edn. 1989, 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: 442 and idem., ‘Wolf, My Wolf!’, in Old English and
New: Studies in Language and Linguistics in Honor of Frederic G. Cassidy, ed. Joan
H. Hall, Nick Doane, and Dick Ringler, Garland Reference Library of the Humanities
1652, New York and London: Garland, 1992, pp. 46-62.
The double meaning of ‘criminal’ and ‘wolf’ for wearg did not exist before 1000
A.D. (see JACOBY, Wargus). Later evidence includes references to the ‘wolf’s
head’ (Wolfskopfträger).
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.
Becoming an outlaw meant losing all connection with society, and the
repercussions of losing that connection are extremely important, for it is
the reciprocal relationships 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, like Heremod, become a
monster, even if he was never mistaken for a wolf.
This point adds another ambiguity to the passage from Maxims I. The
passage seems to describe 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 have seemed as tragic to an Anglo-Saxon
audience as a modern reader supposes, however. In Anglo-Saxon law and
poetry, the ‘friendless’ man is a stranger, a potential thief, murderer, or
traitor, most likely a ‘man fierce for slaughter’. Without a lord, kinsman, or
witness to vouch for him, such a man is a loose cannon, dangerous until
destroyed or placed into a social framework—by ordeal, if by no other
way. This friendless man thus may not have appeared as an innocent victim
at all, and an Anglo-Saxon audience may not have been sympathetic to his
plight even if he were ‘innocent’ of actual crime, since he may have been
seen as a figure as foreign and frightening as his wolfish companions. If
the man is ‘devoured’ by fellow-criminals, it is possible that suspicions of
cannibalism may enter into the definition of these criminals as well. In fact,
the alien and hostile nature of the ‘friendless’ man may be the source of the
ambiguity that critics have perceived in the word wearg rather than any
linguistic slippage, for the attitude toward the criminal or foreigner may
not have been much different from that toward a monster.
65.
Even the word for guest (giest) may have been tainted with the same
suspicions of danger, hostility, and monstrousness. Guests may be, like the
Geats in Hrothgar’s court, welcome visitors (Beowulf 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 (1441a), the dragon (2560a),
Hengest in Finn’s court (1138a), Beowulf in Grendel’s mother’s lair
(1522b and 1545a), and (perhaps) the slave who robs the dragon’s lair
(2228a). Like foreigners and criminals, guests were not safely fixed in a
relationship with those inside society; like monsters, they might prove
impossible to fix in such a relationship. As such, the guest may always
have been suspicious if not frightening.
As I noted at the beginning of this investigation, these issues revolve
around the question of categories. As I hope to have shown, the categories
that can be discerned in Anglo-Saxon texts do not follow outlines familiar
to our own idealistic expectation of ‘inalienable human rights’. I have
focused on the distinctions that create two main privileged groups in these
texts: the ‘law-worthy’, who are defined by their class, race, and obedience
to the law, and what can only be called ‘the human’, who are basically the
‘law-worthy’, although the lower classes who are tied into relationships of
mutual obligation with the ‘law-worthy’ might also be included. Those
outside of these two categories are defined through negation, distrust, and
fear. They are the ones who are not like ‘us’—not ‘law-worthy’, not trustworthy, not known, not friendly, not safe. There are, of course, distinctions
between, say, Grendel, who eats thirty ‘law-worthy’ nobles in a night, and
a foreigner who merely forgets to blow a horn to warn of his approach.
Nevertheless, these outsiders tend to receive similar description and similar
treatment; whether one is a foreigner, a criminal, or a monster depends not
upon having essentially different natures but rather upon displaying
different degrees of distinction from the ‘law-worthy’ norm. And, as I have
said before, one response, one form of ‘justice’, can do for all: shoot on
sight.