Intl Journal of Public Administration, 28: 503–516, 2005
Copyright © Taylor & Francis Inc.
ISSN 0190-0692 print / 1532-4265 online
DOI: 10.1081/PAD-200055208
Napierkowski 503
Beowulf: The Heroic, The Monstrous,
and Anglo-Saxon Concepts of Leadership
Thomas J. Napierkowski
Professor of English, University of Colorado at Colorado Springs,
Colorado Springs, CO, USA
Abstract: The poem Beowulf highlights the leader’s heroic role, and is one of the premier
examples of literature as a form of leadership instruction. The heroic ideal is one in which
leaders are defined by their ability to live in harmony with both the laws and noble norms of
society, to overcome opposition, and to demonstrate the acquisition of virtue by the way the live.
They are readily recognized as a contrast to the evils they oppose. At the same time, heroic
leaders are exemplars for their followers, and receive much of their power by personifying the
virtues to which both they and their followers are committed. Leadership thus unfolds in a net of
shared expectations, well-defined and noble ideals, and demonstrated accomplishments. In this,
the medieval and Anglo-Saxon ideals are wondrously modern.
He led them to the right of the dancing trees—whether they were still dancing nobody
knew, for Lucy had her eyes on the Lion and the rest had their eyes on Lucy.[1]
The simple quotation above, taken from C.S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian, goes a long way toward
defining not only this notable author and literary critic’s ideas about leadership but also about the
manner in which literature itself— and medieval literature in particular—addresses the
discussion and promotion of leadership. This paper will analyze one particular ideal of leadership
which dominates early medieval literature and will suggest a significant way in which that ideal
differs from many contemporary theories.
All societies and cultures in the history of the world, even in their earliest stages, have, to
the best of our knowledge, produced literature. The reasons for this are both simple and
profound: literature gives pleasure while it instructs. In every society, but perhaps most
importantly in early societies, the instruction provided by literature ranges from information on
the planting and
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harvesting of crops to a reiteration of the history and values of the society. Almost exclusively
this function of literature is achieved through storytelling and example, a form of instruction
which, even today, is more powerful and pervasive than most realize; indeed, most of our
behavior is a form of modeling. Some of the most fundamental lessons of literature address the
concepts of leadership and responsibility in society. In stories of prose and poetry, literature
defines, models, and fosters the concepts of leaders and followers for readers and listeners alike.
A study of medieval examples of such literature can provide valuable insights into the praxis
between literature and leadership and into concepts of leadership that have been neglected or lost
in the recent centuries. In other words, such a study rewards one with a better understanding of
the content of the literature under review and with an alterity of vision on theories of leadership.
In the early Middle Ages of northwestern Europe, literary discussions of leadership are
found primarily within the context of the heroic tradition. The Germanic tribesmen who occupied
these regions had limited contact with Mediterranean civilization and were, first and foremost,
warriors. They worshipped rugged and often angry war gods like Woden and Thor; and their
religion was marked by a cold gloom. The virtues promoted by this religion were military in
nature, stressing bravery, strength, and obedience; and whatever hope there was for even a brief
life after death was reserved for those killed in battle. Such heroes, it was believed, were carried
away to Valhalla, the palace of Woden, where they feasted with the gods, who were themselves
mortal, until the Gotterdammerung, or the twilight of the gods.
These Germanic warriors were organized into tribe-like units, which the Roman historian
Tacitus in his study of the people and region, the Germania, termed the comitatus. The leader of
the comitatus was the group’s most accomplished warrior, the cyning (the source of the English
word “king”). Chosen exclusively for his prowess as a leader and warrior, the cyning had two
great responsibilities. Put as simply as possible, in times of war, he was expected to lead his
warriors into battle regardless of dangers or odds. Tacitus says: “When the battlefield is reached
it is a reproach for a chief to be surpassed in prowess.”[2] In times of peace, the cyning was to
care for his people, especially his warriors or thanes, generously and wisely. The locus of the
cyning’s authority was his mead hall. Here, he provided his band of followers with food and
drink, bestowed various gifts upon them, and administered justice.
For their part, the warriors of the comitatus, the thanes, repaid the cyning’s generosity
with unwavering loyalty. Here again, Tacitus accurately describes the nature of the relationship:
. . . it is a reproach for his [the cyning’s] retinue not to equal the prowess of its chief: but
to have left the field and survived one’s chief, this means lifelong infamy and shame: to
protect and defend him, to devote one’s own feats even to his glorification, this is the gist
of their allegiance: the chief fights for victory, but the retainers for the chief.[3]
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Beowulf: Concepts of Leadership
The cyning’s bestowal of gifts on his thanes and his feasting with them acknowledged their
worth and his own generosity; the thanes’ acceptance of the cyning’s graciousness constituted
their pledge of loyalty to him. Thus, the ties of the comitatus were presented and understood
primarily in martial terms; but, in truth, the bonds established within the comitatus not only
extended into times of peace; they were aimed at insuring peace, tranquility, and well-being.
Perhaps no other piece of early medieval literature illustrates the Anglo-Saxon ideal of
the comitatus and, consequently, of leadership, better than Beowulf, the Old English epic
composed about the year 725. So great is the power of this poem that even today it commands
the attention of readers. When Seamus Heaney, the Irish Nobel Laureate, recently translated the
poem into Modern English, his version climbed into the best sellers list on both sides of the
Atlantic. It further shocked both the public and the literary establishment by winning the coveted
Whitbread Prize, one of the longest running and most coveted book awards in the United
Kingdom, outstripping even the enormously popular and best-selling Harry Potter novels.
For the purpose of these remarks, Beowulf is a particularly illuminating piece of literature
for several reasons. For one thing, it illustrates not only the Anglo-Saxon ideal of leadership as
embodied in a legendary hero, Beowulf; it also models, in the person of Beowulf as a thane, the
duties of the ideal Anglo-Saxon follower. This in itself is an important consideration; for the
medieval world seems to have believed that leadership could not even be discussed intelligently
without addressing in the same breath the obligations, duties, and privileges of followers. Surely,
the achievements of leaders are best measured by the responses of their followers; and these
achievements, in turn, are clarified by a better appreciation of the expectations and rewards of
their followers. At another level, Beowulf is also ideal for a study of one of the important ideas of
leadership in the Middle Ages because, unlike most works of literature, it also defines, in the
adversaries that Beowulf must conquer, the Anglo-Saxon understanding of the monstrous—the
model of the anti-hero and the antithesis of the good leader. Such presentations of the monstrous
are embodied primarily in Grendel and Grendel’s dam, Beowulf’s chief opponents in the first
half of the poem who are at least quasi-supernatural in nature and origin; but they also are
revealed in allusions to bad cynings such as Heremod. A closer examination of the poem should
clarify these points.
First, however, a brief synopsis of the poem is in order. The story of the poem is simple
enough. A Geatish (the area of southern Scandinavia) hero named Beowulf takes on three mortal
challenges. Although a thane of the Geatish court, Beowulf seeks out the first two adventures in
order to rescue the Danish king Hrothgar and his people from the unrelenting attacks of the trolllike monster Grendel. After repulsing Grendel’s attack on the Danish court and mortally
wounding Grendel in battle, Beowulf then delivers the Danes from the revenge of Grendel’s
dam. Years later, an elderly Beowulf, now himself king of the Geats, defends his own people
from the attacks of a
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fire-breathing dragon; and although successful in killing the dragon, Beowulf is himself fatally
wounded in the encounter. Here, it would seem, is the matter of fairy tales, not epic poetry and
sophisticated culture; yet the experience of the poem throughout the centuries—its organic,
indeed synergistic, union of theme, style, and language (what Seamus Heaney has described as
the “the cadence and force of earned wisdom”)—belies such a conclusion.
As the above summary suggests, structurally Beowulf consists of two sections. The first
section of the poem, approximately up to line 2200, presents Beowulf the young man—Beowulf
the thane—in his first two adventures. The remainder of the poem presents Beowulf the old man,
Beowulf the cyning. Thus, the poem models for its audience in its hero, Beowulf, both sides of
the comitatus ideal: the identity and duties of the thane and the identity and duties of the cyning,
plus the general responsibilities of youth versus those of old age. This, however, does not do
justice to the complexity and sophistication of the work.
In the first section of the poem, other contrasts are also presented to rein reinforce the
message of the poem, the heroic ideal, and the Anglo-Saxon model of leadership. Thus, for
example, although the primary focus of the poem in this section is on Beowulf the thane, the
concept of kingship is addressed in the persons of Hrothgar, the good but ineffective elderly king
of the Danes, and of Hygelac, Beowulf’s lord and king of the Geats. Thus, we find examples of
kings who build great halls in which they host and reward their thanes and where they dispense
their God-given goods to their thanes as an indication of the merit and worthiness of these
followers:
The fortunes of war favored Hrothgar.
Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks,
young followers, a force that grew
to be a mighty army. So his mind turned
to hall-building: he handed down orders
for men to work on a great mead-hall
meant to be a wonder of the world forever;
it would be his throne-room and there he would dispense
his God-given goods to young and old—
but not the common land or people’s lives.[4]
Such kings treat thanes with great respect and keep their promises. In these ways, they
inspire their thanes and produce loyal followers like Beowulf the young retainer. Early in the
poem, the idea is stated quite succinctly: “Behavior that’s admired / is the path to power among
people everywhere.”[5]
In this same section of the poem, negative examples also define the heroic ideal. At the
level of the thane, we find in Hrothgar’s court a thane named Unferth who, before the
confrontation of Beowulf with Grendel, attacks the achievements of Bewoulf’s youth but who
himself does not dare to face Grendel. As Beowulf points out in his response to Unferth:
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“The fact is, Unferth, if you were truly
as keen or courageous as you claim to be
Grendel would never have got away with
such unchecked atrocity, attacks on your king,
havoc in Heorot and horrors everywhere.”[6]
Even more disgraceful is Unferth’s conduct toward his own companions:
You killed your own kith and kin,
so for all your cleverness and quick tongue,
you will suffer damnation in the depths of hell.[7]
Although the Anglo-Saxons lived in a warrior society, frivolous bloodshed Although the AngloSaxons lived in a warrior society, frivolous bloodshed was not heroic; and in many respects, the
wanton killing of one’s own blood was the ultimate taboo within the comitatus.
Such conduct contrasts markedly with that of Beowulf, who models the perfect thane.
The description of his determination to assist Hrothgar establishes both Beowulf’s motive and
his credentials:
When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac’s thane
was on home ground, over in Geatland.
There was no one else like him alive.
In his days, he was the mightiest man on earth,
highborn and powerful. He ordered a boat
that would ply the waves. He announced his plan:
to sail the swan’s road and seek out that king,
the famous prince who needed defenders.[8]
As one might expect, Beowulf is mighty and powerful; but such gifts are not enough to
qualify him as a hero. Even gifts of might and power must be employed, as they are in this case,
to assist others and in the service of good. As Beowulf concludes his trip to the Hrothgar’s court,
the poet stresses this point again:
Thus Beowulf bore himself with valour;
he was formidable in battle yet behaved with honour
and took no advantage; never cut down
a comrade who was drunk, kept his temper
and, warrior that he was, watched and controlled
his God-sent strength and his outstanding
natural powers.[9]
Additionally, Beowulf undertakes the challenge of Grendel not for his own glory but “to
heighten Hylgelac’s fame.”[10] Perhaps the clearest description of Beowulf’s heroic credentials
comes from Hrothgar himself in response to Beowulf’s offer of continued assistance if it is
needed:
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“The Lord in his wisdom sent you those words
and they came from the heart. I have never heard
so young a man make truer observations.
You are strong in body and mature in mind,
impressive in speech.”[11]
It is, however, in contrast to the monstrous that the fullest sense of Beowulf’s heroic stature is
established.
In a speech of gratitude and guidance, Hrothgar presents a negative lesson on the heroic
by comparing and contrasting Beowulf with Heremod, a Dane who betrayed the gifts with which
he was blessed:
Forever you will be
your people’s mainstay and your own warriors’
helping hand.
Heremod was different,
the way he behaved to Ecgwela’s sons.
His rise in the world brought little joy
to the Danish people, only death and destruction.
He vented his rage on men he caroused with,
killed his own comrades, a pariah king
who cut himself off from his own kind,
even though Almighty God had made him
eminent and powerful and marked him from the start
for a happy life. But a change happened,
he grew bloodthirsty, gave no more rings
to honor the Danes. He suffered in the end
for having plagued his people for so long:
his life lost happiness.
So learn from this
and understand true values.[12]
Heremod, like Beowulf, has been blessed by God with all the gifts necessary to become a hero;
but, unlike Beowulf, he misuses these gifts and becomes, instead, an anti-hero and a failure as a
leader. He not only fails to bring joy to his people; he is a source of “death and destruction.”
Furthermore, he has hoarded his treasure, neglecting or refusing to give rings (i.e., ringed armor)
“to honor the Danes.” Finally, like Unferth, Heremod has killed his own comrades and, as result,
has “cut himself off from his own kind.” Beowulf, on the other hand, will be a “mainstay” to his
people and a “helping hand” to his warriors. Thus, talents are not enough; it is the use to which
one’s talents are put which establishes one’s identity as a hero.
The most dramatic contrast, however, between the heroic and the monstrous is that
between Beowulf and Grendel. In a series of subtle but telling contrasts between the Geatish
thane and the creature that terrorizes the Danes,
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the poet gives concrete examples of the differences between the heroic and the monstrous and
further defines both. One fundamental contrast between the two is their fathers. When Beowulf
and his followers land on the coast of the Shield Danes, they are accosted by one of Hrothgar’s
guards, who demands to know their identity and mission: “What kind of men are you who arrive
/ rigged out for combat in your coats of mail . . . ?”[13] In his response, Beowulf announces that
he and his men are Geats who serve Hygelac and identifies his own father as Ecgtheow, in his
day “a famous man” and “noble warriorlord.”[14] This is not the boast of a son basking in his
father’s glory, but a warrior’s identification of his father in an effort to demonstrate that he has
nothing to hide and that he has a history of service to uphold. In contrast, Grendel and his dam
are “fatherless creatures,” and “their whole ancestry is hidden in a past / of demons and
ghosts.”[15] All that can be said with certainty is that they are descended from Cain. The heroic
is open and candid; the monstrous is hidden and deceptive.
As a result of their separate histories and actions, Beowulf and Grendel also live very
differently. Beowulf is an honored retainer of Hygelac, the Geatish king; and, once he has
identified himself, he is welcomed with enthusiasm at the court of Hrothgar, the king of the
Shield Danes. Indeed, during his stay among the Danes, Beowulf is honored three times with
feasts in Heorot hall, Hrothgar’s mead hall. Grendel, on the other hand, lives apart “among
wolves on the hills, on windswept crags / and treacherous keshes, where cold streams / pour
down the mountain and disappear under mist and moorland.”[16] Furthermore, Grendel’s visits
to Heorot hall, the place where he stages his attacks on the Danes, are the occasions for mayhem
and death. In a related matter, it is significant that Beowulf and his companions arrive openly
during the light of day; they have no need of stealth or disguise. The Danish guard who inquires
as to their business in Hrothgar’s lands comments:
I have been stationed
as lookout on this coast for a long time.
My job is to watch the waves for raiders,
any danger to the Danish shore.
Never before has a force under arms
disembarked so openly . . . [17]
Grendel, on the other hand, is known as a “prowler through the dark”[18] because he only
approaches Heorot hall at night. His attack during Beowulf’s visit is typical: “Then out of the
night / came the shadow-stalker, stealthy and swift.”[19] Here again, the contrast is clear. The
heroic stands up to the light of day; it has nothing to hide. The monstrous cloaks its deeds in
darkness and deceptions.
At a different level, the contrast between Beowulf and Grendel extends to other
credentials of the heroic. Beowulf, unlike Grendel, is not only articulate;
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he is eloquent. On more than one occasion, Beowulf’s addresses elicit the admiration of others
(we have already seen Hrothgar’s comment that Beowulf is “impressive in speech” and that his
words are wise and come “from the heart”) and demonstrate his skills as speaker. In a wonderful
metaphor, the poet refers to Beowulf’s speech as his “word-hord.” Grendel, for his part, never
utters a word. Indeed, there is no evidence that he even knows how to speak; he is devoid of the
ability to communicate with people, thus reinforcing the separation between him and not only the
world of the heroic but the human community. All this seems to suggest that the hero or leader
must be articulate and that the anti-hero or monster either is unable or refuses to speak.
Articulate speech, however, is not enough. As with all of his other gifts, Beowulf employs his
speech in the service of others—another credential of the heroic.
On the same level, another quality worth noting is Beowulf’s demeanor. He observes the
decorum of Hrothgar’s court and behaves in a respectful manner even when challenged. The poet
simply comments that “he knew all the courtesies.”[20] Again, Grendel underscores this quality
of the heroic through contrast. We are told directly that “he would never / parley or make peace
with any Dane / nor stop his death-dealing nor pay the death-price.”[21] This latter point, the
refusal to use Germanic law to settle feuds peacefully, underscores Grendel’s defiant separation,
and hence that of the monstrous, from the human community.
Finally in this series of contrasts between Beowulf and Grendel, one other feature is so
obvious that it is frequently overlooked. The death of Beowulf, in the second half of the poem, is
the occasion of great sorrow, gloom, and fear that because the hero is gone, new threats and
dangers will arise. Beowulf’s warriors are not only disconsolate; they “wailed aloud for their
lord’s decease,”[22] and the description of Beowulf’s funeral ritual reveals the pain of the
Geatish people:
Then twelve warriors rode around the tomb,
chieftain’s sons, champions in battle,
all of them distraught, chanting in dirges,
mourning his loss as a man and a king.
They extolled his heroic nature and exploits
and gave thanks for his greatness; which was the proper thing,
for a man should praise a prince whom he holds dear
and cherish his memory when the moment comes
when he has to be convoyed from his bodily home.
So the Geat people, his hearth companions,
sorrowed for the lord who had been laid low.[23]
The death of Grendel is another matter. The poet reports in typical Anglo-Saxon understatement
that Grendel’s “fatal departure / was regretted by no one.”[24] The contrast with the heroic could
not be stronger. Grendel dies alone, mourned only by his dam; and his death becomes an
occasion of great celebration at Heorot hall, the site of his infamous attacks.
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In the second section of the poem, Beowulf is an old man; and the primary focus is on the
heroic ideal presented in the person of Beowulf the cyning. This ideal is presented and defined
in both the words and deeds of the aged hero. Beowulf has ruled the Geats for fifty years and has
brought his people peace and prosperity. Now, however, a fire-breathing dragon has begun to
terrorize his land because an intruder has disturbed the treasure which the dragon has long
guarded. King Beowulf takes on the task of rescuing his people from this menace, which is, of
course, his duty as king: “I risked my life / often when I was young. Now I am old, / but as king
of the people I shall pursue this fight.”[25] So committed is the old king to the comitatus ideal
that he regards this battle solely as his responsibility and insists on undertaking this challenge
alone:
“Men-at-arms, remain here on the barrow,
safe in your armor, to see which one of us
is better in the end at bearing wounds
in a deadly fray. This fight is not yours,
nor is it up to any man except me
to measure his strength against the monster
or to prove his worth. I shall win the gold
by my courage, or else mortal combat,
doom of battle, will bear your lord away.”[26]
Age has not diminished Beowulf’s commitment to his role as leader or to the range of duties
which that role requires.
In the course of his battle with the dragon, Beowulf is mortally wounded and needs
assistance. All but one of his thanes, Wiglaf, run “for their lives / to the safety of the wood,”[27]
thus betraying their duty and providing yet another example of the anti-heroic or monstrous.
Beowulf, nonetheless, with the help of Wiglaf, slays the dragon. As he lies dying, Beowulf’s
assessment of his reign provides valuable insights into the Anglo-Saxon definition of the heroic
and of the role of the leader. In the first section of his speech, Beowulf places a high premium on
protecting his people; but he also treasures peace and shows a respect for human life:
“For fifty years / I ruled this nation. No king
of any neighboring clan would dare
face me with troops, none had the power
to intimidate me. I took what came
cared for and stood by things in my keeping,
never fomented quarrels, never
swore to a lie. All this consoles me,
doomed as I am and sickening for death;
because of my right ways, the Ruler of mankind
need never blame me when the breath leaves my body
for murder of kinsmen.”[28]
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Speaking to Wiglaf, his loyal thane, Beowulf also insists the treasure guarded by the dragon be
used for the benefit of the Geatish people:
“To the everlasting Lord of all
to the King of Glory, I give thanks
that I behold this treasure here in front of me,
that I have been allowed to leave my people
so well endowed on the day I die.
Now that I have bartered my last breath
to own this fortune, it is up to you
to look after their needs.”[29]
It seems that Beowulf regards peace and prosperity as his greatest legacy. As in the first section
of the poem, although one side of the comitatus relation is emphasized, the other side is also
presented.
The failure of all of Beowulf’s thanes but Wiglaf to come to his aid allows the poet to
address the thane side of the comitatus bond in both a negative and positive manner. The fleeing
thanes are monstrous in their disloyalty, and Wiglaf exemplifies the role of a heroic retainer.
Furthermore, his speech of admonition to his cowardly companions defines the duties of loyal
thanes, documents the conduct of a good cyning, and demonstrates that eloquence is a virtue
prized by both sides in the comitatus relationship. As the poet himself comments, Wiglaf’s words
are “wise and fluent”:
“I remember that time when mead was flowing,
how we pledged loyalty to our lord in the hall,
promised our ring-giver we would be worth our price,
make good the gift of the war-gear,
those swords and helmets, as and when
his need required it. He picked us out
from the army deliberately, honoured us and judged us
fit for this action, made me these lavish gifts—
and all because he considered us the best
of his arms-bearing thanes. And now, although
he wanted this challenge to be one he’d face
by himself alone—the shepherd of our land,
a man unequalled in the quest for glory
and a name for daring—now the day has come
when this lord we serve needs sound men
to give him their support. Let us go to him,
help our leader through the hot flame
and dread of the fire. As God is my witness,
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I would rather my body were robed in the same
burning blaze as my gold-giver’s body
than go back home bearing arms.
That is unthinkable, unless we have first
slain the foe and defended the life
of the prince of the Weather-Geats. I well know
the things he has done for us deserve better.
Why should he alone be left exposed
to fall in battle? We must bond together,
shield and helmet, mail-shirt and sword.”[30]
Wiglaf’s remarks directly define the thane’s role in the comitatus relationship and indirectly
sketch the role of the cyning. In a subsequent speech, he warns of dire consequences which will
follow as a result of the behavior of his companions:
“So it is good-bye now to all you know and love
on your home ground, the open-handedness,
and giving of war-swords. Every one of you
with freeholds of land, our whole nation,
will be dispossessed, once princes from beyond
get tidings of how you turned and fled
and disgraced yourselves. A warrior will sooner
die than live a life of shame.”[31]
The speeches of Beowulf and Wiglaf establish the intimate and synergistic link which binds not
only the cyning and his thanes but any leader and his followers; the former cannot exist without
an ethic on the part of the latter which binds them to the leader.
Finally, no analysis of Beowulf for Anglo-Saxon ideals of the heroic and of leadership
would be complete without an examination of the religious dimensions of the poem; and it is this
aspect of the piece that provides the most significant source of alterity between medieval
concepts of leadership and, incidentally, of government and modern theories.
Although the religious dimensions of Beowulf are subtle and require some background,
they are central to the work and to an understanding of medieval views of leadership. The author
of the poem was almost certainly a well-educated Christian monk writing in the early part of the
eighth century in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Mercia. The poem, on the other hand, is set in a
pagan time and place, approximately the year 525 in Southern Sweden and the Danish Peninsula;
and none of characters is a Christian or seems to know of Christianity. Despite its setting, the
world of Beowulf has been modified to reflect a Christian perspective. For one the thing, both the
narrator and the characters speak of "God" in the singular, whereas the original Anglo-Saxon
religion, as noted above, was polytheistic. Beyond that, God is regularly presented as a
Napierkowski 514
creator, a guardian, and a judge—also Christian accommodations. Furthermore, there is at least
one Biblical reference, the identification of Grendel as a descendant of Cain, which is
unequivocal. Other major actions and incidental details also create associations between Beowulf
and Christ: Beowulf’s willingness to sacrifice himself for others, even for strangers; the loss of
one of his followers during the Danish expedition; his visit to the underworld to battle Grendel’s
dam; the twelve riders who circle his pyre; and the lone Geatish woman who bewails Beowulf’s
death.
For the sake of these remarks, however, it is the insistence that the heroic resides in the
correct use of God-given gifts that is most important. That the attributes of the heroic—not just
strength, power, rank, and goods, but also eloquence and wisdom—are from God should be clear
from the many of the passages already cited. What bears reiteration here is that the poet insists
that these gifts are to be shared and used for the benefit of one’s followers and people.
Uncharacteristically, Beowulf falls into turmoil as he worries that the dragon’s attack is the result
of his failure to conduct himself properly and to use his gifts well: “It threw the hero / into deep
anguish and darkened his mood: / the wise man thought he must have thwarted / ancient
ordinance of the eternal Lord, / broken His commandment.”[32] On the other hand, as we have
also seen, his greatest consolation as he lies dying is that he is at peace with God: “because of my
right ways, the Ruler of mankind / need never blame me when the breath leaves my body.”[33]
As is typical in the poem, the poet also stresses this with negative examples, human and
monstrous, that have failed to use their gifts well. Heremod is one example: “Almighty God had
made him / eminent and powerful and marked him from the start / for a happy life.”[34] Unlike
Beowulf, however, Heremod betrays these gifts by surrendering to violence and hoarding his
treasure: “But a change happened, / he grew bloodthirsty, gave no more rings / to honor the
Danes.”[35] In a similar fashion, Grendel and other monsters face the curse of exile because they
“strove with God.”[36]
Such an understanding, commonplace though it seems, signals a profound difference
from many modern approaches to the heroic, to leadership, and even to government. There is
nothing “absolute” about any of these concepts in the Anglo-Saxon world. They do not enjoy the
prerogative to act as they please, and they are most emphatically not above the law. In a striking
difference from modern assumptions, none of the above is even free to legislate as it pleases—
not even, one might add, a democratic state or popularly chosen leaders. In the Anglo-Saxon
view, indeed in the medieval view in general and is that of most of the classical world, leaders
and governments must “administer pre-existing law.” Such law is variously understood as the
law of God, eternal verities, natural law, or even custom (in the American legal system, we
would say “precedent”). The hero, the leader, and the government do not create such laws; they
are created by them. Expanding the words of C.S. Lewis, the author and critic whose words
opened these comments, from the medieval concept of sovereignty to medieval understandings
of the heroic and of leadership,
Napierkowski 515
we encounter a different vision of these topics: “Its business is to enforce something that is
already there, something given in the divine reason or in the existing custom. By its fidelity in
reproducing that model it is to be judged. If it tries to be original, to produce new wrongs and
rights in independence of the archetype, it becomes unjust and forfeits its claim to
obedience.”[37] Such an understanding will, no doubt, resonate with some moderns and appall
others; its alterity is certainly provocative.
Less challenging is the touching final tribute of the Geatish people to their fallen leader
Beowulf:
They said that of all the kings upon earth
he was the man most gracious and fair-minded,
kindest to his people and keenest to win fame.[38]
Here is perhaps the poem’s ultimate test for the heroic and for leadership, one by which all
leaders, medieval and modern, can be measured.
REFERENCES
1. Lewis, C.S. Prince Caspian;
Collier/Macmillan: New York, 1970, 144.
2. Tacitus. Germania. Hutton, M., Trans. In
Tacitus: Dialogus, Agricola,
Germania; Page, T., Capps, E., Ruse, W.,
Post, L., Warmington, E., Eds.,
Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA,
1963; 283, 285.
3. Ibid., 285.
4. Beowulf. Heaney, S., Trans. Farrar, Straus
and Giroux: New York, 2000;
7, ll. 64–73.
5. Ibid., 7, ll. 24–25.
6. Ibid., 41, ll. 590–594.
7. Ibid., 41, ll. 587–589.
8. Ibid., 14, ll. 194–201.
9. Ibid., 149, ll. 2177–2183.
10. Ibid., 3, l. 435.
11. Ibid., 127, ll. 1841–1845.
12. Ibid., 117, 119, ll. 1707–1723.
13. Ibid., 17, ll. 237–238.
14. Ibid., 19, ll. 262, 263.
15. Ibid., 95, ll. 1355–1357.
16. Ibid., 95, ll. 1358–1361.
17. Ibid., 17, 19, ll. 240–245.
18. Ibid., 9, l. 86.
19. Ibid., 47, ll. 702–703.
20. Ibid., 25, l. 359.
21. Ibid., 13, ll. 154–156.
22. Ibid., 211, l. 3149.
23. Ibid., 213, ll. 3169–3179.
24. Ibid., 57, ll. 840–841.
25. Ibid., 169, 171, ll. 2511–2513.
26. Ibid., 171, ll. 2529–2537.
27. Ibid., 175, ll. 2598–2599.
28. Ibid., 185, ll. 2732–2743.
29. Ibid., 189, ll. 2794–2801.
30. Ibid., 177, 179, ll. 2633–2660.
31. Ibid., 195, ll. 2884–2890.
32. Ibid., 159, ll. 2327–2331.
33. Ibid., 185, ll. 2741–2742.
34. Ibid., 119, ll. 1716–1718.
35. Ibid., ll. 1718–1720.
36. Ibid., 9, l. 113.
37. Lewis, C.S. English Literature in the
Sixteenth Century Excluding
Drama; Oxford University Press: New
York, 1954; 48.
38. Beowulf, 213, ll. 3180–3182.
Napierkowski 516