Beowulf's "hall of halls," Heorot, is prominent in the first half of the poem and is fundamental to its structure. Significant because it is 'literally' a structure that provides safety and community for the Danes; Heorot is also a metaphoric structure that is rich with meaning and possibilities for interpretation. A close reading of the poem reveals that Heorot is, in addition to being essential to the story's action, the central element in concurrent cultural and spiritual metaphors. Moreover, its interpretation can be neatly framed in terms of J.R.R. Tolkien's concept of "balance."
Tolkien, in his seminal 1936 essay "The Monsters and the Critics," argues that we must dismiss the conception of Beowulf as a steadily-advancing narrative poem.
"It is essentially a balance, an opposition of ends and beginnings. In its simplest terms it is a contrasted description of two moments in a great life, rising and setting; an elaboration of the ancient and intensely moving contrast between youth and age, first achievement and final death." (28) This balance of which Tolkien speaks is found throughout the poem and, indeed, throughout many interpretations of its symbolism. Applying this concept to Heorot, we see that each of the metaphors embodied by the hall is a juxtaposition of competing ideas that contrast opposing ways of life and states of being. We see Tolkien's balance at work in Heorot from the outset. In the poet's introduction of the hall, he weaves an account of its ultimate destruction into his description of its creation:
"...he handed down orders for men to work on a great mead-hall meant to be a wonder of the world forever... [See Notes] ...The hall towered, its gables wide and high and awaiting a barbarous burning.(68-85) We are given a description of the hall in its august early splendor intertwined with one of its ignominious ultimate death. This balance, here a tension between the opposing ideas of creation and destruction, is also evident in the relationship between the world inside Heorot to that outside of it.
As John Halverson has noted, the poet uses language that portrays Heorot as a "beacon of civilization" (99), and the contrast between the hall and the hostile world outside it can be interpreted as a struggle between order and chaos. The poet rarely describes nature, but the few times he does, it is usually in reference to the Grendel monster or its mother: "Then a powerful demon, a prowler in the dark, / nursed a hard grievance" (86-87). He continues, describing dark, desolate wetlands inhabited by "monsters and elves and specters" (112). This striking contrast between the civilized world of the inside and the chaotic one of the outside is one that forms the basis for the cultural and spiritual metaphors in the mead-hall.
Heorot's significance to the poem is twofold: literally, as a structure in the action of the poem, and metaphorically, as a symbolic structure. As the former, the hall acts as the center of heroic society, both practically and emotionally. It provides warmth, sustenance, and a place for revelry for the Danes. It is where celebrations are held and treasure is distributed — as when Beowulf and his war-band arrive, after Grendel is defeated. The poet describes the hall as a harmonious place filled with the warmth of companionship: "inside Heorot / there was nothing but friendship" (1017-1018). It is a safe haven from the hazards of the dangerous world outside. In this literal sense, the hall serves as the predominant cultural and social institution in the Danish kingdom. It is in Heorot that the heroic values of Germanic society are displayed in full, and it is these values that form the basis of the story's cultural metaphor and the mead-hall's place in it.
As part of a cultural metaphor, Heorot, the "greatest house / in the world" (145-146), is a symbol of human civilization on earth, with the monsters' attacks representing the occasional intrusion of the surrounding wilderness. More specifically, however, the mead-hall symbolizes the values of the Germanic heroic society. In heroic culture, the most important relationship is that between a lord and his comitatus, his band of warriors; the mead-hall is where that relationship is formed and maintained. It is in the mead-hall that warriors declare loyalty to their lords, and where Beowulf makes his "formal boast" (639) to defeat Grendel and protect Hrothgar and his people, vowing, "I shall fulfill that purpose, prove myself with a proud deed / or meet my death here in the mead-hall" (636-638). It is also in the mead-hall that "ring-givers" reward warriors for their service. Hrothgar does this in Heorot when, after Grendel is defeated, he presents Beowulf with "a gold standard as a victory gift, / an embroidered banner; also breast-mail / and a helmet; and a sword carried high" (1020-1022). These gifts represent, not just payment for services rendered, but honors, bestowed upon warriors who abide by the Germanic heroic code. Thus as a metaphoric structure, the mead-hall affirms the values of that code.
In terms of balance, this cultural metaphor presents the monsters, particularly Grendel, as a contrast to the values of the heroic code, which is fundamentally based on values of generosity and reciprocation — of treasure, service, and affection. Members of the comitatus serve their lord, who in turn rewards them with treasure; amongst themselves, warriors cultivate bonds of fellowship and, with a good king, bonds of paternal affection. The whole system breaks down, however, without these two elements. We see this represented in the description of Grendel's displeasure with the revelry in the mead-hall: "It harrowed him to hear the din of the loud banquet every day in the hall" (87-89). It vexes Grendel that others are not alone, as he is. The monster's solitude makes him the antithesis of what the heroic code stands for. Grendel neither gives to nor receives from anyone, nor is he responsible to anyone. This is what drives him to attack Heorot. His attack, then, represents a clash of opposing values, presenting a balance of the light and dark sides of Germanic heroic culture.
Even more so than its cultural allegory, Beowulf's spiritual allegory makes much use of Heorot as a symbol. It is worth noting that the word Heorot, though it literally translates to hart or stag, closely resembles heorte — the word for heart, soul, or spirit. This is fitting, even if only coincidental, because of what Heorot symbolizes in the spiritual metaphor. Here, the mead-hall represents the human soul beset by evil, and the poem's messianic language — not to mention its Christian author — may indicate that Heorot is meant to symbolize humanity under siege by sin and in need of a redeeming savior.
The contrast between the ordered, moral, and safe Heorot with the disordered, amoral, and dangerous world outside it creates a dichotomy between the soul in its "natural" state and in a "state of grace," as the poet might say. This "state of grace" is brought about through the work of Beowulf, who delivers the Danes from evil. To be sure, hero-worship is a fundamental part of the Germanic heroic tradition, but the infusion of religion and moralistic language edges this element of the story toward the messiah-worship of Christianity. This explicitly religious form of hero-worship begins with King Hrothgar's reception of Beowulf:
"Now Holy God has, in His goodness, guided him here ...to defend us from Grendel." (381-383) Beowulf is greeted just as warmly by Hrothgar's wife, who thanks God for sending "a deliverer she could believe in...to ease their afflictions" (626-628). This hints at a degree of parallelism between the birth of Jesus and that of Beowulf, something the poet was surely aware of. This parallel is made explicit when Hrothgar proclaims that Beowulf's mother "can say / that in her labor the Lord of Ages / bestowed a grace on her" (944-945). Combined with the language used to recount the "cleansing" of Heorot, the similarities between these two saviors point to the underlying moral metaphor of the poem. Beowulf, after all, has the "privilege of purifying Heorot" (emphasis added) (431) and ridding it of Grendel, who is the "captain of evil" (749). The spiritual metaphor, then, presents a conflict between the soul in its sinful state of nature — that is, sullied by the attack of Grendel, or sin — and the soul in a state of grace. It falls on Beowulf, presented as a savior, to redeem the heorte, cleanse the mead-hall of evil, and restore it to a state of grace.
Far from being just part of the scenery, Heorot is a richly symbolic element of Beowulf and is critical to the interpretation of the text. The language used in relation to the symbol of the hall hints at underlying cultural and spiritual metaphors at work beneath the story of Beowulf and Grendel. Moreover, it reflects the worldview, assumptions, and intentions of the Beowulf-poet, and analysis of Heorot can contribute greatly to the ongoing study of these facets of the poem.
This essay holds several interesting points, however, the author convolute's their message by starting out refrencing J.R.R. Tolkien's philosophy of "balance." the author's main point is to try and draw comparisons between the Mead-hall of Heorot and Beowulf's task of killing grendel. The author makes interesting connections to show that the meade-hall is not just a piece of scenery, rather, the meade-hall fore-shadows and and alludes to how the situation that Hrothgar faces. the author concludes making very sensible connections to the symbolism of the Meade-hall.
In addition to the previous posts, and in light of what we have learned in class today, this criticism of the epic poem of Beowulf is both cultural as well as structural. This poem highlights the connections between the status of the mead-hall and the plight of the Danes, and thus shows the cultural significance of the mead-hall in Anglo-Saxon history. This criticism also draws parallels to the figurative language that is used to describe the mead-hall. The author defines between the “action” structure that the mead-hall plays as the battle scene between Beowulf and Grendel, as well as the “symbolic” structure that the mead-hall represents as the essence of the civilized world. Thus, the author effectively sheds light on possible allusions and different avenues of thought by critically commenting with cultural and structural responses.
Mark Miller, Associate Professor in English Language & Literature and the College, has taken a fresh look at the writings of Geoffrey Chaucer—one that might encourage even the most hardened math or science student to give the father of English literature a chance.
In Philosophical Chaucer: Love, Sex and Agency in the Canterbury Tales, published last month by Cambridge University Press, Miller argues in an innovative study that Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, a poetic meditation on 14th-century English life, represents an extended meditation on agency, autonomy and practical reason.
While most Chaucer critics interested in gender and sexuality have used psychoanalytic theory to analyze the writer’s poetry, Miller (Ph.D.,’93) re-examined the links between sexuality and the philosophical analysis of agency in texts such as The Canterbury Tales, Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy and The Romance of the Rose. Chaucer’s philosophical sophistication provides Miller with the basis for a new interpretation of the emerging notions of sexual desire and romantic love in the late Middle Ages.
In his research, Miller said he found that the literary experiments of The Canterbury Tales represent a distinctive, philosophical achievement that remains vital to our own modern attempts at understanding agency and desire, and their histories.
“Two of the oldest ideas about Chaucer are that he is England’s first great poet of love, and its first great philosophical poet,” explained Miller. “I think both claims are right, and each sheds a good deal of light on the other. But I also think Chaucer’s work requires us to rethink what it means to explore love in poetry.”
Chaucer did not write poetry that was meant to support a philosophical doctrine, Miller argues, and while some of his poetry deals explicitly with philosophical themes, that is not what is philosophical about his poetry, either.
“He’s interested in philosophical problems he takes to be in some strong sense insoluble, problems that resist any dogmatic solution,” Miller said. These include fairly abstract and traditionally philosophical problems like the nature of autonomy and its relations to action, practical reason and personal identity. But it also includes “things people are interested in even when they’re not doing philosophy,” such as “What does it really mean to love someone?”
Miller argues that Chaucer engages such problems in ways that cannot be done in philosophical argument—by “building narratives around them to express the ways people engage them in ordinary life as well as in moments of abstract reflection.”
Chaucer’s interests in love and philosophy overlap in several ways, Miller said. One way is that love becomes an object of philosophical inquiry in his poetry. He builds “narrative thought experiments” around questions like, “If we really think love ought to be unconditional, what would that look like? Would we really like the way it looks?” or “In what ways does love enhance autonomy, and in what ways does love threaten it?”
Another example of these overlaps is that even when love is not a direct part of the philosophical topic, erotic life frequently becomes the site for Chaucer’s explorations of “the ways we live philosophical problems.” Miller said an example of this is the Miller’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales, which explores the idea that gender identity and sexual desire are grounded in nature.
One theme that runs throughout Philosophical Chaucer is that “we don’t need a specific modern theoretical discourse”—such as that provided by psychoanalysis, queer theory or feminism—in order to understand Chaucer’s interests in love, sexuality and gender. “We can find in his poetry and his immediate intellectual and literary tradition quite sophisticated ways of thinking about those topics,” Miller said.
Not that psychoanalysis, queer theory or feminism are bad, Miller was quick to point out. “It’s just to say that it can also be useful, as I try to do here, to figure out how problems of sexuality and problems of autonomy get intertwined in the Middle Ages, or how narcissism and its relation to erotic desire get theorized in allegorical romance, or how ideologies of gender difference get both instantiated and problematized in medieval moral discourse.”
5 comments:
Beowulf's "hall of halls," Heorot, is prominent in the first half of the poem and is fundamental to its structure. Significant because it is 'literally' a structure that provides safety and community for the Danes; Heorot is also a metaphoric structure that is rich with meaning and possibilities for interpretation. A close reading of the poem reveals that Heorot is, in addition to being essential to the story's action, the central element in concurrent cultural and spiritual metaphors. Moreover, its interpretation can be neatly framed in terms of J.R.R. Tolkien's concept of "balance."
Tolkien, in his seminal 1936 essay "The Monsters and the Critics," argues that we must dismiss the conception of Beowulf as a steadily-advancing narrative poem.
"It is essentially a balance, an opposition of ends and beginnings. In its simplest terms it is a contrasted description of two moments in a great life, rising and setting; an elaboration of the ancient and intensely moving contrast between youth and age, first achievement and final death." (28)
This balance of which Tolkien speaks is found throughout the poem and, indeed, throughout many interpretations of its symbolism. Applying this concept to Heorot, we see that each of the metaphors embodied by the hall is a juxtaposition of competing ideas that contrast opposing ways of life and states of being. We see Tolkien's balance at work in Heorot from the outset. In the poet's introduction of the hall, he weaves an account of its ultimate destruction into his description of its creation:
"...he handed down orders
for men to work on a great mead-hall
meant to be a wonder of the world forever...
[See Notes]
...The hall towered,
its gables wide and high and awaiting
a barbarous burning.(68-85)
We are given a description of the hall in its august early splendor intertwined with one of its ignominious ultimate death. This balance, here a tension between the opposing ideas of creation and destruction, is also evident in the relationship between the world inside Heorot to that outside of it.
As John Halverson has noted, the poet uses language that portrays Heorot as a "beacon of civilization" (99), and the contrast between the hall and the hostile world outside it can be interpreted as a struggle between order and chaos. The poet rarely describes nature, but the few times he does, it is usually in reference to the Grendel monster or its mother: "Then a powerful demon, a prowler in the dark, / nursed a hard grievance" (86-87). He continues, describing dark, desolate wetlands inhabited by "monsters and elves and specters" (112). This striking contrast between the civilized world of the inside and the chaotic one of the outside is one that forms the basis for the cultural and spiritual metaphors in the mead-hall.
Heorot's significance to the poem is twofold: literally, as a structure in the action of the poem, and metaphorically, as a symbolic structure. As the former, the hall acts as the center of heroic society, both practically and emotionally. It provides warmth, sustenance, and a place for revelry for the Danes. It is where celebrations are held and treasure is distributed — as when Beowulf and his war-band arrive, after Grendel is defeated. The poet describes the hall as a harmonious place filled with the warmth of companionship: "inside Heorot / there was nothing but friendship" (1017-1018). It is a safe haven from the hazards of the dangerous world outside. In this literal sense, the hall serves as the predominant cultural and social institution in the Danish kingdom. It is in Heorot that the heroic values of Germanic society are displayed in full, and it is these values that form the basis of the story's cultural metaphor and the mead-hall's place in it.
As part of a cultural metaphor, Heorot, the "greatest house / in the world" (145-146), is a symbol of human civilization on earth, with the monsters' attacks representing the occasional intrusion of the surrounding wilderness. More specifically, however, the mead-hall symbolizes the values of the Germanic heroic society. In heroic culture, the most important relationship is that between a lord and his comitatus, his band of warriors; the mead-hall is where that relationship is formed and maintained. It is in the mead-hall that warriors declare loyalty to their lords, and where Beowulf makes his "formal boast" (639) to defeat Grendel and protect Hrothgar and his people, vowing, "I shall fulfill that purpose, prove myself with a proud deed / or meet my death here in the mead-hall" (636-638). It is also in the mead-hall that "ring-givers" reward warriors for their service. Hrothgar does this in Heorot when, after Grendel is defeated, he presents Beowulf with "a gold standard as a victory gift, / an embroidered banner; also breast-mail / and a helmet; and a sword carried high" (1020-1022). These gifts represent, not just payment for services rendered, but honors, bestowed upon warriors who abide by the Germanic heroic code. Thus as a metaphoric structure, the mead-hall affirms the values of that code.
In terms of balance, this cultural metaphor presents the monsters, particularly Grendel, as a contrast to the values of the heroic code, which is fundamentally based on values of generosity and reciprocation — of treasure, service, and affection. Members of the comitatus serve their lord, who in turn rewards them with treasure; amongst themselves, warriors cultivate bonds of fellowship and, with a good king, bonds of paternal affection. The whole system breaks down, however, without these two elements. We see this represented in the description of Grendel's displeasure with the revelry in the mead-hall: "It harrowed him to hear the din of the loud banquet every day in the hall" (87-89). It vexes Grendel that others are not alone, as he is. The monster's solitude makes him the antithesis of what the heroic code stands for. Grendel neither gives to nor receives from anyone, nor is he responsible to anyone. This is what drives him to attack Heorot. His attack, then, represents a clash of opposing values, presenting a balance of the light and dark sides of Germanic heroic culture.
Even more so than its cultural allegory, Beowulf's spiritual allegory makes much use of Heorot as a symbol. It is worth noting that the word Heorot, though it literally translates to hart or stag, closely resembles heorte — the word for heart, soul, or spirit. This is fitting, even if only coincidental, because of what Heorot symbolizes in the spiritual metaphor. Here, the mead-hall represents the human soul beset by evil, and the poem's messianic language — not to mention its Christian author — may indicate that Heorot is meant to symbolize humanity under siege by sin and in need of a redeeming savior.
The contrast between the ordered, moral, and safe Heorot with the disordered, amoral, and dangerous world outside it creates a dichotomy between the soul in its "natural" state and in a "state of grace," as the poet might say. This "state of grace" is brought about through the work of Beowulf, who delivers the Danes from evil. To be sure, hero-worship is a fundamental part of the Germanic heroic tradition, but the infusion of religion and moralistic language edges this element of the story toward the messiah-worship of Christianity. This explicitly religious form of hero-worship begins with King Hrothgar's reception of Beowulf:
"Now Holy God
has, in His goodness, guided him here
...to defend us from Grendel." (381-383)
Beowulf is greeted just as warmly by Hrothgar's wife, who thanks God for sending "a deliverer she could believe in...to ease their afflictions" (626-628). This hints at a degree of parallelism between the birth of Jesus and that of Beowulf, something the poet was surely aware of. This parallel is made explicit when Hrothgar proclaims that Beowulf's mother "can say / that in her labor the Lord of Ages / bestowed a grace on her" (944-945). Combined with the language used to recount the "cleansing" of Heorot, the similarities between these two saviors point to the underlying moral metaphor of the poem. Beowulf, after all, has the "privilege of purifying Heorot" (emphasis added) (431) and ridding it of Grendel, who is the "captain of evil" (749). The spiritual metaphor, then, presents a conflict between the soul in its sinful state of nature — that is, sullied by the attack of Grendel, or sin — and the soul in a state of grace. It falls on Beowulf, presented as a savior, to redeem the heorte, cleanse the mead-hall of evil, and restore it to a state of grace.
Far from being just part of the scenery, Heorot is a richly symbolic element of Beowulf and is critical to the interpretation of the text. The language used in relation to the symbol of the hall hints at underlying cultural and spiritual metaphors at work beneath the story of Beowulf and Grendel. Moreover, it reflects the worldview, assumptions, and intentions of the Beowulf-poet, and analysis of Heorot can contribute greatly to the ongoing study of these facets of the poem.
This essay holds several interesting points, however, the author convolute's their message by starting out refrencing J.R.R. Tolkien's philosophy of "balance." the author's main point is to try and draw comparisons between the Mead-hall of Heorot and Beowulf's task of killing grendel. The author makes interesting connections to show that the meade-hall is not just a piece of scenery, rather, the meade-hall fore-shadows and and alludes to how the situation that Hrothgar faces. the author concludes making very sensible connections to the symbolism of the Meade-hall.
In addition to the previous posts, and in light of what we have learned in class today, this criticism of the epic poem of Beowulf is both cultural as well as structural. This poem highlights the connections between the status of the mead-hall and the plight of the Danes, and thus shows the cultural significance of the mead-hall in Anglo-Saxon history. This criticism also draws parallels to the figurative language that is used to describe the mead-hall. The author defines between the “action” structure that the mead-hall plays as the battle scene between Beowulf and Grendel, as well as the “symbolic” structure that the mead-hall represents as the essence of the civilized world. Thus, the author effectively sheds light on possible allusions and different avenues of thought by critically commenting with cultural and structural responses.
Mark Miller, Associate Professor in English Language & Literature and the College, has taken a fresh look at the writings of Geoffrey Chaucer—one that might encourage even the most hardened math or science student to give the father of English literature a chance.
In Philosophical Chaucer: Love, Sex and Agency in the Canterbury Tales, published last month by Cambridge University Press, Miller argues in an innovative study that Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, a poetic meditation on 14th-century English life, represents an extended meditation on agency, autonomy and practical reason.
While most Chaucer critics interested in gender and sexuality have used psychoanalytic theory to analyze the writer’s poetry, Miller (Ph.D.,’93) re-examined the links between sexuality and the philosophical analysis of agency in texts such as The Canterbury Tales, Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy and The Romance of the Rose. Chaucer’s philosophical sophistication provides Miller with the basis for a new interpretation of the emerging notions of sexual desire and romantic love in the late Middle Ages.
In his research, Miller said he found that the literary experiments of The Canterbury Tales represent a distinctive, philosophical achievement that remains vital to our own modern attempts at understanding agency and desire, and their histories.
“Two of the oldest ideas about Chaucer are that he is England’s first great poet of love, and its first great philosophical poet,” explained Miller. “I think both claims are right, and each sheds a good deal of light on the other. But I also think Chaucer’s work requires us to rethink what it means to explore love in poetry.”
Chaucer did not write poetry that was meant to support a philosophical doctrine, Miller argues, and while some of his poetry deals explicitly with philosophical themes, that is not what is philosophical about his poetry, either.
“He’s interested in philosophical problems he takes to be in some strong sense insoluble, problems that resist any dogmatic solution,” Miller said. These include fairly abstract and traditionally philosophical problems like the nature of autonomy and its relations to action, practical reason and personal identity. But it also includes “things people are interested in even when they’re not doing philosophy,” such as “What does it really mean to love someone?”
Miller argues that Chaucer engages such problems in ways that cannot be done in philosophical argument—by “building narratives around them to express the ways people engage them in ordinary life as well as in moments of abstract reflection.”
Chaucer’s interests in love and philosophy overlap in several ways, Miller said. One way is that love becomes an object of philosophical inquiry in his poetry. He builds “narrative thought experiments” around questions like, “If we really think love ought to be unconditional, what would that look like? Would we really like the way it looks?” or “In what ways does love enhance autonomy, and in what ways does love threaten it?”
Another example of these overlaps is that even when love is not a direct part of the philosophical topic, erotic life frequently becomes the site for Chaucer’s explorations of “the ways we live philosophical problems.” Miller said an example of this is the Miller’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales, which explores the idea that gender identity and sexual desire are grounded in nature.
One theme that runs throughout Philosophical Chaucer is that “we don’t need a specific modern theoretical discourse”—such as that provided by psychoanalysis, queer theory or feminism—in order to understand Chaucer’s interests in love, sexuality and gender. “We can find in his poetry and his immediate intellectual and literary tradition quite sophisticated ways of thinking about those topics,” Miller said.
Not that psychoanalysis, queer theory or feminism are bad, Miller was quick to point out. “It’s just to say that it can also be useful, as I try to do here, to figure out how problems of sexuality and problems of autonomy get intertwined in the Middle Ages, or how narcissism and its relation to erotic desire get theorized in allegorical romance, or how ideologies of gender difference get both instantiated and problematized in medieval moral discourse.”
Post a Comment