Literature

Neophilologus DOI 10.1007/s11061-010-9217-1 ‘‘Eldum Unnyt’’: Treasure Spaces in Beowulf Cameron Hunt McNabb Ó Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2010 Abstract Treasure spaces in Beowulf serve as structural and thematic touchstones for Beowulf’s fights with the Grendelkin and the dragon, and the locations of these fights—the mere, the barrow, and Heorot—are linked within the poem by their shared tomb-like structure and precious internal content. These three central locations are framed by two other treasure spaces in the poem—Scyld’s ship burial and Beowulf’s burial—at the beginning and end respectively, which also mirror the fight locations in structure and contents. Examined together, the parallels between these five enclosures create striking connections between their occupants: the Grendelkin, the dragon, Hrothgar, Scyld, and ultimately Beowulf. These parallels also attest thematically to the poem’s overarching discussion on the transitory nature of material wealth, creating a network of associations between the spaces and their inhabitants. This framework complicates the veneration of the human heroes and demonstrates that the accumulation of earthly goods is ultimately as useless to a hero as to a monster. Keywords Beowulf Á Treasure Á Mere Á Barrow Á Heorot Á Ship ne mæg þære sawle þe biþ synna ful gold to geoce for godes egsan, þonne he hit ær hydeð þenden he her leofað. (100–2) [The gold a man amasses while still alive on earth is no use at all to his soul, full of sins, in the face of God’s wrath.]1 1 From ‘‘The Seafarer’’ (Krapp et al. 1936). Translation by Michael Alexander (1991, 55). C. H. McNabb (&) University of South Florida, 4202 E. Fowler Ave., CPR107, Tampa, FL 33620, USA e-mail: chmcnabb@mail.usf.edu 123 C. H. McNabb Treasure has long been a central cultural icon, from the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow to Jack Sparrow’s piece of eight. The Anglo-Saxons were no different. Treasure spaces in Beowulf serve as structural and thematic touchstones for Beowulf’s fights with the Grendelkin and the dragon, and the locations of these fights—the mere, the barrow, and Heorot—are linked within the poem by their shared tomb-like structure and precious internal content. These three central locations are framed by two other treasure spaces in the poem—Scyld’s ship burial and Beowulf’s burial—at the beginning and end respectively, which also mirror the fight locations in structure and contents. Examined together, the parallels between these five enclosures create striking connections between their occupants: the Grendelkin, the dragon, Hrothgar, Scyld, and ultimately Beowulf. These parallels also attest thematically to the poem’s overarching discussion on the transitory nature of material wealth, creating a network of associations between the spaces and their inhabitants, and it is no accident that death and treasure lie side-by-side in each place. This framework complicates the veneration of the human heroes and demonstrates that the accumulation of earthly goods is ultimately as useless to a hero as to a monster. Monstrous Spaces: the Mere and the Dragon’s Barrow Perhaps no location in Beowulf has received as much critical attention as the Grendelkin mere. The most traditional interpretation of the place identifies it as a type of Christian hell, such as the readings of Frederick Klaeber and Kemp Malone; the latter calls the space ‘‘a consistent and carefully wrought picture of hell on earth, an imaginative construction based on traditional Christian ideas about hell’’ (1958, 306). Robert Emmett Finnegan argues that the Christianized Beowulf must cleanse the watery hell hole (1978, 46), and Malcolm Andrew interprets the mere in Augustinian terms of the earthly city (1981). Numerous other scholars have found similarities to the Blickling Homiliy XVII.2 In a more general sense, the Grendelkin mere connotes ‘‘the realm of the supernatural’’ afterlife (Butts 1987, 113). The first extended description of the mere comes when the Danes track Grendel there to verify his death. The narrator tells hu he werigmod on weg þanon, niða ofercumen, on nicera mere fæge ond geflymed feorhlastas bær. (844–6) [How he went on his weary way, 2 Blickling Homily XVII: ‘‘Swa Sanctus Paulus wæs geseonde on norðanweardne þisne middangeard, þær ealle wæteru niðer gewitað, and he þær geseah ofer ðam wætere sumne harne stan. And wæron norð of ðam stane aweaxene swiðe hrimige bearwas, and ðær wæron þystru genipu, and under þam stane wæs nicra eardung and wearga’’ (As St. Paul was looking towards the northern region of the earth, from whence all waters pass down, he saw above the water a hoary stone; and north of the stone had grown woods very rimy. And there were dark mists; and under the stone was the dwelling place of monsters and execrable creatures; Morris 1880, 209; trans. by Morris 1880, 208). Niles argues that the homily was a source of the Beowulf-poet’s for the mere description (1983, 19). 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf defeated by force, to a pool of sea-monsters, doomed, put to flight, and left a fatal trail.]3 This description of Grendel’s retreat from Heorot after the fight with Beowulf suggests a journey to death, as Grendel is ‘‘fæge ond geflymed’’ [doomed, put to flight] on his ‘‘feorhlastas’’ [fatal trail]. The narration continues, Ðær wæs on blode brim weallende; atol yða geswing eal gemenged hatan heolfre heorodreore weol. Deaðfæge deog siððan dreama leas in fenfreoðo feorh alegde, hæþene swale; þær him hel onfeng. (847–52) [The water was welling with blood there— the terrible swirling waves, all mingled together with hot gore, heaved with the blood of battle, concealed that doomed one when, deprived of joys, he lay down his life in his lair in the fen, his heathen soul—and hell took him.] The watery pool ‘‘deaðfæge deog’’ [concealed that doomed one] and is later called Grendel’s ‘‘deaþwic’’ [place of death] (1275), establishing the mere as a tomb or grave space. ‘‘Deaðfæge’’ literally means ‘‘doomed to death,’’ which emphasizes the place’s ominous association with death. The poet further connects the mere to the afterlife, and specifically hell, with the half-line, ‘‘þær him hel onfeng’’ [hell took him]. This ambigious phrase could imply that the mere housed Grendel’s body while his soul was sent elsewhere, to hell; however, the first part of the sentence apposes the accusative nouns ‘‘feorh’’ [life] and ‘‘hæþene swale’’ [heathen soul]; thus the poet conflates Grendel’s life and his soul. This apposition suggests a similar conflation of the other two elements in the sentence, Grendel’s ‘‘fenfreoðo’’ [lair in the fens] and ‘‘hel.’’ Moreover, Liuzza’s translation omits the adverb þær [there] in the half-line ‘‘þær him hel onfeng,’’ a word that strengthens the connection between hell and the mere. Grendel, body and soul, remains in the mere after death. Hrothgar also describes the mere when he directs Beowulf to it: Nis þæt feor heonon milgemearces þæt se mere standeð; ofer þæm hongiað hrinde bearwas, wudu wyrtum fæst wæter oferhelmað. Þær mæg nihta gehwæm niðwundor seon, fyr on flode. No þæs frod leofað gumena bearna þæt þone grund wite. …………………………. nis þæt heoru stow. (1361b–7, 1372b) [It is not far hence 3 All quotations come from Fulk et al. (2008) unless otherwise specified. All modern English translations from Liuzza (2000). 123 C. H. McNabb —measured in miles—that the mere stands; over it hangs a grove hoar-frosted, a firm-rooted wood looming over the water. Every night one can see there an awesome wonder, fire on the water. There lives none so wise or bold that he can fathom its abyss. …………………………. It is no good place!] This passage further develops the enclosed image of the earlier descriptions; the mere is covered by ‘‘hrinde bearwas’’ [grove hoar-frosted] and ‘‘wudu wyrtum fæst’’ [firm-rooted wood]. Hrothgar’s description also acts as prelude to the actual encounter, and according to Richard Butts, serves as ‘‘an extended metaphor for terror’’ (1987, 113), particularly with the ‘‘fyr on flode’’ that can be seen, of which the poet says that ‘‘no þæs frod leofað…þæt þone grund wite’’ [there lives none so wise / or bold that he can fathom its abyss] (1366b-67); therefore, the mere represents ‘‘a source of the hostile unknown’’ (Butts 1987, 117), like the afterlife. By depicting the mere as a terrifying ‘‘hel,’’ the poem evokes the afterlife from a Christian worldview as a negative space—’’nis þæt heoru stow’’ [it is no good place!]. Beowulf next encounters the interior of the mere after Grendel’s mother drags him to the pool’s bottom, and he arrives in her hall. Ða se eorl ongeat þæt he in niðsele nathwylcum wæs, þær him nænig wæter wihte ne sceþede, ne him for hrofsele hrinan ne mehte færgripe flodes; fyrleoht geseah, blacne leoman beorhte scinan. (1512b–1517) [Then the earl perceived that he was in some sort of battle-hall where no water could harm him in any way, and, for the roof’s hall, he could not be reached by the flood’s sudden rush—he saw a fire-light, a glowing blaze shining brightly.] The Grendelkin abode is enclosed, like a battle-hall with a protective roof, and lit by firelight. By describing the space as a ‘‘niðsele’’, the hall is not only a place of battle but also one of envy and jealousy, as nið also means ‘‘envy’’ and ‘‘jealousy’’ (Bosworth-Toller 1898–1921). Here, Beowulf defeats Grendel’s mother, and as with Grendel, her home becomes her tomb. Aside from the two monstrous residents, the mere also contains treasure. When Beowulf descends into the mere, he sees the place ‘‘since geweorðad’’ [decorated with treasure] (1450) and encounters ‘‘maðmæhta’’ [precious treasures] (1613). Specifically, during the fight with Grendel’s mother, he finds and uses the ‘‘sigeeadig bil, / ealdsweord eotenisc’’ [victorious blade, / ancient giant-sword] (1557-8) hung on the wall of the cave, among other armor. Thus the lair appears to be ‘‘a kind of tomb for both its clan and perhaps for the older giant race whose 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf artifacts are found there’’ (Siewers 2006, 226), and Christopher Abram’s interpretation of ‘‘fyr on flode’’ [fire on the sea] as a gold-kenning further emphasizes the presence of treasure in the mere (2010). Abram even calls it ‘‘useless treasure’’ because it remains underwater, uncirculated (2010, 213). This tomb filled with ancient treasure creates a topos that the poem returns to not only in Beowulf’s encounter with the dragon at the barrow but also in the human spaces of Scyld’s ship, Heorot, and Beowulf’s burial. As another monster with treasure, the dragon in the second half of the poem occupies a space similar to the Grendlekin mere. The dragon and his barrow are proverbial in medieval literature, as the Cotton Maxims 26b–27a demonstrates: ‘‘Draca sceal on hlæwe, / frod, frætwum wlanc’’ [The dragon should remain on the mound, old, proud in his treasure] (Dobbie 1942; trans. by Taylor 1997, 230). Beowulf confirms this association: ‘‘he gesecean sceall / (hea)r(h on) hrusan, þær he hæðen gold / warað wintrum frod’’ [it is his nature to find / a hoard in the earth, where, ancient and proud, / he guards the heathen gold] (2275b-7a). Alfred K. Siewers notes that in Old English poetry, ‘‘burial mounds with treasure were described as dragon hills’’ (2006, 219), and L. V. Grinsell catalogues the surviving English burial mounds that use ‘‘dragon’’ in their name (1967, 10–1). The interpretations of the dragon’s treasure hoard in Beowulf are nearly as numerous as its contents. Alvin Lee views the dragon as an apocalyptic destroyer (1998), while Paul Beekman Taylor posits it as a symbol for ‘‘a growing sore in the Geatish moral landscape’’ (1997, 233). James W. Earl argues that the hoard is ‘‘emblematic of the awful truth that treasure, and worldly achievement in general, cannot secure a culture against its inevitable decay’’ (1979, 82). The barrow’s negative and even ominous qualities create a strong parallel to the mere. The poet first describes the barrow when Beowulf’s troops journey there: He ofer willan giong to ðæs ðe he eorðsele anne wisse, hlæw under hrusan holmwylme neh, yðgewinne; se wæs innan full wrætta ond wira. (2409b–2413a) [He went against his will to where he alone knew the earth-hall stood, an underground cave near the crashing waves, the surging sea; inside it was full of gems and metal bands.] The poet describes the physical structures of the ‘‘hlæw under hrusan’’ [underground cave]—walls (2323, 2542, 2759), a floor (2770), and a roof (2755, 3123)—the same features discussed regarding the mere. Both, too, contain a ‘‘grundwong’’ [bottom, floor] (1496, 2770), accounting for two of the three uses of that word in the poem.4 The spaces also have strikingly similar surroundings despite their distant 4 The third use occurs at line 2588, when Beowulf is fighting the dragon in the barrow. The text reads: ‘‘Ne wæs þæt eðe sið/þæt se mæra maga Ecgðeowes/grundwong þone ofgyfan wolde’’ [It was no easy journey/For the famous son of Ecgtheow to agree/To give up his gound in that place] (2586-8). 123 C. H. McNabb geographical locations. The mere is located in the ‘‘westen’’ [wasteland] (1265), just as the barrow is (2298), and the dragon’s cave is surrounded by ‘‘holmwylme’’ [crashing waves] and ‘‘yðgewinne’’ [surging sea], much like the ‘‘yðgebland’’ [clashing waves] (1373) and ‘‘holma geþring’’ [roaring waves] (2132) of the mere. The cave is ‘‘under hrusan’’ [underground] with an interior space, and the use of ‘‘eorðsele’’ [earth-hall] twice (2232, 2410) evokes an enclosed structure, much like the ‘‘niðsele’’ [battle-hall] of the mere. As a tomb-like space, it is also associated with the afterlife and called a ‘‘hlæw’’ and a ‘‘beorh,’’ both of which are used for ‘‘a funeral mound’’ (Bosworth 1898–1921; Dictionary of Old English 2007), and both Beowulf and the dragon die within it. As Gale R. Owen-Crocker reads the Lay of the Last Survivor as ‘‘strongly suggestive of human mortality,’’ she argues that ‘‘the biblical and funeral associations must have been inescapable’’ to a Christian audience (2000, 65). She cites the apostrophe to the ground—’’Heald þu nu, hruse, nu hæleð ne m(o)stan, / eorla æht. Hwæt, hyt ær on ðe / gode begeaton’’ [‘‘Hold now, o thou earth, for heroes cannot, / the wealth of men—Lo, from you long ago/those good ones first obtained it!’’] (2247-9a)—as particularly evocative (65). However, the barrow, like the mere, also possesses supernatural qualities. Siewers notes that the ‘‘haunted barrow is framed by otherworldly waters’’ as ‘‘seascapes in particular frame Beowulf…with the dragon’s barrow in faraway Geatland and the Grendelcyn lair…in the midst of the watery mere’’ (2006, 226). The two also share supernatural protection, as the poet remarks of Grendel, ‘‘þone synscaðan… / guðbilla nan, gretan nolde, / ac he sigewæpnum forsworen hæfde’’ [no sword…could even touch that evil sinner, / for he had worked a curse on weapons] (801b, 803-4), and of the treasure in the barrow, ‘‘iumonna gold galdre bewunden, / þæt ðam hringsele hrinan ne moste / gumena ænig’’ [the gold of the ancients was gripped in a spell / so that no man in the world would be able to touch/that ring-hall] unless God granted it (3052-4a). Even the complete demise of the original treasure owners contributes to the treasure’s ominous overtones. Apparently, the treasure was useless to them. Despite the various significations of the barrow’s treasure, ‘‘narrative parallels connect the episode of Grendel’s mother and the dragon,’’ in part because ‘‘in both the monsters inhabit a waterside home, from which light shines’’ (Orchard 1995, 29). Both, too, contain treasure. The contents of this treasure, the ‘‘hæðnum horde’’ [heathen hoard] (2216), are detailed after the dragon’s death. It contains: maððumsigla fealo, gold glitinian grunde getenge, wundur on wealle, ond þæs wyrmes denn, ealdes uhtflogan, orcas stondan, fyrnmanna fatu, feormendlease, hyrstum behrorene; þær wæs helm monig eald ond omig, earmbeaga fela searum gesæled. (2757b – 2764a), [many bright jewels, glittering gold scattered on the ground, wonders on the walls, and the lair of that worm, the old dawn-flier—flagons standing, 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf ancient serving-vessels without a steward, their trappings all moldered; there was many a helmet old and rusty, a number of arm-bands with twisted ornaments] This impressive collection of treasure outshines that found in the mere; however, though disparate in proportion, the contents are alike in kind. The barrow contains ‘‘ærgestreona’’ [antique riches] (2232) and ‘‘maððumwelan’’ [ancient wealth] (2750), which the poet calls the ‘‘enta geweorc’’ [work of giants] (2717). Likewise, in the mere, Beowulf takes the ‘‘ealdsweord eotenisc’’ [ancient giant-sword] (1558), which the poet also calls the ‘‘giganta geweorc’’ [work of giants] (1562). Thus both places house not only monsters but also treasure from ‘‘geardagum’’ [bygone days] (1). The barrow’s structure and contents connect it firmly to the poem’s other monstrous treasure space, the mere, and develop the poem’s association of grave spaces and treasure. Structural and thematic connections between the mere and the barrow might be expected between the homes of Beowulf’s monstrous adversaries, but the two treasure spaces share many similarities with some of the poem’s human spaces as well. These commonalities develop the poem’s network of associations pertaining to earthly treasure and its moral efficacy for both monsters and humans. Human Spaces: Heorot, Scyld’s Ship Burial, and Beowulf’s Barrow Though two of Beowulf’s fights take place in monstrous spaces, his battle against Grendel unfolds in Heorot, the hall of Hrothgar. Scholars often associate Heorot with the possibilities of human endeavor, casting Grendel as a force of chaos disrupting the Danes’ system of order.5 In Andrew’s Augustinian schema, Heorot is the heavenly city (1981, 406), while James W. Earl reads Heorot as ‘‘a metaphor for the birth of civilization in the poem’’ (1994, 115), with the hall as the center of masculine cultural production. However, the poet’s descriptions of Heorot also align it with the Grendelkin mere and the dragon’s barrow. The Old English word hel derives from a root that is also found in OE helan, ‘‘to conceal, cover,’’ and its Latin cognate celare, ‘‘to conceal or protect’’; thus, hel is etymologically linked with hall and hull. The Oxford English Dictionary also lists ‘‘hall’’ as derivative of the hel, hal, and hul ablaut series meaning ‘‘to cover, conceal.’’6 The mere, associated with hell, is also described as a hall, like the barrow, connecting both spaces to the poem’s ‘‘healærna mæst’’ [greatest of halls] (78), Heorot. Moreover, Orchard finds parallels between Beowulf and Grendel’s mother in the ‘‘cavernous guest-hall’’ with Beowulf and Grendel in Hrothgar’s hall (1995, 29), and he notes that the ‘‘underwater dwelling is described in human, almost homely terms, as a ‘roofed hall’ and ‘hall,’ whose walls, like those of Heorot itself, were bedecked with 5 6 See Niles (1983) and Howe (1989). See Simpson and Weiner (1989). The Oxford English Dictionary cites ‘‘the body or frame of a ship’’ under ‘hull, n2’ rather than under ‘hull, n1’ which contains the ablaut series hel, hall, and hull; it notes that the word is of obscure origin but may be derived from ‘hull, n1’. 123 C. H. McNabb weapons’’ (1995, 30); he continues, ‘‘likewise the dragon inhabits an ‘earth-house’ described in the same language of the hall; the same word ‘dryhtsele,’ unattested outside Beowulf, applies equally to Heorot and the dragon’s lair’’ (1995, 30). Lee claims that Heorot is ‘‘intermingled’’ with the mere motif because Beowulf gefælsod [cleansed] (825, 1620) both and one ‘‘nis þæt feor’’ [is not far] (1361) from the other (1998, 153). The structural descriptions of Heorot are similar to those of the mere and the barrow—the roofs, walls, and floors are described, and they contribute to the hall’s enclosed, tomb-like atmosphere. During Beowulf and Grendel’s fight, the hall is described as ‘‘fæste…innan ond utan irenbendum’’ [fastened / inside and out with iron bands] (773–4), just like the description of the barrow’s ‘‘stanbogan stapulum’’ [stone arches and sturdy pillars] (2718). Both features form the structural frame of the treasure spaces. Not only is the hall enclosed, but it is also the death-place of many men, as more have died in Heorot than in the mere and barrow combined. Aside from the physical similarities, the poem also makes verbal connections between the three spaces. Hrothgar’s home is called a ‘‘guðsele’’ [war-hall] (443), like the ‘‘niðsele’’ [battle-hall] (1513) of the mere, and also a ‘‘hringsele’’ [ring-hall] (2010), the precise word used to designate the dragon’s barrow (2840). Moreover, in Heorot ‘‘goldfag scinon / web æfter wagum, wundorsiona fela’’ [gold-dyed tapestries / shone on the walls, many wonderful sights] (994–5), while the barrow is decorated with ‘‘wundur on wealle’’ [wonders on the walls] (2759). Significantly, Heorot is also a treasure space. One of the earliest descriptions of the hall illustrates Hrothgar’s treasure-giving there: ‘‘beagas dælde, / sinc æt symle’’ [he gave out rings, treasure at table] (80b–1a), and much ‘‘maððum’’ (169, 1052) lies within, just as Beowulf sees ‘‘maðmæhta’’ in the mere and ‘‘deore maðmas’’ (2236), ‘‘maððumwelan’’ (2750), and ‘‘maððumsigla’’ (2757) in the barrow. The ‘‘ealdgestreonum’’ [antique riches] (1381) distributed in the hall parallel the ‘‘ealdsweord’’ [ancient sword] (1558) in the mere and the ‘‘ærgestreona’’ [antique riches] (2232) of the barrow. The poet even calls the hall the ‘‘hordburh’’ [city of treasure] (467), and has not heard of a better ‘‘hordmaððum’’ [hoard-treasure] (1198) in the land. Amid their stores of treasure, both Heorot and the barrow also contain golden ensigns. After Beowulf’s defeat of Grendel, Hrothgar gives to him ‘‘segen gyldenne sigores to leane, / hroden hildecumbor, helm ond byrnan’’ [a golden war-standard as a reward for victory, / the bright banner, a helmet and byrnie] (1021–2). Similarly, Wiglaf ‘‘siomian geseah segn eall gylden / heah ofer horde, hondwundra mæst’’ [saw an ensign, all golden, / hanging high over the hoard, greatest handwork] (2767–8) and other treasure in the barrow, including ‘‘helm monig’’ [many a helmet] (2762).7 The poem also narrates how Heorot’s ‘‘lixte se leoma ofer landa fela’’ [light shone over many lands] (311), just as ‘‘lixte se leoma’’ [a light glowed] (1570) from the mere and ‘‘leoma stod’’ [light gleamed] (2769) in the barrow. Beowulf’s three fight scenes, in Heorot, the mere, and the barrow, are framed by two human burials, that of Scyld Scefing in the prologue and his own at the poem’s conclusion. Owen-Crocker argues that ‘‘the placing of the funerals at the beginning and end of the narrative is a deliberate act of structuring’’ (2000, 2). These burial 7 Clark also notes this similarity (2006, 623). 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf sites are aligned physically, verbally, and situationally with the poem’s other treasure spaces. Scyld’s ship burial in the poem’s prologue has often been discussed by critics in connection with archeological burial rites of Anglo-Saxon England, particularly with Sutton Hoo.8 Siewers compares Scyld’s burial with Beowulf’s and interprets the common sea element as ‘‘an allegory for the Christian sense of the fleeting nature of mortality’’ (2006, 226). Earl R. Anderson even views Scyld’s ship burial and its use of the language of the hall as a ‘‘submerged metaphor of Scedeland as a mead hall’’ (1972, 1). Scyld’s ship burial comprises 24 of his 48 lines in the poem, placing emphasis on the events surrounding his death rather than his life. The poet describes the ship hull as enclosed, like a tomb, similar to the mere, the barrow, and Heorot. þær æt hyðe stod, hringedstefna isig ond utfus— æþlinges fær; aledon þa leofne þeoden, beaga bryttan on bearm scipes, mærne be mæste. (32–36b) [In the harbor stood a ring-prowed ship, icy, outbound, a nobleman’s vessel; there they laid down their lord, dispenser of rings, in the bosom of the ship, glorious, by the mast.] The passage suggests connotations with ‘‘hull’’ as a space of concealment and its connection with ‘‘hell’’ and ‘‘hall’’ etymologically. Indeed, all the treasure spaces in Beowulf are hells, halls, or hulls. The opening passages also allude to Scyld’s fate, which the poet views as mysterious and ominous: ‘‘men ne cunnon…hwa þæm hlæste onfeng’’ [Men do not know…who received that cargo] (50b, 52b). The ship’s unknown destination parallels it to the mere’s indeterminate quality, which ‘‘men ne cunnon / hwyder helrunan hwyrftum scriþað’’ (men do not know / whither such whispering demons wander about; 162b–3), and the barrow, where ‘‘stig under læg / eldum uncuð’’ (the path below/lay unknown to men; 2213–4). But the most prominent feature of Scyld’s burial is the treasure contained within. Þær wæs madma fela of feorwegum frætwa gelæded. Ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwan hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum, billum ond byrnum; him on bearme læg madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon on flodes æht feor gewitan. Nalæs hi hine læssan lacum teodan, Þeodgestreonum, þonne þa dydon 8 Hilda R. Ellis Davidson views the opening funeral as ‘‘an explanation of the custom of lowering the ship into the mound and loading it with riches’’ (1950, 177). Owen Crocker enumerates the parallels between Beowulf and the burial ship found at Sutton Hoo, Mound 1 (2000, 30–2). 123 C. H. McNabb Þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon ænne ofer yðe umborwesende. (36b–46) [There were many treasures loaded there, adornments from distant lands; I have never heard of a more lovely ship bedecked with battle-weapons and war-gear, blades and byrnies; in its bosom lay many treasures, which were to travel far with him into the keeping of the flood. With no fewer gifts did they furnish him there, the wealth of nations, than those did who at his beginning first sent him forth alone over the waves while still a small child.] The hull is decorated with much ‘‘madma’’ [treasure] (36, 41) along with ‘‘hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum, / billum ond byrnum’’ (battle-weapons and wargear, / blades and byrnies; 39–40a), the same contents ascribed to the mere, the barrow, and Heorot. The passage focuses more on the treasure—a ship of which the poet has not heard of more lovely—than on Scyld. Moreover, Scyld’s burial consists of a ‘‘segen gyldenne’’ [golden ensign] (47) hoisted ‘‘heah ofer heafod’’ [high over his head] (48), like the ensigns present in the barrow and Heorot. The last treasure space of the poem is Beowulf’s own tomb. Robert Boenig connects Beowulf’s funeral to Scyld’s burial in the proem, as both represent mythic, ‘‘Otherworld journ[ies]’’ (2002, 10). Both Judy King and David Clark imply connections between the two funerals through their explicit comparison of their two occupants (2003, 2006). However, the king’s mound’s most immediate parallel is the dragon’s barrow. Fred C. Robinson notes that both enclosed spaces are called hlæw and beorh, which can refer to ‘‘a hollow mound such as a dragon might occupy or such as men might use for a tomb’’ (1993, 17). The Dictionary of Old English gives a ‘‘barrow, tumulus, or burial ground’’ as one definition of beorh (2007) and Bosworth defines hlæw as ‘‘a funeral mound’’ (1898–1921); both list Beowulf’s burial scene as an example. Beowulf’s and the dragon’s barrows are also proximate to each other, as Beowulf’s men see both their leader’s body and the ‘‘wyrm on wonge wiðerræhtes þær / laðne licgean’’ (loathsome serpent lying on the plain/directly across from him; 3039–40). Their burials are even sequential, as the men ‘‘dracan ec scufun, / wyrm ofer weallclif, leton weg niman, / flod fæðmian frætwa hyrde’’ (pushed the dragon, / the worm over the cliff-wall, let the waves take him,/the flood embrace the guard of that finery; 3131b–33), and immediately afterwards, for Beowulf, they ‘‘ongunnon þa on beorge bælfyra mæst / wigend weccan’’ (kindled there on the cliff / the greatest of funeral pyres; 3143b-4a). The poet’s description of the burial highlights the tomb’s spatial enclosure. Geworhton ða Wedra leode Hlæ(w) on h(o)e, se wæs heah ond brad, (w)egliðendum wide gesyne, ond beti(m)bredon on tyndagum beadurof(e)s becn, bronda lafe 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf wealle beworhton, swa hyt weorðlicost foresnotre men findan mihton. (3156–3162) [Then the Weder people wrought for him a barrow on the headland; it was high and broad, visible from afar to sea-voyagers, and in ten days they built the beacon of that battle-brave one; the ashes of the flames they enclosed with a wall, as worthily as the most clever of men could devise it.] This passage clearly employs the language of enclosure and concealment, as Beowulf is ‘‘wealle beworhton’’ (enclosed with a wall; 3161) and the earth holds the contents ‘‘on greote’’ (in the ground; 3167). Beowulf’s tomb is also the poem’s last space associated with the afterlife, and his barrow marks off not only the land from the sea but also the living from the otherwordly dead. The treasure within Beowulf’s tomb strengthens the connection between the two barrows, as they share both location and contents. The treasure from the dragon’s lair fluidly moves into Beowulf’s own tomb at his funeral: Ne scel anes hwæt meltan mid þam modigan, ac þær is maðma hord, gold unrime grimme gecea(po)d, ond nu æt siðestan sylfes feore beagas (geboh)te; þa sceall brond fretan, æled þeccean— (3010a–3015a) [No small part of the hoard shall burn with that brave man, but countless gold treasures, grimly purchased, and rings, here at last with his own life paid for; then the flames shall devour, the fire enfold] Yet the treasure faces a fiery fate in Beowulf’s pyre rather than its decay in the dragon’s barrow. But regardless of means, the treasure is ultimately destroyed. Further, the specific type of treasure contained therein connects the tomb with the poem’s previous treasure spaces, both monstrous and human. Him ða gegiredan Geata leode ad on eorðan unwaclicne, helm[um] behongen, hildebordum, beorhtum byrnum, …………………………. Hi on beorg dydon beg ond siglu, eall swylce hyrsta swylce on horde ær niðhedige men genumen hæfdon; forleton eorla gestreon eorðan healdan, gold on greote, þær hit nu gen lifað, eldum swa unnyt swa hyt (æro)r wæs.(3137–3140a, 3163–3168) 123 C. H. McNabb [The people of the Geats then prepared for him a splendid pyre upon the earth, hung with battle-shields and helmets and bright byrnies …………………………. In the barrow they placed rings and bright jewels, all the trappings that those reckless men had seized from the hoard before, let the earth hold the treasure of earls, gold in the ground, where it yet remains, just as useless to men as it was before.] The mere too contains ‘‘maðmæhta’’ (precious treasures; 1613), and the barrow is adorned with ‘‘maððumsigla fealo’’ (many bright jewels; 2757). The treasure armor hung within the king’s tomb can also be found in the previous treasure spaces, like the ‘‘helmum monig’’ (many a helmet; 2762) and ‘‘earmbeaga fela’’ (a number of arm-bands; 2763) among the dragon’s hoard or the ‘‘hildewæpnum ond heaðowædum, / billum ond byrnum’’ (battle-weapons and war-gear, / blades and byrnies; 39–40a) in Scyld’s tomb. Moreover, of the treasure removed from the barrow for Beowulf’s tomb, Wiglaf curiously ‘‘segn eac genom,/beacna beorhtost’’ (took the ensign, too, brightest of beacons; 2776b-7a). The poet then calls Beowulf’s tomb a ‘‘becn’’ (beacon; 3160), hinting that it too has a golden ensign hoisted high over its head, like those emblems that preceeded it. The beacon is ‘‘wegliðendum wide gesyne’’ (visible from afar to sea-farers; 3158), much like the lights that shine in the mere and barrow (1570, 2769) and even more like Heorot’s light, shining ‘‘ofer landa fela’’ (over many lands; 311), including to the sea-faring Beowulf. The poet also combines the elements of water and fire in certain treasure spaces: the mere has the mysterious ‘‘fyr on flod’’ [fire on the sea] (1366), from the barrow ‘‘wæs þær burnan wælm / heaðofyrum hat’’ (a stream / shooting forth…was hot with deadly flames; 2546b-7a), and Beowulf’s own pyre burns overlooking the sea. Lastly, the poet employs verbal connections to link Beowulf’s tomb with Hrothgar’s hall. During the treasure-giving celebration in Heorot, after the defeat of Grendel, the poet describes the scene with the concluding half-line, ‘‘heal swege onfeng’’ (the hall swallowed the noise; 1214). Likewise, the poet describes Beowulf’s funeral with the concluding half-line ‘‘heofon rece swealg’’ (heaven swallowed the smoke; 3155). These two spaces also come to similar ends, as Heorot ‘‘heaðowylma bad’’ (awaited hostile fires; 82) and of Beowulf’s tomb, ‘‘gled fretan’’ (the flames must devour; 3114). Indeed, all of Beowulf’s treasure spaces face destruction. Occupants John Gardner keenly notes that ‘‘Beowulf bristles from end to end with curious echoes and parallels, repeated or pointedly juxtaposed details of language, imagery, or thought which bind the poem together and establsih its assumptions and values— if we can figure the equations’’ (1975, 14). The succession of the first four treasure 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf spaces and the inhabitants who furnished them forms one such equation and, in turn, informs the audience’s interpretation of the poem’s final treasure space occupant, Beowulf. Owen-Crocker views some of the parallels between these spaces as ‘‘cyclical but not repetitive’’ (2000, 90) and finds the treasure motif ‘‘at first questioned… [then] undermined and found wanting as the poem progresses’’ (2000, 27). The treasure spaces of the Grendelkin, dragon, Scyld, and Hrothgar contribute to this undermining. John Hill (1994) avoids interpreting the poet as moralizing and rather views the main and digressive narratives as examples of social success or failure, without an explicit endorsement of one form over another. However, in the case of the treasure spaces, the poem gives no examples of successful ones—the mere houses more monsters and requires cleansing, the barrow is raided and ultimately reburied, Heorot faced Grendel’s wrath and awaits destruction, and Scyld’s ship has voyaged to a place no man knows. The treasure in Beowulf’s barrow ‘‘lifað / eldum swa unnyt swa hyt (æro)r wæs’’ (remains/just as useless to men as it was before; 3167–8), just as Heorot was ‘‘idel ond unnyt’’ (idle and useless; 413) during Grendel’s raids, and the dragon guards the treasure, ‘‘ne byð him wihte ðy sel’’ (though it does him no good; 2277). However, the poem’s treasure spaces and their occupants are not uniform and each demonstrates a range of ways that treasure can be useless: the Grendelkin treasure was useless to them in exile, only serving as a proper beheading tool; neither does the dragon benefit from his buried treasure but rather becomes a sign of useless greed; Scyld, though perhaps a ‘‘god cyning’’, is left to an unknown fate in his decorated hull; and Hrothgar’s kingdom suffers Grendel’s raids and future violence, despite the treasure-giving in Heorot. These variations on the theme of useless treasure set the verbal stage for the poem’s concluding discussion on useless treasure—in Beowulf’s barrow. Critics have often viewed the ‘‘monsters’’ of Beowulf as heathen antagonists to the ambivalently believing but often venerated heroes. However, the poem’s own moral distinctions are not so clear. Occasionally, the people of the days of old are condemned as pagan, such as when Hrothgar’s men offer sacrifices to heathen gods: Hwilum hie geheton æt hærgtrafum wigweorþunga, wordum bædon þæt him gastbona geoce gefremede wið þeodþreaum. Swylce wæs þeaw hyra, hæþenra hyht; helle gemundon in modsefan, metod hie ne cuþon. (175–80) [At times they offered honor to idols at pagan temples, prayed aloud that the soul-slayer might offer assistance in the country’s distress. Such was their custom, the hope of heathens—they remembered hell in their minds, they did not know the Maker] However, Hrothgar and Beowulf use Christianized diction, crediting much of their success to the ‘‘ylda waldend’’ (Ruler of Men; 1661). But while the religious status 123 C. H. McNabb of the poet’s subjects might be unclear, the moral value attached to their respective relationships to treasure is much more lucid. As the first king introduced in the poem, Scyld Scefing has been cast as a standard by which to judge Hrothgar and Beowulf. King argues that ‘‘the poet is depicting in the portrait of Scyld a set of values which it is the task of the rest of the poem to challenge and redefine’’ (2003, 459); thus, to her, Scyld is ‘‘a negative exemplum’’ (2003, 460). However, Clark counters King and argues that Scyld represents ‘‘a universal example’’ of a ‘‘mythic paradigm’’ (2006, 624). Hill, too, reads Scyld positively, as one whose power becomes ‘‘a martial and social value’’ (2008, 6). The poet recounts of him, Oft Scyld Scefing sceaþena þreatum, monegum mægþum meodosetla ofteah, egsode eorl[as] …………………………. Þæt wæs god cyning. (4–6, 11) [Often Scyld Scefing seized the mead-benches from many tribes, troops of enemies, struck fear into earls …………………………. That was a good king!] Scyld’s epithet of a ‘‘god cyning,’’ one of four uses of the phrase in the poem, has fostered much criticism on his moral status. King posits that ‘‘‘þæt wæs god cyning!’ is not ironic when applied to Scyld; he is a good king, but only by the standards of his own society’’ (2003, 462). However, the poet’s assessment of Scyld as ‘‘god’’ might be read sardonically, just as Hrothgar’s epithet of ‘‘helm Scyldinga’’ [protector of the Scyldings] is ironic in light of Grendel’s twelve-year rampage. Rather than identifying Scyld with the less colonial Hrothgar or Beowulf, his aggressive actions align him with Grendel, who seizes Hrothgar’s meadbench Heorot and strikes fear into his earls, and the dragon, who is also a ‘‘egeslic/leodum on lande’’ (terror to the people on land; 2309–10). Even Hill, who venerates Scyld, admits that the use of ‘egsian’ [to terrify] in reference to Scyld ‘‘rests uneasily within the poem’s words for all that is terrible, fearful, and horrible,’’ and he notes its equal application to Grendel and the dragon (1994, 6). Scyld’s seizure of meadbenches is likely motivated by and eventually leads to the accumulation of treasure as his political neighbors had ‘‘gomban gyldan’’ [to grant him tribute] (11). The moral value of treasure is first introduced in these opening lines, a moral explored and developed through the rest of the poem. The first discussion of Scyld’s treasure comes in the initial description of the ship burial: Nalæs hi hine læssan lacum teodan, Þeodgestreonum, þonne þa dydon Þe hine æt frumsceafte forð onsendon ænne ofer yðe umborwesende. (43–6) 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf [With no fewer gifts did they furnish him there, the wealth of nations, than those did who at his beginning first sent him forth alone over the waves while still a small child.] This statement is a clear example of litotes, where Scyld’s physical wealth at his death far exceeds his original state of destitude; however, there is also a subtle correlation between Scyld’s amassed wealth at death and his poverty in childhood. In more Christian terms, ‘‘Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither’’ (Job 1.21, DRV). The poet later echoes this sentiment in the digression on the history of the dragon hoard. In the last survivor’s lay, which Owen-Crocker views as another funeral, the survivor laments, ‘‘Heald þu nu, hruse, nu hæleð ne m(o)stan, / eorla æht. Hwæt, hyt ær on ðe / gode begeaton’’ [‘‘Hold now, o thou earth, for heroes cannot, / the wealth of men—Lo, from you long ago / those good ones first obtained it!’’] (2247–9a). From dust the treasures came, and to dust they shall return. The futility of Scyld’s treasures is most evident in the discussion of his afterlife. The poet says, ‘‘Him ða Scyld gewat to gescæphwile / felahror feran on frean wære’’ (Scyld passed away at his appointed hour, / the mighty lord when into the Lord’s keeping; 26–7). At first, ‘‘frean wære’’ [the Lord’s keeping] might be interpreted as heaven, or at least a morally neutral afterlife location. But the poet continues his discussion of Scyld with the ‘‘madma mænigo, þa him mid scoldon/on flodes æht feor gewitan’’ (many treasures, which were to travel / far with him into the keeping of the flood; 41–2) and concludes ‘‘men ne cunnon / …hwa þæm hlæaste onfeng’’ (men do not know…who received that cargo; 50b, 52). One possible reading that reconciles this discrepancy interprets ‘‘frean wære’’ to mean the Lord’s keeping prior to judgment, the outcome of which ‘‘men ne cunnon.’’ The poet asserts this concept elsewhere in reference to Grendel: ‘‘ðær abidan sceal / maga mane fah miclan domes, / hu him scir metod scrifan wille’’ (there he shall abide, / guilty of his crimes, the greater judgment, / how the shining Maker wishes to sentence him9; (977b–9), leaving the ultimate judgment to God alone. King argues that ‘‘the perpetual ignorance of Scyld’s fate makes little sense on the literal level, and would seem to indicate that his voyage into the unknown has a metaphorical significance’’ (2003, 464), and Owen-Crocker notes that ‘‘his journey after death…is at odds with Christian belief’’ because placing objects, like the treasure in Scyld’s ship, the dragon’s barrow, and Beowulf’s mound, ‘‘sharply decreased with the establishment of Christianity in England’’ (2000, 3). Indeed Scyld’s ship burial, the first treasure space described in the poem, does serve as a metaphor for treasures that humans store up for themselves on earth. However, these lines indicate that no one, not even the poet, knows the destination of Scyld’s physical and spiritual cargo. Scyld’s burial, in ‘‘flodes æht’’ (the keeping of the flood; 42) parallels the deaths of the Grendelkin, who are buried in the mere by the ‘‘færgripe flodes’’ (flood’s sudden rush; 1516), and the dragon, who is ‘‘scufun, 9 Liuzza translates ‘miclan’ as ‘greater’ rather than ‘great’ in this passage. 123 C. H. McNabb / wyrm ofer weallclif, leton weg niman, / flod fæðmian frætwa hyrde’’ (pushed…, / the worm over the wall-cliff, let the waves take him,/the flood embrace the guard of that finery; 3131b–33). Moreover, the poet’s concluding half-line on Scyld, ‘‘hwa þæm hlæste onfeng’’ (who received that cargo; 52), verbally coresponds with the poet’s narration on Grendel’s death, when he concludes with the half-line, ‘‘þær him hel onfeng’’ (and hell took him; 852b). Scyld’s maðma at his burial serves him nothing, as he is sent off to an unknown destination, like the poem’s morally denigrated monsters. Early in the poem, transitory material wealth is useless in the spiritual afterlife, and this paradigm serves as the framework that the poet uses to explore the figures of Hrothgar and Beowulf. Though physically cast off before the first numbered fitt begins, Scyld is textually present through the whole of the poem in the eponymous Scyldings, namely Hrothgar. He, like Scyld, also occupies a treasure space, Heorot. Raymond Tripp discusses the two primary critical interpretations of Hrothgar, one as an ‘‘emblem of pride’’ and another as ‘‘elegiac remembrances of the heroic past’’ (1977, 123). He supports the latter, viewing Hrothgar and Heorot as ‘‘emblems of an ancient excellence’’ (1977, 127). John Niles argues that Hrothgar ‘‘appears as only the shell of a good king’’ (1983, 110), but Hill directly disagrees, instead privileging Hrothgar’s legislative qualities rather than his warrior-based ones (1991). Scott DeGregorio’s more recent interpretation does not rely on this binary approach to the Danish king; he considers Hrothgar an ironic figure, in the specific sense of existing in a ‘‘field of competing significations’’ (1999, 314). Hrothgar’s relationship to his treasure is more complex than Scyld’s: he is called ‘‘woroldcyninga selestan’’ (best of world-kings; 1684–5), and referred to repeatedly as a ‘‘sincgifan’’ (treasure giver; 1012) and ‘‘beaga bryttan’’ (ring-giver; 1487). Like Scyld, he relies on this economy of treasure-giving to sustain his kingdom, as seen in his gifts to Beowulf in exchange for protection against Grendel. His own speech to the visiting Geat extols treasure-giving as an antidote for pride and greed, noting that the king who falls to such temptations ‘‘nallas on gylp seleð / fætte beagas, ond he þa forðgesceaft / forgyteð ond forgymeð’’ (gives no golden rings / for vaunting boasts, and his final destiny / he neglects and forgets; 1749b-51a). Hrothgar explicitly connects the morality of treasure giving to one’s final destiny. But the poem has already undermined this correlation with the example of Scyld; despite his many treasures, his final destiny is unknown. Moreover, the poet uses several terms to demonstrate Hrothgar’s relationship to his treasure, but these same terms are undermined as they are applied to the Grendelkin and the dragon as well. Just as Grendel is the ‘‘grundhyrd’’ (guardian of the abyss; 2136) and the dragon is ‘‘hordweard’’ (hoard guard; 2302) and ‘‘goldweard’’ (gold guard; 3081), so Hrothgar is called ‘‘beahhorda weard’’ (guard of the treasure hoard; 921) and ‘‘hordweard hæleþ’’ (hoard-guard of warriors; 1047). Moreover, the king is ‘‘folces hyrde’’ (shepherd of his folk; 610) and the ‘‘rices hyrde’’ (kingdom’s shepherd; 2027), just as Beowulf calls the Grendelkin ‘‘huses hyrdas’’ (shepherds of the house; 1666) and ‘‘fyrena hyrde’’ (shepherd of sins; 750), while the dragon is refered to as the ‘‘beorges hyrde’’ (barrow’s shepherd; 2304). These epithets specifically assign responsibility, not only for the people or kingdom but also for the treasure within it. Moreover, 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf Grendel’s mother ruled the mere for ‘‘hund missera’’ (a hundred half-years; 1498), just as Hrothgar announces: Swa ic Hring Dena hund missera weold under wolcnum ond hig wigge beleac manigum mægþa geond þysne middangeard, æscum ond ecgum, þæt ic me ænigne under swegles begong gesacan ne tealde. (1769–73) [Thus, a hundred half-years I held the Ring-Danes under the skies, and kept them safe from war from many tribes throughout this middle-earth, from spears and swords, so that I considered none under the expanse of heaven my enemy.] Yet Hrothgar’s wealth and treasure-giving prove fruitless to prevent the attacks of Grendel, as Hrothgar himself admits, ‘‘Hwæt, me þæs on eþle edwenden cwom’’ (Look! Turnabout came in my own homeland; 1774). Similarly, the dragon ‘‘beorges getruwode,/wiges ond wealles; him seo wen geleah’’ (took shelter in his barrow,/his walls and warfare—but that trust failed him; 2322b-3). Hrothgar’s treasure will not save his kingdom, which ominously faces a future of the ‘‘laðan liges’’ (surges of war; 83). Beowulf’s own moral status in the poem has been much debated, and his death serves as the focal point for the poem’s musings on the uselessness of physical wealth in a spiritual afterlife. Finnegan praises Beowulf and explains his martial shortcomings by viewing him as a Christian prototype caught in a pre-Christian world (1978, 53), and Niles suggests that the hero’s transformation in the poem ‘‘provides a model for us all’’ (1983, 23). Taylor too applauds the hero, suggesting that his honorable attempt to recirculate the treasure necessary for the kingdom fails only because his men bury it instead (1997). Nicholas Howe remarks that Beowulf’s ‘‘deeds demand admiration and his wisdom respect’’ (1989, 159) and his death demonstrates ‘‘the limits of heroism in a pagan world’’ (1989, 172). Hill (1994) views Beowulf as ultimately venerated by the religiously disparate contemporaneous audience, positing a temporal spectrum rather than poles between the time setting of the poem and its original audience. Though Clark is generally laudatory of the hero, he does admit ambiguity in Beowulf’s status at the poem’s conclusion because he is buried with useless treasure, and he reads the epithet ‘‘god cyning’’ as possibly ironic based on its application to the unsuccessful Hrothgar as well (2006, 625). Orchard (2003, 256), sees the text as darker in tone as the poem’s last word lofgeornost [most eager for praise] is ‘‘unreservedly negative’’ in all twelve of its other appearances (1995, 55). While Orchard convincingly demonstrates the conflation of Beowulf and his monstrous opponents in the text, the poem does more than blur the line between human and other. Rather, Beowulf exists in a network of associations, with the Grendelkin and dragon but also with Scyld and Hrothgar, that is informed by and hinges upon the treasure he seeks. The poem’s previous narration of the Grendelkin, the dragon, Scyld, and Hrothgar provides a framework to understand Beowulf’s demise, wherein the accumulated treasure of the poem’s monsters and men has proved useless. 123 C. H. McNabb Situationally, Beowulf is connected with Scyld in the poem, even beyond the manuscript’s listing of ‘‘Beowulf’’ as Scyld’s son.10 Scyld’s funeral in the opening narrative, opposite Beowulf’s funeral at the conclusion, links the two structurally, as both King and Clark have pointed out. Both Beowulf and Scyld arrive in Denmark over the waters, and both experienced a reversal of fortune from childhood to adulthood (6–7, 2188). Both, too, are buried surrounded by treasure. Beowulf is also called the ‘‘rices hyrde’’ (shepherd of the kingdom; 3080), a ‘‘sincgifan’’ (ringgiving lord; 2311) and ‘‘hordweard hæleþ’’ (hoard-guard of heroes; 1852), three exact phrases used to describe Hrothgar (1012, 1487, 2027). However, the Grendelkin and the dragon are called hyrd and weard, too (2136, 2302, 3081, 1666, 750, 2304), and both Beowulf and the dragon are ‘‘stearcheort’’ (stout-hearted; 2552, 2288), the only two uses of the word in the poem. Moreover, like the Grendelkin, the dragon, and Hrothgar, Beowulf is called a ‘‘seleweard’’ (hallguardian; 667), and Beowulf is equally a guest in Heorot as in the mere (1545, 1800). All of these terms have ranges of signification, but their use in connection to Beowulf and the other figures narrows their associations within the poem and contributes to the network of connections Beowulf is interpreted in. Beowulf, too, engages in the treasure-giving economy, as Wiglaf recalls his king’s gifts explicitly—helmets and byrnies in the hall—and reminds his companions, ðe us ðas beagas geaf, þæt we him ða guðgetawa gyldan woldon gif him þyslicu þearf gelumpe, helmas ond heardsweord. 2635b–8a [he gave us these rings— that we would pay him back for this battle-gear, these helmets and hard swords, if such a need as this ever befell him] Beowulf heeded Hrothgar’s admonition to give rings to his men. Yet despite Beowulf’s treasure-giving, his companions abandon him and ‘‘edwenden cwom’’ [turnabout came] (1774) to his own kingdom, as it did to Hrothgar’s. Beowulf, too, ruled his kingdom 50 years (2732), like Hrothgar (1769) and Grendel’s mother (1498), and his demise is directly connected to his treasure, similar to Grendel and his mother, who die by the blade of their own treasure. Taylor also points out that Beowulf, like the dragon, guards the treasure (of Geatland), a treasure that is not his own (1997, 234).Thus Beowulf’s own treasure economy was of no use in his confrontation with the dragon, and ‘‘his sylfes ham, / bolda selest, brynewylmum mealt’’ (his own hall, best of buildings, had burned in waves of fire; 2325–6), a fate Heorot, ‘‘husa selest’’ (best of houses; 146), will meet as well. Beowulf’s final speeches in the barrow highlight his moral motivations regarding the treasure. Beowulf boasts, ‘‘Ic…sceall/gold gegangan’’ (I shall get that gold; 2535–6) and he desires to ‘‘ymb hord wigan’’ (fight for the hoard; 2509). After defeating the dragon and facing his own death, he has a Gollum-like moment: ‘‘Bio 10 Klaeber has ‘‘Beow’’ instead of the ‘‘beowulf’’ of the manuscript. 123 Treasure Spaces in Beowulf nu on ofoste, þæt ic ærwelan, / goldæht ongite, gearo sceawige/swegle searogimmas’’ (Hurry, so I might witness that ancient wealth, / those golden goods, might eagerly gaze on the bright precious stones; 2747–9a). Of his many lines of speech in the concluding scenes, he mentions the benefit of the treasure to his people only once: ‘‘maðma hord…fremmað gena / leoda þearfe’’ (this hoard of treasures, they will attend / the needs of the people; 2799–80). If Grendel ‘‘maþðum for metode, ne his myne wisse’’ (scorned the treasures; he did not know their love; 169), Beowulf appears just the opposite. Then, like all the poem’s previous occupants of treasure spaces, Beowulf dies. Fred C. Robinson views Beowulf’s funeral as an apotheosis (1993, 6), while OwenCrocker argues that the poem’s description of the funeral evokes a Christian moral based on the number of bibical allusions in the passage (2000, 99). Clark finds the funeral passage echoing the ‘‘sense of despair’’ voiced previously in the poem, particularly regarding the flight of Beowulf’s retainers (2006, 638). These opposing interpretations highlight the funeral’s religious ambiguity. Just as Scyld travels into the ‘‘frean wære’’ (keeping of the Lord; 27), so Beowulf travels into the ‘‘waldendes wære’’ (keeping of the Ruler; 3109), both ambiguous phrases. The poet remarks of both Beowulf and the dragon, ‘‘hæfde æghwæðer ende gefered / lænan lifes’’ (each of them had journeyed to the end / of his loaned life; 2844–5), and of the dragon, ‘‘þæt se sið ne ðah / ðam ðe unrihte inne gehydde / wrætte under wealle’’ (the journey did not profit / the one who had wrongfully hidden under a wall / that great treasure; 3058b–60a). Neither did it profit Beowulf. The treasure for which he ‘‘mine bebohte / frode feorhlege’’ (sold my old lifespan; 2799–80) never reaches his kingdom, nor does it prevent the inevitable ‘‘orleghwile’’ (time of trouble; 2911) that is prophesied to come. Instead, it ‘‘lifað / eldum swa unnyt swa hyt (æro)r wæs’’ (remains/just as useless to men as it was before; 3167–8). It is not useless because it was not circulated, as Taylor suggests, because despite its currency, treasure still failed Scyld and Hrothgar. Nor is it useless because, as Clark posits, similar circulation of treasure failed Beowulf when his thegns abandoned him, since Scyld and Hrothgar reaped loyalty based on their gift-giving. Rather, the line’s proximity to the funeral highlights its useless because it is no defense against one’s inevitable death and is no aid in one’s aferlife, for either monster or man. Amid the earthly treasure, where moth and rust destroy, the institutions of Beowulf’s society are ‘‘woefully inadequate’’ (Finnegan 1978, 49) for the Christian worldview of the afterlife. For the poem’s heroes, their treasure ultimately fails them in the times of need, and of their final destinations, ‘‘men ne cunnon.’’ References Abram, C. (2010). New light on the illumination of Grendel’s mere. JEGP, 109(2), 198–216. Alexander, M. (Trans.) (1991). The Seafarer. The earliest english poems, 3rd ed. London: Penguin. Anderson, E. R. (1972). A submerged metaphor in the Scyld episode. 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