The hero of the Bear's son folk-tale is often in his youth unmanageable or lazy. This is also emphasized in the stories both of Grettir and of Orm: and though such a feature was uncongenial to the courtly tone ofBeowulf, which sought to depict the hero as a model prince, yet itisthere[135], even though only alluded to incidentally, and elsewhere ignored or even denied[136].
Again, the hero of the folk-tale is very frequently (but not necessarily) either descended from a bear, nourished by a bear, or has some ursine characteristic. We see this recurring in certain traits of Beowulf such as his bear-like method of hugginghis adversary to death. Here again the courtly poet has not emphasized his hero's wildness[137].
Again, there are some extraordinary coincidences in names, between theBeowulf-Grettirstory and the folk-tale. These are not found inBeowulfitself, but only in the stories of Grettir and Orm. Yet, as theGrettir-episode is presumably derived from the same original as theBeowulf-episode, anyoriginalconnection between it and the folk-tale involves such connection forBeowulfalso. We have seen that inGrettis sagathe priest Stein, as the unfaithful guardian of the rope which is to draw up the hero, seems to represent the faithless companions of the folktale. There is really no other way of accounting for him, for except on this supposition he is quite otiose and unnecessary to theGrettir-story: the saga-man has no use for him. And his name confirms this explanation, for in the folk-tale one of the three faithless companions of the hero is called the Stone-cleaver,Steinhauer,Stenkløver, or even, in one Scandinavian version, simplyStein[138].
Again, the struggle in theGrettis sagais localized at Sandhaugar in Barthardal in Northern Iceland. Yet it is difficult to say why the saga-teller located the story there. The scenery, with the neighbouring river and mighty waterfall, is fully described: but students of Icelandic topography assert that the neighbourhood doesnotat all lend itself to this description[139]. When we turn to the story of Orm we find it localized on the island Sandey. We are forced to the conclusion that the name belongs to the story, and that in some early version this was localized at a place called Sandhaug, perhaps at one of the numerous places in Norway of that name. Now turning to one of the Scandinavian versions of the folk-tale, we find that the descent into the earth and the consequent struggle is localized inen stor sandhaug[140].
On the other hand, it must be remembered that if a collection is made of some two hundred folk-tales, it is bound to contain, in addition to the essential kernel of common tradition, a vast amount of that floating material which tends to associate itself with this or that hero of story. Individual versions or groups of versions of the tale may contain features which occur also in theGrendel-story, without that being any evidence for primitive connection. Thus we are told how Grendel forces open the door of Heorot. In a Sicilian version of the folk-tale the doors spring open of themselves as the foe appears. This has been claimed as a parallel. But, as a sceptic has observed, the extraordinary thing is that of so slight a similarity (if it is entitled to be called a similarity) we should find only one example out of two hundred, and have to go to Sicily for that[141].
The parallel between theBeowulf-story and the "Bear's son" folk-tale had been noted by Laistner (Das Rätsel der Sphinx, Berlin, 1889,II, 22etc.): but the prevalent belief that theBeowulf-story was a nature-myth seems to have prevented further investigation on these lines till Panzer independently (p. 254) undertook his monumental work.
The parallel between theBeowulf-story and the "Bear's son" folk-tale had been noted by Laistner (Das Rätsel der Sphinx, Berlin, 1889,II, 22etc.): but the prevalent belief that theBeowulf-story was a nature-myth seems to have prevented further investigation on these lines till Panzer independently (p. 254) undertook his monumental work.
Yet there are other features in the folk-tale which are entirely unrepresented in theBeowulf-Grettirstory. The hero of the folk-tale rescues captive princesses in the underworld (it is because they wish to rob him of this prize that his companions leave him below); he is saved by some miraculous helper, and finally, after adopting a disguise, puts his treacherous comrades to shame and weds the youngest princess. None of these elements[142]are to be found in the stories of Beowulf, Grettir, Orm or Bjarki, yet they are essential to the fairy tale[143].
So that to speak ofBeowulfas a version of the fairy tale is undoubtedly going too far. All we can say is that some early story-teller took, from folk-tale, those elements which suited his purpose, and that a tale, containing many leading features found in the "Bear's son" story, but omitting many of the leading motives of that story, came to be told of Beowulf and of Grettir[144].
Section V. Scef and Scyld.
Our poem begins with an account of the might, and of the funeral, of Scyld Scefing, the ancestor of that Danish royal house which is to play so large a part in the story. After Scyld's death his retainers, following the command he had given them, placed their beloved prince in the bosom of a ship, surrounded by many treasures brought from distant lands, by weapons of battle and weeds of war, swords and byrnies. Also they placed a golden banner high over his head, and let the sea bear him away, with soul sorrowful and downcast. Men could not say for a truth, not the wisest of councillors, who received that burden.
Now there is much in this that can be paralleled both from the literature and from the archaeological remains of the North. Abundant traces have been found, either of the burial or of the burning of a chief within a ship. And we are told by different authorities of two ancient Swedish kings who, sorely wounded, and unwilling to die in their beds, had themselves placed upon ships, surrounded by weapons and the bodies of the slain. The funeral pyre was then lighted on the vessel, and the ship sent blazing out to sea. Similarly the dead body of Baldr was put upon his ship, and burnt.
Haki konungr fekk svá stór sár, at hann sá, at hans lífdagar mundu eigi langir verða; þá lét hann taka skeið, er hann átti, ok lét hlaða dauðum mǫnnum, ok vápnum, lét þá flytja út til hafs ok leggja stýrií lag ok draga upp segl, en leggja eld í tyrvið ok gera bál á skipinu; veðr stóð af landi; Haki var þá at kominn dauða eða dauðr, er hann var lagiðr á bálit; siglði skipit síðan loganda út í haf, ok var þetta allfrægt lengi síðan.(King Haki was so sore wounded that he saw that his days could not be long. Then he had a warship of his taken, and loaded with dead men and weapons, had it carried out to sea, the rudder shipped, the sail drawn up, the fir-tree wood set alight, and a bale-fire made on the ship. The wind blew from the land. Haki was dead or nearly dead, when he was placed on the pyre. Then the ship sailed blazing out to sea; and that was widely famous for a long time after.)Ynglinga Saga, Kap. 23, inHeimskringla, udg. af Finnur Jónsson, København, 1893, vol.I, p. 43.TheSkjoldunga Sagagives a story which is obviously connected with this. King Sigurd Ring in his old age asked in marriage the lady Alfsola; but her brothers scorned to give her to an aged man. War followed; and the brothers, knowing that they could not withstand the hosts of Sigurd, poisoned their sister before marching against him. In the battle the brothers were slain, and Sigurd badly wounded.Qui, Alfsola funere allato, magnam navim mortuorum cadaveribus oneratam solus vivorum conscendit, seque et mortuam Alfsolam in puppi collocans navim pice, bitumine et sulphure incendi jubet: atque sublatis velis in altum, validis a continente impellentibus ventis, proram dirigit, simulque manus sibi violentas intulit; sese ... more majorum suorum regali pompa Odinum regem (id est inferos) invisere malle, quam inertis senectutis infirmitatem perpeti....Skjoldungasaga i Arngrim Jónssons udtog, udgiven af Axel Olrik, Kjøbenhavn, 1894, Cap.XXVII, p. 50 [132].So with the death of Baldr.En æsirnir tóku lík Baldrs ok fluttu til sævar. Hringhorni hét skip Baldrs; hann var allra skipa mestr, hann vildu goðin framm setja ok gera þar á bálfǫr Baldrs ... þá var borit út á skipit lík Baldrs,... Oðinn lagði á bálit gullhring þann, er Draupnir heitir ... hestr Baldrs var leiddr á bálit með ǫllu reiði.(But the gods took the body of Baldr and carried it to the sea-shore. Baldr's ship was named Hringhorni: it was the greatest of all ships and the gods sought to launch it, and to build the pyre of Baldr on it.... Then was the body of Baldr borne out on to the ship.... Odin laid on the pyre the gold ring named Draupnir ... and Baldr's horse with all his trappings was placed on the pyre.)Snorra Edda: Gylfaginning, 48; udg. af Finnur Jónsson, København, 1900.We are justified in renderingsetja skip framby "launch": Olrik (Heltedigtning,I, 250) regards Baldr's funeral as a case of the burning of a body in a ship on land. But it seems to me, as to Mr Chadwick (Origin, 287), that the natural meaning is that the ship was launched in the sea.
Haki konungr fekk svá stór sár, at hann sá, at hans lífdagar mundu eigi langir verða; þá lét hann taka skeið, er hann átti, ok lét hlaða dauðum mǫnnum, ok vápnum, lét þá flytja út til hafs ok leggja stýrií lag ok draga upp segl, en leggja eld í tyrvið ok gera bál á skipinu; veðr stóð af landi; Haki var þá at kominn dauða eða dauðr, er hann var lagiðr á bálit; siglði skipit síðan loganda út í haf, ok var þetta allfrægt lengi síðan.
(King Haki was so sore wounded that he saw that his days could not be long. Then he had a warship of his taken, and loaded with dead men and weapons, had it carried out to sea, the rudder shipped, the sail drawn up, the fir-tree wood set alight, and a bale-fire made on the ship. The wind blew from the land. Haki was dead or nearly dead, when he was placed on the pyre. Then the ship sailed blazing out to sea; and that was widely famous for a long time after.)
Ynglinga Saga, Kap. 23, inHeimskringla, udg. af Finnur Jónsson, København, 1893, vol.I, p. 43.
TheSkjoldunga Sagagives a story which is obviously connected with this. King Sigurd Ring in his old age asked in marriage the lady Alfsola; but her brothers scorned to give her to an aged man. War followed; and the brothers, knowing that they could not withstand the hosts of Sigurd, poisoned their sister before marching against him. In the battle the brothers were slain, and Sigurd badly wounded.
Qui, Alfsola funere allato, magnam navim mortuorum cadaveribus oneratam solus vivorum conscendit, seque et mortuam Alfsolam in puppi collocans navim pice, bitumine et sulphure incendi jubet: atque sublatis velis in altum, validis a continente impellentibus ventis, proram dirigit, simulque manus sibi violentas intulit; sese ... more majorum suorum regali pompa Odinum regem (id est inferos) invisere malle, quam inertis senectutis infirmitatem perpeti....
Skjoldungasaga i Arngrim Jónssons udtog, udgiven af Axel Olrik, Kjøbenhavn, 1894, Cap.XXVII, p. 50 [132].
So with the death of Baldr.
En æsirnir tóku lík Baldrs ok fluttu til sævar. Hringhorni hét skip Baldrs; hann var allra skipa mestr, hann vildu goðin framm setja ok gera þar á bálfǫr Baldrs ... þá var borit út á skipit lík Baldrs,... Oðinn lagði á bálit gullhring þann, er Draupnir heitir ... hestr Baldrs var leiddr á bálit með ǫllu reiði.
(But the gods took the body of Baldr and carried it to the sea-shore. Baldr's ship was named Hringhorni: it was the greatest of all ships and the gods sought to launch it, and to build the pyre of Baldr on it.... Then was the body of Baldr borne out on to the ship.... Odin laid on the pyre the gold ring named Draupnir ... and Baldr's horse with all his trappings was placed on the pyre.)
Snorra Edda: Gylfaginning, 48; udg. af Finnur Jónsson, København, 1900.
We are justified in renderingsetja skip framby "launch": Olrik (Heltedigtning,I, 250) regards Baldr's funeral as a case of the burning of a body in a ship on land. But it seems to me, as to Mr Chadwick (Origin, 287), that the natural meaning is that the ship was launched in the sea.
But the case of Scyld is not exactly parallel to these. The ship which conveyed Scyld out to sea wasnotset alight. And the words of the poet, though dark, seem to imply that it was intended to come to land somewhere: "None could say who received that freight."
Further, Scyld not merely departed over the waves—he had in the first instance come over them: "Not with less treasure did they adorn him," says the poet, speaking of the funeral rites, "than did those who at the beginning sent him forth alone over the waves, being yet a child."
Scyld Scefing then, like Tennyson's Arthur, comes from the unknown and departs back to it.
The story of the mysterious coming over the water was not confined to Scyld. It meets us in connection with King Scef, who was regarded, at any rate from the time of Alfred, and possibly much earlier, as the remotest ancestor of the Wessex kings. Ethelwerd, a member of the West Saxon royal house, who compiled a bombastic Latin chronicle towards the end of the tenth century, traces back the pedigree of the kings of Wessex to Scyldand his father Scef. "This Scef," he says, "came to land on a swift boat, surrounded by arms, in an island of the ocean called Scani, when a very young child. He was unknown to the people of that land, but was adopted by them as if of their kin, well cared for, and afterwards elected king[145]." Note here, firstly, that the story is told, not of Scyld Scefing, but of Scef, father of Scyld. Secondly, that although Ethelwerd is speaking of the ancestor of the West Saxon royal house, he makes him come to land and rule, not in the ancient homeland of continental Angeln, but in the "island of Scani," which signifies what is now the south of Sweden, and perhaps also the Danish islands[146]—that same land ofScedenigwhich is mentioned inBeowulfas the realm of Scyld. The tone of the narrative is, so far as we can judge from Ethelwerd's dry summary, entirely warlike: Scef is surrounded by weapons.
In the twelfth century the story is again told by William of Malmesbury. "Sceldius was the son of Sceaf. He, they say, was carried as a small boy in a boat without any oarsman to a certain isle of Germany called Scandza, concerning whichJordanes, the historian of the Goths, speaks. He was sleeping, and a handful of corn was placed at his head, from which he was called 'Sheaf.' He was regarded as a wonder by the folk of that country and carefully nurtured; when grown up he ruled in a town then called Slaswic, and now Haithebi—that region is called ancient Anglia[147]."
William of Malmesbury was, of course, aware of Ethelwerd's account, and may have been influenced by it. Some of his variations may be his own invention. The substitution of the classical formScandzafor Ethelwerd'sScaniis simply a change from popular to learned nomenclature, and enables the historian to show that he has read something of Jordanes. The alteration by which Malmesbury makes Sceaf, when grown up, rule at Schleswig in ancient Angel, may again be his own work—a variant added in order to make Sceaf look more at home in an Anglo-Saxon pedigree.
But William of Malmesbury was, as we shall see later, prone to incorporate current ballads into his history, and after allowing for what he may have derived from Ethelwerd, and what he may have invented, there can be no doubt that many of the additional details which he gives are genuine popular poetry. Indeed, whilst the story of Scyld'sfuneralis very impressive inBeowulf, it is in William's narrative that the story of the child coming over the sea first becomes poetic.
Now since even the English historians connected this tale with the Danish territory ofScani, Scandza, we should expect to find it again on turning to the records of the Danish royal house. And we do find there, generally at the head of the pedigree[148], a hero—Skjold—whose name corresponds, and whose relationship to the later Danish kings shows him to be the same as theScyld ScefingofBeowulf. But neither Saxo Grammaticus, nor any other Danish historian, knows anything ofSkjold having come in his youth or returned in his death over the ocean.
How are we to harmonize these accounts?
Beowulfand Ethelwerd agree in representing the hero as "surrounded by arms"; William of Malmesbury mentions only the sheaf; the difference is weighty, for presumably the spoils which the hero brings with him from the unknown, or takes back thither, are in harmony with his career.Beowulfand Ethelwerd seem to show the warrior king, William of Malmesbury seems rather to be telling the story of a semi-divine foundling, who introduces the tillage of the earth[149].
InBeowulfthe child is Scyld Scefing, in Ethelwerd and William of Malmesbury he is Sceaf, father of Scyld.
Beowulf, Ethelwerd and William of Malmesbury agree in connecting the story withScedenig,ScaniorScandza, yet the two historians and theAnglo-Saxon Chronicleall make Sceaf the ancestor of the West Saxon house. Yet we have no evidence that the English were regarded as having come from Scandinavia.
The last problem admits of easy solution. In heathen times the English traced the pedigree of most of their kings to Woden, and stopped there. For higher than that they could not go. But a Christian poet or genealogist, who had no belief in Woden as a god, would regard the All Father as a man—a mere man who, by magic powers, had made the heathen believe he was a god. To such a Christian pedigree-maker Woden would convey no idea of finality; he would feel no difficulty in giving this human Woden any number of ancestors. Wishing to glorify the pedigree of his king, he would add any other distinguished and authentic genealogies, and the obvious place for these would be at the end of the line, i.e., above Woden. Hence we have in some quite early (not West Saxon) pedigrees, five names given as ancestors of Woden. These five names end in Geat or Geata, who was apparently regarded as a god, and was possibly Woden under another name[150]. Somewhat later, in theAnglo-Saxon Chronicle, underthe year 855, we have a long version of the West Saxon pedigree with yet nine further names above Geat, ending in Sceaf. Sceaf is described as a son of Noah, and so the pedigree is carried back to Adam, 25 generations in all beyond Woden[151]. But it is rash to assume with Müllenhoff that, because Sceaf comes at the head[152]of this English pedigree, Sceaf was therefore essentially an English hero.Allthese later stages above Woden look like the ornate additions of a later compiler. Some of the figures, Finn, Sceldwa, Heremod, Sceaf himself, we have reason to identify with the primitive heroes of other nations.
The genealogist who finally made Sceaf into a son born to Noah in the ark, and then carried the pedigree nine stages further back through Noah to Adam, merely made the last of a series of accretions. It does not follow that, because he made them ancestors of the English king, this compiler regarded Noah, Enoch and Adam as Englishmen. Neither need he have so regarded Sceaf or Scyld[153]or Beaw. In fact—and this has constantly been overlooked—the authority for Sceaf, Scyld and Beaw as Anglo-Saxon heroes is but little stronger than the authority for Noah and Adam in that capacity. No manuscript exists which stops at Scyld or Sceaf. There is no version which goes beyond Geat except that which goes up to Adam. Scyld, Beaw, Sceaf, Noah and Adam as heroes of English mythology are all alike doubtful.
We must be careful, however, to define what we mean when we regard these stages of the pedigree as doubtful. They are doubtful in so far as they are represented as standing above Woden in the Anglo-Saxon pedigree, because it is incredible that, in primitive and heathen times, Woden was credited with a dozen or more forefathers. Thepositionof these names in the pedigree is therefore doubtful. But it is only their connection with the West Saxon house that is unauthentic. It does not follow that the names are,per se, unauthentic. On the contrary, it is because the genealogist had such implicit belief in the authenticity of the generationsfrom Noah to Adam that he could not rest satisfied with his West Saxon pedigree till he had incorporated these names. They are not West Saxon, but they are part of a tradition much more ancient than any pedigree of the West Saxon kings. And the argument which applies to the layer of Hebrew names between Noah and Adam applies equally to the layer of Germanic names between Woden and Sceaf. From whatever branch of the Germanic race the genealogist may have taken them, the fact that he placed them where he did in the pedigree is a proof of his veneration for them. But we must not without evidence claim them as West Saxon or Anglo-Saxon: we must not be surprised if evidence points to some of them being connected with other nations—as Heremod, for example, with the Danes[154].
More difficult are the other problems. William of Malmesbury tells the story of Sceaf, with the attributes of a culture-hero:Beowulf, four centuries earlier, tells it of Scyld, a warrior hero: Ethelwerd tells it of Sceaf, but gives him the warrior attributes of Scyld[155]instead of the sheaf of corn.
The earlier scholars mostly agreed[156]in regarding Malmesbury's attribution of the story to Sceaf as the original and correct version of the story, in spite of its late date. As a representative of these early scholars we may take Müllenhoff[157]. Müllenhoff's love of mythological interpretation found ample scope in the story of the child with the sheaf, which he, with considerable reason, regarded as a "culture-myth." Müllenhoff believed the carrying over of the attributes of a god to a line of his supposed descendants to be a common feature of myth—the descendants representing the god under another name. In accordance with this view, Scyld could be explained as an "hypostasis" of his father or forefather Sceaf, as a figure further explaining him and representing him, so that in the end the tale of the boat arrival came to be told, inBeowulf, of Scyld instead of Sceaf.
Recent years have seen a revolt against most of Müllenhoff's theories. The view that the story originally belonged to Sceaf has come to be regarded with a certain amount of impatience as "out of date." Even so fine a scholar as Dr Lawrence has expressed this impatience:
"That the graceful story of the boy sailing in an open boat to the land of his future people was told originally of Sceaf ... needs no detailed refutation at the present day."The attachment of the motive to Sceaf must be, as an examination of the sources shows, a later development[158]."
"That the graceful story of the boy sailing in an open boat to the land of his future people was told originally of Sceaf ... needs no detailed refutation at the present day.
"The attachment of the motive to Sceaf must be, as an examination of the sources shows, a later development[158]."
Accordingly the view of recent scholars has been this: That the story belongs essentially to Scyld. That, as the hero of the boat story is obviously of unknown parentage, we must interpretScefingnot as "son of Sceaf" but as "with the sheaf" (in itself a quite possible explanation). That this stage of the story is preserved inBeowulf. That subsequentlyScyld Scefing, standing at the head of the pedigree, came to be misunderstood as "Scyld, son of Sceaf". That consequently the story, which must be told of the earlier ancestor, was thus transferred from Scyld to his supposed father Sceaf—the version which is found in Ethelwerd and William of Malmesbury.
One apparent advantage of this theory is that the oldest version, that ofBeowulf, is accepted as the correct and original one, and the much later versions of the historians Ethelwerd and William of Malmesbury are regarded as subsequent corruptions. This on the surface seems eminently reasonable. But let us look closer.Scyld ScefinginBeowulfis to be interpreted "Scyld with the Sheaf." ButBeowulfnowhere mentions the sheaf as part of Scyld's equipment. On the contrary, we gather that the hero is connected rather with prowess in war. It is the same in Ethelwerd. It is not till William of Malmesbury that the sheaf comes into the story. So that the interpretation ofScefingas "with the sheaf" assumes the accuracy of William of Malmesbury's story even in a point where it receives no support from theBeowulfversion. In other words this theory does the very thing to avoid doing which it was called into being[159].
Besides this, there are two fundamental objections to the theory that Sceaf is a late creation, a figure formed from the misunderstanding of the epithetScefingapplied toScyld. One portion of the poem ofWidsithconsists of a catalogue of ancient kings, and among these occursSceafa, ruling the Langobards. Now portions ofWidsithare very ancient, and this catalogue in which Sceafa occurs is almost certainly appreciably older thanBeowulfitself.
Secondly, the story of the wonderful foundling who comes over the sea from the unknown and founds a royal line, mustex hypothesibe told of the first in the line, and we have seen that it is Sceaf, not Scyld, who comes at the head of the Teutonic names in the genealogy in theAnglo-Saxon Chronicle.
Now we can date this genealogy fairly exactly. It occurs under the year 855, and seems to have been drawn up at the court of King Æthelwulf. In any case it cannot be later than the latter part of Alfred's reign. This takes us back to a period when the old English epic was still widely popular. A genealogist at Alfred's court must have known much about Old English story.
These facts are simply not consistent with the belief that Sceaf is a late creation, a figure formed from a misunderstanding of the epithetScefing, applied to Scyld[160].
To arrive at any definite conclusion is difficult. But the following may be hazarded.
It may be taken as proved that the Scyld or Sceldwa of the genealogists is identical with the Scyld Scefing ofBeowulf. For Sceldwa according to the genealogy is also ultimately aSceafing, and is the father of Beow; Scyld isScefingand is father of Beowulf[161].
It is equally clear that the Scyld Scefing ofBeowulfis identical with the Skjold of the Danish genealogists and historians. For Scyld and Skjold are both represented as the founder and head of the Danish royal house of Scyldingas or Skjoldungar, and as reigning in the same district. Here, however, the resemblance ceases.Beowulftells us of Scyld's marvellous coming and departure. The only Danish authority who tells us much of Skjold is Saxo Grammaticus, who records how as a boy Skjold wrestled successfully with a bear and overcame champions, and how later he annulled unrighteous laws, and distinguished himself by generosity to his court. But the Danish and English accounts have nothing specifically in common, though the type they portray is the same—that of a king from his youth beloved by his retainers and feared by neighbouring peoples, whom he subdues and makes tributary. It looks rather as if the oldest traditions had had little to say about this hero beyond the typical things which might be said of any great king; so that Danes and English had each supplied the deficiency in their own way.
Now this is exactly what we should expect. For Scyld-Skjold is hardly a personality: he is a figure evolved out of the nameScyldingas,Skjoldungar, which is an old epic title for the Danes. Of this we may be fairly certain: the Scyldingas did not get their name because they were really descended from Scyld, but Scyld was created in order to provide an eponymous father to the Scyldingas[162]. In just the same waytradition also evolved a hero Dan, from whom the Danes were supposed to have their name. Saxo Grammaticus has combined both pedigrees, making Skjold a descendant of Dan; but usually it was agreed that nothing came before Skjold, that he was the beginning of the Skjoldung line[163]. At first a mere name, we should expect that he would have no characteristic save that, like every respectable Germanic king, he took tribute from his foes and gave it to his friends. He differs therefore from those heroic figures like Hygelac or Guthhere (Gunnar) which, being derived from actual historic characters, have, from the beginning of their story, certain definite features attached to them. Scyld is, in the beginning, merely a name, the ancestor of the Scyldings. Tradition collects round him gradually.
Hence it will be rash to attach much weight to any feature which is found in one account of him only. Anything we are told of Scyld in English sources alone is not to be construed as evidence as to his original story, but only as to the form that story assumed in England. When, for example,Beowulftells us that Scyld isScefing, or that he is father of Beowulf, it will be very rash of us to assume that these relationships existed in the Danish, but have been forgotten. This is, I think, universally admitted[164]. Yet the very scholars who emphasize this, have assumed that the marvellous arrival as a child, in a boat, surrounded by weapons, is an essential feature of Scyld's story. Yet the evidence for this is no better and no worse than the evidence for his relationship to Sceaf or Beow—it rests solely on the English documents. Accordingly it only shows what was told about Scyld in England.
Of course the boat arrivalmightbe an original part of the story ofScyld-Skjold, which has been forgotten in his nativecountry, but remembered in England. But I cannot see that we have any right to assert this, without proof.
What we can assert to have been the original feature of Scyld is this—that he was the eponymous hero king of the Danes. BothBeowulfand the Scandinavian authorities agree upon that. The fact that his name (in the formSceldwa) appears in the genealogy of the kings of Wessex is not evidence against a Danish origin. The name appears in close connection with that of Heremod, another Danish king, and is merely evidence of a desire on the part of the genealogist of the Wessex kings to connect his royal house with the most distinguished family he knew: that of the Scyldingas, about whom so much is said in the prologue toBeowulf.
Neither do the instances of place-names in England, such asScyldes treow,Scildes well, prove Scyld to have been an English hero. They merely prove him to have been a hero who was celebrated in England—which the Prologue toBeowulfalone is sufficient to show to have been the case. For place-names commemorating heroes of alien tribes are common enough[165]on English ground.
So much at least is gained. Whatever Müllenhoff[166]and his followers constructed upon the assumption that Scyld was an essentially Anglo-Saxon hero goes overboard. Scyld is the ancestor king of the Danish house—more than this we can hardly with safety assert.
Now let us turn to the figure of Sceaf. This was not necessarily connected with Scyld from the first.
The story of Sceaf first meets us in its completeness in the pages of William of Malmesbury. And William of Malmesbury is a twelfth century authority; by his time the Old English courtly epics had died out—for they could not have long survived the Norman Conquest and the overthrow of Old English court life. But the popular tradition[167]remained, anda good many of the old stories, banished from the hall, must have lingered on at the cross-roads—tales of Wade and Weyland, of Offa and Sceaf. For songs, sung by minstrels at the cross roads, William of Malmesbury is good evidence, and he owns to having drawn information from similar popular sources[168]. William's story, then, is evidence that in his own day there was a tradition of a mythical king Sheaf who came as a child sleeping in a ship with a sheaf of corn at his head How old this tradition may be, we cannot say. Ethelwerd knew the story, though he has nothing to say of the sheaf. But we have seen that when we get back to the ninth century, and the formation of theAnglo-Saxon Chronicle, at a court where we may be sure the old English heroic stories were still popular, it is Sceaf and not Sceldwa who is regarded as the beginning of things—the king whose origin is so remote that he is the oldest Germanic ancestor one can get back to[169]: "he was born in Noah's ark."
Whether or no Noah's ark was chosen as Sceaf's birthplace because legend represented him as coming in a boat over the water, we cannot tell. But the place he occupies, with only the Biblical names before him, as compared with Sceldwa the son of Heremod, clearly marks Sceaf rather than Sceldwa as the hero who comes from the unknown. Turning now to the catalogue of kings inWidsith, probably the oldest extant piece of Anglo-Saxon verse, some generations more ancient thanBeowulf, we find a King Sceafa, who ruled over the Langobards. Finally, inBeowulfitself, although the story is told of Scyld, nevertheless this Scyld is characterized asScefing. If this means "with the sheaf," then theBeowulf-story stands convicted of imperfection, of needing explanation outside itself from theaccount which William of Malmesbury wrote four centuries later. If it means "son of Sceaf," why should a father be given to Scyld, when the story demands that he should come from the unknown? Was it because, if the boat story was to be attributed to Scyld, it was felt that this could only be made plausible by giving him some relation to Sceaf?
When we find an ancient king bearing the extraordinary name of "Sheaf," it is difficult not to connect this with the honour done to the sheaf of corn, survivals of which have been found in different parts of England. In Herrick's time, the sheaves of corn were still kissed as they were carried home on the Hock-cart, whilst
Some, with greatDevotion, stroke the home-borne wheat.
Some, with greatDevotion, stroke the home-borne wheat.
Some, with great
Devotion, stroke the home-borne wheat.
Professor Chadwick argues, on the analogy of Prussian and Bulgarian harvest customs, that the figure of the "Harvest Queen" in the English ceremony is derived from a corn figure made from the last sheaf, and that the sheaf was once regarded as a religious symbol[170]. But the evidence for this is surely even stronger than would be gathered from Professor Chadwick's very cautious statement. I suppose there is hardly a county in England from Kent to Cornwall and from Kent to Northumberland, where there is not evidence for honour paid to the last sheaf—an honour which cannot be accounted for as merely expressing the joy of the reapers at having got to the end of their task. In Kent "a figure composed of some of the best corn" was made into a human shape: "this is afterwards curiously dressed by the women, and adorned with paper trimmings cut to resemble a cap, ruffles, handkerchief, etc., of the finest lace. It is brought home with the last load of corn[171]." In Northumberland and Durham a sheaf known as the "Kern baby" was made into the likeness of a human figure, decked out and brought home in triumph with dancing and singing[172]. But the most striking form of the sheaf ceremony is found in the honour done to the "Neck" in the West of England.
... After the wheat is all cut, on most farms in the north of Devon the harvest people have a custom of "crying the neck." I believe that this practice is seldom omitted on any large farm in that part of the country. It is done in this way. An old man, or someone else well acquainted with the ceremonies used on the occasion (when the labourers are reaping the last field of wheat), goes round to the shocks and sheaves, and picks out a little bundle of all the best ears he can find; this bundle he ties up very neat and trim, and plats and arranges the straws very tastefully. This is called "the neck" of wheat, or wheaten-ears. After the field is cut out, and the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and the women, stand round in a circle. The person with "the neck" stands in the centre, grasping it with both his hands. He first stoops and holds it near the ground, and all the men forming the ring take off their hats, stooping and holding them with both hands towards the ground. They then all begin at once in a very prolonged and harmonious tone to cry "the neck!" at the same time slowly raising themselves upright, and elevating their arms and hats above their heads; the person with "the neck" also raising it on high. This is done three times. They then change their cry to "wee yen!"—"way yen!"—which they sound in the same prolonged and slow manner as before, with singular harmony and effect, three times. This last cry is accompanied by the same movements of the body and arms as in crying "the neck." ...... After having thus repeated "the neck" three times, and "wee yen" or "way yen" as often, they all burst out into a kind of loud and joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about and perhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets "the neck," and runs as hard as he can down to the farm-house, where the dairy-maid, or one of the young female domestics, stands at the door prepared with a pail of water. If he who holds "the neck" can manage to get into the house, in any way, unseen or openly, by any other way than the door at which the girl stands with the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise, he is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. On a fine still autumn evening, the "crying of the neck" has a wonderful effect at a distance, far finer than that of the Turkish muezzin, which Lord Byron eulogizes so much, and which he says is preferable to all the bells in Christendom. I have once or twice heard upwards of twenty men cry it, and sometimes joined by an equal number of female voices. About three years back, on some high grounds, where our people were harvesting, I heard six or seven "necks" cried in one night, although I know that some of them were four miles off[173].
... After the wheat is all cut, on most farms in the north of Devon the harvest people have a custom of "crying the neck." I believe that this practice is seldom omitted on any large farm in that part of the country. It is done in this way. An old man, or someone else well acquainted with the ceremonies used on the occasion (when the labourers are reaping the last field of wheat), goes round to the shocks and sheaves, and picks out a little bundle of all the best ears he can find; this bundle he ties up very neat and trim, and plats and arranges the straws very tastefully. This is called "the neck" of wheat, or wheaten-ears. After the field is cut out, and the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and the women, stand round in a circle. The person with "the neck" stands in the centre, grasping it with both his hands. He first stoops and holds it near the ground, and all the men forming the ring take off their hats, stooping and holding them with both hands towards the ground. They then all begin at once in a very prolonged and harmonious tone to cry "the neck!" at the same time slowly raising themselves upright, and elevating their arms and hats above their heads; the person with "the neck" also raising it on high. This is done three times. They then change their cry to "wee yen!"—"way yen!"—which they sound in the same prolonged and slow manner as before, with singular harmony and effect, three times. This last cry is accompanied by the same movements of the body and arms as in crying "the neck." ...
... After having thus repeated "the neck" three times, and "wee yen" or "way yen" as often, they all burst out into a kind of loud and joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about and perhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets "the neck," and runs as hard as he can down to the farm-house, where the dairy-maid, or one of the young female domestics, stands at the door prepared with a pail of water. If he who holds "the neck" can manage to get into the house, in any way, unseen or openly, by any other way than the door at which the girl stands with the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise, he is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. On a fine still autumn evening, the "crying of the neck" has a wonderful effect at a distance, far finer than that of the Turkish muezzin, which Lord Byron eulogizes so much, and which he says is preferable to all the bells in Christendom. I have once or twice heard upwards of twenty men cry it, and sometimes joined by an equal number of female voices. About three years back, on some high grounds, where our people were harvesting, I heard six or seven "necks" cried in one night, although I know that some of them were four miles off[173].
The account given by Mrs Bray of the Devonshire custom, in her letters to Southey, is practically identical with this[174]. We have plenty of evidence for this ceremony of "Crying the Neck" in the South-Western counties in Somersetshire[175], in Cornwall[176], and in a mutilated form in Dorsetshire[177].
On the Welsh border the essence of the ceremony consisted in tying the last ears of corn—perhaps twenty—with ribbon, and severing this "neck" by throwing the sickle at it from some distance. The custom is recorded in Cheshire[178], Shropshire[179], and under a different name in Herefordshire[180]. The term "neck" seems to have been known as far afield as Yorkshire and the "little England beyond Wales"—the English-speaking colony of Pembrokeshire[181].
Whether we are to interpret the expression "the Neck," applied to the last sheaf, as descended from a time when "the corn spirit is conceived in human form, and the last standing corn is a part of its body—its neck[182]..." or whether it is merely a survival of the Scandinavian word for sheaf—nekorneg[183], we have here surely evidence of the worship of the sheaf. "In this way 'Sheaf' was greeted, before he passed over into a purely mythical being[184]."
I do not think these "neck" customs can be traced back beyond the seventeenth century[185]. Though analogous usages are recorded in England (near Eton) as early as the sixteenth century[186], it was not usual at that time to trouble to record such things.
The earliest document bearing upon the veneration of the sheaf comes from a neighbouring district, and is contained in the Chronicle of the Monastery of Abingdon, which tells how in the time of King Edmund (941-946) a controversy arose as to the right of the monks of Abingdon to a certain portion of land adjoining the river. The monks appealed to a judgment of God to vindicate their claim, and this took the shape ofplacing a sheaf, with a taper on the top, upon a round shield and letting it float down the river, the shield by its movements hither and thither indicating accurately the boundaries of the monastic domain. At last the shield came to the field in debate, which, thanks to the floods, it was able to circumnavigate[187].
Professor Chadwick, who first emphasized the importance of this strange ordeal[188], points out that although the extantMSSof theChronicledate from the thirteenth century, the mention of aroundshield carries the superstition back to a period before the Norman Conquest. Therefore this story seems to give us evidence for the use of the sheaf and shield together as a magic symbol in Anglo-Saxon times. "An ordeal by letting the sheaf sail down the river on a shield was only possible at a time when the sheaf was regarded as a kind of supernatural being which could find the way itself[189]."
But a still closer parallel to the story of the corn-figure coming over the water is found in Finnish mythology in the person of Sämpsä Pellervoinen. Finnish mythology seems remote from our subject, but if the figure of Sämpsä was borrowed from Germanic mythology, as seems to be thought[190], we are justified in laying great weight upon the parallel.
Readers of theKalewalawill remember, near the beginning, the figure of Sämpsä Pellervoinen, the god of Vegetation. He does not seem to do much. But there are other Finnishpoems in his honour, extant in varying versions[191]. It is difficult to get a collected idea from these fragmentary records, but it seems to be this: Ahti, the god of the sea, sends messengers to summon Sämpsä, so that he may bring fertility to the fields. In one version, first the Winter and then the Summer are sent to arouse Sämpsä, that he may make the crops and trees grow. Winter—