We have much information regarding the social and legal values from many parts of the ancient world. From the mythologies of the Greeks and Romans we can see many of the important issues facing the people of these cultures. As very powerful and well-organised societies we also have a lot of well-documented laws and histories that were meticulously recorded. Even when these histories are politically motivated, they can still be used as a powerful insight into the social and political climate of the time. The strength, power and influence of the Roman Catholic Church also prompted other nations to follow suit, which put into writing many things that were important to them, in the language of the Church, Latin. Unfortunately for historians of ancient Britain, for many years, no such influence was felt here after the departure of the Roman authority. Much of what we know of our own history comes from the writings of other nations. We are lucky that the Romans did feel compelled to record what they saw and knew, or we may have known even less of our own cultural history. We know that the Anglo-Saxons were initially pagan from accounts written by historians such as Tacitus, Gildas and the Bede and these ‘histories’ are of some limited use. What we must remember, though, when using these resources, is that they are concerned with mainly clerical matters and that they demonstrate some powerful bias, especially in the writings of Gildas. What we also lack are any surviving, early, stories from the Anglo-Saxons themselves, telling us of their religious beliefs or their cultural structure. Though we can extrapolate much information from other Germanic tribes, it does not necessarily follow that the Anglo-Saxons followed the same paths. One thing we do know of these Germanic pagans, much like the Celts, is that they had a strong oral tradition and literature was much less important to them than to the Christians from Rome. We can however look behind extant stories and poems, such as Beowulf or The Wanderer, as well as many others and extract some references to help us gain some insight into what their pagan practices may be. Of course, the main problem here is that Anglo-Saxon culture, by the point that these were written down, had already embraced Christianity for centuries. As for the society and social values of the Anglo-Saxons we can also look into the sagas and poems, where we may detect mourning for their glorious heroic past (?), for social problems and thoughts on their contemporary audience. one problem here, is how to accurately date these stories. We do, however, have another useful resource. These Resources accurately reflect the contemporary cultures, and, can be accurately dated: The Anglo-Saxon Laws. These laws have been left to us from a wonderful era in British History, between 1000 – 1500 years ago. The importance of these laws has lead them to be regarded as “the most genuine expression of Teutonic legal thought.” The issues that these laws deal with, as well as their very existence, give us possibly the best view of what was happening in the real world, outside of the heroic poetry and legends of the time. The Anglo-Saxon laws are a vast resource. To comment on all of them is well beyond the scope of a small essay. What I will try to concentrate on are the Kentish laws, which cover the earlier parts of Anglo-Saxon rule, from 597-725.

One of the first issues to be addressed in the importance of the Anglo-Saxon laws lies behind the consideration of why the laws were promulgated at all. King Æthelburht wrote the first of these laws, and it can be reliably dated to between 597 which marks the arrival of Augustine, who is mentioned in Æthelburht’s introduction, and 604, 612 or 614, the death of Augustine. These laws were written over 150 years after the Anglo-Saxons had settled in England. Why then were the laws now considered to be important enough to put into writing? Of considerable importance here is the conversion and baptism of Æthelburht into the Christian faith shortly after Augustine’s arrival (a complicated process one assumes as he is supposed to have descended from Woden himself). The importance of this new religion and its teachings through the Ten Commandments and Christ must have had a huge impact on the previously heroic and war-like Anglo-Saxon people. Consider the words of Christ:
“Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth:
But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” Until this point the Anglo-Saxon laws were like many other ancient laws, that is to say that they were customary and almost certainly orally transmitted at important occasions. The ‘eye for an eye’ scenario can be seen to accurately portray the Germanics pagan culture. As Æthelburht had been baptised into the Christian faith he is seen to have gained the benefit of Christian wisdom. With this wisdom came the obligation to end the institution of blood feuds that had long been established in Germanic traditions. He was to provide to his people a set of legislation that offered “an alternative to retaliation and the feud.” This was a radical step and some serious consideration needed to be put into how to change these long established traditions of vengeance. Such traditions are clearly demonstrated in Beowulf when Grendal is described as “He wanted no friendship with any man of the Danish force…or pay compensation” The alternative to the blood feud was to gain payment for the injuries caused by a person. This also happened in pre-Christian times but not without risks. The Fact that, to settle this dispute, a value would have to be reached would have caused its own problems and may have often inflamed the situation even further. Although Beowulf deals primarily with Scandinavian traditions, it has obvious relevance to the Anglo-Saxon culture. Many of the Scandinavian practises involved needed no explanation for the Anglo-Saxon audience
“So that it would seem the customs of Baltic chieftains were…not very far removed from those of Anglican tradition.” We can see the weaknesses of a culture similar to Beowulf’s when we consider that when the two sides of Beowulf’s family are killing each other, Beowulf cannot take part, and he does not avenge Heardred upon Eanmund. One of the main points of Æthelburht’s laws was to give each person in the social hierarchy a fixed value, in terms of his bodily value, the value of his words and oath, and the value of infringement of his protection (mundbyrd). These existed in the forms of ‘geld’, which can be regarded as ‘man-price’ or ‘value’. This was not an unusual practice and was already evident in many other societies. There is evidence that the Irish, Scandinavians, Romans, Greeks, Persians, Babylonians, Assyrians and other Germanic tribes also followed such practices. Another part of his laws concentrates on fixing compensation, both to the aggrieved party, and often to the King himself. This compensation existed in the form of a ‘bot’. These bots often give us an insight into the value of each part of the Anglo-Saxon body. For example, in Æthelburht’s 43rd law, the bot is 50 shillings for the loss of an eye. It is evident that the laws of Æthelburht were expressed aspirations of “a new idea – that it was not wrong to take money instead of blood.” This radical and persuasive change seems to be the main reason for Æthelburht to embark on these new rules. Although Bede tells us that Æthelburht bestowed on the nation “ a code of law inspired by the example of the Romans,” there is little really to back this up. What is remarkable here is that if Bede was right, why were these laws not written in Latin like every other nation under the Roman influence. In fact the ‘Laws of Æthelburht’ is the earliest extant text to be written in the English language. What is even mare remarkable is that “No other Teutonic language possesses any original records of equal antiquity.” The first of Æthelburht’s laws is significant because it addresses how the Church should be compensated, probably for theft but possibly also the multiples of ordinary gelds or bots. This law seems to contradict the letter received by Augustine from Pope Gregory, which says “God forbid that the Church should recover with interest any worldly goods she may lose.” Bede give us account, also, that Augustine received letters of castigation from Pope Gregory, and so perhaps he disagreed with this ruling. What is noteworthy, though, in this first ever law of Anglo-Saxon antiquity, is the multiples of bot to be paid. For instance ‘a bishop’s property, eleven fold; a priests property, nine fold…’ This combined with Æthelburht’s fourth law that ‘if a freeman robs the king, he shall pay back a nine fold amount.’ This would make the compensation for theft from Æthelburht less than that from Augustine. As well as the bot and the geld, another form of punishment is mentioned in ch 9. This is known as ‘wite.’ Whereas the victim of a crime would generally receive the bot, or the family of one who was killed would receive the geld, the wite would be received by the king. This was a kind of punishment or penance, but more accurately described as a fine. The use of wite in this way demonstrates the new idea that crime was no-longer personal, and the fledgling “idea that a crime is an offence against the state.” After dealing with theft for the earlier part of his laws, Æthelburht legislates for homicide. He puts the responsibility on the murderer, the supplier of the weapon and the family of the murderer should he abscond. This highlights the unchanged responsibilities that kindred still had to undertake, and allows crime to be recompensed in any eventuality. Chapters 32 – 72 which represent almost half of the laws of Æthelburht are all concerned with the bot of individual body parts. The most unusual clause in all of these is chapter 65 clause 1. In regard to a broken thigh it states that ‘If he becomes lame, the settlement of the matter may be left to friends.’ This infers to me, that, only in the case of a broken thigh, compensation is to be decided the old fashioned way. One has to wonder if this is a mistake, or what makes a thigh so important? Chapters 73 – 84 are concerned with the rights of women. I believe that the importance here is one of importance, due to their positioning in the texts, just before the laws regarding servants and slaves, although I have found nothing to corroborate this idea. The main problem here is chapter 79, which reads;
‘Gif mid bearnum bugan wille, healfne scæt age.’
This is generally translated as;
‘If she (a married woman) wishes to depart with her children, she shall have half the goods.’ This gives the impression that women had the power to freely leave their husbands, should they feel it necessary. However, Carol A. Hough disagrees with this point. Her reasons are firstly, law 77 refers to men buying a maiden, implying that they are then the property of the husband (which is in accordance with chapter 82), and secondly, the verbs bu(g)an and bugan are both usually translated elsewhere as ‘to dwell’ or ‘to inhabit.’ If this were what was actually meant, then chapter 79, read as the same mother and widow of chapter 78, would indicate that a widow living with her children “is entitled to half the property left by her husband, her full allowance under the terms of ch. 78.” I disagree with her on this point as, if this were true, chapters 78 and 79 would be needlessly identical clauses. It seems to me to be unlikely that the mother of chapter 79 is a widow at all. I do agree that this does not point to equality, however, as chapter 80 states that if the father wishes to keep the children, then her share of the wealth is reduced to that of a child. This would seem to me to indicate that the husband’s rights supersede the wife’s. The whole structure of Æthelburht’s laws seems to denote a hierarchy. It begins with the Church, followed by the King, the eorls (or earls), the ceorls (freemen or commoners), the women, and finally, the servants and slaves. The importance of Christianity’s impact on the laws of England can also be seen when we note that after Æthelburht’s death (buried in Canterbury Cathedral by a pagan shrine), a pagan king, Eadbald, ascended to the throne. We have no laws written by pagan kings.
Kings Hlothhere’s and Eadric’s laws also addressed the issue of a widow’s rights in chapter 6. This states that it is proper for a child to be with his mother, but that he should also have a guardian from his father’s family until he is 10 years of age. This could indicate the age of adulthood in Anglo-Saxon society. In these laws, we also encounter the advent of oaths. Chapters 5 and 10 tell us that for an accused man to clear himself, he needs to give an oath of his innocence, which is to be substantiated by the oaths of others, at least one of which must be from his village. At first glance this looks like an easy escape clause for any would be thief, however it does police itself. We only need to look at Anglo-Saxon heroic poetry such as The Battle of Maldon to see the power of the oath. Also, as has been stated, one of the oath givers would need to be from the defendant’s own village. ‘Needless to say, in a small agrarian village neighbours knew each other’s business extremely well’ , and no one would swear on someone they believed to be guilty.
The final, useful addition of Hlothhere and Eadric is in chapter 16. It here states that to buy property in London, witnesses must be provided. This seems to be as a kind of living receipt.
The laws of Wihtred extend the theory on oaths. These do seem to be a little unfair, as chapters 16,17, 18 and 20 state that a king, bishop, head of a monastery, priest or thegn can clear themselves with an unsupported oath. This does show some real class discrimination, but as “clases of men were founded upon…bonds of kindred and lordship, noble blood, royal service and possession of wealth and land,” it is clear that these loyalties were, at least partially, founded. Wihtred also makes a clear stance on homosexuality. We can only assume that this was a problem and not a phobic reaction, as the fines for illicit unions were comparable to the wergeld. We can also see that during the reign of king Wihtred, 690-725, there was still a strong attachment by many to the old pagan ways. Having been Christian for nearly 100 years, the Anglo-Saxon society was obviously not as open to paganism as was the Æthelburht of Bede I, 25. The penalty for making ‘offerings to devils’ was to lose either the healsfang (probable one fifth of the wergeld) or all of ones possessions. Presumably whichever was greater. We can also assume that theft was still an inherent problem of this society. To combat this Wihtred removed the burden of the wergeld regarding any thieves, so that now, it caught in the act, a thief could be killed. As someone who can prove they have killed a thief or brought them to justice is entitled to a reward, we can now see a way of enforcing some of the laws so far promulgated. One final point regarding Wihtred’s Kentish law is the similarity between his 28th chapter, and Ine’s Wessex law, chapter 20. These laws (regarding unannounced strangers being treated as thieves) are almost identical. F. L. Attenborough remarks that this points “to communication between…the two kingdoms (following) the restoration of friendly relations in 694.”
To help complete a picture regarding the reign of Wihtred, a brief look at some of his contemporary, Ine’s, laws may be of use. Of note in Ine’s laws is the emergence of new social classes. These become more developed later on, but we do now have evidence of a kind of sheriff. These were known as ealdormen. We also are introduced to the peasant classes of gafolgelda (who probably owned a hide of land) and the geburs, who were landless peasants. Again Ine addresses the perennial problem of theft. In chapter 13 clause 1, we see that crime was becoming organised by his inclusion of thieves (up to seven people), marauders (seven to thirty-five), and raids (over thirty-five). We are also privy to the fact that the laws on theft were being subverted. Given Ine’s detailed and severe attention to any thief. There may also have been a trend towards fraudulent sales leading to the introduction of chapter 25 on trade. This law states that in order to trade, witnesses must always be present. Military conscription is also accounted far in Ine’s 51st law. Here we can see how a king assembled an army at times of war. The fine far non-compliance was on a sliding scale with the nobility having the higher fines. It was obviously important for any society at this time to be able to have a military defence, and with it, the desire to abscond. This is a remarkable law when we consider that, the reign of Ine was “relatively peaceful;seldom were there any large-scale campaigns or conquest by force.” Perhaps his steps on conscription, and the knowledge of it elsewhere, is why King Ine was left to his own devices. Certainly it would appear that this law contributed to a relatively peaceful period for the Anglo-Saxon society.
One of Hollywood’s favourite ideas of old law is also included in the laws of Ine. The trial by ordeal. The trial by ordeal was a pre-jury way of defining someone’s guilt. This is good evidence of the assimilation of pagan ways into Christianity. The main elements of the ‘Trial by Ordeal’ were the ‘ordeal of hot water’, the ordeal of cold water’ and the ‘ordeal of hot iron’. The origin of these ordeals was to “appeal to supernatural knowledge (originally to the gods of fire and water) by men who felt themselves powerless to penetrate the mysteries of crime.” There is no evidence that the ‘trial by ordeal’ or the ‘wager of battle’ were used in Anglo-Saxon times, and are not recorded in England until the arrival of the Normans. The Anglo-Saxon ordeals are contemporarily explained in the ‘Decree Concerning Hot Iron and Water’, in F. L. Attenborough, ‘The Laws of the Earliest English Kings’.

It is difficult to know where to end when looking at so much information. It is certainly a great pity that these laws do not attract more attention as do the extant poetry, as there is masses to be gleaned from this factual documentation. The laws that I have concentrated on only represent about a third of the extant literature available. The laws of ever king reflect upon not one, but two classed based societies intermixed with each other. We have the secular society descending from the King, to his thegns, to minor nobles, onto the peasants of differing standings, women, servants and ending with the slaves. This is mirrored in the ecclesiastical status dependant upon the hierarchy of the Church. Two of the main issues consistently seen are the subjects of theft and homicide. Theft, certainly, seems to have been a major problem to control in Anglo-Saxon society. We have seen the introduction of the death penalty for serious offences. The constant considerations of theft seem to show a flagrant disregard for the kings’ laws. So damaging was this that Æthelstan’s sixth set of laws, chapter 8, states that anyone harbouring and protecting a known thief will, basically, have war declared upon them due to the tyranny caused. He also adds that anyone neglecting to help in this war will be fined 30 pence! We can see from this law just how serious this problem of theft and defiance had become. Perhaps because of a lingering family and heroic, pagan background, the Anglo-Saxon society was simply not ready to fully submit to a centralised government. Many battle poems such as Maldon and Brunanburh tell us of the external pressures and warfare exerted by the Vikings against the Anglo-Saxons, but it would appear that there was also a lot of internal strife within this culture. Whether this violence was evident before the politics, we cannot be certain, but it may appear that these laws possibly caused as many problems as they solved. The transformation to almost polar opposite religions must have caused huge stress and political unrest within any culture. Altering ones own perception is certainly a lot different to altering the ideals of a whole society, especially one based in bloodshed and heroism. The Anglo-Saxon laws and their impact on society seem to me to be one of reconciliation. As with much extant poetry, we can see kings and poets alike doing their utmost to bring together the Christian ideals and teachings and putting this proverbial round peg into the square hole of the Anglo-Saxon warrior ethos.

Bibliography

Primary Reading

Simpson. A.W.B, ‘The Laws of Ethelbert,’ On the Laws and Customs of England, (ed) Arnold et al, University of North Carolina Press, 1971.

M. Swanton ed., Beowulf, Manchester University Press, 1994.

Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English Kings, Penguin Classics, London, 1990.


Secondary Reading

Seebohm. F, Tribal Customs in Anglo-Saxon Law, Longmans, Green & Co., London 1911.

Attenborough. F. L, The Laws of the Earliest Kings, Lannarch Press, 2000.

White. A. B, ‘Anglo-Saxon Institutions. 449-1066,’ The Making of the English Constitution, 2nd Ed, The Knickerbocker Press, London, 1925.

Lyon. B, ‘Anglo-Saxon Society and the Law,’ A constitutional and Legal History of Medieval England, 2nd ed, W. W. Norton & Co, London, 1980.


Hough. C. A, ‘Early Kentish ‘divorce laws’, Anglo-Saxon England, 23, Cambridge University Press, 1994.


Anglo-Saxon Law, http://51.1911encyclopedia.org/A/AN/ANGLO_SAXON_LAW.htm, accessed 10-01-03

‘It has long been recognised that the source of our poem was the Latin Vulgate text of the apocryphal book of Judith.’ 349 lines remain in the Cotton Vitellius manuscript due to its partial destruction in 1731 by fire. It is suggested by Dobbie, that the original length of the poem was between 1200-1300 lines based on its proportion to the Latin text and the length of the surviving sections of the manuscript. It has been argued more recently however that given the completeness of the episode, it would be far too coincidental, given the neatness of the structure, for much to be missing at all. Possibly, much of the missing manuscript was other writing. It is un-argued, however that at least some of the text was destroyed and the contents of the missing sections can only be guessed at, but we can examine the extant portion and see if it displays any differences to its source. Examining these differences and comparing them to a range of other extant Anglo-Saxon texts may help us understand if there are reasons for these alterations. If we can find evidence for the date of the poem, we may also be able to extrapolate what some of these reasons may be. Though Judith has a similar spirit to both Cæmonian poetry and Cynewulf, the grammar and meter suggest a later date. Based on the work of Kluge and Luick, Dobbie concludes the poem to be late in the tenth century. Additionally, Brandl and C.W. Kennedy assign it to the tenth century, though K. Malone and G.K Anderson suggest the ninth. The time span suggested here was a very significant period in Anglo-Saxon history, the bearing of which I shall explore later as to why there may be a reworking of the Apocrypha text. The confusion over dating also suggests that the biblical Judith is only the source for the content of the piece. The style of the Anglo-Saxon account of Judith comes from a different source altogether, which is the reason that some have attributed this version to the schools of Cædmon or Cynewulf. The timing and the style of Judith will give us real insight into the reasons for the differences between this version of Judith and the source of its contents.

The probable date of Judith is the mid to late tenth century. A time of huge turmoil and warfare for the Anglo-Saxons, who had been trying to defend their country from the Viking onslaught since 787 and soon after the devastation of Lindisfarne in 793, a new interest was sparked in the heroic ideals of their past. Englaland needed heroes in the vein of Beowulf and due to the fact that the Angelcynn had become complacent and lost their war-like natures, due to commerce and agriculture, there were few heroes to be found. Thus the Christianised Anglo-Saxons found themselves in an ongoing struggle against a heathen empire, which appeared impossible to defeat. The author obviously wished to convey this struggle within his work and took some careful decisions in his alteration of his source. J.F Doubleday notes that the author made ‘three major changes: a reduction in the number of characters, the addition of a battle, and a new emphasis on irony.’ The first two of Doubledays points, certainly affect the essence of the Judith to a very marked degree.
We cannot be sure how many characters would have been contained in the whole piece, but it is evident from the remaining portion that the author has decided to remove many characters including Ozias, who is mentioned twelve times in the Vulgate and Achior, mentioned fourteen times, as well as Joachim and Vagao and others . In fact, in the Anglo-Saxon version, the author trims his protagonists down to three characters, with only Judith and Holofernes named. This heightens the heroic effect of the narrative by concentrating ‘the attention of the audience on a single dramatic confrontation between two champions.’ The heroic style of the author is echoed in many ways and can often be seen in the epithets given to the principle characters. Holofernes is referred to as ‘dēofulcunda’:- devil (ish) at line 61 and Judith as ‘Þrymful’- glorious / peerless at line 74. The use of ‘gefrægen ic’:- ‘I have heard tell’, at lines 7 and 246, is a common device in the heroic idiom. It is used in Beowulf at line 1010 and also in The Phoenix, Mologium, Neorxnawang, The Death of Edgar and many others. Reputation and renown was all important to a heroic warrior, and harkens back to a pre-Christian age. Given the date of probable authorship, Judith was written ‘after the passing of the ‘heroic code’ as a realistic guiding principle for aristocratic society.’ Regardless of this fact, we still see repeated use of the compound ‘wigend’ ‘warrior’ at lines 11 and 20, using ‘rondwiggende’ and 42, ‘byrnwiggend’ again harking back to strong heroic language. This kind of language simply is not in the original Latin version and so displays a deliberate attempt by the poet to use his source for another purpose. We can also see a marked absence of Nebuchadnezzar in the Anglo-Saxon text. Instead the role of Holofernes is significantly raised, again by language, to emphasise the heroic struggle between two forces. Holofernes is referred to as ‘hlaford’ ‘lord/master at line 117, ‘eorla dryhten’ ‘king of warriors/lord of earls’ at line 21 which echoes Beowulf (line 2339) and The Battle of Brunanburh (line 1). Also the use of the word ‘træf’ which is usually translated as ‘tent’ has far more connotations. Huppé contests that ‘træf’ is not used anywhere else with this meaning in the extant literature, and moreover that its compound in the pieces: - Andreas (line 842), Beowulf (line 175), and Elene (line 926) it translates to either a ‘heathen temple’ or the ‘abode of evil (i.e. hell).’ We can look at this while considering the responses of the Assyrians to their leader, specifically when they discover his body;
"Hēr ys ġeswutelod ūre sylfra forwyrd,
tōweard ġetācnod, þæt þǣre tīde ys
mid nīðum nēah ġeðrungen þe wē sculon nȳde losian,
somod æt sæċċe forweorðan. Hēr līð sweorde ġehēawen,
behēafdod healdend ūre."
Lines 285 -290
(Here is made manifest our own perdition, here also is it imminently signalled that the time is near-drawn, along with its tribulations, then we must perish and be greatly lost together in strife. Here hewed with sword, decapitated lies our lord) It appears that Holofernes is much more powerful than in the original and is idolised by the Assyrians. Added to this argument is the appearance of the word ‘fleohnet’ and the different way in which it is used in the Anglo-Saxon version of the story. In the Vulgate, the conopeum (from kOnOps- mosquito) is removed from the tent with Holofernes’ head to be displayed as a symbol of his power. In the Anglo-Saxon it remains in the tent and is given rather more prominence. This has lead Doubleday and Berkhout to pose ‘the poet’s use of fleohnet suggests Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies.’ Here he is almost the Devil incarnate, in marked contrast to Judith who is described as ‘hālige mēowle’-‘holy woman’ (line56) and ‘Nergendes Þēowen Þrymful’-‘glorious handmaiden of the Saviour’ (lines 74-75). Although the Vulgate obviously is concerned with the fight between good and evil, here, in the Anglo-Saxon, it is made far more specific. The poet juxtaposes Holofernes, as a false idol, against God by applying the same epithets to them both. One noticeable occurrence is the use of the word brytta referring to Holofernes at line 30 and Brytta referring to God at line 93. It is built up to Hollywood Blockbuster proportions with the hand of God on one side, and Satan incarnate on the other. The story is no longer the nationalistic story of the Jews and the adversaries of God, but becomes between ‘the chaste and virtuous Judith and the evil dissolute Holofernes.’
The ‘blockbuster’ idea has been suggested in the form of ‘cinematographic techniques’ by Alain Renoir, as cited by Daniel G. Calder. This is to be found in ‘English Studies 43 pgs 111-55’. Unfortunately, I have been unable to read this article, but the suggestion does interest me. Calder cites Renoir as saying about Judith: ‘The method whereby the poet moves through space and time, and shifts the point of view of his narrative, is one that can be best understood through the analogy of the cinematograph.’ The shift here are presumably relating to the second half of the work. After Holofernes’ head is shown to the Jews, there is a large scale battle that is not in the Vulgate source material. This conflict is highly charged and a very descriptive account of a traditional Anglo-Saxon battle. Again we are thrust back into a heroic encounter when the poet uses ‘the anachronistic accompaniment of the wolf, the raven and the eagle, the traditional beasts of battle in Old English poetry.’ The poet interjects with a scene outside of Holofernes’ tent. The action subsides and we have a comic interlude, which is none-the-less in anticipation of the Assyrian army’s slaughter. With the vivid imagery used by the poet we are invited to see the marked contrast between the individual success of Judith and the martial success of the whole Bethulian army in true Anglo-Saxon heroic terms. The Assyrian warriors do not simply flee as they do in the Vulgate. We are told of the marching forth of the Bethulian army, juxtaposing Judiths return to Bethusala just before. Judiths speech to the Bethulians also juxtaposes Holofernes’ to his troop at the banquet. The use of strong juxtaposition, for which there are many examples, would also seem to be a directorial technique. It allows us to see the polar opposition of the two leading protagonists, as well as in the two nations. Indeed with powerful and descriptive language we do not really see the Assyrians as a mere opposing nation for the Bethulians. As has been noted above, their leader is in no uncertain terms portrayed as a satanic figure, being termed ‘se inwidda’ ‘the evil one’ at line 28 which is evocative of Mathew 13:19 ‘then cometh the wicked one’. But it is not only Holofernes who is described in these terms. The whole Assyrian army is described as ‘ealdfeondas’ (line 315) and ‘ealdhettende’ (line 320) both meaning ‘old enemy’ which is almost certainly a translation of hostis antiquus, an epithet for the devil and the minions of hell. From this we can understand that the battle is ‘not merely…an historical event, but as a battle against the Devil and his minions by a bold warrior troop.’ The effect of this language is to appropriate the victory away from the Bethulians and the defeat away from the Assyrians. Instead we have a Christian victory over a heathen enemy. The Anglo-Saxons, like all Christians, could now claim the victory as their own. Judith is also no longer just a Bethulian Jewish woman, but an agent of God with classic Anglo-Saxon heroic virtues. The poet goes as far as to make this point explicit;
Hi ða se hehsta dema
ædre mid elne onbryrde, swa he deð anra gehwylcne
herbuendra þe hyne him to helpe seceð
mid ræde ond mid rihte geleafan.

(Then the Highest Judge inspired her completely with courage, as he does for all earth dwelling ones who look for his loving help with wisdom and faith.) Lines 94b -97a.
From this we can draw strong parallels with some other works of the time. The poet was not simply chronicling historic events with fidelity ‘rarely supplementing or deducting… (preserving) its proportions almost exactly’ like other Anglo-Saxon translations of the Bible such as Genesis A or Daniel. But rather had a motive behind the vivid changes that were made. One such comparison is The Battle of Maldon. Judith is not a major book in the Old Testament, and is indeed removed from the Protestant Bible all together. In just such a way, Brytnoð is not a hugely significant figure in Anglo-Saxon history. The importance of these characters is that they were Christians fighting a Heathen invader. They both represent nations that seemed to be impotent against the threat of war with an aggressive and alien invader. As the Vikings had been successfully raiding since 787, there was obviously a real and present threat to the Anglo-Saxons of just such a heathen aggressor which was going seemingly unchecked. It would seem almost certain that the changes made were due to the fact that Judith was ‘a good example of resistance to a heathen invader.’ If this is the case, then the Behulians are good examples of heroic warriors. In a further reworking of the Vulgate original, the bethulian army actually manages to overcome their oppressors in a rather more heroic mode. In the Vulgate, The Assyrians do not route until the discovery of their slain general. In the Old English version, the Assyrians have effectively already lost the battle before this discovery.
The poet also makes more explicit the irony of the original piece by highlighting certain events and adding new dimensions through language. The most obvious irony, to the point of being comical, is when the Assyrians are making noises to awaken their already dead lord. This is actually in the original ‘Then Vagao going into his chamber, stood before the curtain, and made a clapping with his hands: for he thought that he was sleeping with Judith.’ The Anglo-Saxon makes this more explicit though, by having the soldiers coughing (cohhetan –line 270) and calling or making noises (cirman line 270). Ironic also is the comment made by the poet on Holofernes’ confidence in hi power over Judith. Consider the contrast of;
‘brema on mode
bliðe’
joyous of mood (lins57-8) with;
‘hæfde ðā his ende gebidenne
on eorðan unswæslicne,’
he had then come to his violent end upon the earth lines (64-5) It is also noted by J. Doubleday that these lines (54-68) ‘are all hypermetrical, and have more rhyme than the text does as a whole’ The irony is also present by the constant uses of wiggend again, to describe the Assyrians at very inappropriate times. For instance, ‘lindwiggend’ shield warrior at line 42 during a drunken feast, ‘wiggend’ warrior at line 69 when they are escorting Judith to Holofernes’ tent (hardly an example of high martial prowess), and most ironically perhaps as ‘cynerof’ noble/renowned at line 312 when they are fleeing from the enemy! As has been postulated, the Assyrians here represent the invading heathen Vikings. The only explanation I can offer for these ironies is to utterly humiliate the interlopers.

Although reasonably faithful to the original Biblical text, the poet of the Old English Judith has made some obvious and very intentional changes to his interpretation. The shape and pattern of the extant work, as discussed, point to the fact that the surviving portion is actually rather complete as apposed to being only a small fraction of the original content as postulated by Dobbie et al. There is nothing within the remaining piece that convinces me otherwise, and therefore it appears to me that, rather like the Old English Exodus, the poet has provided ‘an admirable example of a poet’s selection of an episode with its relevant historical background, without paraphrasing the whole of his Biblical source.’ The use of the story of Judith is a very poignant one to the poet, as is the style he has adopted for its retelling. As with the Battle of Maldon, it is a call to arms for a beleaguered Anglo-Saxon culture, desperate to defeat its heathen oppressors once and for all. It is the blockbusting spectacle that has all of its onlookers inspired to recreate the scenes they have witnessed. The author was almost certainly a cleric given the subject matter, just as the author of the Battle of Maldon was also probably a cleric. Brytno^ had several clerical connections, and the similarity between this story and the style of the Saints Lives is remarkable. Pbviously the clerics had a vestige interest in keeping the heathens at bay, possibly more than the common man. It was imperative that they were stopped. This action epic would have gone a long way to help such a cause. Just as a modern audience comes away from the latest Ridley Scott film, believing themselves capable of defending their families against any manner of improbable enemies, the rousing and fluid pace of Judith must have influenced its contemporary audience to take up arms against the very real threat of the Viking aggressor. As the Battle of Maldon took place in 991, it is not inconceivable that Brytno^, himself, read or heard this version of Judith and decided, like Judith, that enough was enough. Unfortunately for Brytno^, of course, was that the outcome at Maldon was rather different. The anachronistic use of the Heroic Code and language has strong resonance even now. As recently as the Second World War, Churchill was quoting the Battle of Maldon in his speeches and using strong heroic metaphor to spur his troops on, as well as keeping up the morale of the civilians at home. It takes little thought, therefore, to imagine the poet doing exactly that. To a certain extent, of course, it worked. The Angelcynn, by necessity, did indeed become great warriors once more and kept the Vikings from taking over the whole country. Of course, one hundred years later sees the end of this success with the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Harold had met Williams army immediately after another battle against the Vikings, however, and as history tells, his army fought valiantly and well despite exhaustion. It would seem unlikely that any Anglo-Saxon army of the early tenth century could have met with such success. The Anglo-Saxon accounts of The Battle of Maldon and Judith could therefore be of extreme importance to historical researchers, when we consider that the outcome of these pieces may well have helped to shape one hundred years of our history. Without these stirring accounts, England may well have been a Viking province instead of a Norman one. It may, even, not be called Englaland at all.

Bibliography

Dobbie, E.V.K, Beowulf and Judith, The Anglo-Saxon Poetic Records IV, Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd, London, 1953

J. F. Doubleday, ‘The Principle of Contrast in Judith’, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 72. 1971

Elizabeth M. Tyler, ‘Style and Meaning in Judith’, Notes and Queries, 237, 1992,

Huppé B. F. The Web of Words, Structural analysis of the Old English Poems Vainglory, The Wonder of Creation, the Dream of the Rood and Judith, State University of New York Press, Albany, 1970

Berkhout C.T & Doubleday J.F, The Net in Judith 46b-54a’, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 74, 1973

R. E, Woolf, ‘The Lost Opening to “Judith”’, Modern Language Review, 50, 1955

Daniel G. Calder, Essays on Style, Old English Poetry, University of California Press, 1979

Herman, John P, ‘The Theme of Spiritual Warfare in the Old English Judith’, Philological Quarterly, 55, 1976

Pearsall, D, Old English and Middle English Poetry, Vol 1, Routledge Histery of English Poetry, 1977


From an English translation of the Latin Vulgate Bible; Book of Judith. Available at http://www.drbo.org/book/18.htm.

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever.” This idea does not seem to hold true for the Anglo-Saxon's. 'The Dream of the Rood’ gives us a description of Christ’s Passion, his crucifixion, events leading up to his ascension and ending with comments about Judgement Day. It is given to us in the guise of a wonderful dream, in which the narrator is spoken to directly by the Rood itself. According to Michael Swanton, 'The Dream of the Rood' was probably written sometime in the early eighth century, or earlier as he states that the ‘Ruthwell Cross (has) nothing incompatible’ with these dates. Many believe that “…the poem is argued to be of the Cynewulfian School, it is therefore likely to date from the mid ninth century or later.” There seems to be more evidence in favour of the earlier dates. It is the earliest ‘dream’ poem to be written in English. It is written on both the Ruthwell Cross in one version, and within the Vercelli manuscript in another. There is some confusion as to whether it was written by a single author, or added to by a different author after line 78 (though this would mean that the original ended with Christ’s death and did not include his resurrection).
The religion of the Anglo-Saxons changed during the reign of King Oswald between 633ce – 637ce. Little is known of the pagan religion that preceded the coming of Christianity, but we do know that in true Germanic style it was based on the ideals of the heroic. One of the biggest examples of this comes to us in the form of Beowulf. Strength, courage, vigour, honour, loyalty to kin, and reverence for ancestors, were highly regarded in the Anglo-Saxon heroic society, though almost nothing of what happens in the afterlife of these pagans is known. We are not given any clues by Anglo-Saxon literature to what these beliefs may be. Even in Beowulf, after Scyld Scefing’s death, we are told that it was unknown where his spirit would go. This might lead us to conclude that the Anglo-Saxon’s did not have their own ‘Valhalla’ for their brave warriors, which is supported by A. J. Barnouw, ‘The Anglo-Saxon's did not know the proud certainty of entrance into the paradise of fallen heroes which the Scandinavians called Valhalla’ (though this may simply be because Scyld Scefing was not killed in battle). This unknown is also highlighted by one of King Edwin’s chief witan in his speech about the sparrow when he said ‘…what went before this life or what follows, we know nothing.’ This uncertainty about what happens after death is a strong reason for the Anglo-Saxon uptake of Christianity.
The only problem with taking on Christianity as a new religion would be that it was so alien to a warrior society that prides itself on military prowess and heroic ideals. When King Oswald converted the Anglo-Saxon’s to Christianity through Bishop Aidan, it was through instruction and preaching rather than through dictatorship. As the Anglo-Saxon's had previously been converted to Christianity in 596 during King Ethelbert’s reign, it is important to note how quickly the people returned to paganism. Significantly, there is evidence to suggest that 'The Dream of the Rood' was written between 50 – 150 years after Aiden’s work. It addresses the problem of explaining the Bible in terms that the Anglo-Saxon’s could easily recognise, possibly to prevent further apostasy. It operates many levels, and would be recognised by the Anglo-Saxon's without difficulty. With the Anglo-Saxon’s rich oral and literary tradition based on the heroic, the author of 'The Dream of the Rood' has skilfully given an easily recognisable picture of Christ in the new faith of Christianity. With the prominent nature given to the Cross we can clearly see evidence that it’s own cult was spreading across Anglo-Saxon Britain.

One of the first departures from biblical accounts of Christ’s Passion is the image of the Cross, when it first appears. It is not initially described as a cross, but as a tree, which could be in reference to biblical account such as Acts V: 30 “…hanging Him upon a tree”, which is also present in the books of Galatians and Peter, or to the Tree of Life in Genesis and Revelations, with strong parallels in many pagan religions. The fact that the tree is ‘begoten mid golde; gimmas stodon’ could be our first reference to the image of the Rood as Christ’s weapon. Often in Anglo-Saxon's heroic literature, and with the riddles in the Exeter Book, weapons are given personalities. The physical image of a cross is very similar to that of a sword, which was often given personalities. Famous swords such as Hrunting, belonging to Beowulf, became symbols of power and kingship. Similarly the Rood becomes the symbol of Christ’s kingly power. This would explain the extravagant appearance of the Rood, as powerful swords were “personified as loyal retainers (and as such were) entitled to receive treasures as the symbol of their service. This takes the form of gold and gems with which they are adorned.” This also gives us the combined images of the Rood as Christ’s retainer, and Christ as the Ring-Giver and lord. The fact that five gems in particular are mentioned may allude to the five wounds of Christ on His feet, hands and side, and is mentioned by B.F. Huppé . It is also interesting that Huppé translates line 15 ‘wædum geweorðod / as “robed in purple” . Though I have not seen this elsewhere I do find it interesting, as this would be a direct link to John XIX: 5 where Christ is depicted in robes of this colour as a mockery to his royal title. The Cross adorned with would relieve Christ and instead, impose the scorn upon the Rood. This theme is also emphasised soon afterwards when the tree is seen to bleed from its right side. This again refers to the book of John in chapter XIX: 34, “But one of the soldiers with a spear opened his side, and immediately there came out blood and water.” This heavily shifts the burden of humiliation from Christ and is a recurring theme throughout the poem. We are also told that the Rood changes from being encrusted with gold and gems to being covered with blood. There are many levels upon which this works but one important aspect is the recurrence of the analogy of the cross as Christ’s weapon, “…bloodstained in use and bejewelled when honoured as a possession.” This would give an Anglo-Saxon audience a very visual image with which they could easily identify. As the sword was the weapon of the lords and highly decorated warriors, with most people using spears for combat (obviously made of wood), the image of Christ as a powerful warrior is already highlighting His heroism that is so admired by the Germanic tribes. The cross is also gaining in reverence as a highly regarded weapon of choice used only by the elite.
A few lines further we are finally addressed by the Rood itself. This is not unusual in Anglo-Saxon poetry and is a major part in the riddles from the Exeter Book. Besides the semi humanisation of the Rood, there are also other links with this kind of literature. The description that the tree gives us of being uprooted in the forest is very similar to some of the items in this book. For example, the descriptions of the spear and the battering ram, which begin life in a very similar way. The spear’s riddle begins “Ic on wonge aweox, / wunode þær mec feddon / hruse ond heofonwolcn, / oþþæt me onhwyrfdon (I grew in the ground, nourished by earth / And cloud-until grim enemies came)” . As a recognisable element of much extant Anglo-Saxon literature, and transformed into a more religious idiom, the style of 'The Dream of the Rood' could easily entice further reading and would have been extremely palatable to a contemporary audience.
The Rood goes on to tell its listener how it came to the site of Christ’s execution. As Christ is yet to be depicted, the most interesting aspect here is in the mode that the Rood comes to arrive at Golgotha. Neither Simon of Cyrene nor Christ himself is expected to shoulder the burden as in Mathew XXVII: 32 or John XIX: 17. Rather it is left to the many enemies to struggle and erect the Cross. We are now, at lines 33 – 34 finally given a brief description of Christ. He is described as hastening and eager for his crucifixion. The Rood goes on to say how Christ, expressed as a young warrior, strong and resolute, strips himself to climb the Cross. One important word used on line 39, the verb ‘ongyrede’ “is similar to the ‘gyrede’…of warriors arming themselves for battle” with an example in Beowulf on line 1441b, ‘gyrede hine Beowulf.’ (Beowulf armed / prepared himself). Also similar to Beowulf, Christ is described as the ‘powerful King’. This is in stark contrast to the picture given to us in the Gospels and transforms Jesus into an obviously heroic saviour. As He is depicted as an active part of the crucifixion, fervently approaching a battle, Christ’s bravery and heroism would command great respect and loyalty from a warlike Germanic culture. Consistent with E. Irving’s comment of Germanic society as a “society that was dedicated to aggressive behaviour and the strutting niceties of personal honour.” , Christ has been transformed into a mighty warrior in the vein of Beowulf and is no longer the “Passover Lamb” from Luke XXII: 7. This also has strong mirrors with the Norse god Odin, purposefully hanging himself on the tree World Tree, Yggdrasil. It was from this that Odin, or Woden to the Anglo-Saxon's, discovered the secret of life and much like Jesus Christ, Transformed into a higher god. In the case of Jesus, transforming from Jesus the man, into Christ the God, which is the central them of the whole poem as well as the original Gospels themselves. Here the Rood also expresses its nature in a similar mode to Christ. It also describes itself in warrior tones, as being able to destroy all the enemies, again reminiscent of the Anglo-Saxon riddles, though this time more like the sword of riddle 20. The Cross obviously considers itself capable of great feats of strength but must conform to the will of the lord. The devotion that the Cross shows to Christ, and its need or willingness to obey His command shows itself as acting “…like an Anglo-Saxon retainer in the service of a secular lord.” When the Rood later addresses the narrator, who in turn addresses the audience, we can see that the spectators are expected to act like vassals of Christ. The notion of serving God and Christ, as thanes to a supreme feudal lord must have been a very strong argument for any new Anglo-Saxon converts to the religion of Christianity. The Cross, now regarded as one of Christ’s first retainers has also now justified its own worship, which the poem emphasises later on. Again and again the Rood reiterates how it stood firm for Christ, and allowed him the victory of Crucifixion. It would have been a very difficult situation for any retainer to allow their lord to be killed, as the notion of vengeance had obvious implications for the Germanic tribes. The very tensions of a warrior society embracing Christianity are here revealed to the audience with, which seems to be, the author telling us ‘here’s how we justify following Christ.’
Many times we are told of the anguish that the Rood is made to endure. From being uprooted, being made into a spectacle and having masses of fortitude to follow Christ’s will. We have heard of the blood that pours from the Tree’s side and now we are told of further physical injuries. We are now informed about ‘dark nails’ that penetrate the Cross and later are made aware of the Rood’s wounding from arrows. One of the possible reasons that we are given this information is, again, to remove any embarrassment and weakness from Christ. Michael Swanton translates this as “With the agony transferred to the cross, Christ can sensibly be seen to rule from the gallows.” To accentuate this, Jesus is only described as being mocked once, and even at this time, it is shared with the Cross. The ‘cruel effects of fate’ are also exclusively attributed to the Cross. Almost certain that this is what the poet intended, the reference to the arrows strengthens the idea of Christ and the Rood in battle and would be a very powerful metaphor for Christian Heroism.
Some aspects of the crucifixion cannot be changed. Christ must die here for any belief in his holy power and his subsequent resurrection. Even here however there can be a heroic twist. Differing to Mathew XXVII: 50 ‘And Jesus cried again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit.’ the Christ in 'The Dream of the Rood' ‘sent forth his spirit.’ Though the difference here is subtle, we see that the Anglo-Saxons Jesus’ death is “here made active on his part” . The description gives us the notion that Christ is far from being defeated and when in the final Act of Passion, Christ’s wounding by the spear, ‘In his holy blood…the Cross is consecrated.” With Christ’s death, the Rood has grown even stronger in reverence and is at last allowed to bend down in its sorrow. An array of warriors comes to weep over His dead body. Only the Rood recognises that He is not truly dead. There is no Joseph of Arimathea or Mary Magdalene to take Jesus’ body to an unused tomb. Instead we have warriors and thanes constructing an elaborate sepulchre for the Lord of Victories, underscoring Christ’s triumph over his enemies. These Thanes are also laid-claim to by the Anglo-Saxons. “His followers are followers who bury their dead lord and sing a dirge for him as Beowulfs followers do.” During this time, before Christ’s resurrection, we can assume that Jesus is enduring the Harrowing of Hell due to the narrator, later telling us that ‘Hope was renewed with joy and bliss for those who endured the fire of Hell.’ The narrator reiterates Christ’s heroism on many occasions.
The crux of the later part of the poem is that of sermonizing for the worship of such a valiant hero. The honour and veneration that Christ gives to the Tree gives the Anglo-Saxon audience a powerful motive for pursuing the Adoration of the Cross. Through this adoration we are told not to fear Judgement Day as long as the True Cross is strong in the hearts of those who intend to dwell with Christ in heaven. The feasting described here is also similar to the great mead-halls of a battle lord or, maybe, even Valhalla. We are lead to believe that this is the true home of the righteous and so we are given another strong indicator of a society in transition.
Exile is often covered in Anglo-Saxon poetry and stories, such as the Wanderer, and it was a strong part of Germanic culture. The Narrator of 'The Dream of the Rood' “…must follow the Cross in living the life of an exile, longing for the native land.” One final example of transformation may be taken from the previous religion. Though we know little about the Anglo-Saxon pagan religion, we can be confident that there was a high regard for nature including, importantly to us, trees. Besides Yggdrasil, already described, one such veneration for wood and trees has come to us in the form of the ‘Lay of the Nine Twigs of Wodon’. In this story “ the pieces of wood provide the seed for the herbs which will be capable of healing mankind.” There are also other stories relating to trees and their powers, including averting death, curing death, Causing death (in the form of ash spears) and so on, and it could be assumed that many surviving Norse stories relating to wood would have been mirrored in Anglo-Saxon paganism. For the Anglo-Saxon's to transform their position of worship to that of the Tree of Victory would have been a relatively natural step for them.

The author of 'The Dream of the Rood’ has very skilfully managed to blend the comparatively new ideas of Christianity into a rich history of heroic sagas and song. It can be argued that depicting Christ as a warrior, should be “regarded variously as evidence of an artistic limitation imposed by oral tradition” but I do not believe this to be true. Many of the ideals held by other Christians would have been extremely unpalatable to the Anglo-Saxon's. A weak and feeble ‘King of the Jews’ who allowed himself to be ridiculed and tormented by his oppressors has been expertly transformed into a mighty heroic figure that even manages to outshine Beowulf and Woden. It gives us the impression that Christ is an almighty king who is bound to serve his thanes and people, as they are bound to serve him. Again and again the author portrays Christ as the epitome of youthful and royal heroic prowess, while at the same time removing any semblance of oppression from him. Although the Rood bears the Brunt of these injuries, it does so stoically, and as such a resolute and faithful retainer of Christ earns the respect and adoration due to any mighty heroes weapon. If Christ is even more powerful than Beowulf, then the Rood is even stauncher than Hrunting. The Cross is adeptly transformed from a symbol of defeat to a symbol of resounding triumph. The Anglo-Saxon's, with such a rich and commanding sense of oral heroic tradition, could readily identify with this unassailable figure. 'The Dream of the Rood' offers us “A fruitful wedding of (Anglo-Saxon) heroic tradition to a Christian subject…” The skill and craft of its author is truly amazing. The self-aware nature of the poem suggests to me that there were many who doubted their new religion. The elements of Christ’s Passion would have been well known to them, but here, in a brilliantly crafted poem, this Passion has been transformed in such a way as to renew people’s faith and validate their new belief. Some of the raw ingredients for this are in other Christian doctrines. For instance, in St. Jerome’s preface to the Bible he states that “No less commendable is the man strong in compunction than the man strong in battle.” The Adoration of the Cross is also mentioned in Corinthians and other New Testament books, but it takes a true artist and an amazing poem to transform these ideas and ideals into a form that would be willingly accepted by a war-loving race.
Bibliography
Primary sources

Bede, Ecclesiastical History, Book Two.

Swanton. M, Beowulf, Manchester University Press, Manchester, 1994ed

Swanton. M, The Dream of the Rood, Manchester University Press, Manchester, 1970.

Secondary Sources

Barnouw. A. J, Anglo-Saxon Christian Poetry, Norwood Editions, 1977.

Bradley. S. A. J, Anglo-Saxon Poetry, Everyman’s Library, London, 1982.

E. B. Irving, Introduction to Beowulf. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1969.

Huppé. B. F, 'The Dream of the Rood’, The Web of Words, New York Press, New York, 1970.

Anderson. E. R, The uncarpentered World of Old English Poetry, Anglo-Saxon England, 20, Cambridge University Press, 1991.

Cherniss. M. D, (University of Kansas), The Cross as Christ’s Weapon: The Influence of Heroic Literary Tradition on 'The Dream of the Rood’. Anglo-Saxon England, 2, Cambridge University Press, 1973.

Macrae-Gibson. O. D, ‘Christ the Victor Vanquished in 'The Dream of the Rood', Neuphilologische Miteilungen, 70, Finland, 1969, pg669.
Wolf. C. J, ‘Christ as Hero in 'The Dream of the Rood’, Neuphilologische Miteilungen, 71, Finland, 1970.

Raw. B. C, ‘The Dream of the Rood and it’s connections with early Christian art, Medium Ævum, 39, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1970.

http://www2.kenyon.edu/AngloSaxonRiddles/Riddles/Riddle71.htm, accessed 15-11-02

Gfaller. J, Sigebeam: A Semantic Study into Worship, Language, and the Cult of the Cross, http://icg.harvard.edu/~eng102c/StudentPapers/papers_index.htm, accessed 12-11-02

The poem of 'The Wanderer' seems to be a great source of disagreement. It is generally agreed that the surviving copy is from the tenth century, but the age of the original appears to be unknown. Critical studies seem to suggest that it has one, two or three narrators. It is also suggested that it is wholly pagan in origin, a blending of pagan and Christian or wholly Christian. The divergence of opinion on such factual basics of the poem could make it difficult to form a convincing analysis on any aspects of its contents. It would be easy to sit on the fence of opinion and simply take the middle line: Two narrators and a mix of pagan and Christian. The process that 'The Wanderer' is concerned with does suggest to me that it embodies a transforming process from heroic-pagan to Christian connotations. As to how many speakers there are, I do not find it necessary to interpret that greatly in the meaning. What is certain is that we have a dark and brooding, almost apocalyptic, piece of excellent literature that can help us to look into the minds of the Anglo-Saxon culture in early England. We are privileged to have some real insight into the heroic problems of exile and its possible reconciliation.

The first lines of the poem seem to be hopeful with mentions of mercy. We are soon plunged however into the terrible plight of the anhaga. By using ‘wyrd bið ful aræd’ the narrator seems to be telling us that events are fixed, invoking “clearly pagan and Germanic” ideas. This theme is continued for quite a while and is evident when he tells us of his loss of companionship and subsequent solitude. His language is highly heroic. He is speaking of his kinsmen and warrior friends in such a way as to revere them. He bemoans his loss and here appears to be mirroring the ‘Maxim I’:
‘Earm biþ se þe sceal ana lifgan,
wineleas wunian hafaþ him wyrd geteod;’
(The man who has to live by himself is miserable, fate has dictated that he should; live without friends.) In the narrator’s explanation of the nobleness of silent suffering, we can see strong parallels in Odin’s Hávamál. Number twenty-nine, for example, states that

hraðmælt tunga,
nema haldendur eigi,
oft sér ógott um gelur.
(‘the hasty tongue sings its own mishap if it be not bridled in.)
And number forty-eight instructs us that
Mildir, fræknir
menn best lifa,
sjaldan sút ala;
(‘Most blest is he who lives free and bold and nurses never a grief,’)
These lines and many others that deal with exile in the first half of the poem have obvious Germanic pagan connotations. The themes are based upon a long culture of oral tradition that values the heroic. The inflexibility of the writers stance in lines 12 – 14 is, however, confounded later in lines 70 – 72 when the narrator (or perhaps a second) states that complaints can be uttered as long as they are understood beforehand and a cure to them is known. This statement is significant as it marks a departure from the traditional heroic ideals. The speaker has obviously undergone changes through their experience and with these opposite views on silence can be seen to “represent the…rejection of…the Wanderer’s culture.’ This is highlighted several times and is also central to the pseudo gnomic lines 65b – 69 where we are given rhetorical advice on the wise-man which appears to be outside of the anhaga’s experience. This is very similar to the sermonising found in Latin writing of the time. Through this we begin to see a possible Christian lesson. By becoming wise, though still made to suffer, we can have hope of a lasting happiness with God. We are given the impression that the first few lines are from the poet’s younger days. The ‘geara iu’ of line 22a is used several times in other poems. One such instance is in 'The Dream of the Rood' at line 28a. Other examples are in ‘Vainglory’ at line 57a, and ‘The Order of the World” at line 11a. The contexts in which these words are used make it obvious that “all these things happened a long time ago.” In all but one instance the time frame is hundreds of years. A recognisably perceived fact is that wisdom comes with age. The way the poem is structured from the beginning has lead many to believe that it comes from at least two speakers. Whether this is true, or it is simply the same speaker at different stages of their life, it is obvious that we have a difference in age and understanding. Pearsall states that this is what makes the poem such a success “the creation of a poetic persona … going through the process of acquiring wisdom.” The break at line 57 seems to be the reason why scholars feel that there two voices. The use of the first person of ‘my mind should not grow dark’ could be seen to suggest this. There is no reason, however to conclude that this cannot be a single long-suffering narrator who is here excusing their own apocalyptic language on the fate of man.
The dream sequences of lines 37-57 show the apex of The Wanderer's sorrow. Taunted by his visions and filled with heroic metaphor of liege lords and frozen landscapes we see that if there is no cure for his plight he will be as doomed as his language suggests. The bewailing of loss by the anhaga and only little use of happy memories of his earlier days tells us that he is not mourning for “happiness that has been lost, but of the event that has caused loss of happiness.” . From line 57 we see a movement from the mourning of the solitary one to the sorrow of the world at large. This is emphasised by the speaker’s rhetorical questioning of ‘what has become of the horse…’ which is full with ‘what of’s’ ‘where are’s’ and alases. This again is reminiscent of the hávamál but goes on to expound wisdom to any would be readers. The anhaga has a real need to “progress in wisdom from futile hope of Earthly amelioration” to recognising the transient nature of life. By doing this it becomes obvious why such dark language is used. The problem inherent in a heroic-pagan world with no after-life is in desperate need of a cure. Rather than concentrate on his own problems, the narrator has seen the need to view mankind on a broader level in “an effort to alleviate personal sorrow…and the necessity of seeking for lasting satisfaction.” This is the larger issue that the whole poem seems to be targeted at addressing. The storyteller(s) concentrate on painting a vivid world of doomed heroes and crumbling glories. Using heavy rhetoric and apposing ideas such as the ones on silence, although highly respectful and bemoaning its loss, seems to offer real criticism of the heroic ideals held by the Germanic tribes and the Anglo-Saxon’s in particular. It is not until line 111 that we have any cure offered to us. Up until this point the protagonist has been seen to “embody the predicament of mortality in…heroic life, and the…need for Christian consolation.” We have another reversal in line 107 when the wyrd of previous mentions becomes de-emphasised with wyrda. This is not the all-controlling Fate that is implied by wyrd. It is also only confined to the earth. Heaven is not victim to its unforgiving forces.
The closing lines of the poem, from 111 – 115, begins with ‘ Swa cwæð snottor on mode, (thus spoke the wise one) which again suggests the idea of a different speaker for the second part of the poem. It also suggests a third possible voice for the closing statement. Here we are finally given “the comfort of the Christian moral offered, that security is to be found in the mercy of God.” This emphasises the fact that the poem is a solution to its own problem. It tells us that suffering is necessary for us to become wise and find God. It explains the process required to gain wisdom from our youth and misfortune. To use this wisdom to consider Humankind as a whole rather than concentrate on our own adversity and through this realisation find and trust in God who will have mercy on us. Though fond of the Heroic ideals that have been prevalent for so long the relater(s) have moved “from basically pre-Christian or pagan concerns to Christian ones.”
There may be stronger and other connotations relating to Christianity throughout the poem. Of interest to me is the use of geara iu which has been mentioned above. Two possibilities come to mind when we consider the time span usually attached to these words. In ‘Vainglory’ it is put into the context of Gods kingdom long ago. In 'The Dream of the Rood' it is with Christ’s crucifixion, again several hundred years earlier than the poem. ‘The Order of the World’ is concerned with ancient poetry. Both ‘Guthlac’ and ‘Boethius’ are obviously Christian in origin and contain the same words, always in the first half of a line. It seems to me to be a possibility that the liege lord could be Christ himself and the brave young warriors could be his disciples and saints. With the glories of the mead-halls as a metaphor for the glory of God’s Kingdom, it is easily understandable why someone would lament their exclusion from it, even if this is only for our short transitory lives.
The second possibility also relates to the first I have mentioned. Could this be Lucifer or Cain or even Adam lamenting their transgressions with God? The theme of mercy is something that any of these outcasts would surely hold in everlasting hope. These are possibly the most famous exiles in Christian thought and are doomed to never be reunited with God. Lucifer could also be lamenting the fallen angels who died during his war in Heaven
‘Gemon he selesecgas’
He remembers the hall warriors. Before this he was obviously a favourite of the Lord
‘þinceð him ond mode þæt he his mondryhten
clyppe ond cysse ond on cneo lecge
Honda ond heafod
(He thinks in his mind that he his lord is embracing and kissing and on knee laying his hands and head.) The earthly metaphors however would not take into account his residence in Hell. Certainly Cain was forced to walk the Earth and remain forever friendless. I have seen no secondary evidence of this idea and it may be proven to be ridiculous. However, reading through the poem with this idea in mind it did not seem to be impossible and actually lends itself to the extremely cataclysmic language of the piece. The first part could be seen as the exile of one of these after there initial sin. Even the line ‘long ago, I covered my gold-friend with the darkness of the earth’ could be a reference to the travesty of sin committed by these men. The second part would therefore refer to the lessons learned by these protagonists after there long exile. There is a bitterness about the poem which we could expect from them. It would be (and often is) easy to blame fate for the misfortunes suffered. Even God may be apportioned some blame in line 85, ‘thus the Creator of men has destroyed this dwelling place’. The poem would then conclude with the natural wish for these to find reconciliation with God.

Whether there is any credence in my idea here or not, it does not remove the main points of the poem from the process that one must go through, to become wise and closer to the Kingdom of Heaven. There is a process of gaining experience from adversity and the clear meditation that comes with old age. If Christ is the dead liege lord then we also have the process of Christianity absorbing the heroic ideas and representing them in allegory. I am sure that this poem will continue to attract new translation and much reading due to its obviously learned and expertly crafted language, along with its use of allegory, gnomics and sermonising that entrap the reader into thought. It appeals in its bleak language that we all experience from time to time but heartens us with its hopeful message. The processes experienced by the speaker(s) are not confined to the poem. They are processes that we will all experience some time. The feeling of loss will come to everyone and maybe that is the point of this piece. Loss and disaster can be overcome if we are willing to open ourselves up to the process of believing and accepting God as our one true and constant master.
Or maybe its purely pagan.
Bibliography
Clemoes. P, ‘Mens absentia cogitans in The Seafarer and The Wanderer’, Medieval Literature and Civilisation,ed. By Pearsall. D.A, and Waldron. R.A, London, 1969

Greenfield. S. B, 'The Old English Elegies’, Continuations and Beginnings, ed. By E.G Stanley, London, 1966,

Pearsall. D, ‘Anglo-Saxon Religious Poems’, Old English and Middle English Poetry,Routledge, London, 1966,

Pope. J. C, Seven Old English Poems, Bobbs-Merrill, New York, 1966,



Bjork. R. E, ‘Sundor æt rune: the Voluntary Exile of the Wanderer’, Neophilologus, 73, Cambridge University Press, 1989

Gordon. I.L, ‘Traditional Themes in The Wanderer and The Seafarer’, Review of English Studies, 5, 1954

Richardson. J, ‘Two Notes on the Time Frame of ‘The Wanderer, (lines 22 and 73-87), Neophilologus, 73, Cambridge University Press, 1989



Bray. O, ‘Hávamál: Wisdom to Wanderers and Council to Guests’, Havamal – The Words of Othinn, 2001, http://anomy.net/havamal/

The Seafarer survives in the Exeter book in folios 81b-83a. It is complete and undamaged, enabling us to study it in its entirety. We can assign this transcription to the period 970-990ad due to the work of R. Fowler, but the date of the original version is a subject of extreme debate and no conclusive findings have been observed. By most critics it is classified as elegiac, along with The Wife’s Lament, Deor, Widsith, The Ruin and significantly The Wanderer, along with others. It is important to note here that this is not a universal view however. Liljegren classifies The Wife’s Lament, The Wanderer and The Seafarer as ‘Exile Poems’ and Timmer classifies The Wanderer and The Seafarer as ‘religious-didactic lyrics.’ The similarities between the Seafarer and The Wanderer is recognised by all however and cannot be ignored. Many critics contend that these two pieces come from a common source, and some assert that they may even have the same author. This is largely due to the contents of both on the theme of exile. The parallels between the two pieces is so strong that in The Wanderer, the narrator often tells us that he is or was at sea; lines 3-4
‘geond lagulade longe sceolde
hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ,
(through the water path a long he has been obliged to
stir with his hands the frost cold sea)
and at line 24
‘wod wintercearig ofer waþema gebind,’
‘proceed winter-grieving over the waves’ binding’
and again at lines 46-47 and 56-57. Even the basic structure of each piece is similar in that they both appear to contain two separate and distinct parts; the first being the description of an exile and their experience, the second being a Christian reconciliation of that experience. The two parts can also be separated as past and present, and, loss and consolation. Debate is abound as to whether the two parts of The Seafarer are from one, two or even more authors but it is now commonly regarded as a unified whole. As the extant text is clearly intended to be a single piece, I shall treat it as such in my examination of it.

Exile is one of the enduring punishments popular in Anglo-Saxon England and is also present in many texts. The word ‘wræccan’ usually translated as ‘wretch/outcast/exile’ appears in many extant writings including; Genesis (2480 & 2823), widsith (129), Beowulf (2613) and The Meters of Boethius 10 (38), and ‘wræclastas’ usually translated as ‘path of exile’ is used in Beowulf (1354), Christ and Satan (120) and The Wanderer (5 and 32). We can see, by examining other texts what the common thoughts on exile were. Of course, one of the most (in)famous exiles in Old English writings is Satan. Satan tells us that he must ‘wadan wræclastas’ ‘travel the path of the exile’ in Christ and Satan line 120 and his banishment from Heaven is described in lines 299-319 of ‘Genesis B’. In Beowulf line 1354, it is Grendel who is described as the exile. The other exiles of biblical antiquity are, of course, Adam and Eve. The Anglo Saxon audience would have had instant recognition of these facts, as well as the cultural perception of exile. Morgan suggests ‘the traditional Anglo-Saxon horror of exile is present in the poem: the very equation of solitary wandering to anguish indicates that the values of a shame culture are in operation.’ It would also have been recognised that Adam and Eve’s descendants also have to fulfil this exile until Judgement Day. The exile of the piece need not, therefore, be a fugitive of society but rather an exile from God as we all are. The association between mankind’s exile with Adam has received widespread support for examining The Seafarer, and would certainly account for the ambiguous attitudes to exile that it contains. Smithers tells us that the relationship between Adam and Mankind as ‘both exile and…’peregrinato’ are used in ecclesiastical tradition as metaphors…applied to Adam…and hence to his descendants.’ The attitude to exile in this metaphorical sense would always be ambiguous. On the one hand, to be exiled from God is obviously to be at a sense of loss, but on the other hand, it gives us the ability to reconnect with God and await our Judgement. This association with Adam lends itself to Mankind’s enforced exile by God and the common metaphor for our journey upon the seas of life. This metaphor would seem more likely than the souls travelling upon the sea of death which is also commonly used and is evident from Anglo-Saxon burial practices (see Beowulf lines 26-52). The ‘Sea of Life’ metaphor would have been easily recognised from such places as Matthew 4:19 ; ‘et ait illis venite post me et faciam vos fieri piscatores hominum’ – ‘And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.’ and in Christ 1(or A); ‘sundbuend’ ‘sea-dwellers/mankind’. The sea is used as metaphor for life specifically after the fall of Adam as its unpredictable nature was a good way of describing the trials of Satan against humanity. When we consider ‘Оλίγον бιά ξύλον Αιδ′ έρύκЄι’ ‘He keeps Hades at bay with a thin piece of wood.’ in conjunction with the Anglo-Saxon ‘on flod feran’ ‘go upon the sea’ ‘when Adam considers the consequences of his actions’ The Sea was obviously seen as the domain of Satan and the ship was the protection of Christ. Thus the fall of Mankind through Adam and the penitence would not be seen as a great thing and the lot of the traveller would be one of great loss, but the promise of salvation and a return to the loving presence of God would be something worth any hardship.
The most literal translation of The Seafarer would also have this ambiguity if the narrator is a peregrinato in exact terms. The peregrinato was a self imposed exile or pilgrimage. It would therefore be necessary for the exile to suffer anguish upon his voyage, or the self-imposed punishment would be pointless. IT is just this sort of penance that that Colin A. Ireland discusses in ‘Some Analogues of the O.E. Seafarer From Hiberno-Latin Sources’. Ireland compares this piece to the Life of St. Patrick, written around 680ad. In this story, the character Macc Cuill offers himself in penance to St. Patrick who orders him to ‘enter a small boat without oar or rudder and cast himself adrift…his judgement would be left to God.’ There is strong evidence in Ireland’s argument that this text, and others like it, must have been known by the Englishmen and because Macc Cuill asked for the judgement, Ireland contests that this is a self imposed exile. The attitudes to exile would then be both mourned because of physical loss (loved ones, personal comforts etc) and revered because of spiritual gain. Indeed, according to Muirchú, from who Ireland is quoting, Macc Cuill himself eventually attained the rank of bishop. For this argument there is little textual analysis required to understand the differing views on the ‘wræccan’. Personally, though this has found great favour with many critics of the text, I find it difficult to reconcile the overwhelming feeling of loss in the early part of the poem with a voluntary exile. Phrases such as ‘earmcearig’ full of sorrows’ and ‘bitre breostceare’ ‘bitter anxiety’ do not seem to be the emotions of one who has chosen this particular path, especially when we consider the positive ending to the poem. There is another textual problem to this interpretation, and that is the use of the term ‘wræccan’. The exile would have to be voluntary in this line of argument, but as Denny Neville points out, ‘wræccan’ is related to the verb ‘wrecan’ ‘to avenge/punish’, and therefore ‘the common translation of “exile” is imperfect.’ The kind of eviction described cannot be ‘voluntary’ For these reasons, I reject this argument.
The association of a more general exile of all of mankind as the descendants of Adam, as in the previous argument, would seem to have a little more mileage, and would, of course, account for this feeling of loss. To be cast from the Garden of Eden is something for all of mankind to bemoan. The peregrinus of the piece is therefore using the metaphor of seafaring as allegory for the journey through life. Both parts of the poem would therefore be compliant given the Christian search to return to paradise through toil and hardship, following the teachings of Christ. Again though, the text does not seem to lend itself entirely to this interpretation. ‘winemægum bidroren’ ‘bereft of dear kinsmen’ does not seem to fit here, as all of mankind are exiled together. The arguments described, though explaining the ambiguous expression of exile, do not seem to be a realistic interpretation of the piece without ignoring specific details. As I. L. Gordon has noted, the ‘theory that the seafarer represents a peregrinus is attractive…but it does not answer all the problems the poem presents…it raises its own problems.’ However, the two approaches when considered together could offer us a feasible explanation. Looking at the poet’s condemnation of society as a whole; ‘wuniað þa wacran’ ‘remain the weak ones’ could be the poet telling us that Christianity is lapsing among the people. Few true Christians remain, which is why the narrator has no ‘kinsmen’ and is alone. Therefore, the poet is travelling on the Sea of Life, with no-one to comfort him, miserable in his loneliness, exiled from God and his companions, knowing that the fate of his companions is not to be saved from sin and enter the Kingdom of Heaven. This would be good reason indeed to offer us the stark and despairing words of the first half of the piece, while the reconciliation of the second part would also seem to fit well. The poets own soul will be saved and as he journeys, he can preach to others how they may also seek salvation. However, though this does work, it does seem rather complex. Presumably the narrator could have sought likeminded people at a religious house and would therefore not be alone. Perhaps this the meaning of line 37;
Elþeodigra eard gesece.’
‘seek the land of foreigners.’ I would, however, like to offer one or two other explanations which to me seem rather simpler, and builds upon the works of others. I would first like to accept the argument of Neville that the wræccan is an enforced exile in a similar vein to other works cited by Ireland. A law promulgated in 697 by Adomnán of Iona. Law 46 states; ‘for digging under a church…be put in a boat of one paddle… upon the ocean to go with the wind from the land… Judgement…as God deems fit.’ This analogy of an imposed exile, I argue is the reason behind the Seafarer. ‎To me it seems that the piece has been written as a justification of this practice. Written from the point of view of the perpetrator, it is easy to see why they would descried themselves as wræccan or wræclastas, be castigatory of society, be friendless, be at sea, bemoan their fate and would explain the ambiguous attitude, not just to exile, but also to life on land. The narrator is castigatory of others, but also describes the life on land as joyful, cities as beautiful and his kinsmen as protective and comforting. The words used here emphasise a feeling of regret that is far greater than embarking upon a pilgrimage for a higher purpose, a purpose that a self imposed peregrinus would strongly believe in. Ultimately these feelings are realised as contemptible by the exile as he realises the transitory nature of all things and discovers God. From his unenviable position he is able to contemplate these matters in a way that the soft life on land is unable to accommodate. The decisive transition from regretting exile and the loss of earthly comforts to welcoming the hardships of sea (physical or metaphorical) and the chance to follow scriptures to please God would certainly quieten many of those who may criticise this punishment as meaning almost certain and pointless death. It is the salvation of the narrator’s soul and the allegory for the rest of us that is of interest to the audience. It would seem that this piece is almost a polar opposite of The Battle of Maldon or Judith in that rather than extolling the virtues of a heroic society, the poet is very castigatory of the traditional warrior model. I would suggest that this piece is rather more in the vein of The Dream of the Rood by the way it tries to re-model heroism into a Christian ideal. Holton notes ‘there is something heroic about anyone who is bold enough to travel on the sea at all’ but the narrator also states that we should perform ‘deorum dædum deofle togeanes’ ‘brave deeds against the Devil’ line 76, compounding this shift in the ideals of heroism. Gordon notes that though the seafarer has defined seafaring as a hazardous enterprise, ‘he chooses death (dryhtnes dreamas) because nothing is to be gained by…the ‘dead’ life on land.’ The heroic model is also used in similarity to Beowulf lies 1386-9 ‘let him who can win fame for himself before he dies. That is best for a warrior after he is dead.’ The use of the heroic mode in The Seafarer gives us further explanation of his views on exile. Christians are the new heroes, and to be afraid is very un-heroic. The melancholy nature of the piece is really to be expected as the poem is drawing on old poetic traditions to express the relatively new Ideas of Christianity. We can look at Hávamál for a source to the traditions within The Seafarer. Stanza 55 states ‘A wise man’s heart is seldom glad’, Thus although the poet has found salvation, he is still bound by poetical tradition to be melancholy.
So can we argue coherently for a voluntary or involuntary exile to account for the ambiguous attitude? Greenfield says we have ‘exactly the right dictional pivot for the change in figural stance from the endurance of involuntary exile in lines 1-33a to the eagerness for voluntary exile in what follows.’ To come to this conclusion he has glossed ‘sylf’ in line 35b to ‘of my own accord’ instead of ‘myself.’ Of interest also is the use of the word ‘longung’ at line 47a. Calder sees this as ‘the Old English word, meaning both “longing” and “anxiety,” thus aptly expressing the seafarer’s ambiguous emotions.’

In the Seafarer we have many possibilities to whom or what the narrator represents. I believe the text supports the fact that he was once condemned to be an exile in the vein of Macc Cuill, with all of the sense of loss that this situation would have carried. The exile had the opportunity to ponder God’s will and the transitory nature of all things, and so once re-emerged into society (again like Macc Cuill who became a bishop) also evaluates the way in which people lived. Finding the ‘dead life on land’ severely lacking, the narrator makes the choice to impose upon himself a voluntary exile. ‘Wadan wræclastas,’ to travel the same path he had gone before. We are invited to participate in the poet’s discovery of God and take on the voluntary aspect of the peregrinus and move toward God ourselves. The fact that the narrator is unnamed gives the effect of a universal experience wherein we are all exiles from paradise through the sin of Adam. The attitudes to exile expressed within the poem are not so much a problem, than to be actively expected. The poetic traditions that the author is using necessitate the gloomy aspects of the piece as well as much as the actual experience. Exile becomes less lonely as we have the company of each other, and is also something to be welcomed. Through this exile, we can contemplate God and help to bring about our salvation. Hence exile is at once to be bemoaned as a sense of loss, but also to be greeted head on and dealt with accordingly, through toil and strife, to be reunited in the kingdom of heaven, where even the Angels will sing our praises (excluding those Angels who are to remain in exile forever one presumes).













Bibliography
Liljegren, S. B. "Some Notes on the OE Poem The Seafarer." Studia Neophilologica 14 (1941-42):

Timmer, B. J. "The Elegiac Mood in Old English Poetry." English Studies 24 (1942): pgs 33-44.

G.V. Smithers, ‘The Meaning of The Seafarer and The Wanderer’, Medium Ævum, 26, 1957

Morgan, Gwendolyn. "Essential Loss: Christianity and Alienation in the Anglo-Saxon Elegies." In Geardagum: Essays on Old and Middle English Literature 11 (1990)

A.D. Horgan ‘The Structure of The Seafarer’, Review of English Studies, 30, 1979

Frederick S. Holton ‘OE Sea Imagery and the Interpretation of The Seafarer’, Yearbook of English Studies, 12, 1983

Colin A. Ireland, ‘Some analogues of the OE Seafarer from Hiberno-Latin Sources’, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 92, 1991

Denny, Neville. "Image and Symbol in The Seafarer." Theoria, 14, 1960

I. L. Gordon, ‘Traditional Themes in The Wanderer and The Seafarer’, Review of English Studies, 5, 1954

S.B Greenfield, ‘Min, Sylf, and “Dramatic Voices” in The Wanderer and The Seafarer’, Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 68

D.G. Calder, ‘Setting the Mode in The Seafarer and The Wanderer’, Neuphilologische Mitteilungen, 72, 1971

Medieval Sourcebook:
Cain Adamnain: An Old-Irish Treatise on the Law of Adamnan, http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/CainAdamnain.html