The Persian Connection

Yesterday's post, "This Too Shall Pass," tells about a particular poem from the Exeter Book with the theme that sorrowful occurrences eventually pass away, so things get better. The saying "This too shall pass" is familiar to English speakers.

On 30 September, 1859, Abraham Lincoln used this expression while addressing the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society when he said:

It is said [redacted] once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

Seems straightforward, and yet it's now time to reveal the [redacted] portion. The words I left out are "an Eastern monarch." Huh? Why not the Western European source of the Exeter Book? One of the earliest translations into Modern English of passages from the Exeter Book was in 1842, the Codex Exoniensis by Benjamin Thorpe. Deor was included, but it seems clear that Lincoln (although widely read) did not get his theme from this work on Old English poetry.

It is likely that he got it from a more popular author, Edward FitzGerald. Known more as the author of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, FitzGerald had published a retelling of an old Persian fable, Solomon's Seal, in which a sultan requests of Solomon a motto for a signet that would be useful in both adversity and prosperity, and Solomon offers "This also shall pass away." The story also appears in Jewish folklore, where sometimes Solomon is the king who requests a motto.

Lincoln may have got it from Blackwood's Magazine (1817 - 1980), a British periodical that was also distributed in the United States and featured American authors. An early English appearance of this tale appeared in Blackwood's in 1848.

Ultimately, the saying's origin has been traced to Persian Sufi poets such as Rumi, Sanai, and Attar of Nishapur. In fact, Attar (c.1145 – c.1221) may be the earliest source, and we'll check him out tomorrow.

This Too Shall Pass

Yesterday's post told the story of Wayland Smith as told in the Völundarkviða. I mentioned the plight in which he left Böðvildr, the daughter of the king that had captured and crippled Wayland, and that she was used as an example in the poem "Deor."

"Deor" is an Old English lament from the c.10th century Exeter Book (pictured), the largest surviving collection of Anglo-Saxon poetry. The title of the poem does not exist in the manuscript; modern editors have given it that title, because the poem ends with the author naming himself.

The author (or the character created by a poet) was a poet and faithful retainer of a lord, but he has been replaced in the lord's favor with another poet. He reflects on his fate by writing about many others in the past who suffered defeats or tragedy. Each stanza ends with the stoic reflection that, since the mentioned calamity ultimately passed, his personal tragedy and sadness  may also pass. The line in Old English is þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg, which can translate simply to "that passed, this also may." If you recall that the letter þ=th, and æ=flat or short a, you could reliably pronounce the whole phrase yourself and see its connection to Modern English.

Because the poet refers to events of the past, the poem reinforces some legends we find in other sources. The opening stanzas cover Wayland and Böðvildr. Here they are, translated/interpreted by the poet Michael Burch:

Weland endured the agony of exile:
an indomitable smith wracked by grief.
He suffered countless sorrows;
indeed, such sorrows were his bosom companions
in that frozen island dungeon
where Nithad fettered him:
so many strong-but-supple sinew-bands
binding the better man.
That passed away; this also may.

Beadohild mourned her brothers' deaths,
bemoaning also her own sad state
once she discovered herself with child.
She knew nothing good could ever come of it.
That passed away; this also may.

The final stanza explains the narrator's plight:

If a man sits long enough, sorrowful and anxious,
bereft of joy, his mind constantly darkening,
soon it seems to him that his troubles are limitless.
Then he must consider that the wise Lord
often moves through the earth
granting some men honor, glory and fame,
but others only shame and hardship.
This I can say for myself:
that for awhile I was the Heodeninga's scop,
dear to my lord. My name was Deor.
For many winters I held a fine office,
faithfully serving a just king. But now Heorrenda
a man skilful in songs, has received the estate
the protector of warriors had promised me.
That passed away; this also may.

This notion of "this too shall pass" is an old one, one would think. The fact that it is found so eloquently in the Exeter Book would make you think that this is where it entered into the English language. In fact, Western Civilization got it from another part of the world, and we'll talk about that tomorrow.

Völundarkviða

Wayland Smith was a legendary figure in Germanic culture. The earliest and most-detailed origin for his legend is in the Völundarkviða (Old Norse: "The lay of Völund"), part of the Poetic Edda.

Wayland (Völundr) was the son of the King of the Finns; he had two brothers, Egil and and Slagfiðr. In one version, the three brothers spend nine years as lovers to three Valkyries. In one version, Wayland marries the Valkyrie Hervor and has a son, Heime. However gives him a ring before leaving him. 

Wayland was a master craftsman who gets captured while sleeping by King Niðhad of Sweden and forced to forge things for him. Niðhad cuts Wayland's hamstring tendons in order to prevent him from escaping (and curiously making him similar to Hephaestus, the god-smith of the Greeks). The ring given to Wayland by Hervor is given to King Niðhad's daughter, Böðvildr.

In another Greek parallel (I'm not saying these are intentional, but they do post-date the Greek myths), Wayland fashions a pair of artificial wings for himself and plots revenge. (The illustration is from Myths and Legends of All Nations by Logan Marshall.)

He kills the king's sons and makes items from the sons' body parts. He fashions goblets from their skulls, jewels from their eyes, and a brooch made from from their teeth. He sends these as gifts to Niðhad, Niðhad's wife, and Böðvildr. Wayland then seduces/rapes Böðvildr when she comes to him to repair the ring she was given. Wayland then flies to the king, explains what he has done, and flies away. Böðvildr appears to her father and claims she is pregnant, and that she could not resist Wayland because he is too strong.

The plight of Böðvildr is mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon poem Deor, mentioned in the Exeter Book. It is used (believe it or not) as an example of things being "not so bad." I'll explain more tomorrow when I share the stoicism of Deor.

Fastitocalon

Fastitocalon is the name given to a sea creature in an Old English poem called "The Whale."

This time I will with poetic art rehearse, by means of words and wit, a poem about a kind of fish, the great sea-monster which is often unwillingly met, terrible and cruel-hearted to seafarers, yea, to every man; this swimmer of the ocean-streams is known as the asp-turtle.

His appearance is like that of a rough boulder, as if there were tossing by the shore a great ocean-reedbank begirt with sand-dunes, so that seamen imagine they are gazing upon an island, and moor their high-prowed ships with cables to that false land, make fast the ocean-coursers at the sea's end, and, bold of heart, climb up on that island; the vessels stand by the beach, enringed by the flood.

The weary-hearted sailors then encamp, dreaming not of peril.
On the island they start a fire, kindle a mounting flame. The dispirited
heroes, eager for repose, are flushed with joy. Now when the cunning
plotter feels that the seamen are firmly established upon him, and have
settled down to enjoy the weather, the guest of ocean sinks without
warning into the salt wave with his prey (?), and makes for the bottom,
thus whelming ships and men in that abode of death.

Such is the way of demons, the wont of devils:

The poem then shares a moral, comparing the experience of Fastitocalon with the Devil, who entices men with a promise of safety and security before turning and "sinking" them into their own destruction.

The poem continues, explaining another trait of the monster: when it is hungry, it opens its enormous maw, from which a "perfume" emanates that draws a host of fish inside, when it then snaps its jaws shut. This suggests that sailors may have actually seen a whale opening its mouth to feed.

Fastitocalon is the name given to the creature, but that is the Old English version of the original. The poem (and two others) is found in a Bestiary called the Old English Physiologus, part of the Exeter Book. In the Latin version, the creature is called aspidochelone, combining Greek aspis (shield) and chelone (turtle). The Old English version has become more popular (and familiar) thanks to Tolkien writing a poem of that name in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil.

Where did the story of this giant sea-creature-as-island originate? There is a Greek Alexander Romance written in the first few centuries CE that contains a whale-island anecdote in a letter from Alexander to Aristotle. The first voyage of Sinbad (composed c.8th-9th centuries CE) tells a similar tale. Pliny the Elder talks about enormous fish as well. The Babylonian Talmud and Inuit of Greenland folklore both contains legends of a fish so large that it resembled an island and inspired sailors to land on its back. There are many more examples from different parts of the world.

Even St. Brendan encountered it, and gave it a name that has since been used by the Magic: The Gathering card game. I'll share more tomorrow.

Anglo-Saxon Riddles

As best we can determine, Symposius was a 4th- or 5th-century author of the Ænigmata, a collection of 100 Latin riddles. The oldest known collection of riddles, they have influenced other riddle-makers through the ages, such as Aldhelm.

Why are we talking about Latin riddles in a post titled "Anglo-Saxon Riddles"? Because without Symposius we might have a more difficult time guessing at some of the Riddles of the Exeter Book. Consider Exeter Book Riddle #61:

#61
A creature came     where many men
sat at council     with wise hearts.
It had one eye     and its ears were two;
it had two feet     and twelve hundred heads,
a back and a belly     and two hands,
arms and shoulders,     one neck,
and two sides.     Say what I’m called.

This might have been more difficult if we did not have Symposius' example #94:

#XCIV
Cernere iam fas est, quod vix tibi credere fas est;
Unus inest oculus, capitum sed milia multa;
Quidquid habet vendit, quod non habet unde parabit?

Now may you see, though not believe, I fear,
One eye and many thousand heads are here,
Whate'er he has, he sells. Whence comes what don't appear?

The answer is the same for both, and I will give it to you in footnotes, along with the answers to the rest. Enjoy.

#18
My garment is darkish.     Bright decorations,
red and radiant,     I have on my raiment.
I mislead the stupid     and stimulate the foolish
toward unwise ways.     Others I restrain
from profitable paths.     But I know not at all
that they, maddened,     robbed of their senses,
astray in their actions     —that they praise to all men
my wicked ways.     Woe to them then
when the Most High holds out     his dearest of gifts
if they do not desist     first from their folly.

#57
I war oft against wave     and fight against wind,
do battle with both,     when I reach to the ground,
covered by the waters.     The land is strange to me.
I am strong in the strife     if I stay at rest.
If I fail at that,     they are stronger than I
and forthwith they wrench me     and put me to rout.
They would carry away     what I ought to defend.
I withstand them then     if my tail endures
and the stones hold me fast.     Ask what my name is. 

#31
I saw a thing     in the dwellings of men
that feeds the cattle;     has many teeth.
The beak is useful to it;     it goes downwards,
ravages faithfully;     pulls homewards;
hunts along walls;     reaches for roots.
Always it finds them,     those which are not fast;
lets them, the beautiful,     when they are fast,
stand in quiet     in their proper places,
brightly shining,     growing, blooming.

*Symposius #94 and Exeter #61: a one-eyed garlic seller
Exeter #18: wine
#57: anchor
#31: rake

Source for Symposius
Source for Exeter riddles

The Other Three Books

The Vercelli Book, opened to "The Dream of the Rood"

The post on The Exeter Book mentioned that it was one of four sources of Anglo-Saxon literature. So what about the other three? One of them, the Nowell Codex, has been mentioned before—but you won't find it in this blog under that name.

The Nowell Codex is named for Laurence Nowell (c.1515 - 1571), who was an antiquarian and early scholar of Anglo-Saxon literature. Where he found the Codex is unknown, but he wrote his name on it. Later it passed into the hands of Sir Robert Cotton (c.1570 - 1631) and became part of the Cotton Library. There it was catalogued on a shelf under a bust of the Emperor Vitellius, which is why we know it as Cotton Vitellius A.xv. It contains the only copy in existence of the epic poem Beowulf.

Another important source of Anglo-Saxon literature is the Vercelli Book. The Vercelli is the oldest manuscript, dating to the late tenth century. Written with very precise penmanship (no doubt by a monk), it contains a collection of religious texts. It sits in the library of Vercelli in northern Italy; Vercelli was a likely stop for pilgrims traveling to Rome and beyond, and its presence there is presumed to have been intended for the use of Anglo-Saxon pilgrims.

Finally, the Cædmon Manuscript is called that because it is presumed (hoped? fantasized?) to have been produced by Cædmon, a man whom legend says went from illiterate monk to brilliant poet after praying for inspiration. (It is more seriously referred to—by scholars who prefer accuracy over legend—as the Junius Manuscript, after Franciscus Junius who first published it in 1655.) It contains religious works which have been named—based on their contents; none of the writings mentioned here have titles—Genesis, Exodus, Daniel, and Christ and Satan.

Each of these deserves its own time in the spotlight, but they will have to wait for another day.

The Exeter Book

"The Wanderer" in the Exeter Book

The Exeter Book was mentioned as the source of two poems about St. Guthlac. It holds much more than that, however. Of the four manuscripts we have of Anglo-Saxon literature, the Exeter Book is the largest collection in existence of Anglo-Saxon poetry, including all the Anglo-Saxon riddles we have (but one), and several poems that survive nowhere else.

The original date of composition is unknown, but it is assumed to have been produced as part of the Benedictine revival in the 10th century, when Benedictine monasteries strove to record and preserve manuscripts of all kinds.

Its existence can reliably be traced to the will of Bishop Leofric (1016 - 1072), who left it to the library of Exeter Cathedral in 1072 along with the rest of his impressive (for the time) collection. Exeter was one of the largest scriptoria in Leofric's lifetime, where manuscripts were created and copied, so it is surprising that this particular manuscript seems to have been so abused.

Several pages at the beginning are believed missing along with the cover. Several pages are scored as if the book was used as a cutting board. One reader of the book clearly set his drink down on the page, leaving a stain, and several pages at the end of the book show burn marks.

The Book contains religious texts; not just the aforementioned Guthlac A and B, but also poems on Christ, Judgment Day, Soul and Body, and The Lord's Prayer. It also has examples of Anglo-Saxon culture in poems such as "The Wanderer," "The Seafarer," "Deor," and "The Wife's Lament." As well it contains over 90 riddles whose answers are usually mundane things, but some of which engage in double entendres, such as the following, whose answer is dough:

I have heard of a something-or-other, growing in its nook, swelling and rising, pushing up its covering. Upon that boneless thing a cocky-minded young woman took a grip with her hands; with her apron a lord's daughter covered the tumescent thing.

Haunted by Demons

Want to own a speaker that plugs into your laptop
and depicts the ordination of Guthlac? You can!

Today is the feast day of an English saint, Guthlac of Crowland (673 - 714). Like many saints of his time, he was born into a noble family and chose a religious life either out of piety or because he was a younger son who was not in line to inherit much (and he needed some means of support that did not involve starting his own farm). His sister, Pega, is also considered a saint.

Although he fought under Æthelred of Mercia, by the age of 24 he was a monk at Repton Monastery in Derbyshire. By the age of 26, he had decided to become a hermit and went to live on an island called Croyland, which is now no longer an island and is called Crowland. The Vita Sancti Guthlaci ["Life of Saint Guthlac"] written by Felix in the 8th century tells us:

Now there was in the said island a mound built of clods of earth which greedy comers to the waste had dug open, in the hope of finding treasure there; in the side of this there seemed to be a sort of cistern, and in this Guthlac the man of blessed memory began to dwell, after building a hut over it. From the time when he first inhabited this hermitage this was his unalterable rule of life: namely to wear neither wool nor linen garments nor any other sort of soft material, but he spent the whole of his solitary life wearing garments made of skins. So great indeed was the abstinence of his daily life that from the time when he began to inhabit the desert he ate no food of any kind except that after sunset he took a scrap of barley bread and a small cup of muddy water.

 Life was not that simple, however, because his time there was spent being assailed by demons:

They were ferocious in appearance, terrible in shape with great heads, long necks, thin faces, yellow complexions, filthy beards, shaggy ears, wild foreheads, fierce eyes, foul mouths, horses' teeth, throats vomiting flames, twisted jaws, thick lips, strident voices, singed hair, fat cheeks, pigeons breasts, scabby thighs, knotty knees, crooked legs, swollen ankles, splay feet, spreading mouths, raucous cries. For they grew so terrible to hear with their mighty shriekings that they filled almost the whole intervening space between earth and heaven with their discordant bellowings.

Interestingly, Guthlac (Felix tells us) could actually understand the demonic speech, described as strimulentes loquelas ["sibilant speech"].* The reason he was able to understand it? Because of his time spent among the British-speaking natives of the island of Britain who had been displaced by the incoming Anglo-Saxons. (One wonders if the wind whistling through his rough-constructed living space made noises that imagination told him were words of temptation.)

Guthlac was a very popular figure in British history. The oldest surviving collection of Anglo-Saxon poetry, the Exeter Book, contains two poems, called Guthlac A and Guthlac B; B is based on the Vita, but A comes from some other source. A collection of illustrations of events in Guthlac's life was created after the Norman Conquest and put into the Orderic Vitalis. Today, a Guthlac Fellowship unites the several churches and parishes dedicated to Guthlac.

*Reminds me of Parseltongue from the works of J.K.Rowling.