Intl Journal of Public Administration , 28: 503 516, 2005 Napierkowski 503

Intl Journal of Public Administration, 28: 503–516, 2005 Napierkowski 503

Copyright © Taylor & Francis Inc.

ISSN 0190-0692 print / 1532-4265 online

DOI: 10.1081/PAD-200055208

Beowulf: The Heroic, The Monstrous,

and Anglo-Saxon Concepts of Leadership

Thomas J. Napierkowski

Professor of English, University of Colorado at Colorado Springs,

Colorado Springs, CO, USA

Abstract: The poem Beowulf highlights the leader’s heroic role, and is one of the premier examples of literature as a form of leadership instruction. The heroic ideal is one in which leaders are defined by their ability to live in harmony with both the laws and noble norms of society, to overcome opposition, and to demonstrate the acquisition of virtue by the way the live. They are readily recognized as a contrast to the evils they oppose. At the same time, heroic leaders are exemplars for their followers, and receive much of their power by personifying the virtues to which both they and their followers are committed. Leadership thus unfolds in a net of shared expectations, well-defined and noble ideals, and demonstrated accomplishments. In this, the medieval and Anglo-Saxon ideals are wondrously modern.

He led them to the right of the dancing trees—whether they were still dancing nobody

knew, for Lucy had her eyes on the Lion and the rest had their eyes on Lucy.[1]

The simple quotation above, taken from C.S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian, goes a long way toward defining not only this notable author and literary critic’s ideas about leadership but also about the manner in which literature itself— and medieval literature in particular—addresses the discussion and promotion of leadership. This paper will analyze one particular ideal of leadership which dominates early medieval literature and will suggest a significant way in which that ideal differs from many contemporary theories.

All societies and cultures in the history of the world, even in their earliest stages, have, to the best of our knowledge, produced literature. The reasons for this are both simple and profound: literature gives pleasure while it instructs. In every society, but perhaps most importantly in early societies, the instruction provided by literature ranges from information on the planting and

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harvesting of crops to a reiteration of the history and values of the society. Almost exclusively this function of literature is achieved through storytelling and example, a form of instruction which, even today, is more powerful and pervasive than most realize; indeed, most of our behavior is a form of modeling. Some of the most fundamental lessons of literature address the concepts of leadership and responsibility in society. In stories of prose and poetry, literature defines, models, and fosters the concepts of leaders and followers for readers and listeners alike. A study of medieval examples of such literature can provide valuable insights into the praxis between literature and leadership and into concepts of leadership that have been neglected or lost in the recent centuries. In other words, such a study rewards one with a better understanding of the content of the literature under review and with an alterity of vision on theories of leadership.

In the early Middle Ages of northwestern Europe, literary discussions of leadership are found primarily within the context of the heroic tradition. The Germanic tribesmen who occupied these regions had limited contact with Mediterranean civilization and were, first and foremost, warriors. They worshipped rugged and often angry war gods like Woden and Thor; and their religion was marked by a cold gloom. The virtues promoted by this religion were military in nature, stressing bravery, strength, and obedience; and whatever hope there was for even a brief life after death was reserved for those killed in battle. Such heroes, it was believed, were carried away to Valhalla, the palace of Woden, where they feasted with the gods, who were themselves mortal, until the Gotterdammerung, or the twilight of the gods.

These Germanic warriors were organized into tribe-like units, which the Roman historian Tacitus in his study of the people and region, the Germania, termed the comitatus. The leader of the comitatus was the group’s most accomplished warrior, the cyning (the source of the English word “king”). Chosen exclusively for his prowess as a leader and warrior, the cyning had two great responsibilities. Put as simply as possible, in times of war, he was expected to lead his warriors into battle regardless of dangers or odds. Tacitus says: “When the battlefield is reached it is a reproach for a chief to be surpassed in prowess.”[2] In times of peace, the cyning was to care for his people, especially his warriors or thanes, generously and wisely. The locus of the cyning’s authority was his mead hall. Here, he provided his band of followers with food and drink, bestowed various gifts upon them, and administered justice.

For their part, the warriors of the comitatus, the thanes, repaid the cyning’s generosity with unwavering loyalty. Here again, Tacitus accurately describes the nature of the relationship:

. . . it is a reproach for his [the cyning’s] retinue not to equal the prowess of its chief: but

to have left the field and survived one’s chief, this means lifelong infamy and shame: to

protect and defend him, to devote one’s own feats even to his glorification, this is the gist

of their allegiance: the chief fights for victory, but the retainers for the chief.[3]

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Beowulf: Concepts of Leadership

The cyning’s bestowal of gifts on his thanes and his feasting with them acknowledged their worth and his own generosity; the thanes’ acceptance of the cyning’s graciousness constituted their pledge of loyalty to him. Thus, the ties of the comitatus were presented and understood primarily in martial terms; but, in truth, the bonds established within the comitatus not only extended into times of peace; they were aimed at insuring peace, tranquility, and well-being.

Perhaps no other piece of early medieval literature illustrates the Anglo-Saxon ideal of the comitatus and, consequently, of leadership, better than Beowulf, the Old English epic composed about the year 725. So great is the power of this poem that even today it commands the attention of readers. When Seamus Heaney, the Irish Nobel Laureate, recently translated the poem into Modern English, his version climbed into the best sellers list on both sides of the Atlantic. It further shocked both the public and the literary establishment by winning the coveted Whitbread Prize, one of the longest running and most coveted book awards in the United Kingdom, outstripping even the enormously popular and best-selling Harry Potter novels.

For the purpose of these remarks, Beowulf is a particularly illuminating piece of literature for several reasons. For one thing, it illustrates not only the Anglo-Saxon ideal of leadership as embodied in a legendary hero, Beowulf; it also models, in the person of Beowulf as a thane, the duties of the ideal Anglo-Saxon follower. This in itself is an important consideration; for the medieval world seems to have believed that leadership could not even be discussed intelligently without addressing in the same breath the obligations, duties, and privileges of followers. Surely, the achievements of leaders are best measured by the responses of their followers; and these achievements, in turn, are clarified by a better appreciation of the expectations and rewards of their followers. At another level, Beowulf is also ideal for a study of one of the important ideas of leadership in the Middle Ages because, unlike most works of literature, it also defines, in the adversaries that Beowulf must conquer, the Anglo-Saxon understanding of the monstrous—the model of the anti-hero and the antithesis of the good leader. Such presentations of the monstrous are embodied primarily in Grendel and Grendel’s dam, Beowulf’s chief opponents in the first half of the poem who are at least quasi-supernatural in nature and origin; but they also are revealed in allusions to bad cynings such as Heremod. A closer examination of the poem should clarify these points.

First, however, a brief synopsis of the poem is in order. The story of the poem is simple enough. A Geatish (the area of southern Scandinavia) hero named Beowulf takes on three mortal challenges. Although a thane of the Geatish court, Beowulf seeks out the first two adventures in order to rescue the Danish king Hrothgar and his people from the unrelenting attacks of the troll-like monster Grendel. After repulsing Grendel’s attack on the Danish court and mortally wounding Grendel in battle, Beowulf then delivers the Danes from the revenge of Grendel’s dam. Years later, an elderly Beowulf, now himself king of the Geats, defends his own people from the attacks of a

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fire-breathing dragon; and although successful in killing the dragon, Beowulf is himself fatally wounded in the encounter. Here, it would seem, is the matter of fairy tales, not epic poetry and sophisticated culture; yet the experience of the poem throughout the centuries—its organic, indeed synergistic, union of theme, style, and language (what Seamus Heaney has described as the “the cadence and force of earned wisdom”)—belies such a conclusion.

As the above summary suggests, structurally Beowulf consists of two sections. The first section of the poem, approximately up to line 2200, presents Beowulf the young man—Beowulf the thane—in his first two adventures. The remainder of the poem presents Beowulf the old man, Beowulf the cyning. Thus, the poem models for its audience in its hero, Beowulf, both sides of the comitatus ideal: the identity and duties of the thane and the identity and duties of the cyning, plus the general responsibilities of youth versus those of old age. This, however, does not do justice to the complexity and sophistication of the work.

In the first section of the poem, other contrasts are also presented to rein reinforce the message of the poem, the heroic ideal, and the Anglo-Saxon model of leadership. Thus, for example, although the primary focus of the poem in this section is on Beowulf the thane, the concept of kingship is addressed in the persons of Hrothgar, the good but ineffective elderly king of the Danes, and of Hygelac, Beowulf’s lord and king of the Geats. Thus, we find examples of kings who build great halls in which they host and reward their thanes and where they dispense their God-given goods to their thanes as an indication of the merit and worthiness of these followers:

The fortunes of war favored Hrothgar.

Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks,

young followers, a force that grew

to be a mighty army. So his mind turned

to hall-building: he handed down orders

for men to work on a great mead-hall

meant to be a wonder of the world forever;

it would be his throne-room and there he would dispense

his God-given goods to young and old—

but not the common land or people’s lives.[4]

Such kings treat thanes with great respect and keep their promises. In these ways, they inspire their thanes and produce loyal followers like Beowulf the young retainer. Early in the poem, the idea is stated quite succinctly: “Behavior that’s admired / is the path to power among people everywhere.”[5]

In this same section of the poem, negative examples also define the heroic ideal. At the level of the thane, we find in Hrothgar’s court a thane named Unferth who, before the confrontation of Beowulf with Grendel, attacks the achievements of Bewoulf’s youth but who himself does not dare to face Grendel. As Beowulf points out in his response to Unferth:

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“The fact is, Unferth, if you were truly

as keen or courageous as you claim to be

Grendel would never have got away with

such unchecked atrocity, attacks on your king,

havoc in Heorot and horrors everywhere.”[6]

Even more disgraceful is Unferth’s conduct toward his own companions:

You killed your own kith and kin,

so for all your cleverness and quick tongue,

you will suffer damnation in the depths of hell.[7]

Although the Anglo-Saxons lived in a warrior society, frivolous bloodshed Although the Anglo-Saxons lived in a warrior society, frivolous bloodshed was not heroic; and in many respects, the wanton killing of one’s own blood was the ultimate taboo within the comitatus.

Such conduct contrasts markedly with that of Beowulf, who models the perfect thane. The description of his determination to assist Hrothgar establishes both Beowulf’s motive and his credentials:

When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac’s thane

was on home ground, over in Geatland.

There was no one else like him alive.

In his days, he was the mightiest man on earth,

highborn and powerful. He ordered a boat

that would ply the waves. He announced his plan:

to sail the swan’s road and seek out that king,

the famous prince who needed defenders.[8]

As one might expect, Beowulf is mighty and powerful; but such gifts are not enough to qualify him as a hero. Even gifts of might and power must be employed, as they are in this case, to assist others and in the service of good. As Beowulf concludes his trip to the Hrothgar’s court, the poet stresses this point again:

Thus Beowulf bore himself with valour;

he was formidable in battle yet behaved with honour

and took no advantage; never cut down

a comrade who was drunk, kept his temper