No more Dark Ages

Tuesday night found me back at the British Library attending another Beowulf session. The draw was Seamus Heaney, and the auditorium was fully packed. Poor Bob had to back out as he was still nursing a cold and wicked cough. No fever, so no flu, swine or bird, thank heavens. I sold my ticket to a nice young man who asked me at the door whether I had an extra ticket, and weren't we both surprised when I said, "why yes I do!"

The event began with Michael Wood, the brilliant TV presenter of history and travel shows. He is an Anglo-Saxon scholar, much of the audience tittered when he made quips with Anglo-Saxon punchlines, and he discussed what little is known of the tale and the surviving manuscript. The manuscript is about a 1000 years old, give or take a hundred years. It was probably looted from a monastery in the Fens, the marshy area, of East Anglia since it turned up in the collection of William Cecil, Lord Burleigh during the Tudor years, at his manor near the Fens. From there it went to the Cotton Manuscript Library whose heirs turned the collection over to the government as a gift to the new British Museum, and was later burned in the fire at Ashburnham House in London where the manuscripts were being stored. Between the fire and the 18th century restoration, a fifth of the manuscript's letters were lost. The tale of the heroic Beowulf is old, perhaps dating back to when the Saxons migrated to England, four or five hundred years before this manuscript was inked. Since the kings and tribes and action are Danish and Swedish, the legend was carried from the old homeland to the new.

Then Seamus Heaney read his translation of his favourite part of the legend, the dragon and Beowulf's death.  Benjamin Bagby was back again with his harp and performed a short piece from Grendel's attack on the mead hall. He discussed how there is no possible way to know how a medieval bard would have presented the poem, so he does whatever feels right for the cadence of the poetry. He addressed the issue of whether what he did was sing or speak Beowulf, and said that he believed the bardic tradition required a term somewhere in the middle — he quipped that today we call it musical theatre. Finally, Michael Morpurgo, Children's Laureate a few years ago, discussed his version for children age 5+, and read us the opening pages. What an extraordinary looking man with a comb-over and wearing a velour leisure suit and shirt the colour of ripe watermelon. He is wearing the same colour in his Wikipedia photo, so perhaps that is a trademark.  He had been the guest speaker in the afternoon for an audience of 150 children and their parents (it is half-term holiday week here in England). His version was pretty gruesome, but he said children are drawn to the story because half of contemporary children's literature involves monsters, so monsters can be pretty pedestrian to them, but the children understand that Grendel is a serious monster, one to be afraid of, and that it was good for children to learn to fear real monsters. Which does get back to the old question of whether fairy tales are good for children. And he really really hated Angelina Jolie as Grendel's mother in the film (that I think no one saw) two years ago. He bemoaned the state of Hollywood film treatments of magical  stories such as Philip Pullman's Golden Compass. I have given up seeing films of good books, since they are almost always disappointing. On the other hand, the National Theatre's stage version of Pullman's trilogy was one of the best dramatic experiences ever produced. I'm not sure the books could even match the play now.

I have always loved history, and moving to England has been an overwhelming historical experience. I wish had moved here with a younger brain so that I could remember a greater portion of what is out there to see, read, learn. I find it amazing and thrilling that history is so alive and accessible here. I had never heard of the Cotton Library until this past spring when Bob and I went to see the Henry VIII commemorative exhibit at the British Library also. The exhibit was curated by the TV presenter and historian David Starkey who documented every moment of Henry's lengthy and busy life. Many of the documents were catalogued as from the Cotton Library. The most remarkable, to me, was a giant volume of Scripture with marginalia written in Henry's hand suggesting verses that would aid his lawyers in preparing the legal case for a divorce from Katharine of Aragon, his first wife. How cool is that!

When I finish my book pile, maybe I will make a new pile of all those history books on hand that I have never read from cover to cover. Of course for the Saxons there may be a new history by next year with the recent find of the biggest hoard of artifacts up in Staffordshire. I've seen photographs of some of the treasures. They were on display in Birmingham for a few weeks with huge waiting queues, but are now on their way to London and the British Museum for cataloguing. A job that Susan did not get several years ago was in the British Museum's Treasures Department. People who dig in soil — farmers, builders, metal detector hobbyists — are always finding things, so there is a national network to evaluate finds. First at the county level of official scrutiny, then if a possible treasure is suspected to the British Museum for an evaluation and a determination of whether it should be kept by the nation or returned to the finder. If the nation keeps it, the finder gets a fee; if it is returned, the finder can dispose of it as he or she wishes.  The last big find, Sutton Hoo in 1939, is housed at the British Museum. I read this new find will probably be distributed to various museums, mostly in the area where it was found in the northeast. I can't wait to have a chance to see it on display somewhere.

Remember the Dark Ages? When I was in school, we studied the Dark Ages for about 15 minutes because nothing happened for 600 years – from the Fall of the Roman Empire to the Crusades history was a blank page, except for the Sutton Hoo ships which existed, but for which there was no explanation.  And of course there was Charlemagne. I've seen the crown that Charlemagne crowned himself with, in Vienna's Hapsburg Treasure Room, but I haven't yet been to Aachen to see the church where it happened. Maybe next year.