And ill I ween, though prov’d thy Might
In Onslaught dire and deadly Fight,
Twill go with thee, if thou this Night
Dar’st wait for Grendel bold.’
Criticism of the Translation.
Wackerbarth’s translation is not to be considered as a rival of Kemble’s[1]—the author did not wish it to be so considered. Kemble addressed the world of scholars; Wackerbarth the world of readers. Wackerbarth rather resembles Conybeare[2] in trying to reproduce the spirit of the poem, and make his book appeal to a popular audience. Wackerbarth had the advantage of basing his translation on the accurate and scholarly version of Kemble; yet Conybeare and Wackerbarth were equally unsuccessful in catching the spirit of the original. The reason for their failure is primarily in the media which they chose. It would seem that if there were a measure less suited to the Beowulf style than the Miltonic blank verse used by Conybeare, it would be the ballad measures used by Wackerbarth. The movement of the ballad is easy, rapid, and garrulous. Now, if there are three qualities of which the Beowulf is not possessed, they are ease, rapidity, and garrulity. Not only does the poet avoid superfluous words—the ballad never does—but he frequently does not use words enough. His meaning is thus often vague and nebulous, or harsh and knotted. Nor can the poem properly be called rapid. It is often hurried, and more often insufficient in detail, but it never has sustained rapidity. The kenning alone is hostile to rapidity. The poet lingers lovingly over his thought as if loath to leave it; he repeats, amplifies. The description of Grendel’s approach to Heorot is given three times within twenty lines.
Now these features which have just been described Wackerbarth’s ballad lines are eminently unfitted to transmit. But there is still another reason for shunning them. They are almost continuously suggestive of Scott. Of all men else the translator of Beowulf should avoid Scott. Scott’s medievalism is hundreds of years and miles away from the medievalism of Beowulf. His is the self-conscious, dramatic, gorgeous age of chivalry, of knight and lady, of pomp and pride. Beowulf is simple to bareness.
It is in such strong picturesque passages as the swimming-match that Wackerbarth’s style is worst. There is a plethora of adjectives, scarcely one of which is found in the original; but they are of no avail—they are too commonplace to render the strength and raciness of the original words. There is too much ballad padding—‘then he cry’d,’ ‘at last,’ ‘well and faithfully,’ ‘onslaught dire, and deadly fight.’ Hunferth prattles. The heroic atmosphere is gone.
In passages calling for calmness, solemnity, or elevation of thought—and there are many such—the easy flow of a verse monotonous and trivial effectually destroys the beauty of the lines.
But in spite of its very evident limitations, Wackerbarth’s translation was a move in the right direction. His aim, in his own words, was to ‘get his book read,’ and he was wise in choosing a medium that would be popular, even if it were not satisfactory to the scholar. It was better to have Beowulf according to Wackerbarth than no Beowulf at all.