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Bonjour Adrien. Poésie héroïque du moyen âge et critique littéraire. In: Romania, tome 78 n°310, 1957. pp. 243-255.

(1952). The final scene of The Winter's Tale. English Studies: Vol. 33, No. 1-6, pp. 193-208.

THERE is perhaps no other epic poem in Germanic literature in which anticipation has been so constantly used as in Beowulf. It is so characteristic a feature in the narrative element of the poem that it has been noted, of course, by almost every Beowulf editor and commentator. To quote one of our living authorities on Beowulf : " It is not a little remarkable that in the account of the three great fights of the hero, care has been taken to state the outcome of the struggle in advance." 1 But although carefully and frequently noticed, this trait has called for rather a modest amount of comment in comparison, say, with the use of repetition. It has hardly been considered as raising a real problem, whereas repetition, leading to apparent inconsistencies, has sometimes been eagerly fought over, the more so in that it provided arguments for proand anti-patchwork theorists. Indeed, the prevalent attitude towards anticipation is simply to regard it as an interesting device, remarkable for the fondness with which the Beowulf poet handles it, but common among heroic poems. The tendency, in fact, to dismiss the use of anticipation in Beowulf as a common device in epic poems of Germanic literature may be illustrated in one of the most recent and authoritative surveys of Beowulf. " Eine Technik der Vordeutung," writes Hermann Schneider, " ist uns aus anderen Heldenepen germanischer Zunge geliufig ; weniger Gemeingut, eigentiimlicherer Besitz des Beowulfdichters scheint zu sein das stiindige Verfahren der Nachholung." 2 Then follows one and a half pages on the problem of the so-called inconsistencies or contradictions raised by repetition.3 It would be foolish, of course, to challenge the truth of Schneider's statement

If the well-known dictum that history repeats itself is sometimes open to controversy, its veracity can hardly be doubted when we turn to the history of Beowulf criticism. For it almost seems a law that in its broad outlines Beowulf criticism should follow the fortunes of Homeric criticism—this, of course, with the proper shift in time due to the still appreciable lead of classical philology.

The Beowulfian dragon seems to keep as jealous a watch on the mystery of its ultimate significance in the poem as on the buried hoard. And when a critic boldly tries to force the entrance of the monster's barrow, he must sooner or later reckon with a shattering counter-stroke. Though it looked as if Professor Tolkien's brilliant attempt had finally disposed of the problem, it appears that the dragon was dormant only and the retour de flamme has now come, more than fifteen years later, in the form a of competent and courageous article, vigorously questioning the legitimacy of the critic's progress. Mr. Gang's article—and this is not the least of its merits—clearly raises the question of premises and methods in Beowulf criticism, and lucidly probes the actual base of Tolkien's interpretation of the poem. We shall not venture to decide the point (much too perilous a plight for minnows to judge the Triton's issue). Moreover, to examine so dense an article in all its implications would mean an extensive study. Our modest purpose here is merely to discuss, with special reference to the dragon, Mr. Gang's main contention, viz., “that the arguments by which Professor Tolkien shows that the poem may be symbolic are not cogent, and that the internal evidence is against this view, or at least against the particular symbolism that he discerns” (p. 6).