The Ancient British Heroic Tradition: A Comparison of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon Expression
Patrick C. Griffin
ENGL 19 - Anglo-Saxon
Prof. Peter Travis
June 4, 2000
The Ancient British Heroic Tradition: A Comparison of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon Expression
Both the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon cultures existed in the British Isles, their respective societies flourishing at about the same time. The ard-rí reigned at Tara while the Anglo-Saxon rulers contended for the bretwaldaship, and the kings of Wales and Cornwall and Scotland made alliances and fought wars with the myriad kingdoms of England. It is only logical that these cultures interacted with each other. There is positive proof of religious influence from Ireland in the monastic communities of Lindisfarne and Iona, and proof of trade or pillage from the excavation at Sutton Hoo. The Welsh were actively involved in Anglo-Saxon politics, often fighting wars while allied with one side or another in a conflict between the kingdoms of the east. Inevitably, some of the cultural themes, and some of the heroic tradition, must have been transferred between the Celtic and the Anglo-Saxon. In an examination of Anglo-Saxon literature, and the contemporary Celtic mythology, one sees that the expressions of two different societies, with somewhat different values, carry similarities as well as the assumed differences.
Both the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon societies were organized around an oral tradition. The Celtic poets and bards were valued very highly, and even kings were not immune to satirical treatments if they displeased a bard. In the Cath Maige Tuiread (The Second Battle of Mag Tuiread), a model is given for the execution of a satire, where Coirpre is given scant hospitality in the house of Bres, ruler of the Túatha Dé Dánann. He concludes his scathing portrayal of Bres¹s welcome with a pronunciation: "¹Bres¹s prosperity no longer exists,¹ he said, and that was true. There was only blight on him from that hourŠ" (Gray, 35). Similarly, in the Welsh tradition, Taliesin reviles the bards of Maelgwn Gwynedd, reducing them to utter silence by the power of his satire. In the Anglo-Saxon courts, a bard was generally held as an important member of the comitatus group, providing fame or shame wherever it was merited, and spreading the deeds of the group to the people. (Evans, 14) The poets had a great deal of autonomy in both cultures, though there were some differences. It was perfectly acceptable in both Celtic and Anglo-Saxon society for a bard or poet to write a satire on someone who had slighted him, even a member of his own war-band. In fact, most poets were given extremely high levels of respect by the other members, primarily because they had the power to make or ruin one¹s reputation. Of course, the lord could release a poet who was providing him a bad reputation, and could attempt to damage his credibility. Ideally, however, the system worked so that the lord gave the poet gifts for his continued service, and the poet gave the lord and his battle-group fame with the people.
There are some differences between the two traditions, however. Generally, Anglo-Saxon poets were attached to the court of a specific lord, though there were many transient poets who attempted to become attached to a particular hall, but never found their way into one permanently. In Celtic society, the role of the court-bard is sometimes portrayed as inferior to that of the traveling bard, as seen by Taliesin¹s victory at Gwynedd¹s court. Because Taliesin is held to be the archetypal Welsh bard, there is an implication that the view of a court-bard was less than flattering, and that it bred complacency and dishonesty. Also, the role of the Celtic bard as the carrier of news necessitated a more mobile lifestyle than one attached to a war-band. Another of the differences is that "it would have been unlikely (if not impossible) for [an Anglo-Saxon] poet to criticize his own lord" (Evans, 14), primarily because of the importance of patronage, whereas a Celtic bard or poet would have a role that almost superseded that of the king, one where he could destroy the king¹s reputation, if he were particularly acclaimed. The Irish and Welsh bardic systems did not focus so much on patronage as on necessitated hospitality. If one did not accommodate the bard properly, as was seen in the tale of Coirpre, one is liable to be satirized, and one¹s reputation to be ruined. The king or lord did not have as much control over the livelihood of the bard, and therefore had less influence on what the individual bards said.
Outside of the social involvements of the poets, which obviously influenced their storytelling to some degree, they were important to preserving the social structure of the world they inhabited. There was a great interest in things heroic at the time that tended to bind society together in the glorification of prowess, honor, and guile. The poets sought to uphold the society they existed in by incorporating elements of importance into their tales: "the ideal warband, though focusing primarily on the lord-retainer relationship, touched on all aspects of martial life." (Evans, 16) By maintaining this heroic ideal of the war-band and the organization of the battle around the lord, the poets provided stability to the culture by ensuring that the people would think of war in the fashion of the heroic war-band moving against a vile enemy, and that they would automatically associate the lord with that all-important war-band. This gave the poets the added function, to a certain degree, of being propagandists for the lords, attempting to hold the established societal structure in place, and prevent rapid, sudden change.
This heroic tradition, of necessity, produced many great heroes. Most prominent in the Anglo-Saxon tradition is, of course, Beowulf, the slayer of Grendel, king of the Geats. Beowulf embodies most of the Anglo-Saxon concepts of heroism. He is possessed of the strength of thirty men, and has fought monsters and avenged injury to his tribe, all while a young man. He confronts an abhorrent monster that is terrorizing the hall of Heorot and overthrows it in single combat, though it devastated Hrothgar¹s soldiers. He continues his supremacy by defeating Grendel¹s mother, swimming down into the mere to fight and defeat her. He finally meets his match in his old age, killed by a bite from a dragon at the age of 70. He still desired to fight the dragon as close to single-handedly as possible, and formed a small band to attack it, placing himself in the front. He and Wiglaf slay it, but he loses his life, though his retainer saves him from being mauled by the enraged dragon.
Beowulf is the quintessential martial hero, at least for the majority of the story. He manages to destroy a being who is virtually indestructible by average, or even by elite warriors, and then he destroys a being even more powerful and terrible. He takes the forefront in all of his actions, and leads his people to victory. He is sung about, and praised, and brings a great increase in the reputation of the Geats. When he encounters the dragon, however, he is so used to being able to conquer anything he comes in contact with, be it invaders or monsters, he utterly underestimates the power and guile of the dragon. He takes only a tiny group of soldiers with him, fully expecting to be able to fight the dragon by himself, if necessary. When the rest of his troops run away, Beowulf stands against the dragon, but is unfortunately struck by bad luck (something that had previously avoided him) when his sword shatters. Still, however, the heroic tradition is maintained, as Wiglaf, the faithful retainer, comes to the aid of his stricken lord, defending him from the horrible beast. This vulnerability in the character of the most famous hero in Anglo-Saxon literature is interestingly portrayed in the results of his actions: that the fact that Beowulf had concentrated so heavily on winning renown for himself that his people would lose a great deal of their appearance of strength to other nations, and the Geat woman bemoans this fact at Beowulf¹s funeral.
There are a couple of quite similar characters to Beowulf in Celtic mythology. In the Welsh tradition, there are no characters who directly resemble him, but there are some whose stories are reminiscent of the adventures he undertook. Arthur, as seen in "Culhwch and Olwen," is the closest image to Beowulf that we see in the Mabinogion. Arthur has a famed sword, and a set of tasks he had to accomplish for the sake of Culhwch, who desired the daughter of the giant, Ysbaddaden. His struggle with Twrch Trwyth, the mad boar from Ireland, is somewhat reminiscent of Grendel¹s raging through the hall of Heorot, weeding out the fine warriors almost as he chooses. However, Arthur¹s involvement in the story is an act of hospitality on the behalf of a friend: Culhwch is required by the giant to perform many wonders, none of which he is able to achieve without Arthur¹s help. A tale in this vein would have emphasized the value of aiding one¹s kinsman (he is a cousin of Arthur¹s: Ford, 121), and the importance of acceptance of proxy in a challenge. Other than Arthur, however, we find rather little in the surviving Welsh tradition to remind one of Beowulf¹s exploits. In fact, there does not appear to be any one major epic hero in any of the important surviving tales.
The similarities and differences between the Welsh and the Anglo-Saxon tradition, however, are marked. For example, the Anglo-Saxon construction of Beowulf is a not a great deal more formal in translation than any of the stories of the Mabinogion appear to be, which is curious, as they are both rather "polite" for myths penned in the "Dark Ages." When Beowulf leaves Hrothgar, he is very, very cordial, and shows a great amount of emphasis on a hero¹s knowledge of the proper way of doing things. Similarly, Pwyll, in the first branch of the Mabinogion, is very courteous to Arawn when he discovers the error he has made in stealing the hind. (Rummons, 43-4) He also manages to avoid Arawn¹s wife¹s advances for more than a year, when he trades places (and visages) to fight Hafgan, though his wife "was the noblest and gentlest in her nature and her discourse of any [woman] he had ever seen." (Ford, 39) Pwyll¹s honorable treatment of the wife of someone he is in debt to, even when the act would very likely go unnoticed, is not something to be passed over quickly. Bendigeidfran¹s reception and treatment of Matholwch, the king of Ireland, in "Branwen, Daughter of Llyr" is an example of the style of treatment a fellow ruler was to receive, and the cost and difficulties in remedying assault or insult given to a fellow ruler. When Efnisien mutilates the horses, Matholwch is slighted and attempts to return to his ships. Bendigeidfran will not let him leave without understanding the slight and making reparations to Matholwch. When Matholwch seems dejected that his "honor-price" is so low, Bendigeidfran also gives him the Cauldron of Rejuvenation, into which one may throw a dead body, and retrieve a live (though mute) one. When Matholwch mistreats Branwen, Bendigeidfran invades Ireland and forces Matholwch to a peace settlement, rather than simply razing his land to the ground. However, when war does come, Bendigeidfran is not afraid to avenge a slight or an attack, as Beowulf did not, despite the heavy formality laid on the two. The other tales of the Mabinogion show this cultural, practical formality in determining the weight of an insult or a compliment, and the importance of upholding the system by defending one¹s reputation both as a giver and as a taker.
Self-sacrifice for the greater good is also prized by both traditions. The actions of Beowulf¹s thanes as Grendel attacks, even though they cannot hurt him with their swords, gives evidence of the ideal warrior: one who would defend his lord¹s life at the peril of his own. Similarly, in the Welsh tale of Branwen, Efnisien sees the carnage he has caused, and the impending defeat of his people, so he throws himself into the Cauldron alive, shattering it, and defeating the Irish. It is an act of redemption that allows one to view an unlikeable character as having honor.
These traditions differ enormously in other areas, however. The evidence from the Mabinogion suggest s that the Welsh conception of governance and personal prowess differed somewhat from that of the Anglo-Saxon tradition. Arthur, for example, often appears to be merely the leader among equals, and is accompanied by a war-band of sorts on his quests to accomplish the wonders Ysbaddaden. Arthur is not the troubled, kingly man he becomes in the modern conception, but is more of a local warlord who happens to have a court filled with the strongest warriors in Wales. Even though he possesses great personal prowess, Arthur does not generally act alone. He and his band of men (the ones remaining, anyway) pull down Twrch Trwyth, and steal the razor and comb, rather than the Anglo-Saxon ideal expressed by Beowulf in his individual deed-doing. Culhwch, a kinsman to the lord, and ostensibly the focus of the story, is nearly a one-dimensional character, and merely facilitates the telling of Arthur and his band¹s exploits. Pwyll, though he is named as a prince of an entire province of Wales, is never presented as much more than an honorable man who has some impressive strokes of luck and a very strong wife. His greatest accomplishment is fathering Pryderi, who goes on to fight at Bendigeidfran¹s side, and to live with Manawydan when he is expelled from his kingdom. Math¹s most impressive achievement is the ordering of the stealing of a few pigs. The lords in this tradition, as often as not, do not mirror the heroic examples of honor and bravery we see in Beowulf.
It is also interesting to note that the treatments of war, battle, and conflict in Anglo-Saxon culture and Welsh culture differ in that the Anglo-Saxons seemed to take the idea completely seriously, with very little room for humor or mirth. Beowulf¹s fight with Grendel is very serious, though descriptive, and it succeeds in conveying the ultimate respect for the actual fight, the striving between a man and his foe to defeat each other in combat. This is not always so with the Welsh tradition. Not only is the description of any particular battle or combat (for example, Pwyll¹s fight against Hafgan) rather short and to the point, but much of the description of the action is not the actual occurrence of the battle itself, but more the incidents leading up to the battle. Pwyll defeats Hafgan with one blow, making the battle absolutely anticlimactic. It serves to show that the actual battle is often not the climax of the Welsh tales, but the cunning used to bring the occasion about may be. In the example of Manawydan¹s confrontation of the oddly Druidic bishop, he tricks the bishop into revealing that it is he who has brought plague and pestilence on the land, he who has captured Pryderi and Rhiannon to counter the shaming of his friend, who had been a suitor to Rhiannon. The odd spectacle of Manawydan, a king in his own right, sitting on a hill constructing a gallows for a mouse, presents a humorous aspect to the Welsh tales that is missing in Beowulf, and in the Anglo-Saxon heroic tradition.
There are many important parallels between the Anglo-Saxon heroic tradition and the Irish heroic tradition. Unlike the Welsh, there are many major epics preserved from Irish mythology, giving us a more complete picture of the heroic ideals constructed in Ireland. The Táin bó Cuailgne (the Cattle Raid of Cooley), and the rest of the Ulster Cycle, represents the single most important epic in Irish myth, and is directly comparable to Beowulf. Certain later epics, such as Immram Curaig Máel Dúin (The Voyage of the Curragh of Máel Dúin), have a connection with some of the lesser Anglo-Saxon poetry, namely "The Wanderer."
The hero of the Ulster Cycle is Cúchullain, a young man who manages to hold back the entire army of Connaught by himself. Similarities between Cúchullain and Beowulf arise almost immediately. In Beowulf, the warriors of the hall of Hrothgar are paralyzed by Grendel¹s attacks, not being able to damage him, or deter him, from ruining their world. In the Táin, the men of Ulster are afflicted with labor pains (due to a particularly vehement curse by a woman) in the times of their worst difficulties, for "five days and four nights, or five nights and four days, the pangs lasted. For nine generations any Ulsterman in those pangs had no more strength than a woman on the bed of labour." (Kinsella, 8) Both of the kingdoms are in dire need of someone who can overcome the forces plaguing them, and defend them against the terror that threatens to destroy them. In Beowulf, it is a natural force (fear) and a supernatural terror. In the Táin, it is a supernatural force and a natural terror.
Beowulf is not only like Cúchullain in that he is the only man who can drive the terror away. He and Cúchullain each have a single major lapse in judgement, one that leads to much suffering in their respective societies. Beowulf, at the age of seventy, sets out to fight an enormous dragon with what amounts to a handful of followers, and dies for his pride and lack of care, effectively removing the respected head of the Geat nation. Cúchullain¹s rash attack on Connla, son of Aiofe, before he identifies him as his own son, ruins a potentially glorious future for the Ulstermen: "¹had I stayed among you five years, I would have slayed men on all sides, and you would have possessed kingdoms as far distant as Rome.¹" (Gantz, 151) Cúchullain¹s rashness, which served him so well in his previous endeavors, becomes his pitfall, much the same way as Beowulf¹s pride.
The actual circumstances of Beowulf¹s and Cúchullain¹s respective powers are rather different, however. Beowulf has the inborn strength of thirty men, but is of entirely mortal heritage (the son of Ecgtheow and a nameless woman), while Cúchullain has divine parentage as well as mortal. His mother, Deichtine, is given a drink that contains the essence of Lug mac Eithnenn (Lug Lonnansclech), one of the gods of pagan Ireland, and the essence implants itself in her, and is included as part of Cúchullain when he is conceived. Beowulf trains himself by action, whereas Cúchullain trains with the warrior-woman Scáthach, who teaches him all the tricks of battle, including the gae bolga, which eventually takes his son¹s life.
Beyond the differences in their conceptions and training, there are differences in the ideals presented by the two warriors. Beowulf is presented as being ever steadfast, not fearing death, and willing to lose friends in the defeat of a foe, if glory is earned for them by it. He proclaims to Hrothgar, "¹Wise sir, do not grieve. It is always better/to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning./For every one of us, living in this world/means waiting for our end. Let whoever can/win glory before death.¹" (Heaney, 97) Cúchullain, meanwhile, has a rather more sticky problem to deal with when he is forced to fight Ferdia mac Dámain, a foster-brother of his. Ferdia is summoned by Medb, the queen of Connaught, and is bribed into fighting Cúchullain at a ford he has been preventing the Connaughtmen from crossing. In the ensuing battle, Ferdia dies by the gae bolga, and Cúchullain exhibits a trait we do not see readily displayed in Beowulf: regret. Cúchullain had tried to convince Ferdia to run, to leave, to turn away and not fight him, whereas Beowulf always welcomed a challenge, no matter the odds. This seems almost to humanize the partially-divine Cúchullain, while Beowulf¹s nearly single-mindedness makes him take on a somewhat less human, more idealistic aspect.
In the comparison of the myths, one must also consider the lesser works: the epics and tales that are not the primary embodiment of a cultural ideal. In "The Wanderer," the focus is on a nameless warrior, a retainer, who has lost his lord in battle, and has not been able to avenge him. He feels a wretched distaste for life, but knows that he must survive, and find a new lord, and a new life, and a new faith in God. The bleakness of the poem is extremely introspective, the wanderer looking in at the waves in his own mind, while looking out at the waves on the empty ocean: "How loathsome become/the frozen waves to a weary heart." (Raffel and Olsen, 8) The Curaig is quite similar in theme, though not as introspective, as Máel Dúin discovers that his father has died without being avenged, essentially making him an outcast in society. He sets out on a great journey to discover the killer of his father but is driven away from his revenge by the presence of his foster-brothers, who alter the count of people on the curragh, and flout the prediction of the druid. He travels on the seas for months, moving from island to island, seeing wonder after wonder, and horror after horror, until he finally returns to his home. There, his people welcome him back with open arms, his journey having been the more honorable act than the actual slaying of his father¹s murderer.
The theme in "The Wanderer" is such that the poem hints at the beginning of new life after the bleakness of failure, that the sadness of the retainer¹s loss will be mitigated by the inevitable progress of his life. So, too, in the Curaig, this heroic tradition is carried on by the unstoppability of fate and time. The nameless man in "The Wanderer" is dishonored, certainly, by the unavenged death of his lord, but he can regain his honor by striving at the side of another lord, defending him where he failed before, or by following in the grace of God. Máel Dúin cannot replace the father he lost, but the honor he lost by leaving his father unavenged is recouped by the glorious visions he saw on his pagan-Christian voyage. He has returned to his people with something more than the head of his enemy, but with the experience of something vouchsafed to him by God.
As with the Welsh tradition, there are similarities between the Anglo-Saxon and Irish literature that seem to spring out of the texts. Unlike the characters in the Mabinogion, Beowulf and Cúchullain seem to be almost avatara, embodying almost completely the ideals of the people they represent. They are not faultless, of course, and any faults in their images are lessons for careful consideration: if Cúchullain¹s haste could ruin the future glory of the Irish, it could certainly ruin something smaller, but no less important, in one¹s own life. The two heroes, while certainly quite different in their styles and emotions and composition, bear a strange resemblance to one another. Cúchullain prefers to fight alone, leaving his charioteer behind (except in his slaughter of the army on the plain of Muirthemne), usually, and especially at the ford, when he fights the warriors of Connaught singly and together. Beowulf also prefers this autonomy in battle, placing himself where the fighting is thickest, struggling with Grendel¹s mother on his own, and attacking the dragon after most of his retinue had fled. The style of combat differs from the occasional single combat we see in the Mabinogion in that the actual act is much more important to both the Irish and Anglo-Saxon traditions.
There is one particular facet of battle-themes that is common to both Beowulf and a great deal of Irish folklore: the pre-battle rage. Cúchullain is possessed by what is termed the "warp-spasm," where he enters a nearly epileptic fit, shaking and trembling. He spins around inside his skin, and sucks one eye into his skull, shooting the other one out on its stalk, and he struck fire from his jaws. All his hair shot up, and a spout of blood rose from his head. (Kinsella, 150-3) This massive contortion is representative of an ancient tradition in which the participants in battle would attempt more and more exuberant ways of getting themselves ready for the contest; this appears in Beowulf, at least to some degree. Beowulf is generally in control of himself, very calm about his exploits and in his conduct (unlike the rash and unpredictable Cúchullain). A rage overtakes him in battle, but "such an element in accounts of heated battle should, on mature consideration, hardly seem surprising; this is almost universally part and parcel of poetic description of fierce combat, common in Western heroic literature since Homer." (Puhvel, 45) However, Beowulf does not seem to conform to the main body of Germanic literature in that he also experiences a curious tendency towards rage before a battle, something that is not generally seen outside of the Celtic mythologies in that part of the world. While the actions may not be so immensely horrific as those overtaking Cúchullain, it is still a rather pronounced difference from the almost clinical Beowulf one is familiar with. Heaney¹s translation gives the passage before the encounter with Grendel as "spoiling for action," (Heaney, l. 709), while Puhvel translates it as "awaited in swelling rage the ordeal of battle." (Puhvel, 46) In either case, Beowulf is quite eagerly awaiting the upcoming fight, and translates that into a measure of gearing himself up for the contest. He repeats this before the battle with the dragon, and about the battle with Grendel¹s mother. "It appears, then, that Beowulf¹s battle fury isŠ thought of as a mental state of some duration rather than merely the ferocity engendered by the heat of combat. Nowhere else in Anglo-Saxon literature do we meet this kind of battle rage." (Puhvel, 47) One must wonder if this were a portion of Celtic influence that slipped into the mind of the author, or if it were actually seen as a virtue among the warriors of the day. If it were the latter, it shows a larger amount of Celtic (specifically, Irish) influence on the societal structure of Anglo-Saxon England than may be currently considered.
Despite the deeper similarities, Anglo-Saxon literature and Irish literature have a great deal dividing them. As with the Welsh, the Irish epics tend to have an air of whimsy about them, even when they are discussing the bloody deaths of fifteen hundred soldiers at the hands of Cúchullain:
"In that style, then, he drove out [in his sickle-chariot] to find
his enemies and did his thunder-feat and killed a hundred, then
two hundred, then three hundred, then four hundred, then five
hundred, where he stopped he didn¹t think it too many to kill
in that first attack."
(Kinsella, 153-5)
To Cúchullain, fifteen hundred is a modest number, it appears. It appears almost as though the ideal Irish hero is playing war, rather than fighting it. Beowulf, on the other hand, is the cool, calm, deadly professional, who eventually makes a fatal mistake, just as Cúchullain¹s playing gets him in trouble later. This different approach to accounts of war seems to give evidence of a difference in the views of the hero and his role in war between the Irish and Anglo-Saxon cultures.
Again, one also sees a difference in the importance of personal achievement. While Cúchullain is an example of a character who exemplifies the honor that can be received from one¹s exploits, Máel Dúin and his comrades show the necessity for a concerted effort in the struggle for victory. The men on the curragh are not merely nameless retainers, ferrying the lord from one place to another, but they are active participants in the journey taking place. The only important aides in Beowulf are the one who gets eaten by Grendel, and Wiglaf, who saves Beowulf in the fight with the dragon. Very seldom does any major Celtic myth involve a single hero arrayed against terrible odds, unlike the tradition encapsulated by Beowulf.
In the cultures that inhabited the British Isles in the "Dark Ages," there were well-established heroic ideals, ones which were reflected in their literature and epic poetry. Some of these heroes had much in common with each other: cross-cultural similarity was quite common between the Anglo-Saxons and the cultures they alternately fought and allied with. Over the course of years, certain elements almost definitely blended with each other in the newer cultures of the Angles and the Saxons. Many specifically Anglo-Saxon virtues remained intact, from the traditions of the poets to the expectations for a hero. Even so, the influence of contemporary cultures could not be completely resisted, and some themes, such as the pre-battle rage, may have entered into the culture from the Celtic heroic tradition.
Bibliography
Evans, Stephen S. The Heroic Poetry of Dark-Age Britain. New York:University Press of America, Inc., 1997.
Gantz, Jeffrey. Early Irish Myths and Sagas. New York: Penguin, 1981.
Gray, Elizabeth A., trans. Cath Maige Tuiread: The Second Battle of Mag Tuired. Dublin: Irish Texts Society, vol. II, 1982.
Heaney, Seamus, trans. Beowulf. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2000.
Kinsella, Thomas, trans. The Táin. New York: Oxford University Press, 1969.
Oskamp, H. P. A, trans. The Voyage of Máel Dúin. Groningen: Wolters-Noordhoff Publishing, 1970.
Puhvel, Martin. Beowulf and Celtic Tradition. Waterloo, Ontario, Canada:Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1979.
Raffel, Burton, trans., and Alexandra Olsen. Poems and Prose from the Old English. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998.
Rummons, Constance. "Ethnic Ideals of the British Isles" in Nebraska University: Studies in Language, Literature, and Criticism. Lincoln, Nebraska: (unlisted), 1920.