How do we know what dragons do? Ancient sources all around the world (but chiefly in Europe and China) speak of dragons, those rare creatures that are combinations of serpent and lizard. Little detail is provided, though, in old sources. Chinese dragons are peaceful and wise, the totems of the Imperial dynasties. They benevolent, and perhaps for that reason, they are worshipped. They have beards and tusks but they do not have wings, although in some stories they can fly.
European dragons, by contrast, are rotten to the core. They have wings and they usually can spout flames. They eat livestock, and in later stories, they eat young girls. Having a dragon in the neighborhood was a disaster, and it was imperative to kill the dragon as soon as possible.
The oldest European stories and the most local legends give few details beyond this basic outline. We get a few accounts outside of Beowulf’s. Some lines in the obscure Old English poem “Solomon and Saturn” tell how a hero killed twenty-five dragons in a remote plain. Since that time, no one can find the place but all dragons come from there. A short section in The Wonders of the East alleges that dragons are all born on an island somewhere in the Indian Ocean, where also headless men live. These dragons are 150 feet long and as thick as pillars. The Liber Monstrorum describes serpents that contain some of the traits of mythical dragons. Some are 120 feet long, some have poisonous breath, some are studded with emeralds, and some are born in cold lands and roam the rocky land, looking for hiding places and food. If a dragon is a type of serpent, then here perhaps are some details, and yet in the Liber Monstrorum, they are never called dragons (draca).
The dragon of Beowulf is, then, one of the earliest detailed portraits of a European dragon. It is clearly an animal; it acts by nature, not by intelligent thought. It does not appear to talk, at least there is no reported speech. It is long (fifty feet) and thin, and it can crawl on the ground, perhaps smelling for the trail of the thief. Just as Grendel’s appearance was not described, neither is the dragon’s. Does he have horns, or ridges on his back? Perhaps. Does he have claws? Is he brightly colored? Probably; the closing lines suggest color (3040). Does he have a beard, like a Chinese dragon? He might. All we know for sure is that he has teeth, wings, and flames.
Its chief trait is its fond attachment (to the point of obsession) to its treasure. When the slave stumbled on the hoard’s open door, he took away a treasure cup. The dragon finds this item missing and goes out to search. When it cannot find the thief, it takes to the air; although wings are not described, this dragon can fly. It breathes fire, and burning up towns and halls. Fire is the dragon’s chief weapon, but it has also sharp teeth and jaws large enough to bite through a man’s neck, and with snake-like venom.
The Anglo-Saxon audience was sympathetic to the motive of revenge. Then why were they not sympathetic to the dragon’s passion over his missing treasure cup? Think back over the many actions and stories throughout this poem. One of the morals that the characters and the narrator are always voicing is that treasure is for giving. No one who hoards treasure will find sympathy. Revenge is appropriate for a person’s death, but not for the loss of treasure. Treasure is to be used to create bonds of loyalty. Hoarding it is just plain wrong, even if you’re a dragon.