It had two fundamental materials. ‘Historial’ legend and Fairy Story. The ‘historial legend’ is derived ultimately from traditions about real men, real events, real policies, in actual geographical lands – but it has passed through the minds of poets. How far the historical realities of character and event have been preserved (more than some suppose, I fancy) in this way is a different question. The Fairy Story (or Folk-tale if you prefer that name) has at any rate been altered: for in this case it has been welded into the ‘history’. And not, I think, for the first time by our poet. Beowulf and the Monster were already grafted onto the court of Heorot before ever he made this poem. But however it was done, by one poet or a succession of them, it caused great changes not only of detail but of tone. And it did not leave the history unaffected. You have only to consider how different is magic, faerie, and the like when it takes place in the court of Camelot in the time of Arthur, that are placed in history and geography, from a mere fairy-tale; and how different is the atmosphere of Arthur’s court for all its atmosphere of ‘history’ because of this fairy-element, to understand what I mean. And then – above it all, working on this powerful blend, is the latest poet, our poet, the Mallory of the Heorot legends, with his contemporary ideas of virtue and courtesy, and his theology, and his own particular apprehension (often of dramatic cast) of the characters: his Hrothgar, his Beowulf. Only if we keep these three things in mind shall we really understand these conversations and speeches, Wulfgar, Beowulf, Hrothgar, Unferth. Behind the stern young pride of Beowulf, on the surface credible enough, lies the roughness of the uncouth fairy-tale champion thrusting his way into the house. Behind the courtesies (tinged with irony) of Hrothgar lies the incredulity of the master of the haunted house; behind his lament for his vanished knights lurk still the warnings given to frighten off the new-comer, with stories of how everyone who has tried to deal with the monster has come to a bad end.
I shall analyze the first speech of Beowulf to Hrothgar, and Hrothgar’s reply, in a moment, to show what I mean – and specially so as to make a guess at what Hrothgar really meant at the end of his reply.
Of course, care is taken to make Beowulf fit the ‘historial’ background. His father is made to have been a refugee at the Danish court. He himself is a nephew of the ruling king of Gautland,15 grandson of the late king Hrethel. The very political relations between Gautland and Denmark are used to provide a machinery by which Hrothgar can know something about him – and so reveal it to us indirectly. Yet the fairy-story element peeps out through every chink. What did the diplomatic exchanges between the courts of Denmark and Gautland enable Hrothgar to learn? That the king’s nephew was a man to keep his eye on, enjoying considerable popularity; likely to become a power in the land later, older than the king’s own son Heardred, but apparently so far loyal, and not likely to try to seize the throne? Yes, but not here. Here we learn only that the king’s nephew possessed the pure fairy-story characteristic of having thirty men’s strength in his hands!
At least that is so in the part of the poem we are considering. But the interweaving of ‘history and politics’ is continual. The emissaries evidently did bring back political news as well as tidings of ‘faerie’. Policy is not forgotten. The folk-tale champion is also the prince of a real kingdom. Policy is one of the strands of Hrothgar’s long sermon (1426 ff., *1700 ff.) – against misplaced pride and unjust ambition. The dynastic situation in Gautland is plainly alluded to in Hrothgar’s farewell speech 1546–53, *1844–53. And this very element, noble loyalty, which is part of Beowulf’s character as a political person, is brought suddenly into connexion with his most folklore-like talent (his strength of grip) in Beowulf’s own speech. We learn that his contest with Grendel is to be a gripping-match, no courtly affair of arms. ‘Folk-tale here!’ we may cry. But Beowulf, as he is now conceived, has his answer ready. Grendel does not know how to use civilized weapons. I will take no unfair advantage, not as I hope ever to keep the esteem of my liege-lord, Hygelac! (350 ff., *433 ff.).
And then we come to a new and very fascinating character, Unferth. To which book does he belong? The Book of Kings, or Tales of Wonder? It is very difficult to decide – for Unferth is the actual link between the two worlds. He is balanced precisely between them.
His function in the story as we have it is clear enough. He is an important person in the Danish court. He is a þyle [see p. 138, footnote], and as such it is his place to know all about people. His character (envy) and his function (knowledge of men and realms) are made the machinery by which we get further information to complete our picture of Beowulf the Strong; and the ‘flyting’ [contention, wrangling] that ensues is made to bring Beowulf to the point of a ‘vow’, made before the court, that he will at once (ungeára nú *602, ‘ere long’ 488) tackle Grendel. He cannot back out of that, and Hrothgar is at last really convinced. His wén (*383, ‘hope’ 308) becomes certainty, for now Beowulf’s determination is beyond doubt (495–6, *609–10).
But if we look closer and consider other details we shall find much to ponder. My own view is that Unferth is a composite character – in this tale a figure produced by the contact of the two elements: courtly and fairy story. He is thus very similar to Beowulf himself, and like him is not (evidently) entirely fictitious. He had a father Ecglaf (see the note to 406), and he had brothers. The story that he slew them [477–8, *587] – a very startling fact or accusation – can hardly have been invented for this occasion. There was, we must suppose (it is natural and not peculiar to Old English legend), a tendency, in a period when genealogies, often long, and the interrelations of families, were still a part of native lore and learning, for figures of fiction – derived from folk-tale, or merely from poetic-dramatic treatment of ‘history’ – to become blended with minor more or less historical characters. It is to the dramatization by poets of historial legend, rather than to folk-tale, that on his fictitious side Unferth belongs. His name is significant because it is ‘significant’, that is: has a name suitable to his function. Unferth means Unpeace, Quarrel; and the first thing we hear of him is that he unloosed a spell for the creating of strife (407; onband beadurúne *501). The name was made for the figure: a sinister figure in the renowned court of Heorot. It does not occur elsewhere (and even in our text is always written Hunferð, a not uncommon name, in spite of the alliteration). It does not occur in Scandinavia, though Unferth is here a great person in a famous Danish court.
Evidently he is largely a creation, an element in the ominous situation at Heorot, as it was dramatized by English poets: a literary relative of those wicked counsellors that have the ear of aged kings. In poems dealing with Heorot as such, with the doom of the Scyldings, with the old king, his young heir Hrethric, and the powerful figure of Hrothulf [son of Halga, Hrothgar’s brother], the scheming nephew in the background, it is likely enough that Unferth had a part to play, quite apart from his appearance in Beowulf. So far he comes out of ‘historial’ legend, with perhaps some actual historical features attached. But here he comes out of the Tales of Wonder, not the Book of Kings. The things he knows and reveals about Beowulf come out of northern legend.
[In the passage that follows my father was touching obliquely on the intricate matter of the relationship of an episode in Beowulf (the descent of the hero into the mere where the monsters dwelt) to the story found in Scandinavian folk-tales, and in particular that in the Icelandic Grettis Saga. That these narratives are related is universally agreed; and remote as they are in all the circumstances, an extraordinary linguistic connexion survived. This lies in the word hæftméce, found nowhere else in Old English, applied to the sword Hrunting, and the Icelandic word heptisax, found nowhere else in Norse, defined in the text as a broadsword with a handle (haft) of wood – but in the saga with a different significance in the story.]
What is more, he is the possessor of the curious weapon Hrunting, the hæftméce (*1457, ‘that hafted blade’ 1215), which evidently played a definite part in the fairy-story of the des
cent into the magic cave. Not in ‘the general folk-tale’, but in a particular northern form of it from which our Beowulf derives; for in the Icelandic form the heptisax reappears (though with a different function). I suspect that on this side Unferth represents the traitor, who after leading the hero to the cave, deserts him, leaving him to his fate (e.g. cutting or letting go of the rope by which he descended). Of that in our tale nothing is left save the fact that the hæftméce on which Beowulf had depended failed him altogether. The desertion is glossed over and obscured: nothing is left of it save the fact that the Danes assumed that all was over with Beowulf and went home (1341–3, *1600–2).
This is guesswork. And all the more difficult because doubtless the alterations that have been made on both sides, the courtly and the fairy-story, as a result of their fusion, are the result of a process, not of one poet’s work. Nonetheless, I do not think we can understand the ‘flyting’ of Beowulf and Unferth, or fully appreciate the use our poet has made of the situation, without considering such matters.
But in Beowulf as it is, it is even more interesting to consider the dramatic use that the author makes of Unferth, a use all the more effective because he did not have to invent him: he was already there in Heorot, stories of which were well-known to the author’s audience.
The men of the Geats were sitting on a bench together (398–9, *491–2); Beowulf himself was in an honourable place (as we learn in his report to Hygelac, 1690–2, *2011–13) beside Hrothgar’s young son: thus not far from the king himself, and near to Unferth, who sat at the king’s feet (406–7, *500). Unferth’s outburst is thus not bellowed at Beowulf from a distance – a savage discourtesy which would not have been tolerated by Hrothgar. He spoke clearly, with malice, but not at first outward discourtesy, certainly not with violence. (His chief object was the ears of the king and the chief people nearby.) Correctly read, his words should begin in an outwardly polite tone, so that they might be taken at first by hearers to be courteous, even admiring. In more or less modern terms: ‘Are you the great Beowulf, the one who had that famous swimming match with Breca?’ Since clearly Breca (historical or not does not here matter) was a famous character in tales of swimming and sea-hunting, this would sound complimentary enough, and men near would prick up their ears. Note then with what art the tone is shifted. It was a mad prank. Then comes the lie (as it is meant to be taken): ‘Breca beat you, he was the stronger’. This would be said in a matter of fact tone – befitting one who just reports facts (which it was the function of a þyle to know and remember). Breca’s position as an independent chieftain is added to make the lie more convincing (423–6, *520–3). Only at the end (426–31, *523–8) does Unferth’s tone become more malicious and menacing or contemptuous. But at no point does he shout or bluster.
On the other hand, Beowulf shows resentment at once. He begins with an accusation that Unferth has drunk too much. He continues in a louder and more combative tone and style than Unferth had yet used, by giving his own account. Read aloud, it is almost impossible not to feel and not to represent the rising passion of Beowulf, as he recalls the events. And then being now fully heated with wrath, he turns on Unferth personally. Each sentence rises to a new point of scorn and anger, until at last forgetful of all courtesy he speaks in contempt of Danish courage, and vows to oppose Grendel with Geatish valour.
The ‘flyting’ is a memorable passage, very good even by modern standards, though we may tend to criticize it: for instance, in the somewhat repetitive references to the swimming in the sea. Yet it must be remembered that though ‘dramatic’ this is not drama, but narrative poetry (or mouth-filling rhetoric). In the economy of the tale it has, of course, a narrative function: Unferth touches off the spark of Beowulf’s passionate (but not savage!) nature, and brings him to the point of a public vow to challenge Grendel at once. From that he cannot recede. More, we now really meet and know Beowulf and his character. Steadfast, loyal, chivalrous (according to the sentiment of the author’s time), but with a smouldering fire. He is on the good side: his enemies are wild beasts, monstrous and evil creatures, or his king’s and people’s foes. But when roused he is capable of violent and superhuman action. If he does not wholly follow the sober counsels of wisdom,16 he satisfies their most important prescription. He speaks gilp (proud vows) in the heat of his heart but he performs his vow – even to his last day, when it cost him his life.
300 while he was yet a boy; *372 cnihtwesende
It is not easy to imagine how Hrothgar knew Beowulf as a ‘boy’ – whatever precise age that may mean. If Beowulf had ever before been to Denmark to Hrothgar’s court – e.g. with his father when Ecgtheow was a refugee – it is odd that he never alludes to this. If Hrothgar ever paid a visit to the (on the whole) hostile court of Hrethel, that also would be curious; and also is not mentioned.
It is possible that the poet merely wanted to introduce some facts about Beowulf and found the speeches of Hrothgar a convenient and dramatic method, without considering the details of his machinery very closely. But I do not think that is really the case. It would have been easy to bring on any other character (e.g. one of those who had been on the mission to Geatland (303–4, *377–9) to give the required information. More likely is it that Beowulf had already been given a place in the legends of Denmark and Geatland before our poet handled the tale; and is here (in his manner) merely giving selections from and allusions to other accounts. I think that Beowulf is meant to have been at Hrothgar’s court as a young child. He may not remember much about it or the causes of his father’s holiday abroad; but sóhte holdne wine (*376) says Hrothgar: ‘he has come back to visit a friend who has not forgotten him’ [cf. the translation 302–3, ‘seeking a friend and patron’]. In that case Ðonne ‘Then’(*377) is clearer – ‘Then later on’ when Hrothgar got a chance of learning more he heard that the little lad had grown up to be a champion wrestler. [Cf. the translation 303–6, ‘Voyagers by sea . . . have since reported that he hath in the grasp of his hand the might and power of thirty men.’]
301 his only daughter; *375 ángan dohtor
Real kings have ‘only daughters’; and this only daughter was not quite of the kind frequently met in fairy-tale, the only daughter who is also an only child, with whom the lucky suitor eventually obtains the kingdom too. Hrethel’s daughter is however nameless. She is also the link between Beowulf and the kingdom of the Geats, which Beowulf (though not his father) does in the end obtain. She may be not unfairly regarded as a fairy-tale element – we do not know Ecgtheow’s story or how he won the hand of King Hrethel’s daughter, though there probably was a tale to it – yet she may be fictitious: a mere link forged later between legend and the historical dynasty of Hrethel and his three sons, the last Geatish actors in the ancient feud between Swedes and Geats.
As a matter of history this feud seems to have ended more or less in favour of the Swedes, with the extinction of the separate line of Geatish kings and the union of the territories in one kingdom. In some ways an earlier counterpart of England and Scotland; but with a difference. The crown and capital remained in the North; the king called himself king of Swedes and Geats (in Latin Suio-Gothorum); and to a certain extent separate laws and customs lived on in the southern land. About the last figures in the ancient Geatish dynasty and their fall legend evidently gathered early. If there was any historical basis for Beowulf, the last king whose fall presaged the end of the people’s independence (as is clearly foreshadowed in the poem Beowulf), it must be in some character, not of the direct royal line, who for a while maintained a precarious position afar the Swedish invasion in which the last legitimate king, Heardred son of Hygelac, was slain, the father having lost his own life and his fleet in the rash raid on the Low Countries. [See the note on 213.]
But even if Beowulf has that much history behind him he is in the main a figure of fairy-story who has crept into the place of this far off and forgotten Hereward the Wake: a monster-slayer, and a dragon-slayer. And even of the eldest son of Hrethel
, Herebeald, the story told (the accidental arrow) has a smack of legend, whatever we may think of the historicity of the death of William Rufus. And there is too much of the ánga dohtor. Not only does Hrethel present his only daughter to a champion Ecgtheow; but his son Hygelac presents his only daughter to a champion Eofor (2518–9, *2997).
It seems probable that there has been duplication here. In some way the tradition of the marriage of the king’s only daughter to a champion has become attached to both Hrethel and the next king Hygelac. Possibly the stories of Ecgtheow and Eofor are in some ways duplicates. In any case the ‘only daughter’ who was given to Eofor (together with a rich reward in land or money, 2514–16) for the slaying of the Swedish king Ongentheow cannot have been a child of Hygd ‘the very young’ (1619), who was Hygelac’s wife at the time of our story, and who was the mother of Heardred, a man much younger than Beowulf. [See the note to 1666–7.]
303–4 gifts and treasures for the Geats; *378 gifsceattas Géata
gifsceattas Géata must be taken as meaning ‘gifts for the Geats’, as is seen by þyder to þance *379. The political situations are not clear. In general coldness, if not hostility, would appear to have been the relations between Danes and Geats. Natural enough: they were neighbours. Also there was a matrimonial alliance between the Swedish Scylfing house and the Danish Scylding house. Hrothgar’s own sister according to that account had married a Scylfing prince; and if the probable guess that he was none other than Onela is right [see note to 48–9] she was the wife of a prince who had a mortal feud against Hygelac son of Hrethel – at the very moment when Beowulf arrived in Denmark – the nephew and devoted knight of Hygelac, conqueror and ‘slayer’ (by the hands of his vassal Eofor) of Onela’s father! Hrothgar hints that there had been hostility which Beowulf had now put to rest.17 Hostility fits the situation well enough. Where then does the taking of gifts over sea fit in? Note that to þance does not necessarily mean ‘in thanks’, but ‘to gain or express goodwill’. [Cf. the translation, 304: ‘in token of good will’.]
Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, together with Sellic Spell Page 20
