In many phrases wyrd, grammatically personalized, thus practically functions as a substitute for the passive, with ‘unnamed’ agent: *572 wyrd oft nereð . . . eorl þonne his ellen deah, ‘a man will often be preserved if his courage does not fail’ [translation of the poem, 465–6, ‘fate oft saveth a man not doomed to die, when his valour fails not’]; *1205 hine wyrd fornam, ‘he was destroyed’ [996 ‘fate took him’]; *2574 swá him wyrd ne gescráf, ‘as was not appointed for him’ [2163 ‘for him fate decreed it not’].
But here I am deliberately minimizing. It is far from the whole story: wyrd means ‘a happening’, event, and it can still be used as just that: *3029–30 hé ne léag fela wyrda né worda ‘he did not conceal anything of what had occurred or been said’ [translation 2546 ‘. . . of what had chanced or had been said’]. But it has other meanings, such as Death (so *2420 wyrd ungemete néah, 2037 ‘the fate very nigh indeed’); and can be spoken of as a ‘power’ or an ordinance in itself, or as subordinate to, or even equated with Metod or other words commonly used as synonyms of God, even with God. (The clearest case of ‘subordination’ is *1056, nefne him wítig God wyrd forstóde, 861–2 ‘had not the foreseeing God . . . fended fate from them’ – if wyrd does not simply mean ‘death’). See further the note to 465–6.
369 for my deserts; *457 For gewyrhtum
[In place of the meaningless reading of the manuscript fere fyhtum my father accepted the emendation for gewyrhtum ‘because of my meritorious deeds’.]
It may be observed that Beowulf himself had made no mention of this motive of gratitude (335 ff., *415 ff.). He had said that the counsellors of his realm had urged him to go because he was a strong man, successful in fights with monsters. Hrothgar’s reply is intentionally made a little cool, and tinged with irony, in contrast to his hopeful welcoming to Beowulf’s arrival in his reply to Wulfgar (306–8; *381–4). Though it is in accordance with the poet’s economy only to introduce information about Ecgtheow gradually, the abrupt way in which the indebtedness of Beowulf’s father to himself is at once introduced in Hrothgar’s answer makes it an obvious reproof, even if smilingly spoken.
Hrothgar’s thought may be represented thus: ‘He should have mentioned his father and all that I did for him. He looks as strong as reports have made him, and he is very self-confident. Like these young men, I doubt if he realizes the terror of Grendel; and certainly he has no pity for my shame.’ He replies, in modern terms: ‘My dear Beowulf! How good of you to come to this country, where we once had the honour of receiving your father and helping him in his troubles. Some may remember his killing of Heatholaf. Your people were glad to get rid of him after that, and he took refuge here. But that, of course, was long ago, when I had only recently succeeded my dear brother. I settled the matter at some cost of treasure, and your father swore allegiance to me. As for Grendel, it is painful to be reminded of the shame he has put me to. But rumours can hardly have equalled the truth: he has killed hosts of men, many of them knights of great fame and courage. Over and over again all that has been left of them in the morning has been pools of blood in the hall. Well, well: take a seat now, and something to eat and drink. (It is not night yet.) In due time you can turn your mind to adding to your triumphs – if you are keen to try it.’
377 Heorogar; *467 Heregar
The correct form of the name appears to have been Heorogar [heoru ‘sword’], as in 47 (*61) and 1813 (*2158, Hiorogar). Variation in the form of personal names, even well-known ones, by which the first element preserves the alliteration but is changed into some other more or less similar element, is frequent. It is nonetheless a form of error, of scribal origin: the actual names of individuals no doubt had one correct form only, for formal use. Confusion of heoro- and here- was specially easy, since they looked much alike, while both belonged to a similar sphere of meaning. here ‘army’ remained in use, but heoru as a separate word was virtually obsolete even in verse; it occurs once in Beowulf, *1285 (1070). It was still very frequent in verse-compounds, but most of them show that the actual meaning of heoru was forgotten, and heoro- imparts only a vague sense of ‘grim, cruel, blood’, or seems actually to be taken to mean here- (war-host).
386–7 God may easily . . .; *478 God éaþe mæg . . .
The exact sense and implication of this is not certain. The strictly literal equivalent is ‘God can (has the power) easily to do this.’ It may seem unreasonable to object that to the Almighty degrees of ease or difficulty are inapplicable; nonetheless I doubt if éaþe here has the (in the situation rather absurd) sense ‘easily, without difficulty’: éaþe very frequently and mæg in many cases are used of possibility and probability (in circumstances) rather than of facility and personal ability. In that case éaþe will be nearer to ‘well’ as in ‘he may well come’, ‘it may well be that’, and mæg to ‘may’, so that a nearer rendering would be ‘God may well do this’ – the unknown element being not God’s power but His will. In any case in emotion and purpose this is a cry for pity, though it is not put into the form of a prayer. It is, if you like, a pious statement, which God may hear, and (maybe) will be moved by.
395–7; *489–90 [The concluding words of Hrothgar’s first speech to Beowulf]
[I give first the Old English lines, *489–90, as they appear in the manuscript. My father discussed at length the problem of the passage and his solution of it in his lectures on the textual ‘cruces’ in Beowulf, and more briefly in his general commentary. In this case I include here from the former his discussion of what the king is likely to have said to Beowulf (with this compare the note to 369), before turning to his interpretation of the Old English words (this latter being given in abbreviated form).
Site nú tó symle ond on sǽl meoto
sigehréð secgum swá þín sefa hwette.]
It would now be proper to make some preliminary conjectures concerning what Hrothgar is likely to have said at this point. His speech in general is an antistrophe to Beowulf’s opening address. What Beowulf said in précis was this: ‘I have come a long way to pit myself against Grendel. I have already had experience in monster-fighting. I hope to be successful, but (modestly) of course one never knows.’ The last part is expressed with elaborate courtesy: ‘God will decide. Grendel will of course eat us Geats, if he can. In that case you will be troubled with me no longer, and will not have to feed me. Send my corslet back to Hygelac, it belonged to his father. Things will go as fate orders.’
Under the cover of the elaborate speech and courtesy there is heard the proud confidence of a strong young champion; and also further back and fainter the voice of the fairy-story: the ‘unlikely lad’, the lumpish and greedy bearboy, who is a trouble to keep and feed, but who is now offering to earn his keep (or put an end to it) by trying his hand against the monster that has so far defeated all comers.
What does Hrothgar answer? First he politely points out that he has a right to accept Beowulf’s offer: he had befriended his father.31 This is not derived from the fairy-story, but is part of the cement which has been devised for fixing the fairy-story element firmly in its place in the background of ‘historial’ legend. A passage follows which is more closely derived from fairy-story: the would-be champion is warned of the terrible power of the monster, 381–95, *473–88. Into this is inserted God éaþe mæg . . . [see note to 386–7], which seems to have been added to define Hrothgar’s attitude to wyrd (wyrd says the king, ‘but only because God has allowed Grendel to do this’), and as an answer to Beowulf’s words 355–6 and 367 (*440–1, *455). Then Hrothgar winds up with the obscure words that we have to interpret. Keeping, as far as possible, in mind the old fairy-story element, and the courtly background, and the situation in this story as this poet has chosen to tell it – what is Hrothgar most likely to have said?
Undoubtedly the most likely thing is this: ‘Many have feasted here and vowed to meet Grendel. Each time blood in the hall was all that remained of them next morning. But do you sit down now and feast. Later you can turn you
r mind to your boast / or to battle, if you have the heart for it.’ It is to be noted that it was only later when Beowulf reaffirmed his vow that Hrothgar rejoiced, and decided that the young man really meant it (495–6, *609–10). [See note to 290–1, p. 208.]
Hrothgar might, of course, have said other things. For instance: ‘Listen to and ponder the glorious songs of my minstrels (they will uplift your heart).’ A minstrel does in fact begin to sing (403, *496). Or he may have said: ‘Speak freely to men in the hall, telling tales of victory, not excluding your own feats, such as you have alluded to.’ This might be felt to give special point to Unferth’s outburst. As soon as he could get a hearing, after the scop had finished, the þyle put in his word: it was his place to know all about people. But he was angry. Hrothgar (on this view) had invited the stranger to tell men all about his adventures.
Among these alternatives – which are the most likely, and indeed the only senses (I think) which, even with torture, the manuscript words can be forced to yield – the first remains overwhelmingly more probable. The minstrel does sing with a clear voice, but only as the normal accompaniment of a feast: his song is not reported or made significant. The malice of Unferth needed no presidential courtesy to whet it. Indeed his outburst really comes in better as a more violent and discourteous form of Hrothgar’s warning (according to the first alternative above). ‘Yes,’ he says in effect, ‘you heard what the king said: blood on the benches in the morning. You are a fine fellow, no doubt, but not as fine as you think you are. You have not always come off best. And you will not come off best with Grendel – if you do later find you have the heart to sit up for him.’
There are more extant solutions and proposals concerning this troublesome passage than there are words in it, – to mention only the better.
The central difficulty is meoto. There is only one certainty: Site nú tó symle ond . . . shows that another imperative singular must follow. This can only be extracted from on sǽl or meoto. Examination of the possibilities shows that onsǽl cannot be an imperative singular, nor meoto a noun (which it would have to be if onsǽl were a verb). If then meoto is an imperative singular it must stand for or be a slight error for meota in dialectal form (left unchanged as usual when the scribe like the editors could not identify the word): i.e. the imperative singular of *meotian = West Saxon *metian. Now such a word would have an excellent etymology: it would correspond exactly to Gothic mitón ‘deliberate, ponder, consider’. What is more, it actually occurs in the Old English poem Genesis, line 1917, imperative singular geþanc meta þíne móde, of which the sense is ‘ponder the thought in your mind’; on sǽl then means ‘in due time’.
A subsidiary difficulty is sige hréð secgum. In this the object of meta/meota must be found. sigehréð secgum ‘victory for men’ is possible. But to my mind it seems plain that sige Hréðsecgum ‘victory for the Hrethmen’ [see the note to 358–9] is meant. (For the addition of a word meaning ‘man’ to a tribal name note that this occurs immediately afterwards in Géatmæcgum *491, 398.)
Beowulf is to turn his thoughts to winning a victory for the Geats, where so many others have failed. In this case Hrothgar is actually recalling Beowulf’s expression mægen Hréðmanna (*445, 359): ‘I expect that he will if he can manage it, as he has done to men before, eat the troop of the Hrethmen’ says Beowulf, modestly. ‘When the time comes contrive victory for the Hrethmen, if your heart has the courage’ rejoins Hrothgar. The phrase is similar.
Finally, hwette is here present subjunctive (of the yet unrealized future), ‘according as (= if) your heart may egg you’. hwettan is a strong word, (to whet, incite egg on), and quite unsuitable to most other interpretations of the passage.32
406 Unferth, son of Ecglaf; *499 Unferð, Ecgláfes bearn
Quite contrary to his usual manner the author suddenly produces Unferth ‘out of his hat’, without warning and with his full style: name and patronymic. This exceptional procedure must be significant. Certainly it shows that Unferth son of Ecglaf was already a well-known figure in the court of Heorot before ever our author wrote his Beowulf. No visit to Heorot would be complete without a glimpse of him – it would be like going to Camelot and never hearing of Sir Kay. The audience was waiting for his appearance, and now would be eagerly attentive. He had a traditional temper of mind and behaviour already attached to him (as rough discourtesy was attached to Kay): envious, intelligent, but malicious and ‘worm-tongued’. What would he say?
Less certainly, but probably, this was how he usually made his appearance: a watchful man, sitting ‘at the feet of the king’, unobtrusively, hardly noticed at first by strangers, listening to all that was said, and careful to wait before speaking, until his entry would be most effective. The patronymic was important, because it was connected with sinister traditions about his dealings with his kin – that belonged to him personally, quite apart from his connexion with the Grendel-story.
Whether he has an historical ‘kernel’ (likely enough) or not, Unferth belongs primarily to the politico-dynastic side of the English traditions concerning the Scyldings and the court of Heorot. But when tales of the Grendel-kind became attached in legend to Heorot, it was probably inevitable, from his position there, that he should become involved in them also. It seems unlikely that our poet was the first handler of the Heorot-story to make this link. In that case some contact or clash between Beowulf, the bane of Grendel, and Unferth must already have become part of the tradition. But it is probable that the clash and ‘flyting’ was made much more important than it had been, by our author. He evidently took much trouble with it; he made it into one of his major set-pieces, and did not disappoint the interest he had aroused with his lines 406–7 (*499–501).
The originality of the author of our Beowulf was probably not shown at any point by sheer invention (even of minor characters or events), but by (1) making the centre the Grendel theme, previously only one of the accretions to the Heorot-story, and to it incidental: its two main pivots had been the Heathobard feud; and the ambition of Hrothulf and the ruinous kin-strife after Hrothgar’s death. (2) enriching the whole poem with references to other cycles of story. Not only to the Geatish-Swedish feud, which the placing of Beowulf as his central character naturally involved; but to important items in English (Offa) and Jutish and Frisian story (Hengest); as well as occasional references to Swedish, Danish and Gothic tradition, or other minor peoples (Wendlas, Wylfingas, Helmingas, etc.). So that (as we still feel, though our sight is now blurred and the landscape darkened) his poem is like a play in a room through the windows of which a distant view can be seen over a large part of the English traditions about the world of their original home.
Ecglaf may sound like an invented counterpart to Ecgtheow. But the resemblance is probably purely accidental – supporting rather than casting doubt on the view that the ‘historical’ placing of the two characters (Unferth and Beowulf) were processes independent of their passing contact. An invented similarity would have been made more of.
452 ff.; *555 ff. [Beowulf’s fight with a sea-beast]
A good example of the difficulty of understanding Beowulf (and of translating it). The obstacles are often, as here, of two kinds. The author is referring to things or actions very well known to himself and his audience, and therefore has no need to be precise; but we may be quite unfamiliar with them. He can therefore afford to be literary or ‘poetical’ in what he says: that is, not put things in an obvious way; but his and his contemporaries’ notions of literary style may be quite alien to our taste or habit. We may thus get (or feel we are getting) a crabbed line or two, about something which we dimly see or not at all.
We are, or at any rate I am, not familiar, as actor or onlooker, with savage infighting with a sword. Nor indeed with swords in their variety. But it does not take a great effort of imagination to get some idea of Beowulf’s predicament. He was seized by a sea-beast of great strength, and no doubt held close. It took great strength to resist the grip sufficiently, to preven
t himself being gored or bitten; but he had only one hand; the other held a naked sword (439, *539). That is a weapon at least two feet long. Only by a great effort could he retract this so as to level the point (453, orde *556) at his enemy; there would then be little if any striking-distance, and to thrust this through the tough hide would require very great strength of hand and arm. It was a great feat. But it is recorded (hardly ‘described’!) in the words: ‘fast the grim thing held me in its gripe. Nonetheless, it was granted to me to find that fell slayer with point of warlike sword; the battle’s onset destroyed that strong beast of the sea through this my hand’ (451–4). The great strength of hand in this one terrific jab is (or was for the poet’s audience) emphasized by the curious impersonal expression; the desperate effort to make a moment’s opportunity for the jab is (simultaneously with Beowulf’s ‘sportsman’s modesty’ of expression) exhibited in hwæþre mé gyfeþe wearð . . . (*555), ‘Nonetheless it was granted to me . . .’ (452). I suppose that in modern terms the nearest would be ‘Yet a chance came for me’, or ‘Yet I found a chance to get my sword’s point into the beast’.
465–6 Fate oft saveth a man not doomed to die, when his valour fails not; *572–3 Wyrd oft nereð unfǽgne eorl, þonne his ellen déah
Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, together with Sellic Spell Page 23
