Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, together with Sellic Spell

by J. R. R. Tolkien

  The ‘Christian’ part of the sermon is very interesting. It serves to complete (before we finally part from him) the portrait of the patriarchal Hrothgar. But (as we shall see) it raises in very special and acute fashion the questions (a) whether our ‘Beowulf’ has been tinkered with since it was composed: that is, touched up by another poet – I am not speaking of mere scribal corruption and copying; (b) whether it was known and imitated by other poets still extant; and (c) whether Cynewulf is concerned in either or both of the two preceding processes.

  On the question of the fusion of Scripture and northern mythology, of Cain-Grendel and the Giants, I have already said what I think in The Monsters and the Critics.

  The main Scriptural source of the reference to Giants is Genesis vi.4 (possibly connected with iv.22 and the reference to Tubal-Cain (sixth generation in descent from Cain) ‘instructor of every artificer in brass and iron’). But as I have said elsewhere the main defect of our criticism is ignorance of the native mythology. In Old English we have nothing to go upon, save these same scant and already blended references which we are trying to understand. Outside, we have chiefly Old Norse (preserved late). I do not doubt that English tradition agreed in what one might call the philosophical principle with Old Norse: the essential hostility of the monsters – even those in more or less human form (giants and trolls) – to the ‘humane’, or human-divine. But of its more specific details, which would help to explain the fusion, we are ignorant. Did native tradition contain some Flood tradition which would help to explain 1418–19 (*1689–91)? Probably it did.47 But if so it is lost now – except in Beowulf *1689 ff. Such references as eald enta geweorc [‘the ancient work of giants’] (not confined to Beowulf) and ealdsweord eotonisc [‘old giant-forged sword’] are in themselves enough to show that there was in England an ancient imagination of ‘giants’, and that on one side they were (in the language of Genesis vi.4) ‘mighty men which were of old, men of renown’, and also the makers of mighty works beyond human compass. To them were attributed not only wonders of geological origin, nor only relics of bygone masons and smiths, but also works conceived only in the imaginations of poets: human works enlarged and endowed with added power: éacen; things of wonder and magic. Yet they hated men, and were enemies. If with Cain, the outlaw and murderer, you associate the ogre-traditions of the North, it is then clear that such references as Genesis iv.22 concerning Tubal-Cain and craftsmanship in brass and iron will fuse with the ealdsweord eotonisc tradition. You will find in Grendel’s lair enta ærgeweorc *1679, (‘the work of trolls of old’ 1408–9), a sword both of superhuman size and supernatural power, work of the giganta cyn, a relic of the Flood: truly an ealde láfe (*1688, a ‘relic of old days’ 1417).48

  It is plain that the whole business of fusion, at the upper or mythological end – where contact was closest, Scripture itself being more ‘mythological’ in its mode of expression – was intricate. But this at least we can say: the fusion (at any rate, that which we find in Beowulf) is certainly not that of a pagan who remembers a few items from early sermons. It is the product, as I have said elsewhere,49 of deep thought and emotion. It is indeed the product of learning, of a man or men who could read Scripture, who had with their eyes read the Latin words: Tubalcain qui fuit malleator et faber in cuncta opera aeris et ferri – and Gigantes autem erant super terram in diebus illis [Genesis iv.22 and vi.4]. (The very word gígant is derived from Latin and equated with eoten and ent.)50

  When we pass on to Hrothgar’s sermon, we need not overdo the ‘learning’. We need not see in swigedon ealle ‘all were silent’ (*1699, 1426) a reminiscence of [the opening lines of] Æneid Book II: Conticuere omnes intentique ora tenebant. Inde toro pater Æneas sic orsus ab alto [‘All were still, and held their gaze intent upon him. Then from his lofty couch father Æneas thus began’].51 You do not need to read Virgil in order to imagine a silence when a venerable king begins a solemn discourse! But we need not, on the other hand, be unduly surprised to find that together with the Bible the poet shows knowledge of a definitely Christian homiletic tradition with an allegorical or symbolic mode of expression – to us ‘mediaeval’ in flavour.

  Yet there is, all the same, something odd here. ‘Blending’ is naturally again observable. We have the purely Germanic, northern, story of Heremod alluded to, with special reference here to his unprincely crime of greed: nallas béagas geaf Denum æfter dóme *1719–20, ‘He gave not things of gold unto the Danes to earn him praise’ 1443–4. This is neatly paralleled later, in the picture of the generalized ‘fortunate man’ destroyed by pride, and success corrupted into avarice: gýtsað gromhýdig, nallas on gylp seleð fætte béagas *1749–50, ‘his grim heart fills with greed; in no wise doth he deal gold-plated rings to earn him praise’ 1468–9. Although it would be possible to view this as produced by a homiletic interpolator expanding the moral of *1719–20, I do not personally doubt that the homiletic elaboration of the moral is mainly due to the ‘author’, that the same hand wrote both *1719–20 and *1749–50, and designed them to echo one another.

  There are, however, two things to note. Firstly (a point that does not in itself prove any ‘tinkering’ by later hands): the ‘sermon’ or giedd is artistically too long, and also is not throughout suitable; it is too ‘Christian’ in colouring for the good pre-Christian patriarch, Hrothgar. This stricture applies especially to the reference to ‘conscience’ (sáwele hyrde ‘guardian of the soul’), and the allegorical shafts of the evil one (bona (bana) ‘slayer’), *1740–7, 1460–7 – even if we accept as ‘Beowulfian’ the passage Wundor is tó secganne (*1724, 1450) to hé þæt wyrse ne con ‘he knows nothing of worse fate’ (*1739, 1460–1), and also (say) *1753, 1472 onwards, in the course of which the theme of the end of youth and fortune is further elaborated – cf. the close parallel especially to *1761–8, 1479–84 provided by The Seafarer 66–71.52

  But that is not all. There is a quite exceptionally clear – convincing, in fact inescapable – connexion between Hrothgar’s sermon *1724–68, 1450–84, and the Old English poem Crist 659 ff. and 756–78. The resemblance is one both of matter and turns of expression, e.g. þonne wróhtbora . . . onsendeð of his brægdbogan biterne strǽl [Crist 763–5, ‘when the author of evil . . . sends forth a bitter shaft from his deceitful bow’; beside Beowulf *1743–6 bona swiðe néah, sé þe of flánbogan fyrenum scéoteð. Þonne bið on hreþre under helm drepen biteran strǽle (1463–6).] Indeed it would hardly be too much to say that the ‘sermon’ from *1724–68 (1450–84) reads and rings often more like the author of Crist than that of the author of the rest of Beowulf.

  The author of Crist (certainly of the runic passage (797 ff.) and so almost certainly of what precedes it) was Cynewulf.53 Among the ‘signed’ works of Cynewulf are Elene and The Fates of the Apostles. In these poems there are numerous parallelisms of expression with Beowulf. So there are also in other poems: e.g. Guthlac (probably not by Cynewulf) and Andreas (certainly not). From them we can deduce no more than that Beowulf was known and admired by later poets54 – in itself probable enough. But the feeling (independent of research) that the sermon is overloaded, and partly discrepant in tone and style, is on quite a different footing. I do not doubt that Cynewulf knew and admired Beowulf and echoed it, and I am perfectly certain that he did not in general revise or rewrite it: the style, temper, and mind are quite different from his. But I think that Klaeber hits off the conclusions that must be drawn. In the first place, the king’s address forms an organic element in the structure of the epic; and that the king should deliver a sermon of ‘high sentence’ is entirely in keeping with his character as imagined and depicted in the poem, and with the moral and serious temper of Beowulf as a whole. But in the second place the most reasonable interpretation of the exact situation and resemblances is, nonetheless, that Cynewulf’s own hand has retouched the king’s address: has in fact turned it from a giedd into a genuine homily.

  Why? Because at this point there was the nearest point of contact between the
two authors and their thought. Whatever we may think of his taste – I think it, as exhibited in his signed poems, bad at worst and poor at best – Hrothgar probably interested him, and especially the sermon. It was too good an opportunity to be missed – and he took it: not of course observing (it was far beyond him) that by making more explicit the moral, and adorning it with the homiletic allegory of his own day, he was damaging a great work (and one in the long run more profoundly significant and instructive than his own overtly ‘Christian’ verse).

  I think it is indeed likely enough that there are other ‘Cynewulfian’ touches of improvement in the text of Beowulf. The most nearly certain one is *168–9 (134–5).55 This is not only unsuitable (and obscure because its thought, which runs on ‘grace’ and damnation, is not really in harmony with the context) but easily detachable; and not only detachable, but its excision an obvious improvement in verse texture and sense. But detachability is not a certain criterion – not if we are really dealing with Cynewulf. He was an eloquent man with a rich wordhord and a skilled word-craftsman. He could manage joints all right.

  Thus if we pass from the general (and I think practically certain) conclusion that a later author has been at work here, to the question of exact detail – what did he do? – we shall not reach any clear result. It is not so much a question of ‘interpolation’ only as of actual rewriting, which might intricately blend old and new.56

  1583; *1887

  Here ends the ‘First Part’ of Beowulf, with pregnant words, and a moving contrast of Age and Youth. Whether or no (as some have thought) this part was originally meant to be the whole poem, and the second part a later enlargement by the same author, in the economy of the whole poem as we now have it the structure is fairly clear.

  The First Part depicts the rise of Beowulf, his emergence as a full hæleþ: his coming of age, and acquisition of blǽd, fame and fortune, glorified by the strength and hope of youth. And it is hinted that Beowulf escaped the temptation of blǽd: he did not fall into arrogance, or greed. But the First Part also foreshadows the coming of old age, the bitter wisdom of experience. It makes it very poignant to find the young proud Beowulf so much like Hrothgar so soon as the Link or Interlude of his return home (1584–1851, *1888–2199) is over. The first words that he speaks are reminiscent: 2041–3 ‘In youth from many an onslaught of war I came back safe, from many a day of battle. I do recall it all’; *2426–7 Fela ic on giogoðe gúðrǽsa genæs, orleghwíla; ic þæt eall gemon. Compare Hrothgar, 1485–9, *1769–73. The contrast of Youth and Age – Age and death the inevitable sequel of Youth and triumph seen in the Rise (part I) and Fall (part II) of Beowulf is made far more vivid by thus setting Youth before Age for its judgement.

  And finally for us – and I do not doubt also for the poet and his contemporaries – the whole poem is dignified by the connexion with the great Scylding court, the golden House of Heorot glorious and doomed. It gives it what one might call an Arthurian atmosphere and background.

  1623 The fierce mood of Thryth . . .; *1931 *MS mod þryðo wæg . . .

  [I give here the passage concerning Hygd, wife of Hygelac king of the Geats, in which these words (one of the most beaten grounds in Old English textual criticism) occur, both in the original text (*1929–32) and in the translation (1621–4).

  næs hío hnáh swá þéah,

  1930

  né tó gnéað gifa Géata léodum,

  máðmgestréona, mod þryðo wæg

  fremu folces cwén, firen ondrysne

  1621

  Yet no niggard was she, nor too sparing of gifts and precious treasures to the Geatish men. The fierce mood of Thryth she did not show, good queen of men, nor her dire wickedness.

  In the first part of his very long note my father was concerned to defend his view, shared by several editors of Beowulf, of how the words of the manuscript here underlined should be emended and interpreted on textual and linguistic grounds alone (i.e. without reference to the legend of Offa: see 1637 ff., *1949 ff.).]

  If we knew no more about Offa and his bride than we do about Hygd it is perfectly clear that we have here another case of praise by contrast (compare the way Heremod is introduced, 734, 1435; *901, *1709). We should also by this parallel be led to look for a name (of Offa’s queen) at the beginning of a reference to her. Only in mod þryðo wæg is there any chance of finding one.

  Though transition can be abrupt in Beowulf – the transition at 734, *901 is abrupt enough – it is unlikely that Hygd is no more referred to after máðmgestréona. It is possible only if we read Módþrýðo wæg with Módþrýðo as a proper name. The sequence will then be ‘Hygd was good, she was not mean. Módþrýðo (once) showed, good queen of her people (as she became later), dreadful wickedness.’ The placing of the name abruptly at the very beginning is at least nearly sufficient to give the required sense of ‘on the other hand’. But it leaves fremu folces cwén very odd indeed – this is not explained until 1634 ff. (*1945 ff.). Moreover among the 150 or so names in Germanic ending in -þrýþ (-truda, -druda, -þrúðr, &c.) there is nothing elsewhere corresponding to Módþrýðo.

  [After a further discussion concerning the formal historical difficulties in the assumption of a proper name Módþrýðo my father emphatically rejected it, and said that mód Þrýðo wæg ‘seems the only possible interpretation of the manuscript’. He took Þrýðo to be the name Þrýðe with the Anglian (Northumbrian) ending -o in oblique cases, corresponding to West Saxon -an, this -o being ‘retained by the scribe since he was at sea as to the sense of the passage’. The meaning is therefore ‘the temper of Þrýðe (Thryth)’.]

  But mód Þrýðo wæg makes us say: ‘Hygd was good: she showed the temper of Þrýðe, good queen, her grievous wickedness.’ This is the opposite of the natural intention of contrast. We are driven to assume that ne has fallen out. For the ne at the beginning of the contrast see *1709 (1435). In defence of the emendation mód Þrýðo [ne] wæg we must observe: ne (or any negative particle in any language) appears in logic to be overwhelmingly important, exactly reversing sense, so that it is difficult to conceive of its omission. As a matter of fact (i) it is in writing a small easily omitted word on mere mechanical grounds, especially as scribes do not follow the detail of sense (and the scribe here, as always when faced with legendary names, was plainly at sea); (ii) even in speech it is often reduced to a very fugitive element in spite of continual linguistic renewal, and even then is sometimes accidentally omitted.

  [With these remarks on the dropping of negative particles cf. p. 263 – The meaning of the passage as emended thus is given in this note: ‘Hygd was not mean. The mood of Þrythe she, good queen of her people, did not show: her grievous wickedness.’ It will be seen that this is very close to the wording in my father’s translation given at the beginning of this note.

  Following this discussion he turned to the intricate question of the legends of the wife of Offa – there being two kings of that name: Offa king of Mercia in the eighth century, (‘Offa II’), and Offa king of Angel (the ancient home of the Angles in Schleswig), (‘Offa I’), supposed to be the far distant ancestor of Offa of Mercia. I cite here only his concluding remarks on the subject of ‘Offa’s wife’. Following from his consideration of the view that the story of the wicked wife of Offa II originally belonged to Offa of Angel he continued:]

  This I think is enough to show that in ‘historial legend’ Offa of Angel, the reputed (and probably actual) ancestor of Offa of Mercia had a matrimonial legend. That his wife was called Þrýþ (or Þrýðe), Latinized later as Drida. Of her the original story was of the Atalanta type: the perilous maiden who destroys all weakling suitors, but is at last conquered by a strong man, and then becomes a good wife.

  Why is it put in here? Of course – according to the method we have already observed in Sigemund and Heremod – as a method of enhancing and pointing praise or blame. Yet it is more ‘dragged in’, or so it appears at first sight, than any other of the ‘episodes’. Sigemund and his dragon-vict
ory have an organic and ironic fitness as a comparison with young Beowulf who is to be slain by a dragon. Heremod is a Dane and connected with Sigemund on the one hand, and on the other a good concrete illustration of the vices that Hrothgar is preaching against. The Fréswæl [the ‘Finn episode’] (as I have laboured to show) is closely connected with the Scyldings, and the house of Healfdene.

  Now the connexion (even with the replaced negative advocated above) between Hygd and Þrýðe is somewhat abrupt. Still it cannot be shown that the Offa passage in Beowulf is later than the rest, or contemporary with Offa II. The idea that it is a covert contemporary allusion is certainly to be dismissed. Not only because it is far from covert if contemporary with a king called Offa: its author if he escaped with his head would soon have found himself a wandering minstrel looking for a new patron. But because in history Offa’s queen was like Hygd and not like Þrýðe at all.

  If the Offa-story is an elaboration and addition at all, it is one made by the author himself. Why he thought it fitting – and he probably did feel it to have some kind of fitness (such as we can see in Heremod and Finn and Sigemund): he was not as has been supposed a mere dragger-in of old tales – we can probably not now discover in our ignorance of that great nexus of interwoven ‘historial legend’, concerning English origins, and the great royal and noble houses, which he possessed.

  1633–4 he of Hemming’s race [Offa] made light of that; *1944 Húru þæt onhohsnode[e] Hemminges mæg

  [My father thought it probable that Hemming was Offa’s maternal grandfather. The translation depends on the etymology proposed for the unrecorded onhohsnode. The common rendering ‘put a stop to it’ assumes the existence of a verb unrecorded in Old English *(on)hohsin(w)ian, derived from hohsinu ‘hamstring’ (‘hock-sinew’), supposedly here in a figurative sense ‘to stop, restrain’. In the course of a long and detailed discussion of cognate forms in other Germanic languages my father rejected this as ‘a violent and unlikely metaphor’, and noted that ‘nowhere have we found anything but a literal meaning to “hamstring” a horse.’ ‘What has this got to do with the tale?’ he said, teasing the proponents of this etymology, ‘even the racing Atalanta was not vanquished by being hamstrung!’ [Atalanta in Greek mythology was a huntress who would marry no man who could not defeat her in a race, and if a suitor defeated her he was put to death.)