Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, together with Sellic Spell

by J. R. R. Tolkien

  In particular the naif attempt of later chroniclers to accommodate them all in a unilinear Danish royal line has had many ridiculous results: not least the conversion of old wars of peoples into parricide and fratricide among Skiöldung kings and their sons. In addition all that relates to the older heroic world has in Norse been overlaid and obscured by the specially Scandinavian sub-heroic period or Viking-age. An age that was in many ways, though later, not an advance but a relapse into violence and barbarism: a triumph of Oðinn and the ravens,61 of bloodshed for its own sake, over the gods of corn and fruitfulness [the Vanir]. This is symbolized in surviving Norse mythology itself by the war of Oðinn and the Æsir with Njörðr [the father of Frey and Freyja] and the Vanir.

  The Heathobards are specially associated with peace.62 With the name of Fróda, in Norse Fróði, friðr [‘peace’] is peculiarly joined. In the background of tradition lies the great peace, the Fróðafriðr, in which there was corn in plenty and no war or robbery.63 Now the later Scandinavian sources have obviously doubled and trebled, and even more greatly multiplied, the number of Frothos and Ingelli (Ingjalds) in their Danish line, merely in the effort to accommodate varying stories. But Heathobard tradition must nevertheless have contained at least two Fródas: one the historical father of their last king Ingeld, and one the remoter (perhaps mythical) ancestor: the Fróda of the Great Peace. The tradition of the Great Peace may be no more than a legendary way of symbolizing a powerful rule, in which (say) the Heathobards were leaders of a confederacy with some religious centre; or it may be in origin mythological: a representation as a dynastic ancestor of the God of the cult and of the Golden Age. Both may well be combined.

  Our story refers to the time of the beginnings of Scandinavian expansion and trouble in the islands. Just as the story of Hóc and Hnæf and Hengest reflects the incursion of Danes into Jutland and the peninsula, the Heathobard story depicts their seizure of Seeland, the centre of that world and the seat of its cult. And Seeland has remained ever since the heart of Denmark. There are still Hleiðr – now the village of Leire, and Roskilde, the Canterbury of Denmark, as well as the modern commercial capital Copenhagen: Kaupmannahöfn [‘haven of the merchants’]. It was not a religious war: the Odinic cults of Viking times (which now bulk so large in our imagination of the North) had hardly arisen. It was an attempt to seize the centre of the Anglo-Frisian world, and to conquer it – and it succeeded, and was no doubt a prime factor in the westward migration. The conquests legendarily ascribed to Scyld (the eponymous ancestor) belong doubtless in history to Healfdene or his real father.64 And we see the Danes of this house taking on the cultus: they are called Ingwine. The third son of Healfdene is Halga ‘the holy’, and Hrothgar’s daughter is named after Frey ‘the lord’: Freawaru. It is probably not by chance nor by mere invention of our poet (though the precise form of blending is only found in the exordium) that we find in the ancestry of the house of Healfdene, blended with the heraldic military eponym Scyld, the corn hero Sceaf, and Beowulf I, certainly an alteration (or corruption) of Beow ‘barley’ [see the note to line 14]. And we may note that in Widsith Sceafa ‘Sheaf’ is king of the Langobards. The connexion of Langobards and Heathobards is most probable. The Heathobards cannot be identical with the Langobards or Lombards, who had already migrated far from the North in the second century B.C. But they may represent the people from whom the Langobards sprang. There are many instances of names remaining in the North in the old homes while migrant elements (such as Rugii, Goths and Vandals) bore the names far away south.

  The struggle for the control of Seeland and the sanctuary and holy site of Hleiðr (where the great hall of Heorot was built) give point to the bitter feud. Coming down to the end of the struggle (remembered in historical or semihistorical legends and lays) we may infer (I think) that the Danes remained in possession while Healfdene lived; and that this old fierce king lived to a great age and died untouched by avenging swords. The tradition of his atrocitas and of his great age – exactly answering to the Old English epithets gamol ond guðreouw [see the note to line 44] – is still attached to him in Norse, even when he is quite cut off from all his true connexions. Even the Old English adjective héah is echoed.

  But the Heathobards were not destroyed, and there was evidently a period in which they recovered. It is possible that among the stories in the late Norse sources there linger traces of ancient tradition, when we hear of the ill-treatment of Hróarr and Helgi by King Fróði. Heorogar is only remembered in English. We learn that he died a long way back when Hrothgar was young (375–9, *465–9). His death is almost certainly connected with Heathobard revival. Whether Hrothgar’s assertion that even in youth he ruled ‘a spacious realm’ (376–7, ginne ríce *466) be true or not, it is probable that the Danes lost control of Hleiðr. But the Heathobards were again heavily defeated, this time clearly by Hrothgar. The note of senility and desire for peace (produced by the poet’s painting of him as an old man at the end of a long reign) must not delude us into regarding him as mere peacemaker and consolidator of an inherited power. There are many hints to the contrary. His warlike youth is alluded to (847–50, *1040–2). He had to fight to re-establish himself when he succeeded his brother Heorogar. In particular it may be noted that it was after a great victory that he set up his seat and built Heorot, 50 ff., *64 ff. – þá wæs Hróðgáre herespéd gyfen. This, I think, was clearly the great battle (alluded to in the Freawaru episode) in which Fróda was slain. Hrothgar retook Hleiðr and again became lord of a confederacy (as Healfdene, and in legend Scyld, had been). On this coveted site he built his great hall.

  We cannot expect perfectly consistent chronology in an epic based on many lays concerning matters some three hundred years before; and certainly the conception of Hrothgar as an old and venerable king has disturbed it. So too doubtless has the intrusion of the legendary Grendel. As far as our poem goes, we learn that there was a period (undefined) in which Hrothgar dwelt in Heorot in splendour. How soon Grendel came to disturb this we are not told (though the suggestion is that it was soon): precision is not to be expected when fairy-story intrudes upon historial legend. But we are told that Grendel raided Heorot for twelve years (118, twelf wintra tíd *147, = ‘many a year’ 122–3, fela misséra *153).65 Now if I am right in supposing that Heorot was built after the overthrow of Froda (and that the poet was referring in line 50–1, *64–5 to the battle mentioned in 1714–15, *2039–40) this period will be just about right. It looks as if the poet knew from tradition how long a time elapsed between the building of Heorot and the marriage of Freawaru, and therefore could give (and had to give) a fairly precise number of years. If Grendel haunted Heorot, it must be before the last outbreak of the Heathobard feud and the destruction of Heorot, and the haunting must occupy a slightly shorter time. This also dictated the placing of Beowulf’s visit (and the end of the haunting) at a time just before the Heathobard affair. [See the note to line 65 ff.] We see thus that the allusion of Beowulf to Freawaru’s betrothal has also a chronological fitness and purpose. At the date of his visit Ingeld is betrothed but not married. That he did not fall with his father in the battle indicates that he was at the date of the battle very young. Fifteen years (about) have since elapsed (including twelve years of Grendel’s hauntings): he was then about ten, he is now about twenty-five. This fits excellently.

  Note. The reasonableness and historical air of the chronology when we are considering the traditions concerning Heorot and the Heathobards is only enhanced by the contrast with the inexactitude in 1485, *1769, where (in order to point the moral of pride going before a fall with the example of Grendel, and in order to heighten his picture of the venerable age of the patriarchal king) the poet makes Hrothgar say that he had enjoyed hund misséra (literally 50 years, [‘a hundred half-years’]) of prosperity before Grendel came. Whether applied to the period before the building of Heorot, or to the first peaceful glory of Heorot, or to both, this is of course impossible.

  Now we come to the actual story o
f Freawaru and Ingeld. Comparison of the quite independent English and Norse traditions shows that two things are common to both and therefore ‘original’: the egging of the old retainer, and the love motive. But the Norse (as seen in e.g. Saxo) is altered: it may be called dramatic and intense, if you will. Rather it is theatrical, and certainly brutalized. It may be a dramatic gain to make Ingeld the object of the ‘egging’, and to make him the slayer and truce-breaker.66 But certainly such an Ingeld: a profligate whose ‘repentance’ was shown by murdering the guests at his board, would not have become the hero of English minstrelsy. But that we here have that very rare thing in ancient northern legend (and almost unique thing in what survives in ancient English): a love-story, is clear from the survival of this element (however transmuted) in Norse as well as English. In Norse the love of Ingeld becomes, in the fierce and brutalized Viking atmosphere, degraded, a sign of softness and wantonness; no man should ever have given way to it and been forgetful of the duty of murder. Not so in English. The love is a good motive, and the strife between it and the call of revenge for a slain father is held to be a genuine tragic conflict – otherwise Ingeld’s story would not be heroic at all, and certainly not one that any minstrel would have sold for a single dragon (let alone a Shylockian wilderness).67 But the love referred to is passionate love, not the mere reverence for queen and consort and the mother of the royal children. The general suggestion of the tale in (Norse and English) is that the tragedy occurred soon after the marriage. And this brings us to a point in the story that the English evidence does not explain. How was the love of Ingeld and Freawaru brought about – in the story? – not in history (where the match may well have occurred, and have been purely ‘political’ on both sides).68 Was the story here ‘romantic’: a chance meeting, a disguised prince spying out the enemy’s stronghold; or more realistic: an embassy, an invitation to Heorot under safe conduct, and a feast in which the beautiful princess captivated Ingeld’s heart, as eorlum on ende ealuwǽge bær? (*2021, 1698–9). We cannot tell. The last is, I think, (for Old English) probable. It is possible that ‘myth’ has here again touched ‘historial legend’, just as the traditions of the golden age gathered about the name of Fróda (see pp. 330-1). For it is impossible not to be struck by the fact that the pair of lovers: Fréawaru and Ingeld both bear names including a Frey-element (Frea and Ing); and that Frey fell hopelessly in love with the daughter of his enemies: Gerðr the daughter of the giant Gymir. Yet this does not prove either Ingeld or Freawaru or their love wholly ‘mythical’. History has a way of resembling ‘myth’: partly because both are ultimately of the same stuff. If no young man had ever fallen in love at first sight, and found old feuds to lie between him and his love, the god Frey would never have seen Gerðr. At the same time such a love is more likely really to arise in a people and family whose traditions are of Frey and the Vanir rather than of Odin the Goth.

  1708 ff.; *2032 ff.

  [My father’s discussion of the difficult lines *2032 ff. in the episode of Freawaru and Ingeld is best understood if the Old English text is set out together (in Klaeber’s punctuation) with his translation as given in this book.

  Mæg þæs þonne ofþyncan ðéodne Heaðo-Beardna

  ond þegna gehwám þára léoda,

  þonne he mid fæmnan on flett gð:

  2035

  2040

  dryhtbearn Dena, duguða biwenede;

  on him gladiað gomelra láfe,

  heard ond hringmǽl Heaða-Beardna gestréon,

  þenden hie ðám wǽpnum wealdan móston,

  oð ðæt hie forlǽddon tó ðám lindplegan

  swǽse gesíðas ond hyra sylfra feorh.

  Þonne cwið æt béore se ðe béah gesyhð,

  eald æscwiga, se ðe eall geman . . .

  1708

  This, maybe, will in that purposed time displease the Heathobardish king and each knight of that folk, when one walks down their hall beside the lady, a noble scion of the Danes amid their host (passage corrupt and doubtful). On him will gaily gleam things prized by their sires of old, a stout sword ring-adorned once treasure of the Heathobards, while yet their weapons they could wield, until they led their comrades dear and their own lives to ruin in the clash of shields. Then will one speak at the ale, seeing that costly thing, a soldier old who remembers all . . .

  I am unable to explain the phrase in line 1708 ‘in that purposed time.’]

  *2034 Here as in *2054 we have MS gæð. It is the rather absurd convention not to emend this but mark it with a circumflex gð: though emendation is just as much required here as in the case of any other scribal substitution of unmetrical synonyms or dialectic equivalents. We require gangeð.

  *2035 This line – the only really difficult and dubious one in the episode – admits of very many interpretations (if emendation is allowed), and even if the silly ones are discarded there is still an unfortunately wide choice. No one could call Klaeber’s note *2034 ff. crystal clear! However, matters can be a little simplified if you start with a preference for reasonable syntax, and a belief that this was also preferred by the poets. Here is a shot at translating the context:

  ‘It may then give offence to the king of the Heathobards and to all the lords of that people on that occasion when he walks into the hall with the lady, a noble scion of the Danes? amid a company of tried warriors? (reading bi werede [werod ‘company’] for biwenede): on them will gaily gleam the heirlooms of old men (i.e. of the previous generation, the fathers of those present), hard and ring-adorned, the Heathobards’ own possessions, while still they were permitted (sc. by fate) to wield those weapons, and until they led to ruin in the clash of shields their dear comrades and their own lives. In that time there will speak at the drinking an old retainer, who sees a ring (?), one who remembers it all, the slaying of men with spears: grim will be his mood . . .’

  It is clear from this that swords are the chief cause of trouble.69 This at once introduces several difficulties.

  he *2034: who is it? And also how can (if, as they should, he *2034 and him *2036 apply to the same person) ‘he’ wear more than one sword?

  dryhtbearn *2035: meaning, and number?

  beah *2041: what is this? Can it possibly be a sword? To take dryhtbearn first: this cannot refer to Ingeld: this is not a wedding feast, but plainly a scene in the land of the Heathobards. It does not refer to Freawaru. Dryhtlic can certainly mean ‘noble’ and is applied to Hildeburh (drihtlíce wíf *1158, ‘that royal lady’ 950), but this is derived from dryht ‘court, the assembled warriors of a king’. As first element of a compound it retains its proper sense: a dryhtbearn is a young member of a dryht, a young knight or soldier.

  But there is a difficulty of number: he singular, followed by dryhtbearn, him plural (from the logic of the situation and from biwenede *2035 which must, if kept, be a past participle plural). Even if we take he to be used like sum (as it occasionally is in Old English) ‘a man’, the change of number is harsh.

  There is one further difficulty. The sense of biwenede ‘treated, entertained’ is evidenced in line *1821 (bewenede, ‘cherished’ 1528). But the use of the genitive plural duguða instrumentally = ‘splendidly’ is not either evidenced or likely.

  Emendations are clearly called for: the very difficulty of the passage, in spite of the fact that the general situation is not in doubt, is sufficient to suggest that the text is corrupt in one or more points.

  I think one must choose between duguða bi werede ‘among a company of the tried warriors’ and duguðe (or duguðum) biwenede ‘nobly entertained’. The latter alteration makes the further emendation of he . . . gangeð *2034 to the plural hie gangað very desirable. I would thus read þonne hie mid fæmnan on flet gangað, dryhtbearn Dena duguðe biwenede: on him gladiað . . . ‘when they with the lady pace the hall, young Danish knights of the escort nobly entertained: on them gaily gleam,’ &c. It is clear, I think, that the change to hie gangað is a striking improvement resulting in a natural and stylistically normal se
ntence – if we keep biwenede.

  beah *2041: The answer is no. beah, which means a torque, a spiral arm-ring, or corslet cannot = ‘sword’. The difficulty here may perhaps be caused by our ignorance of the specific detail of the English story. The Danish lord singled out by the æscwiga (*2042) may well have had also an heirloom-ring or jewel upon arm or neck.

  Still, the æscwiga later only mentions ‘sword’ (dýre íren *2050, ‘his prizéd blade’ 1721–2). beah is very likely a corruption, for instance of bá ‘both’: both the hated Danish lady and her knight. But this would require bi werede, for we should have to keep he in line *2034. Then we should take him *2036 plural as referring to duguða the Danish chivalry. Thus: ‘when he with the lady paces the hall, a young knight of the Danish court in the armed company of their chivalry: on them gleam the heirlooms of their fathers’.

  On the whole I lean to this – with or without alteration of beah. ‘he’ may well in the story (as told by the lays that our poet knew) have been a named man, with a specific part to play; just as the name of the æscwiga, and of the young Heathobard and his father, were all probably known. But – and this point has, I think, usually been missed – the device of giving this to Beowulf as a prophecy had forced the poet to vague anonymity. However shrewd a young man Beowulf might be, he could not possibly guess (without extensive knowledge of the Heathobard court) which old retainer would ‘egg’, and which Heathobard would take vengeance. And he could not yet know what young Danes would be chosen to go! Notice the namelessness of he and æscwiga, and þín fæder and hyne (*2048, *2050; 1721, 1723), in contrast to the almost gratuitous name Withergyld (*2051) when Beowulf is referring to the bygone battle which he could know about! We see at once that Withergyld cannot be the father [i.e. of the ‘young warrior’, *2044, 1718–19] or anything more than one of the ‘lords of the Heathobards’, famed as having fallen with Froda.