07 Mar 22 Beowulf – Ancient Epic #15

Adventures Retold at Home

Debate over oral tradition

There is a long-standing debate about the oral tradition of Beowulf. Today’s segment finds the tradition of Norse storytelling in its flower. Imagine, if you will, Beowulf’s fellow countrymen in a Geat longhouse sitting around a long rectangular pit-fire. Beowulf has returned from Denmark. Stories to tell. But how were the stories told?

The question of whether Beowulf was passed down through oral tradition prior to its present manuscript form has been the subject of much debate and involves more than simply the issue of its composition. Rather, given the implications of the theory of oral-formulaic and oral tradition, the question concerns how the poem is to be understood, and what sorts of interpretations are legitimate. In his landmark 1960 work, The Singer of Tales, Albert Lord, citing the work of Francie Peabody Magoun and others, considered it proven that Beowulf was composed orally. 

Later scholars have not all been convinced; they agree that "themes" like "arming the hero" or the "hero on the beach" do exist across Germanic works, some scholars conclude that Anglo-Saxon poetry is a mix of oral-formulaic and literate patterns. Larry Benson proposed that Germanic literature contains "kernels of tradition", which Beowulf expands upon. Ann Watts argued against the imperfect application of one theory to two different traditions: traditional, Homeric, oral-formulaic poetry and Anglo-Saxon poetry. Thomas Gardner agreed with Watts, arguing that the Beowulf text is too varied to be completely constructed from set formulae and themes. John Miles Foley wrote that comparative work must observe the particularities of a given tradition; in his view, there was a fluid continuum from traditionality to textuality. 

And now . . . Back to Our Story . . .

“Enjoy it Well!”

And timber burn. After many trials,

He was destined to face the end of his days 

In this mortal world; as was the dragon, 

For all his leasehold on the treasure.

Yet the prince of the rings was too proud

To line up with a large army

Against the sky-plague. He had scant regard 

For the dragon as a threat, no dread at all

Of its courage or strength, for he had kept going

Often in the past, through perils and ordeals          2350

Of every sort, after he had purged

Hrothgar’s hall, triumphed in Heorot

And beaten Grendel. He outgrappled the monster 

And his evil kin. One of his cruelest

Hand-to-hand encounters had happened 

When Hygelac, king of the Geats, was killed

In Friesland: the people’s friend and lord, 

Hrethel’s son, slaked a sword blade’s thirst for blood. 

But Beowulf’s prodigious

Gifts as a swimmer guaranteed his safety:     2360

He arrived at the shore, shouldering thirty 

Battle-dresses, the booty he had won.

There was little for the Hetware to be happy about

As they shielded their faces and fighting on the ground

Began in earnest. With Beowulf against them,

Few could hope to return home.

Across the wide sea, desolate and alone,

The son of Ecgtheow swam back to his people.

There Hygd offered him throne and authority

As lord of the ring-hoard: with Hygelac dead, 2370

She had no belief in her son’s ability

To defend their homeland against foreign invaders. 

Yet there was no way the weakened nation

Could get Beowulf to give in and agree 

To be elevated over Heardred as his lord

 Or to undertake the office of kingship.

But he did provide support for the prince, 

Honored and minded him until he matured 

As the ruler of Geatland. Then over sea-roads

Exiles arrived, sons of Ohthere.     2380

They had rebelled against the best of all

The sea-kings in Sweden, the one who held sway

In the Shylfing nation, their renowned prince, 

Lord of the mead-hall. That marked the end

For Hygelac’s son: his hospitality

Was mortally rewarded with wounds from a sword. 

Heardred lay slaughtered and Onela returned

To the land of Sweden, leaving Beowulf 

To ascend the throne, to sit in majesty

 And rule over the Geats. He was a good king.         2390

In days to come, he contrived to avenge 

The fall of his prince; he befriended Eadgils

When Eadgils was friendless, aiding his cause 

With weapons and warriors over the wide sea, 

Sending him men.  The feud was settled

On a comfortless campaign when he killed Onela.

And so the son of Ecgtheow had survived

Every extreme, excelling himself

In daring and in danger, until the day arrived

When he had to come face to face with the dragon. 2400

The lord of the Geats took eleven comrades 

And went in a rage to reconnoiter.

By then he had discovered the cause of the affliction 

Being visited on the people. The precious cup

Had come to him from the hand of the finder, 

The one who had started all this strife

And was now added as a thirteenth to their number. 

They press-ganged and compelled this poor creature 

To be their guide. Against his will

He led them to the earth-vault he alone knew, 2410

An underground barrow near the sea-billows

And heaving waves, heaped inside

With exquisite metalwork. The one who stood guard 

Was dangerous and watchful, warden of that trove 

Buried under earth: no easy bargain

Would be made in that place by any man.

The veteran king sat down on the cliff-top.

He wished good luck to the Geats who had shared 

His hearth and his gold. He was sad at heart,

Unsettled yet ready, sensing his own death.      2420

His fate hovered near, unknowable but certain:

It would soon claim his coffered soul,

Part life from limb. Before long

The prince’s spirit would spin free from his body.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

“Many a skirmish I survived when I was young 

And many times of war; I remember them well. 

At seven, I was fostered out by my father,

Left in the charge of my people’s lord.

King Hrethel kept me and took care of me,     2430

Was open-handed, behaved like a kinsman. 

While I was his ward, he treated me no worse

As a wean about the place than one of his own boys,

Herebeald and Haethcyn, or my own Hygelac.

For the eldest, Herebeald, an unexpected 

Deathbed was laid out, through a brother’s doing, 

When Haethcyn bent his horn-tipped bow

And loosed the arrow that destroyed his life.

He shot wide and buried a shaft

In the flesh and blood of his own brother.        2440

That offence was beyond redress, a wrong footing

Of the heart’s affections; for who could avenge 

The prince’s life or pay his death-price?

It was like the misery felt by an old man 

Who has lived to see his son’s body 

Swing on the gallows. He begins to keen

And weep for his boy, watching the raven

Gloat where he hangs: he can be of no help. 

The wisdom of age is worthless to him.

Morning after morning, he wakes to remember 2450

That his child is gone; he has no interest 

In living on until another heir

Is born in the hall, now that his first-born

Has entered death’s dominion forever.

He gazes sorrowfully at his son’s dwelling,

The banquet hall bereft of all delight,

The windswept hearthstone; the horsemen are sleeping,

The warriors underground; what was is no more.

No tunes from the harp, no cheer raised in the yard.

Alone with his longing, he lies down on his bed   2460

And sings a lament; everything seems too large, 

The steadings and the fields.

Such was the feeling

Of loss endured by the lord of the Geats

After Herebeald’s death. He was hopelessly placed

To set to rights the wrong committed,

Could not punish the killer in accordance of the law

Of the blood-feud, although he felt no love for him. 

Heartsore, wearied, he turned away

From life’s joys, chose God’s light

And departed, leaving buildings and lands      2470

To his sons, as a man of substance will.

“Then over the wide seas Swedes and Geats 

Battled and feuded and fought without quarter. 

Hostilities broke out when Hrethel died.

Ongentheow’s sons were unrelenting,

Refusing to make peace, campaigning violently

From coast to coast, constantly setting up 

Terrible ambushes around Hreasnshill.

My own kith and kin avenged

These evil events, as everybody knows,  2480

But the price was high: one of them paid 

With his life. Heathcyn, lord of the Geats, 

Met his fate there and fell in battle.

Then, as I have heard, Hygelac’s sword

Was raised in the morning against Ongentheow,

His brother’s killer. 

When Eofor cleft

The old Swede’s helmet, halved it open,

He fell, death-pale: his feud-calloused hand

“The treasures that Hygelac lavished on me       2490

I paid for as I fought, as fortune allowed me, 

With my glittering sword. He gave me land 

And the security land brings, so he had no call 

To go looking for some lesser champion, 

Some mercenary among the Grifthas

Or the Spear-Danes or the men of Sweden.

I marched ahead of him, always there

At the front of the line; and I shall fight like that

For as long as I live, as long as this sword

Shall last, which has stood me in good stead 2500

Late and soon, ever since I killed

Dayraven the Frank in front of the two armies.

 He brought back no looted breastplate

To the Frisian king, but fell in battle,

Their standard-bearer, high-born and brave.

No sword blade sent him to his death,

My bare hands stilled his heartbeats

And wrecked the bone-house. 

Now blade and hand, 

Sword and sword-stroke, will assay the hoard.”       2510

For the last time: “I risked my life

Often when I was young. Now I am old,

But as king of this people I shall pursue this fight 

For the glory of winning, if the evil one will only 

Abandon his earth-fort and face me in the open.”

Then he addressed each dear companion

One final time, those fighters in their helmets, 

Resolute and high-born: “I would rather not 

Use a weapon if I knew another way

To grapple with the dragon and make good my boast     2520

Did against Grendel in days gone by. 

But I shall be meeting molten venom

In the fire he breaths, so I go forth

In mail-shirt and shield. I won’t shift a foot

When I meet the cave-guard: what occurs on the wall 

Between the two of us will turn out as fate,

Overseer of men, decides. I am resolved.

I scorn further words against this sky-born foe.

“Men at arms, remain here on the barrow,

Safe in your armor, to see which one of us     2530

Is better in the end at bearing wounds

In a deadly fray. This fight is not yours, 

Nor is it up to any man except me

To measure his strength against the monster 

Or to prove his worth. I shall win the gold 

By my courage, or else mortal combat, 

Doom of battle, will bear your lord away.”

Background

Beowulf is not entirely critical of Beowulf’s heroism. The narrator openly admires the protagonist’s courage and strength. The fact that the poet has decided to write an epic poem about Beowulf at all implies that he sees value in his example. Nevertheless, the poem presents what is good about Beowulf’s heroism as a thing of the past. Beowulf’s two-part structure emphasizes the glory of Beowulf’s youth, and the sad inevitability of his death. Likewise, the poem has a two-part view of warrior-king heroism: it was glorious, in its way, once upon a time, but now it is over, and that’s for the best. The glory of the Scandinavian warriors is human and impermanent, and with the benefit of hindsight it is obvious to the poet that Beowulf’s fame is insubstantial compared to the glory of God: “The truth is clear: / Almighty God rules over mankind / and always has” (l.700-1).

Exploration 1: Was Beowulf’s death “inevitable? 

Exploration 2:  What is your reaction to the statement that “Beowulf’s fame is insubstantial compared to the glory of God. “The truth is clear: / Almighty God rules over mankind / and always has.” 

Exploration 3: Early in this segment, Beowulf ascents the Geatish throne. Putting aside the epic’s descriptions of Beowulf, do you think he is fit to be king? What were the qualities looked for in a king in those ancient days?