Classics and the Western Canon discussion

(Mitchell: lines 473-798; Heaney: lines 499-835)

No sooner is Beowulf welcomed into the Hrothgar’s bosom than Unferth’s jealousy rears its ugly head. Unferth is described as “sick with envy.” He accuses Beowulf of losing the swimming match with Breca. Beowulf demolishes Unferth in a four-part speech delivered with aplomb: Unferth, you’re drunk; this is what really happened in the contest; you’re a nasty man who will be damned because you killed your own brothers; and Grendel can attack Heorot unopposed because you’re a sniveling coward. Or words to that effect :)

This is followed with an interesting passage about Hrothgar’s queen, Wealhtheow. She is “well-versed in court manners” and offers drink to old and young alike. After the partying, Hrothgar and his men vacate the hall before Grendel’s arrival. Beowulf removes his weapons and lies in wait for Grendel. Meanwhile, the poet tells us his men fully anticipate they’re going to die.

Along comes Grendel, chomping at the bit for blood. Beowulf watches as Grendel grabs one of the Geats and devours him. Beowulf then grips Grendel by the hand and a fight ensues with the two of them stumbling and thrashing about all over the place. Beowulf’s men try to strike Grendel with their weapons. The poet tells us that although no one knew it at the time, Grendel could not be hurt by weapons. Grendel is no match for Beowulf’s strength. Beowulf single-handedly defeats Grendel who then slouches off to die in his lair. Beowulf displays Grendel’s shoulder and arm in triumph.

Beowulf’s heroic boast was expected and acceptable—a sort of standard procedure for those times. But it strikes me as lacking in humility. Maybe that’s because I am looking at it with a modern lens. Beowulf reminds me a bit of Gilgamesh who never misses an opportunity to brag about his exploits. I imagine Beowulf as a Hulk Hogan look-alike, thumping his chest, announcing to the world his heroic exploits, and peppering his words with the occasional “Grr!” I’m so mighty!”

How do you see him? What do you think of his heroic boast?

In lines 456-472 (Heaney), Hrothgar illustrates his adherence to the code of “wergild” (man-price) when he bailed out Beowulf’s father years before by paying man-price on his behalf. The idea behind wergild is that if you kill a man, you must compensate his relatives by paying his man-price. Failure to do so entitles the aggrieved party to avenge his death by killing one of your relatives. The obligation cuts both ways since those who either fail to exact wergild or to pursue vengeance for the death of a relative can never be happy. The poet tells us one of the issues against Grendel is his refusal to honor wergild: he would not stop “his death-dealing nor pay the death-price” (Heaney: line 156).

Here's what I’m wondering: Beowulf has already declared his intention to kill Grendel. He owes it to Hrothgar because Hrothgar bailed his father out. But instead of just pouncing on Grendel who enters Heorot with intent to kill, he waits for Grendel to kill a Geat before attacking him. Why? Why does one of Beowulf’s men have to be sacrificed before our hero springs into action? It seems needlessly cruel since his plan is to kill Grendel anyway. Is this an instance of Beowulf adhering to the warrior code of wergild? Or is there something else going on here?

Forshadowing or spoiler alert? I am leaning toward the later.

But the Lord was weaving a victory on His war-loom for the Weather-Geats. Through the strength of one they all prevailed; they would crush their enemy and come through in triumph and gladness.

Tamara wrote: "Beowulf demolishes Unferth in a four-part speech delivered with aplomb: Unferth, you’re drunk; this is what really happened in the contest; you’re a nasty man who will be damned because you killed your own brothers; and Grendel can attack Heorot unopposed because you’re a sniveling coward. Or words to that effect :)..."

I love how Beowulf destroys Unferth. I like this verbal duel more than the following fight with Grendel.

Beowulf is ironically calling Unferth "my friend" in the beginning of his speech (wine min Unferð). It's amazing how after 1000 years calling someone you barely know "my friend" is still used as a way to start a heated argument or even a fight:

"[You better watch out, ]my friend"

Hrothgar is also calling Beowulf "my friend" after he pledges to kill Grendel ("For gewyrhtum þu, wine min Beowulf", line 457). Is this ironical as well or Hrothgar is genuinely considering Beowulf his friend?

I also thought it odd that Beowulf would take off all his helmet and armor AND his sword. Did he think it was unfair to fight an unarmed enemy with arms? A sort of gentlemanly code of duel? or was it just reckless hubris or was it a way to show off even more since he was perhaps tipped off from some source beforehand about Grendel’s resistance to all kinds of weapon? Or is it to show a sort of total reliance and faith in God (or fate) to let things be as he intended?

Borum wrote: "I also thought it odd that Beowulf would take off all his helmet and armor AND his sword. Did he think it was unfair to fight an unarmed enemy with arms? A sort of gentlemanly code of duel? or was ..."

Beowulf is just smart. The weapons did not helped the Danes, how should they help him? It's clear that Grendel skin is impenetrable if you're using conventional weapons and Beowulf realised that weapons would only make him slower.

I already expressed my opinion that Grendel might be just an insane berserker, but the fact that his body seems to be impenetrable proves the contrary: he possesses a supernatural element. Siegfried and Achilles have also impenetrable skins after a ritual immersion/baptism - the former in Fafnir's blood and the latter in the river Styx. Maybe Grendel has a similar story or maybe he's untouchable because of the "Mark of Cain".

Borum wrote: "I also thought it odd that Beowulf would take off all his helmet and armor AND his sword. Did he think it was unfair to fight an unarmed enemy with arms? A sort of gentlemanly code of duel? or was ..."

That's how I took it. He also says he eschews weapons to "heighten" Hygelac's fame:

I have heard moreover that the monster scorns
in his reckless way to use weapons;
therefore, to heighten Hygelac's fame
and gladden his heart, I hereby renounce
sword and the shelter of the broad shield,
the heavy war-board: hand-to-hand
is how it will be, a life-and-death
fight with the fiend.
(Heaney: lines 434-440)

I don't know why fighting without weapons will "heighten" Hygelac's fame. Hygelac just wants Grendel dead and probably doesn't care how it's done. So I took this as the poet telling us Beowulf is an honorable man who will fight fairly. It is also part of his heroic boast.

Those with a copy of Tolkien's translation available should read his notes on the Unferth passage: he (re)constructs it in almost cinematic terms. (And produces some parallels to what would later be in The Lord of the Rings.)

By the way, the character's name in the manuscript is always "Hunferth." This is a perfectly good Anglo-Saxon name, but is almost always emended because "H+vowel" can alliterate only with "H," and it instead alliterates with other vowels. (All vowels alliterate with each other.) Just another place where the scribes' limited knowledge of the old stories seems to have caused them to substitute a familiar, but wrong, reading.

In addition, Unferth would alliterate with his father's name, which is common, although not strictly required, in Old Germanic naming practices.

The father's name is interesting in its own way, too. "Ecglaf" means "leavings of [what remains after] the Sword' -- literally "edge," but almost always meaning the weapon. It is a suitably warlike, but very grim, name. Beowulf's own father is Ecgtheow, "the Servant of the Sword." The second element of *his* name shows up elsewhere in the poem in Wealh-theow, Hrothgar's queen, and in Ongen-theow, a Swedish king. But it doesn't seem to have been especially productive in Old English in general, which may be an indication that the names are genuinely old, or at least traditional.

Unfortunately for this theory, Ongentheow shows up in Old Norse sources not as 'Angantyr," the expected cognate, but as the ordinary "Egill," which could have been used by any (male) Icelander: it could be objected that the Beowulf-poet was innovating here.

But the Scandinavian parallels to the early Danish and Swedish kings are not as precise as might be hoped -- another Swedish king in Beowulf, Onela, appears as Ali, King of the Upplands in Sweden, but has a duplicate from Norway, also called Ali of the Upplands. This is probably the result of some Icelanders getting the geography confused because the name really appeared in both regions.

As for the dispute itself: there is an argument that Beowulf's swimming contest with Breca, thus presented in almost all translations (well, I don't know of any that don't), was really a rowing contest. This seems to me an attempt at misplaced realism, like trying to identify the precise species of dragons. Or the (novelistic) equation of Grendel and his family with "cannibalistic" Neanderthals. (Who, as we know from archaeology, cared for the crippled and elderly -- by their short-lived standards -- and may not have been any fiercer than the more "modern" Homo Sapiens who out-competed them -- possibly less so, given who won.)

Unferth reminds me of Thersites, the ugly, stupid, and vulgar soldier who berated Agamemnon in the Greek camp before Troy, and got thrashed by Odysseus for his trouble. But Unferth has a point: he upbraids Beowulf for vanity, and vanity is exactly what Beowulf shows by taking on Grendel alone and unarmed. Also, Beowulf's defense against Unferth's story of losing a seven-day armed swimming race is that he had to kill nine dangerous sea-monsters on the way--something no-one saw him do. If Grendel had won, Unferth might have turned out to be the wiser one.

Emil wrote: "I already expressed my opinion that Grendel might be just an insane berserker, but the fact that his body seems to be impenetrable proves the contrary: he possesses a supernatural element...."

I'm dubious that the poem intends Grendel to be seen as a berserker -- the concept is not documented in Old English, even after the Scandinavian invasions. (And Beowulf might be earlier.) And the description of his arm and hand indicate something not human -- roughly speaking, a thurs ("ogre" or some sort of malicious being dangerous to humans), or, to borrow from the Norse, a type of troll.

Dealing with a neighboring troll, or troll-woman, or a marauding re-animated corpse (draugr) is a cliche in the so-called fornaldur-sagas (Old Time Stories), late medieval adventure tales, and sometimes appears in the formally realistic, generally earlier, Sagas of the Icelanders (or Family Sagas). (They show up combination in Grettir's Saga, with its parallels to Beowulf versions of the stories.)

Of course, so far as realism goes, to the medieval, and later, Norse, these, and other "supernatural" beings, were as real as, say, the Pope, even though you might never have personally seen one.

HOWEVER: being impervious to weapons would contribute to a berserker identification, not disprove it.

In the Icelandic sagas, berserkers, while in their rage (or violent trance), are immune to edged weapons -- or don't feel the pain, or don't bleed, until later. (As for the pain part, I am always reminded of stories of athletes not noticing their broken bones: there seems to have been some reality behind the stories.) I earlier told the story of how one Icelandic hero dealt with an iron-immune berserk by biting his throat out.

I noticed that only the daughter's name is omitted from the four heirs of Healfdane and only mentioned as the wife of Onela. In Heaney's translation, 'she rendered that battle-Swede happy in fucking, where before he'd only been happy in fighting.' This precedes the next line 'War was the wife Hrothgar wed first'. So Wealtheow was only his second to his warfare?
Wealtheow seems to be the only female with a recorded name so far. Does her name have any specific meaning? Her hospitality reminded me of Helen when greeting Telemachus in the Odyssey.

Ian wrote: "Emil wrote: "I already expressed my opinion that Grendel might be just an insane berserker, but the fact that his body seems to be impenetrable proves the contrary: he possesses a supernatural elem... As for the pain part, I am always reminded of stories of athletes not noticing their broken bones: there seems to have been some reality behind the stories.) .."

In Korea, some shamans (moodang) are known to stand on the edge of knives when in an extreme trance (or communicating with the spirits). Some yogis are known to sit on needles as well.
Would this be somewhat similiar?

I really enjoyed Headley’s introduction of Welhtheow.

“Gleaming, her gown golden, she chose her chance to charm.
She was the cup-keeper. She raised it high to show the men,
Then bore it to Hrothgar, Dane’s delight,
Her husband and home-holder. She held it to his lips
And he drank deeply, the love of country in each draft.
[…] Hashtag: blessed.”

To me this reads like true poetry of what a king and queen should be, the mother and father of the land and its people, entwined with each other, the land, and it’s people. (I may be very naive in this respect.)

Ian wrote: "Emil wrote: "I already expressed my opinion that Grendel might be just an insane berserker, but the fact that his body seems to be impenetrable proves the contrary: he possesses a supernatural elem..."

What does the original text use for the word, talon? It would remain muddied it it could mean a man-made edged weapon, like a dagger, or tip the scales toward inhuman monster if it is more clearly a natural appendage like a claw.

. . .Venturing closer,
his talon was raised to attack Beowulf (Heaney 745)
where he lay on the bed. . .

There is also this passage a little ahead of this week's reading but at least we now know that Grendel is on his way out.(view spoiler)[

(Heaney 1637). . .It was a task for four
to hoist Grendel’s head on a spear
and bear it under strain to the bright hall.

It sounds like a rather monstrous head. (hide spoiler)]

I found the fight with Grendel totally anticlimactic. That's it? My faulty recollection was of multiple battles and greater difficulty for Beowulf in accomplishing his task.

Kathy wrote: "I found the fight with Grendel totally anticlimactic. That's it? My faulty recollection was of multiple battles and greater difficulty for Beowulf in accomplishing his task."

Maybe I'm so used to the spectacular and long-winded battles in the Avenger movies and become numb to a certain amount of violence, but I was sort of disappointed by this relatively simple battle as well. Maybe it's the translation's fault, but I'm currently reading 3 translations (Heaney, Headley, and Tolkien)

Tamara wrote: "In lines 456-472 (Heaney), Hrothgar illustrates his adherence to the code of “wergild” (man-price) ... instead of just pouncing on Grendel who enters Heorot with intent to kill, he waits for Grendel to kill a Geat before attacking him. Why? Why does one of Beowulf’s men have to be sacrificed before our hero springs into action? It seems needlessly cruel since his plan is to kill Grendel anyway. Is this an instance of Beowulf adhering to the warrior code of wergild? Or is there something else going on here?"

I had a scary thought and it's that Beowulf might have been waiting to see if there is any weakness or anything to beware of when attacking Grendel by letting someone else take the blow first (so, an experimental sacrifice) or he might have been waiting for the moment when Grendel's attention was focused on someone else and busy attacking somebody else to take him off guard (assuming that Grendel is not a multitasker) Either way, it's not very heroic and very cruel of a leader, so it's probably not the right explanation in a hero's epic but a possible conjecture. There have been worse battle strategies.

Kathy wrote: "I found the fight with Grendel totally anticlimactic. That's it? My faulty recollection was of multiple battles and greater difficulty for Beowulf in accomplishing his task."

I also found it anticlimactic, but I think that's the point.
Just think about it: there is a formidable being terrorizing the great Heorot for twelve winters, able to kill and devour 30 warriors in a single night. Beowulf fights him bear-handed and in a matter of minutes, he just rips Grendel’s arm out of its socket!

The battle between Beowulf and Grendel is not the point or climax of the poem, its main role in the story is to show us Beowulf's strength and cunning.
I find Beowulf's rowing contest with Breca (and the whole verbal duel with Unferth) a lot more entertaining than his battle with Grendel.


Borum wrote: "I had a scary thought and it's that Beowulf might have been waiting to see if there is any weakness or anything to beware of when attacking Grendel by letting someone else take the blow first..."

This strategy is still used in sports and in warfare: you're sacrificing something (pawn, person, or town) in order to assess the strengths and weaknesses of your enemy and make him overconfident and vulnerable. It's not very chivalrous by our standards but it's extremely effective.

David wrote: "What does the original text use for the word, talon? It would remain muddied it could mean a man-made edged weapon, like a dagger, or tip the scales toward inhuman monster if it is more clearly a natural appendage like a claw...."

Venturing closer,
his talon was raised to attack Beowulf
where he lay on the bed; he was bearing in
with open claw when the alert hero's

O.E. Text:

Forð near ætstop,
nam þa mid handa higeþihtigne
rinc on ræste, ræhte ongean
feond mid folme;

talon = handa
claw = folme

In my O.E. dictionary, "hand" means hand, and "folm" means palm.
Maybe I'm missing something, but it looks to me that the translator took the liberty of interpreting human body parts like hand or palm as animal parts like talon and claw - probably based on other compelling evidence that Grendel was a monster.

But why does the author used human parts? I can think of three explanations:

a. There are no O.E. words for "claw" or "talon".
That's easy to dismiss, we have words like "clawu" (claw) in Old English.

b. Grendel was a monster, but the author anthropomorphized him during the fight for dramatic effect.

c. Grendel was human or humanoid ( like a giant or a humanoid troll)

Ian wrote: "HOWEVER: being impervious to weapons would contribute to a berserker identification, not disprove it.

In the Icelandic sagas, berserkers, while in their rage (or violent trance), are immune to edged weapons -- or don't feel the pain, or don't bleed, until later. ..."

I don't really understand how this "invulnerability" works, maybe I'm missing something from the O.E. text.

If Grendel doesn't feel the pain caused by edged weapons then he may be a berserker on a rampage. If Grendel's skin is hard and impenetrable ( like in the case of Siegfried or Achilles) then there is definitely something supernatural about him.

We might have the answer here:

"Every nail,
claw-scale and spur, every spike
and welt on the hand of that heathen brute
was like barbed steel. Everybody said
there was no honed iron hard enough
to pierce him through, no time-proofed blade
that could cut his brutal, blood-caked claw."

In Heaney's translation, it's clear that his skin is impenetrable, there's no question about it. How about the Old English text? Do we have the same meaning? If so, then Grendel cannot be only a human.

Foran æghwylc wæs,
stiðra nægla gehwylc, style gelicost,
hæþenes handsporu hilderinces,
egl, unheoru. æghwylc gecwæð
þæt him heardra nan hrinan wolde
iren ærgod, þæt ðæs ahlæcan
blodge beadufolme onberan wolde.

Mike wrote: "I really enjoyed Headley’s introduction of Welhtheow.

“Gleaming, her gown golden, she chose her chance to charm.
She was the cup-keeper. She raised it high to show the men,
Then bore it to Hrothga..."

That is a lovely passage. Headley's translation is full of wonderful passages. I don't know how accurate her translation is, but she tries to capture what she perceives as the spirit of the poem. I think she injects the poem with a vibrance and immediacy to a much greater extent than other translations.

Kathy wrote: "I found the fight with Grendel totally anticlimactic. That's it? My faulty recollection was of multiple battles and greater difficulty for Beowulf in accomplishing his task."

I, too, find the battle with Grendel anticlimactic. But as Emil said @19, I think that's the point. It is designed to show us Beowulf's strength. I don't see it as a strategy in battle. Grendel has killed a Geat, devoured bits and pieces of him, and now is ready for his next meal. It's not as if Beowulf is deliberating on how to approach Grendel. All he does is grab him by the arm and Grendel realizes he is knee deep in yoghurt.

The captain of evil discovered himself
in a handgrip harder than anything
he had ever encountered in any man
on the face of the earth. Every bone in his body
quailed and recoiled, but he could not escape.

That's all it takes to send shivers down Grendel's spine. The whole point is to show us Beowulf's strength and to depict him as a man of honor because he adheres to the warrior code of wergild. We may not see it as honorable to sacrifice one of his men in this way, but I suspect the poet's contemporary audience would see it differently as much is made of wergild in this poem.

Emil wrote: "But why does the author used human parts? I can think of three explanations:

a. There are no O.E. words for "claw" or "talon".
That's easy to dismiss, we have words like "clawu" (claw) in Old English.

b. Grendel was a monster, but the author anthropomorphized him during the fight for dramatic effect.

c. Grendel was human or humanoid ( like a giant or a humanoid troll.."

That's really interesting. I opt for (c). But then that leads me to ask is it possible Grendel was some sort of giant human with human physical attributes but who is being described in animalistic terms just because he looks a little different?

Ian wrote: ".. .there is an argument that Beowulf's swimming contest with Breca, thus presented in almost all translations (well, I don't know of any that don't), was really a rowing contest."

I am glad someone brought this up. A rowing contest is much easier to take. Monsters and dragons aside, wearing armor while Each of us swam holding a sword is difficult to shoehorn in under the umbrella of suspended belief. The swimming contest does not seem to fit with the other fantastic elements of the story and sounds more like a Bunyanesque tall tale.

I felt there was something unworldly, maybe metaphorical, in Beowulf's fight with Grendel. The Geats know he's coming, but post no watch and have no warning of his approach. The door isn't even locked. Grendel rips open the door, but the Geats remain sleeping, except Beowulf, who is awake but lying on his bed. Grendel devours one Geat and approaches Beowulf, who grabs him in an armlock from which he can't escape. The pair thrash around the hall, the Geats (finally awake) hitting Grendel with their weapons to no effect. Grendel wails in rage and pain, and finally his arm comes entirely off and he flees. Was Beowulf's whole plan to play possum and then surprise Grendel when he approached? What if Grendel had gone to him 30th instead of 2nd?

Borum wrote: "In Korea, some shamans (moodang) are known to stand on the edge of knives when in an extreme trance (or communicating with the spirits). Some yogis are known to sit on needles as well.
Would this be somewhat similiar?..."

I wouldn't venture a guess as to whether the Icelandic portrayal of berserks is unitary, reflecting an actual Viking Age belief (or practice) at a distance of a couple of centuries, or grew by accretion, absorbing traits as storytellers found them useful. So my answer is that this may be relevant, despite the difference between howling, foaming-at-the-mouth, berserk states, as described, and even the shamanic trances in which out-of-body experiences are represented by ritual action, sometimes complex and athletic.

There is a considerable argument over whether Old Norse culture included shamanistic traits: I happen to agree that they did, and that they were significant, and that they were related to the culture of the Sámi (otherwise Lapps, now best known for herding reindeer), who shared a good part of Scandinavian with Norse-speakers during the period leading up to the Viking Age, and even during it. See Neil Price, The Viking Way: Magic and Mind in Late Iron Age Scandinavia

The connection between Yoga and Asian Shamanism (it has been treated as an international phenomenon) is also controversial, but it might be relevant.

There are some striking similarities in the pursuit of a trance state of and "powers" -- denigrated in some classical Yogic texts, but a matter of importance in others, and in popular belief. Another yogic/shamanic/berserk theme is resistance to heat, or its control.

The very name may indicate some historical connection. The Russian word "shaman" is derived from the reindeer-herding Tungus of Siberia, who could have picked it up from Buddhist Sanskrit shramanu, a grade of monk, when Central Asia was Buddhist (i.e., before the Islamic invasions). If there is a connection, though, it might have been an after-the-fact correlation, as both may have had separate developments over long periods of time before coming in contact.

(This is a particular problem in figuring out the Himalayan -- Tibetan and Nepalese -- contexts for both. See Geoffrey Samuel, Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies for a controversial look at the subject.

The main go-to books for starting serious study of either are both by Mircea Eliade: Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy and Yoga: Immortality and Freedom. The former excludes spirit-possession from its working definition of Shamanism across cultures, and in controversial on that and other accounts.

Borum wrote: "I noticed that only the daughter's name is omitted from the four heirs of Healfdane and only mentioned as the wife of Onela. ... Wealtheow seems to be the only female with a recorded name so far. Does her name have any specific meaning?..."

The daughter's name is missing due to a fault in the copying: the scansion of the line is missing several syllables, and an alliterating word, and the husband's name is also garbled (Nela for Onela). The most common suggestion for the missing name is "Yrsa," borrowed from the Norse versions of the story of Helgi and Hrolf kraki (Halga and Hrothulf in Beowulf): we got into this in last week's discussion, and the general sentiment seemed to be that it was too forced an emendation.

Wealhtheow's name is a problem.

The -theow ending is a word for a servant (or slave). In masculine names in the poem, Ecgtheow and Ongentheow, 'sword-servant" and "spear-servant," respectively, it has an heroic cast, and isn't much of a problem.

However "Wealh" is a generalized ethnonym: "foreigner," and possibly "servant" (again), which doesn't sound like a name a father would give a daughter suitable for marriage to royalty. In addition, Wealhtheow may have good Germanic family connections -- the point is obscured by more manuscript flaws -- and not be very "foreign" even in the Danish context.

To complicate the issue, in Old English "wealh" normally means "Welsh," i.e., the Cymry, the Celtic speaking peoples of southern Britain whom the Anglo-Saxons had conquered and displaced, and in part pushed back into Wales (same root) and Cornwall -- and also into Southern Scotland, which probably doesn't concern us. This specialized sense is meaningless in a Scandinavian setting.

The word itself, thought, seems to have been common Germanic: in medieval and modern German, "welsch" means foreigner, especially speakers of a Romance language, mainly French or Italian (and not, in a friendly sense, to judge from the uses I have seen).

It may be a loan-word, going back to the Gaulish tribe of the Volcae, Celtic-speakers who would have been under Roman rule during centuries of their contact with the continental Germans, so that reference to both Celtic and Romance language groups may have been inherent, and was specialized secondarily as geography dictated.

The language situation in Britain became complex. The Victorian idea that the Britons were wiped out or expelled is no longer taken seriously: the ruling class may have been gone, but the Anglo-Saxons physically could not have imported enough farmers from across the North Sea to till all the newly-acquired land, and ordinary Britons were probably left in place to do the job, gradually picking up the language of their conquerors. Hence, most likely, the generally sense of "wealh" as a subordinate of low class.

Getting back to the name issue: as Tolkien pointed out in an essay on "English and Welsh," the modern English surname "Waugh" is the (Germanic) word "Walh," and means that the person is a "Welshman," But the English name "Sayce" is from the Welsh "Sais," designating the owner as a "Saxon," i.e., English -- but in Welsh.

You may now be as confused as I am.

Emil wrote: "I don't really understand how this "invulnerability" works, maybe I'm missing something from the O.E. text.

If Grendel doesn't feel the pain caused by edged weapons then he may be a berserker on a rampage. If Grendel's skin is hard and impenetrable ( like in the case of Siegfried or Achilles) then there is definitely something supernatural about him...."

I was referring back to the Norse sources for berserkers -- there aren't any English ones. In these, the berserk is often represented as immune specifically to iron weapons -- they don't pierce his skin. (Hence the story of killing one by biting out his throat with teeth.) This is clearly a supernatural trait, and one with a loophole (like Achilles and Sigurd/Siegfried).

That such a characteristic might also be attributed to a monster, independently of the berserker notion, seems reasonable to me.

Roger wrote: "Was Beowulf's whole plan to play possum and the surprise Grendel when he approached? .."

That's possible.
We are told Grendel was bearing in on Beowulf and about to attack with "open claw" when Beowulf grips his arm. Maybe Beowulf was waiting so he could claim self-defense?

Ian wrote: "Borum wrote: "I noticed that only the daughter's name is omitted from the four heirs of Healfdane and only mentioned as the wife of Onela. ..You may now be as confused as I am.."
Yikes. I am indeed confused. Maybe she was a foreigner bride?

David wrote: "
Forshadowing or spoiler alert? I am leaning toward the later.
But the Lord was weaving a victory on His war-loom for the Weather-Geats. Through the strength of one they all prevailed; they would crush their enemy and come through in triumph and gladness.

I noticed how before fighting Grendel the poet constantly brings up God's (and fate's) role in this. Even the 'weaving' 'loom' metaphor is reminiscent of the weaving sisters of fate in Greek mythology.
In Headley's translation, there are mentions of 'tapestry of terror threaded with triumph', 'God's the final decider and men only the question-askers, students seeking solace.' 'They stitched themselves to God, and knew no enemy could hem them in, not withoug Almighty approval' 'His wyrd, though, would no longer be writ in other's blood'

The constant reference to God/fate/weaving seems reinforce not only Beowulf's own greatness but also the intervention and the ultimate hand of God/Fate in all this. This makes me think of the poet making this into some kind of Pilgrim's Progress kind of allegory. Also the mixture of fate-weaving and God seems to be another mixture of Pagan and Christian culture (I'm not familiar with weaving fate metaphors in the bible, if anyone is, let me know)

Tamara wrote: "Maybe Beowulf was waiting so he could claim self-defense? ..."

The whole passage is puzzling, but it seems possible to me that Beowulf is waiting to take Grendel off-guard, in order to get a good grip on him, and exercise his own "strength of thirty men" in his hands. But I find that a weak explanation for doing nothing while a companion is killed and eaten.

The story of the fight is told over, with additional details, when Beowulf reports to King Hygelac (lines 2070 and following). I feel that merging the two accounts now would be confusing, since it is hard to reconcile them completely, and we might as well get each version straight when we come to it.

One possibility (of which I am dubious) is that Grendel is being suggested, not very explicitly, to have an array of supernatural powers, in addition to overwhelming strength and natural weapons: for example, the door of Heorot, presumably bolted and barred, opens at his touch -- although he is then said to have ripped it apart. (Somehow, one doubts that he has been tearing it apart every night for twelve years, and that it has been repaired each time. A simpler means of access would be more plausible.)

Another possible, if dubious, explanation, is that, If the Anglo-Saxons, like the Norse, believed in magical "war-fetters," Grendel might also have the power to temporally paralyze his foes. If so, Beowulf is all the more heroic for overcoming it. (This power is particularly attributed to Odin and his Valkyries, who choose who falls in battle, but human sorcerers claimed it too.)

Borum wrote: "Maybe she was a foreigner bride? ...."

Given diplomatic marriages of royalty (which the Scyldings seem to be fond of), it would be hard to see why one more queen of foreign origin should be singled out for the name, especially with -theow added. But there may be a lost story here -- a haunting possibility for other parts of the poem, too.

(And one which severely annoyed ninteenth-century critics, who often blamed the poet of Beowulf for the loss of such information over the intervening thousand years: one of Tolkien's easier points of rebuttal to the scholarly consensus as it still stood in the 1930s.)

In Homer, the gods regularly intervene in human affairs. There's none of this in Beowulf. The old Germanic gods are not mentioned. Instead, there's a distant God controlling affairs in some opaque fashion. But no-one prays to Him, and no-one mentions Christ. The Danes and Geats seem to have lost polytheism, but not yet become Christians.

Borum wrote: "David wrote: "
Forshadowing or spoiler alert? I am leaning toward the later.
But the Lord was weaving a victory. . .

I noticed how before fighting Grendel the poet constantly brings up God's (and fate's) role in this."

It never seems to have occurred to them that the god for whom, The truth is clear: Almighty God rules over mankind and always has.and is given credit for weaving Beowulf's victory is the very same god that cursed their lives with Grendel in the first place.

It sounds like only hearing the winning sports team thanking god for the win and never hearing the losing team thanking god for the loss.

Borum wrote: "The constant reference to God/fate/weaving seems reinforce not only Beowulf's own greatness but also the intervention and the ultimate hand of God/Fate in all this..."

After defeating the sea monsters, Beowulf says, “Light came from the east, bright guarantee of God.” He acknowledges God’s presence, but he doesn’t acknowledge God's role in defeating the sea monsters. Instead, he says, “However it occurred, my sword had killed nine sea-monsters.”

It seems as if the poet injects God into the picture more frequently than Beowulf. It’s the poet who says, “But the Lord was weaving a victory on his war-loom for the Weather-Geats.” And, later, “The truth is clear: Almighty God rules over mankind and always has.” And it’s the poet who tells us Grendel is “God-cursed.”

Maybe the poet injects God into the picture whenever he can because he wants to communicate this is all part of God's plan to an audience who hasn't fully embraced Christianity.

Roger wrote: "In Homer, the gods regularly intervene in human affairs. There's none of this in Beowulf. The old Germanic gods are not mentioned. Instead, there's a distant God controlling affairs in some opaque ..."

I'm sure the proto-Beowulf was teeming with references to the old Germanic gods. The Christian author removed them and, as Tamara just mentioned, injected God/the Maker/the Almighty wherever he could.
The old gods were still present, so even mentioning them or writing down their names was probably considered blasphemy.

The poet describes the fight between Beowulf and Grendel from Grendel's point of view. He tells us how terrified Grendel was, how desperate to escape, how his body was no match for Beowulf, how much pain he felt, etc. etc.

Why does the poet describe the fight from Grendel's point of view and not from Beowulf's? Does he gain something by focusing on Grendel?

Emil wrote: "Roger wrote: "In Homer, the gods regularly intervene in human affairs. There's none of this in Beowulf. The old Germanic gods are not mentioned. Instead, there's a distant God controlling affairs i..."

The evidence for the gods in really old Germanic heroic poetry is thin -- until we get to the Old Norse, which stands out as an exception, and suggests that the old stories had been somewhat denatured before laymen committed them to writing. But the few examples of old stories, are, necessarily, from Christian hands* (the only ones writing at any length), and the old gods are absent. Beowulf, with actual references to consulting oracles, and and to worshiping demons out of ignorance, is something of an exception. The poet seems to be willing to admit that he is dealing with pre-Christians, but doesn't want to dwell on it.

*Some Germanic tribes converted to Christianity in Roman times, notably the Goths and Vandals -- but they converted to, and long maintained, an archaic view of the Trinity, later condemned as the Arian heresy, which put them at odds with the new Imperial Orthodox/Catholic Church. Later in the Middle Ages, this situation gave rise to a double vision of Theodoric the Great -- Dietrich von Bern, i.e, Theodoric of Verona -- and his associates as damnable heretics and mighty heroes.

(I intended to post this yesterday, but a bout of sickness kept me away from the computer -- and from fleshing it out with more details. I will try to remember when we get to the poem's mention of the hero Sigemund, and point out how he compares to the Old Norse Sigmundr, with his close relationship, good and bad, with Odin.)

Roger wrote: "Unferth reminds me of Thersites, the ugly, stupid, and vulgar soldier who berated Agamemnon in the Greek camp before Troy, and got thrashed by Odysseus for his trouble. But Unferth has a point: he ..."

The functional comparison is sound -- Thersites gives a royal hero (Odysseus) a chance to show off how clever he is by making Thersites look ridiculous, instead of refuting his (perfectly sensible) complaints about Agamemnon. But the comparison may break down on other points.

Unferth has an official title of sorts: he is a thyle, a word found elsewhere only in glosses to Latin. In some cases, it is neutral, if not approving, meaning 'orator.' In another, it might, by emendation, mean something like "court jester." I tend to discount the latter. Unferth is not shouting from the mass of retainers: he is seated at the King's foot, a place of honor near the throne. And his comments are not particularly funny, although skeptical that any foreigner could outdo the Danes on their home ground. Tolkien (as I've mentioned elsewhere) gives a careful analysis of the sequence in the commentary to his Beowulf translation -- originally intended for Oxford undergraduates, and light on technical details outside the poem itself.

Thyle has an Old Norse counterpart, "thulr," but this isn't particularly helpful. It refers to a verse list, a sort of combination of rhyming (alliterating) dictionary and thesaurus for Old Norse skalds, and their audiences. A great many of them are found in Snorri Sturluson's "Prose Edda," in the section Skaldskaparmal ("Poetic Diction"), and some appear elsewhere. They are topical lists: names of giants (defeated by Thor, and so useful for referring to the god); Valkyries: horses belonging to gods and heroes; hawks (ditto); weapons; etc. etc. If you have read Lord of the Rings, and remember Treebeard's "Long Lists" of everything in the universe, broken down into sets, you have a rough idea of what they are like, although less esoteric.

Nineteenth-century scholars liked to dismiss them as "rigamaroles," but they may belong to a very ancient type of poetry, already found in the catalogues (of water-nymphs, etc.) in Hesiod's Theogony, c. 8th century BCE.

I this is relevant to the OE "thyle," it may indicate someone whose job it was to amass and assess information, and supply it to a ruler when needed. But this is a guess.

The story of Unferth killing his brothers, particularly in the context of Cain (and his descendant Grendel) sounds sinister and disgraceful, and Beowulf clearly means it as a reproach. Thus far we might have another similarity to the disreputable Thersites.

But we may be dealing with a "typically Germanic" double bind, in which a loyal, oath-bound, vassal, is forced to fight his own kin when they take the opposite side in a war against his lord. The Old High German fragment "Hildebrandslied" is based on such a confrontation of father and son. This appears in a weaker form in a Latin rendering of Germanic hero-tale involving the Burgundians (Gunther and Hagen), "Waltharius," in which sworn friends fight each other because the brother and ruler of one demands it.

If so, Unferth is not, as some critics argue, a sinister figure, suggesting that treachery is afoot in the Scylding court, but a tragic exemplar of loyalty in an impossible situation. But we will probably never know.

I re-read the section for this week and was struck by a specific sentence. When describing his swimming contest with Breca, Beowulf says, “Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has already marked" (Heaney: 572-573).

I took this to mean that if a man shows he has courage, he may be able to influence fate. Could this explain why Beowulf goes it alone, faces Grendel unarmed, to demonstrate the extent of his courage, thereby influencing fate to let him live?

This led me to question Beowulf’s boasts and got me thinking I may have misread them. Is Beowulf bragging about his past exploits to demonstrate he had courage in the past and was able influence fate? Therefore, he is capable of showing courage in the future in the hope of influencing fate, again. In other words, is he intentionally putting himself in the position of having to go forward to prove his courage by boasting about his past exploits? Something along the lines of, “I did this in the past, and I will openly proclaim I will do the same in the future.”

Maybe Beowulf's bragging has little to do with bragging about past exploits and more to do with a verbal commitment to undertake future challenges with the same degree of courage. Is he intentionally putting himself in the position of making a promise from which there is no return? If so, then maybe his boasts are a way of making sure he won't be able to back out since he has made such a public commitment.

I don't know if that makes any sense, but, if so, it certainly puts Beowulf's boasts in a different light.

Beowulf seems to bet everything in the hope of winning supreme honor.

Tamara wrote: "If so, then maybe his boasts are a way of making sure he won't be able to back out since he has made such a public commitment...."

You've put your finger on the difference between "gilp" (or gylp -- in either case pronounced like its modern form, Yelp) and boasting -- even though Klaeber's Beowulf gives that, and bragging, as the definition in its glossary.

With us, boasting is a failure of manners, and suggests vanity, and perhaps mendacity -- claiming more than rightfully can be credited to you. (A sensitivity to this feeling seems to be at the heart of the nineteenth-century British aristocracy's cult of understatement, which caused problems in interacting with more forthright Americans.)

The "gilp" is an expression of self-confidence, based on past achievements, and the promise to extend them. It is probably closer to good Public Relations, with the big exception that you must perform - or at least try to carry out -- whatever you promise.

It is not clear about the Migration Age courts, but in the Viking Age, Scandinavian kings and nobles patronized court poets (skalds), who produced such promotional materials, instead of doing it themselves. The Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson claimed that the information in such poems -- once you teased it of the insanely complex language -- was reliable, since attributing false deeds was not praise, but mockery.

Snorri is sometimes considered naive for saying this: the vanity of political leaders doesn't seem so squeamish about a little thing like truth. But his point may have been that the poems were made first of all to be recited in the presence of his armed retainers, men who had been with him, and would know whether he had fought a particular battle, and whether he had won it. Only the well-received ones were likely to get wider transmission, and be rewarded.

The same principles apply to the Irish (and Scots) and Welsh praise-poetry of the same period.

In all these bodies of praise poetry, some allowance has to be made for cliches, which in some cases far outlasted the situations that gave rise to them. In the sixteenth century (I think), one jaundiced observer noted the Welsh bards were making their employers, honest country gentleman -- sound like thieves. Cattle-raiding had once been an admired demonstration of valor (as in Homer), it was necessary to attribute such virtue to one's patron, even though no one else took it very seriously -- it was just 'poetic diction.'

Ian wrote: "The "gilp" is an expression of self-confidence, based on past achievements, and the promise to extend them. It is probably closer to good Public Relations, with the big exception that you must perform - or at least try to carry out -- whatever you promise."..."

My mind tends toward seeing connections and/or interpreting things in strange ways. I didn't know anything about "gilp" or how it differs from boasting. So it's good to know my interpretation makes some sense. Thanks for sharing that.

Tamara wrote: ". . .Beowulf says, “Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has already marked" (Heaney: 572-573). I took this to mean that if a man shows he has courage, he may be able to influence fate. "

I read that a little differently. Compare it to Heaney line 455.

. . .No need then
to lament for long or lay out my body:
if the battle takes me, send back
this breast-webbing that Weland fashioned
and Hrethel gave me, to Lord Hygelac.
Fate goes ever as fate must.” (455)

A note calls this one of the many gnomic or proverbial expressions, and I took it as a tautology, whatever happens must happen. fate spares the man it has already marked is kind of the same kind of tautology. In other words, in performing acts requiring undaunted courage, it is already decided if a person will be killed or be victorious. So Beowulf is admitting here that he is subject to the whims of fate, he is just choosing to be courageous about it.

If Beowulf was playing Blackjack, he would go all in without looking at his cards, figuring the cards are already ordered in such a way that he will either win the hand or he will lose. Bet big or go home.

David wrote: "In other words, in performing acts requiring undaunted courage, it is already decided if a person will be killed or be victorious. So Beowulf is admitting here that he is subject to the whims of fate, he is just choosing to be courageous about it..."

That sounds contradictory to me. If "Fate goes ever as fate must," then I think your reading works: Beowulf admits he is subject to the whims of fate regardless of what he does. He just chooses to face the hand fate deals him with courage.

But the line I cited seems to say the opposite: “Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has already marked." I read that as saying, "Because of his undaunted courage, fate may decide to spare the man." In other words, man's courage can influence fate's decision.

Isn't that the opposite of "Fate goes ever as fate must"? Or could both be true?

The Old English "wyrd" (and some associated terms) for what we might call fate, fortune, luck, or chance, is, as the list suggests, hard to translate. It is doubtful whether there was much agreement on finer shades of meaning among the Anglo-Saxons themselves, and probably most people never thought much about it. Sometimes it is not clear if it is intended as personification of some kind of entity or power, or is merely a figure of speech,

Part of the problem is that there *are* clear-enough definitions in the primary literature, except that they all come from translations of Latin Christian, texts, and are suspect of containing ideas of Divine Providence, or, possibly, some sort of Pre-Determination of events, with theological and philosophical backgrounds alien to the Germanic word itself.

The popular idea of it is likely to have been much less sophisticated, and often, as noted in comments here, tautologous. It has been compared with "Que sera, sera," "whatever will be will be.' (Which is neither Spanish nor Italian, but has been around in English since the sixteenth century, possibly as a grammatically flawed coinage. It became a popular song, and Doris Day's signature, in the 1950s -- see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Que_Ser... )

The situation for mortals is similar in Old Norse, although there even the gods have to deal with an inescapable destiny (Ranarok), which can be prepared for, and, perhaps, postponed, but not prevented. There is no evidence that Anglo-Saxon pagans had such an idea -- although there is also no evidence that they didn't, and Tolkien was quite prepared to find the attitude, that defeat faced with courage is no disgrace, in the background of Beowulf.

Amusingly, in one late Icelandic saga, openly imitating continental romances of knights and fair ladies, the idea makes a brief and incongruous appearance. A character declines to wear armor into a battle, reflecting, in the good old heroic style, that Fate never spared a doomed man because of such things, and then declares that, "Besides, the love of the beautiful princess will be my shield and hauberk."

Tamara wrote: "David wrote: "In other words, in performing acts requiring undaunted courage, it is already decided if a person will be killed or be victorious. So Beowulf is admitting here that he is subject to t..."

I was trying to make the two phrases consistent.
fate goes as ever fate must (Heaney 455)
and
Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has already marked (Heaney: 572-573).

One seems to say fate cannot be influenced, and the other seems to say that it can. I believe the Ancient Greeks held everyone, even Zeus, to the belief that fate could not be altered, but there are some notable exceptions.

I see what you are saying now. I suppose the meaning may hinge upon a couple of things. First and foremost is the translation. Secondly, what is the meaning of being, already marked: what are they marked for, victory or death? And third, can, undaunted courage, be substituted with some other attitude, like, cautiousness, or even cowardice, or would other attitudes affect fate differently? It should also be noted that, often spares, is not the same as, always spares.

If I understand your argument correctly it is interpreted as, If fate has already marked a person for death, it may often spare them from death in light of the person facing the ordeal with undaunted courage. In this case it is correct to say that the second statement is contrary to the first and Beowulf is increasing his odds of being victorious. This is probably correct.

On the other hand, I may have been trying to hard to interpret the second statement in a way that was consistent with the first. This is harder to do, but it can work by stating fate seems to favor those with undaunted courage, but this isn't always the case. Beowulf did spend several lines before this acknowledging that he might lose, despite his undaunted courage.

I would not doubt him to his face, but I am skeptical of Beowulf's mastery of metaphysical philosophy. :)

David wrote: "I would not doubt him to his face, but I am skeptical of Beowulf's mastery of metaphysical philosophy. :)..."

Agreed :)

What a conundrum!