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(Heaney: lines 1651-2068; Mitchell: lines 1578-1987)

Beowulf describes his fight with Grendel’s mother and acknowledges he survived it with God’s help. He presents Hrothgar with the sword’s hilt retrieved from the underwater lair. Hrothgar praises Beowulf and contrasts him with Heremod, an avaricious and murderous king. He speechifies, cautioning Beowulf against the dangers of excessive pride while reminding him to choose the rewards of eternal life instead of the fleeting glories of this life. Using himself as an example, Hrothgar says he ruled successfully for fifty years and had become complacent until Grendel’s appearance shattered his peace. The speech follows the usual routine of a banquet and then sleep.

The next morning, Beowulf returns Unferth’s sword to him and tells Hrothgar he is eager to get home. He pledges to help Hrothgar in all future conflicts. Hrothgar declares Beowulf to be “strong in body and mature in mind, impressive in speech,�� and worthy of being king of the Geats should Hrethel and his son die while Beowulf still lives. He pledges friendship between the Geats and Danes, showers Beowulf with gifts, embraces him, and then promptly bursts into tears. The Geats march back to shore, get on their ship, and sail home.

Another interlude, this time about Queen Modthryth who is contrasted with Queen Hygd, Hygelac’s wife. Modthryth was a real terror, beautiful to look at but severe in punishment for any who offended her. The poet interjects his opinion that a queen’s role is to “weave�� peace and not sow discord. Apparently, Modthryth experiences a change of heart when she marries Offa, becoming famous for her good deeds and devotion to the king.

Beowulf enters Hygelac’s hall and gives a detailed version of his reception at Heorot. He also predicts the marriage of Hrothgar’s daughter, Freawaru, to Ingeld the Heathobard will fail to heal the deep-seated rift between the Danes and the Heathobards. In other words, another ongoing feud.

I found Hrothgar’s farewell speech to Beowulf to be particularly poignant (Heaney: lines 1700-1784). He pledges friendship and offers advice to a young Beowulf from the vantage point of old age:

So learn from this
And understand true values. I who tell you
Have wintered into wisdom.
(Heaney: 1723-1725)

He warns Beowulf against man’s arrogance (“overweening��), cautions him against falling into the trap of thinking he is all-powerful, and advises him to remember he, too, will lose his strength with age.

Beowulf gives no indication he has even heard the speech. He remains silent and doesn’t react in either word or gesture. How do you interpret his silence to Hrothgar’s words of advice? He perks up (Heaney describes him as “elated��) when Hrothgar mentions the treasures a few lines later. Does Beowulf’s silence to Hrothgar’s advice indicate Beowulf is not paying attention and/or dismissing his words? Does it indicate something else?

In telling the story of, Modthryth, the poet interjects his comment that a queen’s role is to act as peace-weaver: “A queen should weave peace, not punish the innocent/ with loss of life for imagined insults�� (Heaney: lines 1942-1943).

What does it mean to weave peace? Is a queen expected to weave peace between feuding factions? If so, how does she go about doing it in a culture where wergild is the law of the land? Is the poet suggesting the continuation of a feud is possibly due to a queen’s failure to weave peace?

When Beowulf first announces his plan to go to Hrothgar’s aid early in the poem, the poet tells us:

Nobody tried to keep him from going,
No elder denied him dear as he was to them.
(Heaney: lines 202-203)

But when he gets back home and reports his ordeal to Hygelac, we learn Hygelac was opposed to the whole enterprise. Apparently, he even pleaded with him not to go.

Your undertaking
Cast my spirits down, I dreaded the outcome
Of your expedition and pleaded with you
Long and hard to leave the killer be,
Let the South-Danes settle their own
Blood-feud with Grendel.
(Heaney: lines 1992-1997)

Why the discrepancy in the two versions? Is it just an oversight on the part of the poet or is there something else going on?

Hrothgar reminds me of Nestor. I kind of imagine Beowulf rolling his eyes at the monologue. Maybe he will remember the words later in his life.

Tamara wrote: "Why the discrepancy in the two versions? Is it just an oversight on the part of the poet or is there something else going on?"

A show of public support behind privately held concerns; another example of the, things are not as they seem, theme.

I am guessing Beowulf would not have responded well to pressure not to go. Worse, could be the response of those who might feel slighted if Beowulf went against their stated desire for him not to go.

Tamara wrote: "Why the discrepancy in the two versions? Is it just an oversight on the part of the poet or is there something else going on?"

I suspect that this is the sort of thing that would go unnoticed when heard, rather than read, whether the poem was recited or read aloud (the standard medieval practice -- and, given the manuscript practices for writing OE verse, it almost had to be performed to be deciphered.

However that may be, the point at issue here may be the close relationship between Hygelac and Beowulf, which goes beyond the advice of the omen-taking wise men. Beowulf is the king's sister's son, a special relationship, since it made him a part of the royal family (who was also fostered at court), but made him only a distant contender for the throne, and so not a threat despite his emerging prominence as a champion -- and a bit of an amateur diplomat.

(As I've remarked before, on the Danish succession, in Germanic tribes a royal connection through the female line counted when there were no other obvious candidates for the throne -- except among the Salian Franks, which turned out to have important implications in French history.)

Without going into the whole Modthrytho digression, and the disputes over reconstructing the story behind it, it is worth noting that Klaeber's Beowulf, and Fulk's translation of its text, upend the whole problem. "Mod-thrytho" is taken at its face value "arrogance," and treated as an adjective, so the passage deals with a mostly hypothetical "bad queen."

In this reading it is not a piece of legend belonging either to the legendary continental hero Offa of the Angles, who is mentioned in the catalogue-poem "Widsith," and/or the Anglian King Offa (II), who reigned from 755 to almost 800. I'm not sure I agree, but it does avoid several problems concerning what the audience was expected to know or understand from the allusion.

If Modthrytho is taken as a name, our sources for her story, as Cwendrida (Queen Drida) are rather late. Beowulf and Its Analogues contains a translation of the legendary "Two Lives of Offa" (in Latin, c. 1200, from England), which is the usual starting point for explications.

The first, legendary, Offa, also appears, without a wife, in Scandinavian Latin sources translated there, Sven Ageson (about 1187) and Saxo Grammaticus (c. 1200) as a Danish hero, Uffo, who had a sluggish childhood and early adulthood, but proved himself a mighty champion when needed. (Something like Beowulf himself, although Offa engages in single combat with an enemy leader, instead of slaying monsters.)

Tamara wrote: "(He also predicts the marriage of Hrothgar’s daughter, Freawaru, to Ingeld the Heathobard will fail to heal the deep-seated rift between the Danes and the Heathobards. In other words, another ongoing feud.."

This is rather long: the issues are complex, and have been debated by some outstanding scholars, including the Dane Axel Olrik, available in English in The Heroic Legends of Denmark; Translated from the Danish and REV. in Collaboration with the Author, a section of a larger study.

Unlike the Finn and Modthrytho (if she is a real character) stories we actually know a great deal about this tale, although much of the evidence is later than we would like.

The story of (Hinieldus" (Ingeld) was popular among English monks at the time of Charlemagne, according to an angry letter by Alcuin of York. Jumping ahead to about 1200, the Danish "historian" Saxo Grammaticus (so called from his ornate Latin style) gives a complete version, but it has undergone several changes.

Since Saxo is talking about the heroism of the Danes, "Ingellus" is no longer their Heathobard enemy, but a Danish prince whose father was killed by the Saxons (i.e., North Germans in general). This was facilitated because Ingellus is the son of Frothi, the name of a great many Danish kings, but who here corresponds to Froda the Heathobard in Beowulf. (And yes, this is where Tolkien found the name Frodo. The -a ending is masculine in Old English.)

Saxo, who has a great liking for stories of bloody revenge, disapproves of this "soft" attitude (and especially of listening to women), and Ingellus is subjected to a diatribe by one of Saxo's favorite characters, the ancient warrior-poet, and general trouble-maker, Starcatherus (Starkad: Starkathr in Norse sources). Tolkien described Ingeld/Ingellus as "thrice faithless and easily persuaded," and he there puts aside his wife, renews the war, and triumphs gloriously.

The original Ingeld story has a different ending: according to "Widsith," despite the destruction of Heorot in the renewed war, Hrothgar and Hrothwulf inflict a serious defeat on the Heathobards.

This may imply their destruction as a nation, although given the gaps in our information that may be an over-reading. It is only several hundred years after that poem that we find them missing from legend, except perhaps for a fellow named Hothbroddus, so drawing conclusions about what else was in the story is risky.

In the Beowulf version, we are apparently supposed to see the hero as insightful, but not a prophet: he proposes a plausible scenario for how the feud could break out again at any moment,* once the Danes and Heathobards are in close contact, but this may not reflect the Old English version of the story in detail.

In fact, Beowulf specifies an "eald aescwiga," "old ash[spear]-fighter" as the inciter of trouble. This is conceivably an allusion to Starkad, or his prototype.

*The notion here that a captured sword could be easily recognized by the original owner's contemporaries is quite plausible. From both archaeology and literature it is known that they had quite elaborate hilts and scabbards, which would establish the identity of any such weapon, even if the blades were much the same. (And they might have inlays or other decorations to clinch the case.) The classic study is H.R. Ellis Davidson's The Sword in Anglo-Saxon England: Its Archaeology and Literature, with more up-to-date material in Sue Bruning's The Sword in Early Medieval Northern Europe: Experience, Identity, Representation

Tamara wrote: "Beowulf gives no indication he has even heard the speech. He remains silent and doesn’t react in either word or gesture. How do you interpret his silence "

I interpreted this as Beowulf cultivating an air of disinterest towards leadership. Not that he did not want the mantle of leadership, or feel it would not come to him some day, but he did not want to appear to be shamelessly seeking it in order to build trust. So he just let the speech happen; while he did not say signal his agreement with the speech, he did not signal his disagreement with it either.

The end of Hrothgar's long "sermon" (which is strongly suspected of containing expansions, even by Tolkien, who defended the general integrity of the poem over those who broke it into separate "lays"), may contain foreshadowing of events described later in the poem.

As a good map for the poem will indicate, Denmark then included a chunk of what is now southern Sweden: but it did not border on the lands of the Swedes, to the north, with whom they had a marriage alliance.

Instead, their immediate neighbors were the Geats, with whom direct conflicts over the border were possible, although they were probably separated by sparsely settled wilderness until much later -- so that contact by sea was easier, if not always on friendly terms.

So it is important that, in 1855-65, Hrothgar declares (in Chickering's translation -- I give half-line divisions only, because his translation here is consistently a line or so off from the OE):

"You have brought it to pass / that peace-bonds, friendship, / shall tie our peoples, / Geats and Spear-Danes, / in common kinship, / and strife shall sleep, / malicious attacks / which they weathered before; / so long as I rule / this broad kingdom / we shall give treasures, / and many shall greet / each other with gifts / across the gannet's bath. / The ring-necked boat / shall carry overseas / gifts of friendship, / the strongest tokens. / I know our peoples /will stand fast knitted / toward friend and foe, / blameless in everything, / as in the old manner."

Beowulf may not respond to this proposed peace agreement (he hardly has the authority to do so), but, although the poem doesn't say so, Hygelac seems to have taken note, and arranged his own "foreign policy" accordingly.

David wrote: “A show of public support behind privately held concerns; another example of the, things are not as they seem, theme...

As you suggested, the “things are not what they seem�� theme keeps showing up. We marry women off to our enemies thinking that will end the feud. Wrong. Beowulf kills Grendel, so the Danes celebrate thinking their troubles are over. Wrong. Danes and Geats assume Beowulf has been killed by Grendel’s mother. Wrong. And so on. Our perception of reality doesn’t correspond with actual reality.

But I notice something else going on—a sort of setting up of opposites as a guide to proper conduct. Hrothgar contrasts the avaricious King Heremod with Beowulf as a means of recounting the proper conduct for a leader. The poet includes the story of Modthryth, depicting her as a terror until she gets married. She is contrasted with Queen Hygd, Hygelac’s wife, who gives generously to the Geats.

I get the impression there is a strong element of didacticism in the poem. Something along the lines of the following:
Don’t jump to conclusions because things are not always what they seem;
Don’t engage in feuding because it’s a tragic waste of life and embroils both parties in a never-ending cycle of violence;
Don’t behave like King Heremond if you’re a king;
Don’t behave like the pre-marriage Modthryth if you’re a queen.
And so on.

I had not seen a didactic element in the poem in the past. But I’m wondering now is it possible the poet not only entertains, he also tries to educate, guide, and transform elements within warrior society?

Tamara wrote: "I had not seen a didactic element in the poem in the past. But I’m wondering now is it possible the poet not only entertains, he also tries to educate, guide, and transform elements within warrior society?"

A list of negative lessons, i.e., do not copy these bad examples.

I saw didactic elements right from the start. Heaney 11, when we are given the example of Shield Sheafson as a good king. Line 25, Behavior that's admired is the path to power among people everywhere. Plus all of the advice and comments he narrator/poet sprinkles in. Is it didactic enough to call it a morality tale?

Tamara wrote: "In telling the story of, Modthryth, the poet interjects his comment that a queen’s role is to act as peace-weaver: “A queen should weave peace, not punish the innocent/ with loss of life for imagin..."

I believe that the poet means that, in such a society full of feuds and disputes, a woman's role was to try to diffuse such tensions (whenever possible) and not complicates things as Modthryth is accused of. It kind of reminds me some articles saying that usually women in many families are supposed to take the role of "psichological confort" and to diffuse conflicts and so on.

David wrote: "Is it didactic enough to call it a morality tale?..."

Possibly, although I haven't come across it being called a morality tale before.

Monica wrote: "I believe that the poet means that, in such a society full of feuds and disputes, a woman's role was to try to diffuse such tensions (whenever possible) and not complicates things as Modthryth is accused of..."

But doesn't that put an undue burden on women? How can they be expected to diffuse tensions when there is a strong element within warrior society determined to seek blood vengeance?

The hilt represents an artifact coherent with the claims made that Grendel and his mother are connected to or even descendants of Cain, but the biblical references, including the sword hilt anachronistioc?

Hrothgar's examination of the hilt reveals it is engraved with what appear to be Old Testament scenes and symbols regarding the biblical flood and the genocide of the giants but it seems the story is taking place in per-christian pagan times?

I suppose the question hinges on whether Hrothgar does or does not realize what the engravings are, and if not, the poet clearly does and is informing us, which seems to be supported in the Heaney translation beginning at 1687.

David wrote: "The hilt represents and artifact coherent with the claims made that Grendel and his mother are connected to or even descendants of Cain, but the biblical references, including the sword hilt anachr..."

Headley's translation of the passage:

Hrothgar considered his convictions. He handled the hilt,
an ancient thing, a fossil from forgotten days,
squinting at the legend left there for the literate.
It was engraved with an epic inscrutable to him,
the story of how war woke in the world, and a flood brewed,
drowning the race of giants, placing them beneath the waves,
a punishment for others, poor Lord-lacking unbelievers,
sin-soaked strangers, severed from sanctuary.
(Headley: lines 1687-1693)

Headley's translation suggests Hrothgar doesn't know what the engravings represent ("inscrutable to him"). The reference to a flood is biblical, but that is as far as the connection goes. There is no mention of Noah. And this flood was sent as punishment for the lack of faith in a race of giants. So I'm not sure what's happening here. Is the poet suggesting two floods--one occurring pre-Noah to destroy giants?

The poet, rather than Hrothgar, draws conclusions from the figures on the hilt: Hrothgar may or may not recognize their significance.

As I've pointed out before, early medieval writers almost never came to the Bible without an extensive knowledge of how it had been interpreted, and tended to read things into the text that moderns don't usually see there. (By the same token, plenty of people who didn't have any direct experience "knew" things that were in at that aren't there.)

As for anachronism, is not at all clear whether the Beowulf poet knew, or perhaps wanted to acknowledge, that his characters lived after Christ, but before the coming of Christianity to the North -- and for many Anglo-Saxons without much sense of calendar chronology, it may have been a distinction without a difference.

Just to begin with, the BC/AD distinction was popularized for the learned, but only the learned, by the Anglo-Saxon scholar and historian, and chronographer, Bede, although he probably didn't invent it.

Digression:

Bede found this division useful in summarizing the history of the world after some idiots accused him of heresy for recalculating the age of the world, instead of relying on certain Church Fathers for absolute dates.

This even though there was no doctrinal point involved, and even though the authorities disagreed among themselves, and their numbers came from the Septuagint, and not the supposedly more accurate Vulgate.

Bede badly needed a single dating system to reconcile all of the datings he had to deal with; years of Byzantine Emperors, years of Papal reigns, years of Anglo-Saxon kings, and a lot more. The calculated age of the world (Anno Mundi) was the common way out, but Bede's scholarship wouldn't allow him to take the accepted version of that as reliable.

As it happens, Bede probably got the birth of Christ in the wrong year, reproducing an error in calculation in some of his sources. Hence, modern studies arguing that Jesus was really born a few years BC.....

An alternative formulation for BC/AD is Before the Common Era, BCE, and the Common Era, CE. This works better when dealing with Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, etc., who don't want to turn the world's working calendar into religious propaganda -- at least for another religion. It also avoids the "Christ was born BC" conundrum.

The Jewish calendar currently in use is also based on a Years of Creation count, although it is off by some centuries due to a lack of knowledge on the part of the Rabbis of how long the Persian Empire lasted. It replaced an earlier reckoning based on the Seleucid count, starting after the death of Alexander the Great. Jews used it into the Middle Ages, calling it "The Era of the Documents" or "The Era of the Greeks."

Tamara wrote: "But doesn't that put an undue burden on women? How can they be expected to diffuse tensions when there is a strong element within warrior society determined to seek blood vengeance?..."

Ideologically, exchanges of women in formal marriages were supposed to reconcile men on both sides to living in peace with their new relatives: this is documented in a great number of cultures which know blood feuds, and fits the Anglo-Saxon literature quite well.

In real life, this probably worked part of the time, but the cases where it didn't are the ones that made stories worth telling.

Tamara wrote: "And this flood was sent as punishment for the lack of faith in a race of giants."

I understand that Headley passage this way. Much like the dinosaurs must be, the giants are unfortunate victims of collateral damage from the biblical flood sent to drown out others. Others, of course, refers to the sinful race of humans after they were kicked out of Eden, sanctuary.

and a flood brewed,
drowning the race of giants, placing them beneath the waves,
a punishment for others, poor Lord-lacking unbelievers,
sin-soaked strangers, severed from sanctuary.

ETA: Upon further examination, I still think others refers to humans, but it is not quite clear whether the poor Lord-lacking unbelievers, sin-soaked strangers, severed from sanctuary is referring to Humanity or the giants, but probably the giants.

Tamara wrote: "Is the poet suggesting two floods--one occurring pre-Noah to destroy giants?..."

In post Biblical traditions, already found in the last centuries before the Common Era (see above) in pseudepigraphic works like the Book of Jubilees and the (First) Book of Enoch, the mating of the angelic Sons of God and the Daughters of Men produced a race of giants, whose violence, including cannibalism, was an important factor in God sending the Flood to cleanse the Earth.

This was absorbed into early Christian writings, although there the Sons of God are usually identified with the descendants of Adam's third son, Seth, and the Daughters of Men are descendants of Cain.

In some versions, the souls of the Giants remained earth-bound, and still trouble mortals in the form of demons. Some such notion may explain why Grendel's mother was still around, even after the drowning of all her giant relatives, but that is a guess: I haven't gotten into that part of the literature for several years.

David wrote: "I understand that Headley passage this way. Much like the dinosaurs must be, the giants are unfortunate victims of collateral damage from the biblical flood sent to drown out others. Others, of course, refers to the sinful race of humans after they were kicked out of Eden.."

I see that now. Thanks.

Tamara wrote: "David wrote: "The hilt represents and artifact coherent with the claims made that Grendel and his mother are connected to or even descendants of Cain, but the biblical references, including the swo..."

Is the reference to the flood in itself biblical? In many cultures there seem to be legends of great floods, to an extend that some scholars seriously investigated the idea that the biblical flood (and the flood in other culture's recollections) has been some sort of cannonised historical event.

I do agree of course that the narrator makes it to be biblical, but the giants throw me of a bit.

In this case the giants are clearly Biblical. (Snorri Sturluson thought he had discovered the Flood in Norse mythology, but his interpretation seems to be wishful thinking, so we don't have a valid early Germanic parallel, which is what would matter here.)

The poet even uses the Latin loan-word "gigant" in reference to the story (lines 1560 and 1690) instead of the Anglo-Saxon "ent."

The reference is to Genesis 6:4, which, in the old Douay-Rheims Catholic translation runs " Now giants were upon the earth in those days. For after the sons of God went in to the daughters of men and they brought forth children, these are the mighty men of old, men of renown."

Other English translations are similar, but this one is directly from St. Jerome's Latin version, the Vulgate, and so is approximately what the Anglo-Saxons would have known.

In the Clementine edition of the Vulgate, which uses modern punctuation, the Latin says precisely: Gigantes autem erant super terram in diebus illis: postquam enim ingressi sunt filii Dei ad filias hominum, illæque genuerunt, isti sunt potentes a sæculo viri famosi.

This episode immediately precedes the Biblical Flood story, and the Giants were sometimes invoked to explain why something so drastic was necessary -- they were very hard to kill. (Why God didn't, say, strike each of them individually with lightning, is, of course, not explained by commentators who take this line.)

Another Digression:

The Biblical story itself seems to try to take into account the stories of mighty heroes and demi-gods in the mythologies of other nations. This idea was certainly in use a couple of centuries BC, in the original text of the First Book of Enoch. A section of it, now known as "The Book of Giants," was not included in the Ethiopic translation usually considered the most complete version, but has been recovered from other sources. These include a Dead Sea Scrolls fragment, which actually names in this context "Gligms," who is unmistakably the very ancient Mesopotamian hero Gilgamesh, "two-thirds god and one-third mortal." His long-forgotten story has been recovered from cuneiform tablets in modern times: there he is not a giant drowned in the flood, but the mighty king who interviews Utnapishtim the Immortal, the Babylonian version of Noah.

Marieke wrote: "Is the reference to the flood in itself biblical?"

Apparently the giants of the bible come from disputed translations of the term Nephilim occurring in several places in the bible, most notably in Genesis 6:1��4, immediately before the account of Noah's ark. It also occurs in some other ancient texts.
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Marieke wrote: "Is the reference to the flood in itself biblical? In many cultures there seem to be legends of great floods, to an extend that some scholars seriously investigated the idea that the biblical flood (and the flood in other culture's recollections) has been some sort of cannonised historical event."

The flood story is probably one of the most ubiquitous stories to appear in world mythologies. The two I’m most familiar with is Gilgamesh
Gilgamesh: A New English Version, also known as the Izdubar Epic, that Ian mentioned. It recounts the adventures of the historical king Gilgamesh who ruled the ancient Mesopotamian city of Uruk (modern day Iraq) approx. 2750 BCE. Written in cuneiform on baked clay tablets, its first fragments were discovered in the ruins of Nineveh (modern day Mosul) in 1853 although it wasn’t deciphered or translated until many years later. The story of the flood (about 4,000 years before the Noah story) is told by Utnapishtim who was granted immortality by the gods. It contains a number of parallels with the Noah story, including the building of an ark, the release of birds to determine if the flood has subsided, and the goddess Aruru’s colorful necklace (the Biblical rainbow) by which the gods promise never to flood the world, again.

The other flood story I’m familiar with is the Quiche Mayan Popol Vuh: The Sacred Book of the Maya: The Great Classic of Central American Spirituality, in which the gods send a flood to kill off humanity for failing to worship them properly. In that version, not only do flood waters drown people, but their pots and pans chase after them and beat them up!

Once again, I’m struck by the tone of sadness threading its way throughout the poem. There seems to be a constant refrain of the fragility of life, reminders that all good things will end. In the first section, we saw the poet describe the magnificence of Heorot and then immediately tell us it will be destroyed by fire. In this section, we have an aging Hrothgar describing his reversal in fortune after successfully ruling for fifty years. His speech to Beowulf is tinged with the sadness of old age transmitting the wisdom of his years to youthful ears. And we have Beowulf predicting the marriage of Hrothgar’s daughter will not end the bloody feud between the Danes and the Heathobards.

There seems to be a recurring refrain in the poem that life is full of hardships; good fortune is short-lived; after joy comes sorrow; happiness in this life is unattainable; the vitality of youth is followed by decrepit old age. Although there is feasting and revelry following the death of Grendel and his mother, I don’t see much joy in this poem. The tone of melancholy in the narrative seems to be woven into its very fabric. Is there more joy than I’m seeing?

Don't forget the flood story from our recent read of The Library of Greek Mythology by Apollodorus

Deucalion, Pyrrha, and the great flood
Prometheus had a son, Deucalion, who. . .married Pyrrha, the daughter of Epimetheus and of Pandora. . .When Zeus wanted to eliminate the race of bronze, Deucalion, on the advice of Prometheus, built a chest, and after storing it with provisions, climbed into it with Pyrrha. Zeus poured an abundance of rain from heaven to flood the greater part of Greece, causing all human beings to be destroyed. . .But Deucalion was carried across the sea in his chest for nine days and as many nights until he was washed ashore at Parnassos; and there, when the rain stopped. . .On the orders of Zeus, he picked up stones and threw them over his head; and the stones that Deucalion threw became men, and those that Pyrrha threw became women.

Apollodorus. The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics) . OUP Oxford. Kindle Edition.

David wrote: "Don't forget the flood story from our recent read of The Library of Greek Mythology by ApollodorusDeucalion, Pyrrha, and the great flood
Prometheus had a son, Deucalion, who. . .marrie..."

Thank you! I don't know how I forget to mention that :)

Tamara wrote: "Once again, I’m struck by the tone of sadness threading its way throughout the poem. There seems to be a constant refrain of the fragility of life, reminders that all good things will end."

It reminds me somewhat of the Greek ages of man, where as each age ends a new and lessor age begins, ending with the current Iron Age.

Iron Age �� Hesiod finds himself in the Iron Age. During this age, humans live an existence of toil and misery. Children dishonor their parents, brother fights with brother and the social contract between guest and host (xenia) is forgotten. During this age, might makes right, and bad men use lies to be thought good. At the height of this age, humans no longer feel shame or indignation at wrongdoing; babies will be born with gray hair and the gods will have completely forsaken humanity: "there will be no help against evil."

A difference in Beowulf is that poet keeps reminding us that the Christian god has not forsaken humanity and is the recognized help against evil.

To hypothetically place Beowulf in these ages I am not sure wether the story of Beowulf would be from an Heroic Age, or if Beowulf would be an Heroic Age artifact living in the Iron Age, but things definitely seem to always be waning.

Tamara wrote: "also known as the Izdubar Epic..."

Just in case anyone goes looking for that title, it is just an inadequate transliteration from the earliest days of Assyriology (the blanket term, also from the nineteenth-century) for Babylonian and Assyrian studies.

Besides its vast general distribution, the Flood story was known in the other areas most relevant to the Bible, Asia Minor and parts of the Eastern Mediterranean in general: but the Mesopotamian versions are the ones which are old enough to be relevant to Biblical origins. (For example, one version form Asia Minor has clearly been influenced by the Noah story, instead of the other way around.)

"Gilgamesh" itself is the name in Akkadian (common Assyro-Babylonian) texts. These are Semitic language(s). In Sumerian, the unrelated precursor language for Mesopotamian civilization, it is, as currently reconstructed, "Bilgamesh."

The Akkadian Gilgamesh epic indeed contains a version of the Mesopotamian flood story, an as-told-to account by the Flood hero, Utnapishtim (or "Utna'ishtim"). In the epic's opening, Gilgamesh is specifically praised for bringing back "knowledge from before the Flood," containing information vital to the Mesopotamian world-view and dealings with the gods.

The Flood also appears in another Akkadian work, "The Epic of Atrahasis" (or Atram-hasis"), which includes the creation of mankind, and most closely resembles Genesis -- although it also contains a whole series of other disasters meant to keep human population under control, so that their incessant noise doesn't disturb the chief god, the irascible and unpredictable Enlil.

Atrahasis, "exceedingly wise," is an adjective, and is actually used elsewhere as a description of Utnapishtim.

In a short version in Sumerian, he is Ziusudra (various transliterations) instead. This compostion may actually be somewhat later than the earliest Semitic versions.

These all have similarities to the Genesis version, besides an Ark, such as the sending out of birds, but their genetic relationships to each other, let alone the Bible, are unclear.

The Gilgamesh version seems to have had the widest distribution, but one of the others, or yet another version as yet unknown, and perhaps oral, may be more closely related to the Biblical text.

The Mesopotamian flood also appears as an "historical event" in chronicle-like works, notably the "Sumerian King List," which divides time between the first creation of kingship and the days after the Flood, when "Kingship was sent down from Heaven" a second time.

By the way, Robert Silverberg's historical novel "Gilgamesh the King" is currently available in Kindle (in the US) at $1.99:

There is also a current trade paperback edition: the ŷ������ link is to an out-of-print mass-market edition Gilgamesh the King.

It is a remarkable tour-de-force, an autobiography of Gilgamesh in the mode of Mary Renault's Theseus novels, instead of fantasy, or Silverberg's more usual science fiction. This hampered its sales in 1984, since bookstores didn't know where to shelve it, and readers wound up confused: although it got a very good response from specialists in Ancient Near Eastern studies.

I seem to have deleted the reference I started with: "Gilgamesh and Beowulf: foundations of a comparison," by Richard North and Martin Worthington, which can be downloaded in PDF at

You will need a (free) Academia registration. Their basic service is also free, although they heavily promote a paid "Premium" version which is probably more than worth the money to professional academics and other researchers, and graduate students.

I sometimes have temporary trouble using the site with a particular browser: if you run into a problem, you might try an alternative. E.g., on a Mac I mostly use Firefox, but sometimes substitute Safari when pages won't appear or download.

In his farewell speech to Beowulf, Hrothgar says,

It is a great wonder
how Almighty God in His magnificence
Favors our race with rank and scope
And the gift of wisdom; His sway is wide.
(Heaney: lines 1724-1727)

He asserts his race has been favored by God who granted it superiority in rank, scope, and wisdom. Which “race�� is Hrothgar referring to? Is it the human race? But isn’t Grendel as a descendent of Cain also part of the human race? So is Hrothgar referring to some other race? If so, which one?

Hrothgar may mainly be talking about the ruling class.

Heaney's "our race" is indeed confusing, although not flatly wrong.

The OE is "manna cynne," for which "mankind" is an approximation, although cynn could mean family, or "breed,"

And OE "mann/monn" primarily means "person," although it is grammatically masculine. An early lesson in OE is that "ana mann" does not mean "one man," or "a man," but "someone."

(For a male human as distinct from a female human, one would use "wer," if we can trust Aelfric the Grammarian in the eleventh century.)

Chickering just has "men," which I don't think is quite right for Hrothgar's philosophic mood, although it may have been what the poet and audience had in mind.

R.D. Fulk avoids the implicit sexism with "the human race," which is technically accurate, but may not fit the male-dominated world of the poem as much as it could.

A few lines farther on, he deals with "maeran cynnes" as "of good family." Strictly speaking, "maeran" is "famous," and the expression is highly aristocratic, which is what I get out of the whole passage.

Ian wrote: "Hrothgar may mainly be talking about the ruling class.

Heaney's "our race" is indeed confusing, although not flatly wrong.

The OE is "manna cynne," for which "mankind" is an approximation, althou..."

Headley uses the word "kin."
Are you saying when Hrothgar uses the word race, he is addressing Beowulf as family? As a member of the ruling class? As a male? As a human being? All of the above?

Those are excellent questions.

I've interpreted the lines somewhat in isolation, since I don't have clear answers to most of them.

I'm not really sure what the passage is doing in the poem, besides being an interesting precursor to Shakespeare's "What a piece of work is man...."

Hrothgar's long "sermon" sometimes seems to be directed at Beowulf in particular, such as the temptations to which a hero with royal connections might be subject, for example, or the Danish-Geatish peace compact he proposes.

But then there are also more or less elaborate proverbial-sounding passages about the human condition, like this one.

Some critics have explained this meandering by positing interpolations by moralizing scribes, who may either have made them up, or found them elsewhere -- there is other Old English moralizing poetry, and it may have been a popular genre, at least among scribes, who were clerics of one sort or another.

Others have wondered if they were always there, and the message is a bit confused because the poet included passages he was fond of, of his own composition or not, and whether or not they quite fit the larger context. He is also under suspicion of having already "borrowed" the prologue from pre-existing poetry, and possibly some other passages as well.

Under the Oral Formulaic theory, the incorporation of almost ready-made passages on recurrent themes would be expected: the poet had learned how to put them together through listening to others, and long practice. It didn't matter if they didn't completely fit the context, no one was going to flip through the pages looking for inconsistencies in a poem that probably had been heard just one time, and wasn't identical to a second rendition if there was one.

But the application of that theory to Beowulf, after being popular with some scholars for some decades, is again under attack.

By the way, Headley's "kin" for "cynn" is correct, but if she leaves out the generalizing "mann" she is re-directing the message to something more personal between Hrothgar and Beowulf, and, as you can tell, I don't think that is the case here.

I've mentioned the Oral-Formulaic theory as relating to Old English poetry on several occasions, but I don't think I've mentioned a useful summary on Wikipedia:

There is more information in the links.

It reminds me that '(recurrent) themes' is actually a technical term I used without explanation.

The article briefly mentions a dispute over whether the appearance of the same themes in both Beowulf and Homer refutes or helps confirm the hypothesis.

The opponent has clearly missed, or ignored, the line of argument that the use of formulas and themes must go back to very remote antiquity, and that resemblances between them in Indo-European contexts may often indicate a common linguistic inheritance, not (implausible or impossible) borrowings in historical times.

Further note on "cynn" and "kin."

After a delay of over a month (long story), a copy of the second edition of Stephen A. Barney's Word Hoard: An Introduction to Old English Vocabulary finally arrived at my door. I began consulting it last night. (By the way, the correct form of the title is "Word-Hoard," with a hyphen. It comes from Beowulf 259 , "word-hord onleac," "treasury of words unlocked," i.e., spoke eloquently.

This is a sort of Thesaurus (treasury) to Old English poetry, covering about 2000 of the most commonly used words (with a couple of obvious exceptions, like "to be"), and is extremely handy in identifying word relationships without spending a lot of time with dictionaries and grammars that may not contain what you are looking for.

It also tracks the use of suffixes and prefixes, and appearances in compound words, the latter being extremely helpful.

When I looked up "cynn," it reminded me that "manna cynn(es) is a frequent formula," which means that how much weight can be given to each word is probably debatable, on a case-by-case basis. So Headley's translation might be better than I allowed for.

It is entered under another derivative of the root, "Cyning" (item #20), "King," designating someone of the "right" family (Kin, Kindred) to rule.

This relationship could be helpful in understanding the passage at issue, if you think that Anglo-Saxons were highly conscious of the etymology -- which I doubt, although it is possible.

This problem of whether the word choice is deliberate or automatic, and whether an audience would catch on, also comes up with a couple of compounds in Beowulf, which I won't describe here, although I may remember to mention the issue when we come to one of them.

I was struck by the almost perfunctory manner in which Beowulf gives a detailed scenario to Hrothgar predicting the failure of Hrothgar’s daughter to weave peace between the Danes and the Heathobards. In this elaborate scenario, Beowulf speculates what will happen on the wedding day. He claims a Heathobard, still rankling at their defeat, will recall the massacre carried out by the Danes. The Heathobard will fuel his people’s thirst for vengeance until one of them retaliates by killing a Dane. This will start the blood feud all over again.

The perfunctory manner Beowulf delivers this scenario suggests he has seen it happen too many times. He sounds almost weary of the whole cycle of blood feuds. Or am I reading too much into this?

I'm dubious that Beowulf is "weary of the whole cycle of blood feuds" -- or, rather, I think that he recognizes that sometimes they may be unavoidable, and accepts their burden.

Sociologically, the point of blood vengeance is to impose a prospect of retaliation on the mind of a potential offender, and this sometimes works: the stories arise only in cases where it didn't.

But it became endlessly entangled with concepts of personal and family honor. The intentional nature of the harm no longer mattered in many cases, only the public nature of the offense. Feuds could arise from pure accidents.

In one short Icelandic tale (not long enough to be called a saga), the protagonist is accidentally struck at a sporting event, and tries to pass it off as meaningless, but his family forces him to take revenge. For some details (i.e., spoilers), see the Wikipedia article

In his report to Hygelac we see the young Beowulf displaying his own understanding of how the world works, instead of just listening to Hrothgar's advice.

As I described earlier, the audience would have known some version of the Ingeld story already, and be impressed by Beowulf's sagacity, as against the wishful thinking of old Hrothgar.

But Beowulf is probably being supposed to given only an approximation of how the story went, instead of what the audience knew. I don't think that he is being turned into an oracle.

By the way, for those concerned about Hrothgar's sons, and their place in the succession to the throne, the brief mention of the story in the poem "Widsith" indicates that Hroth(w)ulf was the partner of Hrothgar in the defeat of the Heathobards in the resulting war. In the eyes of the Danes, if we suppose them to act like other early Germanic peoples and later Scandinavians, this would have made him the obvious candidate as the next king, as against untested younger men. (Or boys, depending on how old we think they are during Beowulf's visit).

So this passage may be alluding to even more than is evident when Beowulf considers Hrothgar's diplomacy likely to be a failure.

Tamara wrote: "The perfunctory manner Beowulf delivers this scenario suggests he has seen it happen too many times."

It makes me wonder if Beowulf himself was ever that young man who's temper is tested by the old spearman.

(Heaney 2041) Then an old spearman will speak while they are drinking
. . .he will begin to test a young man’s temper
and stir up trouble. . .

To add to what Ian wrote: "In his report to Hygelac we see the young Beowulf displaying his own understanding of how the world works, instead of just listening to Hrothgar's advice."

It is also quite a change from the young hero getting sage advice from Hrothgar, a seasoned king, to Beowulf's insight into future political events. Maybe Beowulf's already considerable prudence in these matters contributed to his lack of response to Hrothgar's mentoring speech?

David wrote: "Maybe Beowulf's already considerable prudence in these matters contributed to his lack of response to Hrothgar's mentoring speech?

That’s possible. But you would think he would acknowledge it in some way. He’s been courteous and diplomatic toward Hrothgar the whole time, so why the silence now?

I’m also wondering if the poet’s portrayal of Beowulf is conflicted. He depicts him as strong, articulate, wise, and generous. He wants us to be impressed with his foresight and knowledge of how things work. As Ian said:

the audience would have known some version of the Ingeld story already, and be impressed by Beowulf's sagacity, as against the wishful thinking of old Hrothgar.

On the other hand, it seems to me as if Beowulf sometimes stands outside of society and critiques it. He knows the marriage of Hrothgar’s daughter to the Heathobards won’t solve anything. So one would assume he recognizes marital alliances can’t heal feuds. But he also tells Hrothgar, "It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning."

What are we to think? According to Beowulf, a peaceful solution like a marital alliance won’t heal a feud; mourning doesn't solve anything. His conclusion seems to be that it is preferable to perpetuate a feud since it is a necessary component of warrior society. Is that what Beowulf is saying? If so, does that strike anyone as problematic?

Tamara wrote: "David wrote: "Maybe Beowulf's already considerable prudence in these matters contributed to his lack of response to Hrothgar's mentoring speech?

That’s possible. But you would think he would ackno..."

I interpret Beowulf silence as proof that Hrothgar "sermon" was a later addition to the poem. If that's true, the whole speech was directed to the reader, not to Beowulf.

After a few lines we read that Beowulf was already practising what Hrothgar is preaching:

" He said he had found it a friend in battle
and a powerful help; he put no blame
on the blade's cutting edge. He was a considerate man

This could also be interpreted as an indirect reply to the sermon. Instead of saying "Thanks for the advice, Hrothgar", Beowulf silently acknowledge it and follows the advice immediately.

Emil wrote: "After a few lines we read that Beowulf was already practising what Hrothgar is preaching:

" He said he had found it a friend in battle
and a powerful help; he put no blame
on the blade's cutting edge. He was a considerate man

This could also be interpreted as an indirect reply to the sermon. Instead of saying "Thanks for the advice, Hrothgar", Beowulf silently acknowledge it and follows the advice immediately.."

Good point. Thanks.

Tamara wrote: "But you would think he would acknowledge it in some way. He’s been courteous and diplomatic toward Hrothgar the whole time, so why the silence now?"

At the very end of Hrothgar's speech Beowulf does react by being happy and obeying Hrothgar. Maybe it is implied Beowulf would obey more than just the command to take his place on the bench, but all of the advice preceding it?

I can look upon it in triumph at last. Take your place, then, with pride and pleasure, and move to the feast. Tomorrow morning our treasure will be shared and showered upon you.�� The Geat was elated and gladly obeyed.

Maye the poet gives us Beowulf's actions here without having him repeating it in a, "yeah, what he said", moment?

To Emil's point, Beowulf seems to be a man of action that would value actions over words.

I agree that there isn't much that Beowulf could say in response. But that wouldn't have stopped someone who was interpolating the speech.

I agree with Tolkien that the "sermon" has grown, but I doubt that there is enough evidence to reconstruct just what parts were added. And the interpolations might be second-thoughts on the part of the poet, who varied what he had said the last time he performed the piece. (As predicted by Oral Formulaic theory.)

Although this is not usually pointed out in commentaries I've seen, the *whole* speech probably isn't an interpolation because part of it, Hrothgar's final proposal of firm friendship with the Geats, explains, and probably foreshadows, actions by Hygelac in the next section.