As Hrothgar holds the sword hilt in his hand, he ponders the history of the blade. Either in pictures or in runes, the story is told of a great race of mankind that was wiped out by the flood. He appears to know the story, although a historical Hrothgar could not have read Genesis to know about Noah’s flood. He ponders the wickedness that led to their downfall, and sees the reversal of fortune for the sword’s owner. A great earl, he reasons, owned this sword, and then fell either to the monsters descended from Cain, or to the flood itself. He sees the name of the original owner written in runes, and thinks of this story as though he himself, or a lord of a Germanic tribe, had been the “earl” who owned the sword. It stirs his thoughts, and he begins to speak one of the longest speeches in the poem.
This speech is often referred to as “Hrothgar’s Sermon,” because of its formal structure and moralizing tone. Hrothgar does not quote the Bible at all, but his conclusions are the peculiar blend of Germanic values and Biblical morals that the whole poem presents. He “preaches” against pride, but it is well to understand that the pride he speaks of is not necessarily pride as we consider it. In considering his topic, he uses a formal structure of four parts. First, he considers a particular example of a king who was overthrown in a sudden reversal of fate, then he considers a general case of the psychology behind kingly pride, he then warns Beowulf personally to take heed, and finally uses his own situation as an example for all.
Hrothgar begins with a general proposition that if an earl (or a king) acts in truth on behalf of his people, and does not exhibit the fateful forgetfulness of pride, he is a better man. It is possible that he is speaking of Beowulf at this point, as he turns immediately to him and tells him to temper his strength and glory with wisdom. He may be already praising Beowulf for taking care of the people and being born a better man; he may also be thinking of the sword’s original owner, and how it would have been better for that man if he had been virtuous and escaped the wrath of his fate. In any case, Hrothgar predicts that Beowulf will become the better sort of hero.
Immediate to his mind is an example of a man who did not pass this test. Scholars believe that Heremod may have been an earlier king of the Danes; in the myth of the infant Scyld arriving by boat, the implication is that the Danes did not have a king when the child arrived. If there is any historical basis to the stories, perhaps a sudden vacancy in the royal family allowed for a change in dynasty, resulting in the myth of the child who came over the waves. The story of Heremod seems to fit the slot; he is called the king of the Scyldings, and he seems to have been betrayed or cast out on account of his unfitness to rule. Perhaps this created the vacancy that the miracle child filled.
It is not easy to fill out the story of Heremod. In 901-915, the song of the poet as they celebrated the death of Grendel at dawn, Heremod is called headstrong, crippled by cares, a burden. He was betrayed among the “Eotens,” which is ambiguous in itself. This word could equally mean the neighboring Jutes, or the giants. If Heremod was a historical figure, then betrayal among the Jutes, perhaps a generation before the sad story of Hildeburh and Hnaef, would make sense. If Heremod was a mythical figure, then perhaps he was betrayed in the land of the Norse giants, to the far north. Most scholars consider the Jutes a more likely option, fitting Heremod into history rather than myth.
Hrothgar does not give more detailed biographical detail of the downfall of Heremod, but he does fill in the psychological background. Heremod was greedy, and he betrayed the bonds of the hall-loyalty. He “cut down his table-companions” (1713). We can imagine the king and his band of warriors at a feast, and as they grow drunk, the king lashes out and kills someone. He does it again, and again, each time in different circumstances, but each time showing the same intolerance and impulsiveness. The first few times, the men were saddened but assumed it would not happen again, but as Heremod begins to make a pattern of it, their loyalty dims and they are afraid of having him in power any longer. The other fault of Heremod was that he did not give gifts. This, in the Germanic system, was unpardonable. All spoils of battle belonged to the king, and from that hoard he doled out rewards. This reward might be the main income of each warrior, to keep or to sell. The warriors were dependent on gifts of estates, to support their families. A king who failed to give gifts was like a nation that stops sending paychecks to its Army.
The mind of Heremod is depicted in colorful terms. In his heart, he nurses a “blood-ravenous breast-hoard” (1719). This raises a different picture; perhaps he was not only a man with a hot temper, but began to kill his table companions in order to avoid sharing. We can imagine him looking over the hoard of spoils, technically his property but, as everyone knew, only his to give away. He knows that the incredibly intricate helmet taken off the Frankish king should go to Herewulf, the hero who killed the king’s bodyguard, but he wants it for himself. What better way to keep it than to make sure Herewulf does not recover from his wounds? A blow on the head in a fit of drunken rage will make sure that Herewulf’s fragile condition worsens and the helmet remains in his hoard. And so greed and betrayal worked together, and Heremod’s men grew more and more dissatisfied with their king. The earlier story suggested that the older men, who had known his father, watched with dismay as he failed to live up to his earlier promise, and squandered all of the solid ties of loyalty. A revolution in the hall may have forced him into exile, and, wandering friendless into the land of the Jutes, he may have met a violent death. Heremod’s memory continues to serve as a warning to the Danes, how a man born into good circumstances may forget his duties and come to a bad end.
At line 1724, Hrothgar transitions to a general case. How does this happen? How is it that a man could be gifted with strength, honor, and success, and throw it all away? He paints a picture of a man with many advantages over his fellow men, and enjoying every kind of success and freedom from want. This man, in 1740, at last comes to the turning point, the beginning of downfall. Pride awakens and his conscience sleeps, and he becomes greedy. He stops giving gifts. In the end, he is mortal and he dies, and all his treasure becomes another’s. Not only can he not “take it with him,” but in the end, another gives it away, as he should have done.
This portion of the message is the closest to a sermon. The conscience is the soul’s shepherd, and falls asleep. The tempter comes, either sin or the Devil, and shoots an arrow. This figure of the evil one who shoots an arrow of sin into the heart is familiar from the Bible, where Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians warns the believers to wear the armor of faith to ward off the flaming darts of the evil one. It was also familiar in a culture that used bows as daily tools, shooting down birds and rabbits as well as enemy warriors. Hrothgar’s picture is both from the Bible, and at the same time from his own culture, and believable as something a pagan king might say. To the audience of Beowulf, it was a word-picture that they might expect to hear on any Sunday in church.
The sin that the imaginary king falls into is from Germanic values, not from the Bible. Feeling greedy, he fails to give gold rings to those who boast. The loyalty of the hall was built around these gifts; the warrior promises to defend the hall or die, and the king gives him a ring as a pledge of this promise. Failing to give the rings was a way of dishonoring the promise of loyalty, and so greed, in a king, was the worst possible sin. In the Christian culture of the audience, greed had other meanings. They knew that God required giving to the poor, but here Hrothgar makes no mention of alms-giving. They knew that supporting the church through gifts was also required, and this too has no role in the duties of Hrothgar’s imagined king. He fails in one way only, that is by failing to uphold the bonds of the Germanic war band.
In 1758, Hrothgar brings the point of his message home to Beowulf. Do not be like the unhappy owner of this sword hilt, nor like Heremod, nor like any other figure of pride and downfall. While you are young, learn wisdom. Give gifts and pay attention not to your own riches and glory, but to strengthening the bonds of communal loyalty. This has been the message of his “sermon,” and yet in the closing, he returns again to Biblical language. Choosing wisdom, Beowulf can choose “eternal counsel,” a term generally used to mean spiritual wisdom and salvation. In 1763-8, Hrothgar lists the terrors that may attack Beowulf in his lifetime. This short passage is compelling in its efficiency and poetry; it achieves rhetorical power by its relentless list, followed by the conclusion: “in one fell swoop death, o warrior, will overwhelm you.”
Hrothgar’s last point is about his own situation. It does not fit into this scheme directly, but is rather an example of how evil reversal can come to any king. He states how he brought peace to the Danes through fifty years of firm rule, and yet in the end, even he suffered from an enemy that he could not placate or defeat. This seems less of a moral, and more of a transition and compliment. He has been warning Beowulf not to kill his friends, and not to become piggy and suspicious. Now, he seems to recall everyone’s minds to the occasion. He could not rid himself of the monsters, but look! Beowulf has done it! Let’s all sit down and drink! His last moral point is that just as he had to wait for God’s hand of freedom from the monsters, so Beowulf and all kings must remember their Creator and avoid sinful pride.
This last feast is told in few words. The Danes were preparing themselves for a funeral, rather than a victory feast; this sudden reversal of good, the incredible return of Beowulf, has left Hrothgar unprepared. It is late, and Beowulf is tired. Hrothgar does not have time for more than an ordinary feast, and there are no gifts laid out. After Grendel’s death, he had the day to look over his hoard and make selections, but this time, he is apologetic that it will have to wait till morning. Clearly, Beowulf is too tired to care. The feast probably wraps up earlier than usual, and all sleep in the hall without fear. One detail stands out, because it is unusual in a heroic story for any of the mundane parts of life to be recorded. As Beowulf retires, a servant goes with him to attend to whatever needs he has. The poem does not tell us what these may be; we can assume that cleaning some of his cuts and poulticing his bruises will be part of it. Beowulf may want the mere-slime washed out of his hair, as well, and his clothes washed and sewed. The line is a small reminder that even in heroic days, a bevy of hired men and women took care of these constant needs of all mankind.