PART III

THE FIGHT AT FINNSBURG

SECTION I. THE FINNSBURG FRAGMENT

The _Finnsburg Fragment_ was discovered two centuries ago in the library of Lambeth Palace by George Hickes. It was written on a single leaf, which was transcribed and published by Hickes: but the leaf is not now to be found. This is to be regretted for reasons other than sentimental, since Hickes' transcript is far from accurate[423].

The _Fragment_ begins and breaks off in the middle of a line: but possibly not much has been lost at the beginning. For the {246} first lines of the fragment, as preserved, reveal a well-loved opening motive--the call to arms within the hall, as the watcher sees the foes approach. It was with such a call that the _Bjarkam['a]l_, the poem on the death of Rolf Kraki, began: "a good call to work" as a fighting king-saint thought it[424]. It is with a similar summons to business that the _Finnsburg Fragment_ begins. The watchman has warned the king within the hall that he sees lights approaching--so much we can gather from the two and a half words which are preserved from the watchman's speech, and from the reply made by the "war-young" king: "This is not the dawn which is rising, but dire deeds of woe; to arms, my men." And the defending warriors take their posts: at the one door Sigeferth and Eaha: at the other Ordlaf and Guthlaf, and Hengest himself[425].

Then the poet turns to the foes, as they approach for the attack. The text as reported by Hickes is difficult: but it seems that Garulf[426] is the name of the warrior about to lead the assault on the hall. Another warrior, Guthere, whether a friend, kinsman, or retainer[427] we do not know, is dissuading him, urging him not to risk so precious a life in the first brunt. But Garulf pays no heed; he challenges the champion on guard: "Who is it who holds the door?"

"Sigeferth is my name," comes the reply, "Prince I am of the Secgan: a wandering champion known far and wide: many a woe, many a hard fight have I endured: from me canst thou have what thou seekest."

So the clash of arms begins: and the first to fall is Garulf, son of Guthlaf: and many a good man round him. "The swords flashed as if all Finnsburg were afire."

{247}

Never, we are told, was there a better defence than that of the sixty champions within the hall. "Never did retainers repay the sweet mead better than his bachelors did unto Hnaef. For five days they fought, so that none of the men at arms fell: but they held the doors." After a few more lines the piece breaks off.

There are many textual difficulties here. But these, for the most part, do not affect the actual narrative, which is a story of clear and straightforward fighting. It is when we try to fit this narrative into relationship with the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_ that our troubles begin. Within the _Fragment_ itself one difficulty only need at present be mentioned. Guthlaf is one of the champions defending the hall. Yet the leader of the assault, Garulf, is spoken of as Guthlaf's son. Of course it is possible that we have here a tragic incident parallel to the story of Hildebrand and Hadubrand: father and son may have been separated through earlier misadventures, and now find themselves engaged on opposite sides. This would harmonize with the atmosphere of the _Finnsburg_ story, which is one of slaughter breaking out among men near of kin, so that afterwards an uncle and a nephew are burnt on the same pyre. And it has been noted[428] that Garulf rushes to the attack only after he has asked "Who holds the door?" and has learnt that it is Sigeferth: Guthlaf had gone to the opposite door. Can Garulf's question mean that he knows his father Guthlaf to be inside the hall, and wishes to avoid conflict with him? Possibly; but I do not think we can argue much from this double appearance of the name Guthlaf. It is possible that the occurrence of Guthlaf as Garulf's father is simply a scribal error. For, puzzling as the tradition of _Finnsburg_ everywhere is, it is peculiarly puzzling in its proper names, which are mostly given in forms that seem to have undergone some alteration. And even if _G[=u]dhl[=a]fes sunu_ be correctly written, it is possible that the Guthlaf who is father of Garulf is not to be identified with the Guthlaf whom Garulf is besieging within the hall[429].

{248}

One or other of these rather unsatisfactory solutions must unfortunately be accepted. For no theory is possible which will save us from admitting that, according to the received text, Guthlaf is fighting on the one side, and a "son of Guthlaf" on the other.

* * * * *

SECTION II. THE EPISODE IN BEOWULF

Further details of the story we get in the _Episode_ of _Finnsburg_, as recorded in _Beowulf_ (ll. 1068-1159).

Beowulf is being entertained in the court of the king of the Danes, and the king's harper tells the tale of Hengest and Finn. Only the main events are enumerated. There are none of the dramatic speeches which we find in the _Fragment_. It is evident that the tale has been reduced in scope, in order that it may be fitted into its place as an episode in the longer epic.

The tone, too, is quite different. Whereas the _Fragment_ is inspired by the lust and joy of battle, the theme of the _Episode_, as told in _Beowulf_, is rather the pity of it all; the legacy of mourning and vengeance which is left to the survivors:

For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have struck so deep.

It is on this note that the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_ begins: with the tragic figure of Hildeburh. Hildeburh is closely related to both contending parties. She is sister to Hnaef, prince of the "Half-Danes," and she is wedded to Finn, king of the Frisians. Whatever may be obscure in the story, it is clear that a fight has taken place between the men of Hnaef and those of Finn, and that Hnaef has been slain: probably by Finn directly, though perhaps by his followers[430]. A son of Finn has also fallen.

With regard to the peoples concerned there are difficulties. Finn's Frisians are presumably the main Frisian race, dwelling in and around the district still known as Friesland; for in the Catalogue of Kings in _Widsith_ it is said that "Finn Folcwalding {249} ruled the kin of the Frisians[431]." Hnaef and his people are called Half-Danes, Danes and Scyldings; Hnaef is therefore presumably related to the Danish royal house. But, in no account which has come down to us of that house, are Hnaef or his father Hoc ever mentioned as kings or princes of Denmark, and their connection with the family of Hrothgar, the great house of Scyldings who ruled Denmark from the capital of Leire, remains obscure. In _Widsith_, the people ruled over by Hnaef are called "children of Hoc" (_H[=o]cingum_), and are mentioned immediately after the "Sea-Danes[432]."

Then there is a mysterious people called the _Eotens_, upon whom is placed the blame of the struggle: "Verily Hildeburh had little reason to praise the good faith of the Eotens." This is the typical understatement of Old English rhetoric: it can only point to deliberate treachery on the part of the Eotens. Our interpretation of the poem will therefore hinge largely upon our interpretation of this name. There have been two views as to the Eotens. The one view holds them to be Hnaef's Danes, and consequently places on Hnaef the responsibility for the aggression. This theory is, I think, quite wrong, and has been the cause of much confusion: but it has been held by scholars of great weight[433]. The other view regards the Eotens as subjects {250} of Finn and foes of Hnaef. This view has been more generally held, and it is, as I shall try to show, only along these lines that a satisfactory solution can be found.

The poet continues of the woes of Hildeburh. "Guiltless, she lost at the war those whom she loved, child and brother. They fell as was fated, wounded by the spear, and a sad lady was she. Not for naught did the daughter of Hoc [i.e. Hildeburh] bewail her fate when morning came, when under the sky she could behold the murderous bale of her kinsfolk...."

Then the poet turns to the figure of Finn, king of the Frisians. His cause for grief is as deep as that of Hildeburh. For he has lost that body of retainers which to a Germanic chief, even as to King Arthur, was dearer than a wife[434]. "War swept away all the retainers of Finn, except some few."

What follows is obscure, but as to the general drift there is no doubt. After the death of their king Hnaef, the besieged Danes are led by Hengest. Hengest must be Hnaef's retainer, for he is expressly so called (_th[=e]odnes thegn_) "the king's thegn." So able is the defence of Hengest, and so heavy the loss among Finn's men, that Finn has to come to terms. Peace is made between Finn and Hengest, and the terms are given fully in the _Episode_. Unfortunately, owing to the confusion of pronouns, we soon lose our way amidst the clauses of this treaty, and it becomes exceedingly difficult to say who are the people who are alluded to as "they." This is peculiarly unlucky because here again the critical word _Eotena_ occurs, but amid such a tangle of "thems" and "theys" that it is not easy to tell from this passage to which side the Eotens belong[435].

But one thing in the treaty is indisputable. In the midst of these complicated clauses, it is said of the Danes, the retainers {251} of Hnaef, that they are not to be taunted with a certain fact: or perhaps it may be that they are not, when speaking amongst themselves, to remind each other of a certain fact. However that may be, what _is_ clear is the _fact_, the mention of which is barred. Nothing is to be said of it, even though "_they were following the slayer (bana) of their lord, being without a prince, since they were compelled so to do_." Here, at least, are two lines about the interpretation of which we can be certain: and I shall therefore return to them. We must be careful, however, to remember that the word _bana_, "slayer," conveys no idea of fault or criminality. It is a quite neutral word, although it has frequently been mistranslated "murderer," and has thus helped to encourage the belief that Finn slew Hnaef by treachery. Of course it conveys no such implication: _bana_ can be applied to one who slays another in self-defence: it implies neither the one thing nor the other.

Then the poet turns to the funeral of the dead champions, who are burned on one pyre by the now reconciled foes. The bodies of Hnaef and of the son (or sons)[436] of Hildeburh are placed together, uncle and nephew side by side, whilst Hildeburh stands by lamenting.

Then, we are told, the warriors, deprived of their friends, departed to Friesland, to their homes and to their high-city.

Hengest still continued to dwell for the whole of that winter with Finn, and could not return home because of the winter storms. But when spring came and the bosom of the earth became fair, there came also the question of Hengest's departure: but he thought more of vengeance than of his sea-journey: "If he might bring about that hostile meeting which he kept in his mind concerning the child (or children) of the Eotens." Here again the word _Eotena_ is used ambiguously, but, I think, this time not without some indication of its meaning. It has indeed been urged that the child or children of the Eotens are Hnaef, and any other Danes who may have fallen with him, and that when it is said that Hengest keeps them in mind, it is meant that he is remembering his fallen comrades with a view to taking {252} vengeance for them. But this would be a queer way of speaking, as Hengest and his living comrades would on this theory be also themselves children of the Eotens[437]. We should therefore need the term to be further defined: "children of the Eotens _who fell at Finnsburg_." It seems far more likely, from the way in which the expression is used here, that the children of the Eotens are the people _upon_ whom Hengest intends to take vengeance.

Then, we are further told, Hunlafing places in the bosom of Hengest a sword of which the edges were well known amongst the Eotens. Here again there has been ambiguity, dispute and doubt. Hunlafing has been even bisected into a chief "Hun," and a sword "Lafing" which "Hun" is supposed to have placed in the bosom of Hengest (or of someone else). Upon this act of "Hun" many an interpretation has been placed, and many a theory built. Fortunately it has become possible, by a series of rather extraordinary discoveries, such as we had little reason to hope for at this time of day, to put Hunlafing together again. We now know (and this I think should be regarded as outside the region of controversy) that the warrior who put the sword into Hengest's bosom _was_ Hunlafing. And about Hunlafing we gather, though very little, yet enough to help us. He is apparently a Dane, the son of Hunlaf, and Hunlaf is the brother of the two champions Guthlaf and Ordlaf[438]. Now Guthlaf and Ordlaf, as we know from the _Fragment_, were in the hall together {253} with Hengest: it was "Guthlaf, Ordlaf and Hengest himself" who undertook the defence of one of the doors against the assailants. Guthlaf and Ordlaf were apparently sons of the king of Denmark. As Scyldings they would be Hnaef's kinsmen, and accompanied him to his meeting with Finn. Hunlafing, then, is a nephew of two champions who were attacked in the hall, and it is possible, though we cannot prove this, that his father Hunlaf was himself also in the hall, and was slain in the struggle[439]. At any rate, when Hunlaf's son places a sword in the bosom of Hengest, this can only mean one thing. It means mischief. The placing of the sword, by a prince, in the bosom of another, is a symbol of war-service. It means that Hengest has accepted obligations to a Danish lord, a Scylding, a kinsman of the dead Hnaef, and consequently that he means to break the troth which he has sworn to Finn.

Further, we are told concerning the sword, that its edges were well known amongst the Eotens. At first sight this might seem, and to many has seemed, an ambiguous phrase, for a sword may be well known amongst either friends or foes. The old poets loved nothing better than to dwell upon the adornments of a sword, to say how a man, by reason of a fine sword which had been given to him, was honoured amongst his associates at table[440]. But if this had been the poet's meaning here, he would surely have dwelt, not upon the edges of the sword, but upon its gold-adorned hilt, or its jewelled pommel. When he says the _edges_ of the sword were well known amongst the Eotens, this seems to convey a hostile meaning. We know that the ill-faith of the Eotens was the cause of the trouble. The phrase about the sword seems therefore to mean that Hengest used this sword in order to take vengeance on the Eotens, presumably for their treachery.

The _Eotenas_, therefore, far from being the men of Hnaef and Hengest, must have been their foes.

Then the poet goes on to tell how "Dire sword-bale came upon the valiant Finn likewise." The Danes fell upon Finn at {254} his own home, reddened the floor of his hall with the life-blood of his men, slew him, plundered his town, and led his wife back to her own people.

Here the _Episode_ ends.

* * * * *

SECTION III. MOELLER'S THEORY

Now our first task is to find what is the relation between the events told in the _Fragment_ and the events told in the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_. It can, I think, be shown that the events of the _Fragment_ precede the events of the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_; that is to say that the fight in the hall, of which we are told in the _Fragment_, is the same fight which has taken place before the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_ begins, the fight which has resulted in the slaughter over which Hildeburh laments, and which necessitates the great funeral described in the first part of the _Episode_ (ll. 1108-24).

How necessary it is to place the _Fragment_ here, before the beginning of the _Episode_, will be best seen, I think, if we examine the theory which has tried to place it elsewhere.

This is the theory, worked out elaborately and ingeniously by Moeller[441], a theory which has had considerable vogue, and many of the assumptions of which have been widely accepted. According to Moeller and his followers, the story ran something like this:

"Finn, king of the Frisians, had carried off Hildeburh, daughter of Hoc (1076), probably with her consent. Her father Hoc seems to have pursued the fugitives, and to have been slain in the fight which ensued on his overtaking them. After the lapse of some twenty years, the brothers Hnaef and Hengest, Hoc's sons, were old enough to undertake the duty of avenging their father's death. They make an inroad into Finn's country."

Up to this, all is Moeller's hypothesis, unsupported by any evidence, either in the _Fragment_ or the _Episode_. It is based, so far as it has any real foundation, upon a mythical interpretation of Finn, and upon parallels with the Hild-story, the Gudrun-story, and a North Frisian folk-tale[442]. Some of the {255} parallels are striking, but they are not sufficient to justify Moeller's reconstruction. The authenticity of large portions of the folk-tale is open to doubt[443]: and these portions are vital to any parallel with the story of _Finnsburg_; whilst we have no right to read into the Finn story details from the Hild or Gudrun stories, unless we can show that they are really versions of the same tale: and this cannot be shown. Moeller's suppositions as to the events before the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_ opens, must therefore be dismissed. Moeller's reconstruction then gets into relation with the real story, as narrated in _Beowulf_:

"A battle takes place in which many warriors, among them Hnaef and a son of Finn (1074, 1079, 1115), are killed. Peace is therefore solemnly concluded, and the slain warriors are burnt (1068-1124).

As the year is too far advanced for Hengest to return home (ll. 1130 ff.), he and those of his men who survive remain for the winter in the Frisian country with Finn. But Hengest's thoughts dwell constantly on the death of his brother Hnaef, and he would gladly welcome any excuse to break the peace which has been sworn by both parties. His ill-concealed desire for revenge is noticed by the Frisians, who anticipate it by themselves taking the initiative and attacking Hengest and his men whilst they are sleeping in the hall. _This is the night attack described in the Fragment._ It would seem that after a brave and desperate resistance Hengest himself falls in this fight[444], but two of his retainers, Guthlaf and Oslaf[444], succeed in cutting their way through their enemies and in escaping to their own land. They return with fresh troops, attack and slay Finn, and carry his queen Hildeburh off with them (1125-1159)[445]."

Now the difficulties of this theory will, I think, be found to be insuperable. Let us look at some of them.

Moeller's view rests upon his interpretation of the Eotens as the men of Hnaef[446]. Since the Eotens are the aggressors, he _has_ consequently to invent the opening, which makes Hnaef and Hengest the invaders of Finn's country: and he _has_ therefore to relegate the _Fragment_ (in which Hnaef's men are clearly not the attacking party but the attacked) to a later stage in the story. But we have already seen that this interpretation of the Eotens as the men of Hnaef is not the natural one.

Further, the assumption that Hnaef and Hengest are brothers, though still frequently met with[447], is surely not justifiable. {256} There is nothing which demands any such relationship, and there is much which definitely excludes it. _After Hnaef's death_, Hengest is described as the thegn of Hnaef: an expression without parallel or explanation, if he was really his brother and successor. Again, we are expressly told in the _Episode_ that the Danish retainers make terms with Finn, _the slayer of their lord, being without a prince_. How could this be said, if Hengest was now their lord and prince? These lines are, as we have seen, one of the few clear and indisputable things in the poem. An interpretation which contradicts them flatly, by making Hengest the lord of the Danish retainers, seems self-condemned.

Again, in _Beowulf_, the poet dwells upon the blameless sorrows of Hildeburh. We gather that she wakes up in the morning to find that the kinsfolk whom she loves have, during the night, come to blows. "Innocent, she lost son and brother[448]--a sad lady she." Are such expressions natural, if Hildeburh had eloped with Finn, and her father had in consequence been slain by him some twenty years before? If she has taken that calmly, and continued to live happily with Finn, would her equanimity be so seriously disturbed by the slaughter of a brother in addition?

But these difficulties are nothing compared to the further difficulties which Moeller's adherents have to face when they proceed to find a place for the night attack as told in the _Fragment_, in the middle of the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_, i.e. between lines 1145 and 1146. In the first place we have no right to postulate that such important events could have been passed over in silence in the summary of the story as given in _Beowulf_. For Moeller has to assume that after the reconciliation between Hengest and Finn, Finn broke his pledges, attacked Hengest by night, slew most of the men who were with him, including perhaps Hengest himself; and that the _Beowulf_-poet nevertheless omitted all reference to these events, though they occur in the midst of the story, and are essential to an understanding of it.

But even apart from this initial difficulty, we find that by no process of explaining _can_ we make the night attack narrated {257} in the _Fragment_ fit in at the point where Moeller places it. In the night attack the men are called to arms by a "war-young king." This "war-young king" cannot be, as Moeller supposes, Hengest, for the simple reason that Hengest, as I have tried to show above, far from being the brother of Hnaef, and his successor as king, is his servant and thegn. The king can only be Hnaef. But Hnaef has already been slain before the _Episode_ begins: and this makes it impossible to place the _Fragment_ (in which Hnaef appears) in the middle of the _Episode_. Further, it is said in the _Fragment_ that never did retainers repay a lord better than did his men repay Hnaef. Now these words would only be possible if the retainers were fighting for their lord; that is, either defending him alive or avenging him dead. But Moeller's theory assumes that we are dealing with a period when the retainers have definitely left the service of their lord Hnaef, after his death, and have entered the service of his slayer, Finn. They have thus dissolved all bonds with their former lord: they have taken Finn's money and become _his_ men. If Finn then turns upon his new retainers and treacherously tries to slay them, it might be said that the retainers defended their own lives stoutly: but it would be far-fetched to say that in doing so they repaid their lord Hnaef. Their lord, according to Moeller's view, is no longer Hnaef, but Finn, who is seeking their lives.

Against such difficulties as these it is impossible to make headway, and we must therefore turn to some more possible view of the situation[449].

* * * * *

SECTION IV. BUGGE'S THEORY

Let us therefore examine the second theory, which is more particularly associated with the name of Bugge, though it was the current theory before his time, and has been generally accepted since.

According to this view, the _Eotenas_ are the men of Finn, and since upon them is placed the blame for the trouble, it {258} must be Finn that makes a treacherous attack upon his wife's brother Hnaef, who is his guest in Finnsburg[450]. This is the fight of which the _Fragment_ gives us the beginning. Hnaef is slain, and then follow the events as narrated in the _Episode_: the treaty which Finn makes with Hengest, the leader of the survivors: and the ultimate vengeance taken upon Finn by these survivors.

Here I think we are getting nearer to facts, nearer to a view which can command general acceptance: at any rate, in so far as the fight narrated in the _Fragment_ is placed before the beginning of the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_. Positive evidence that this is the right place for the _Fragment_ is scanty, yet not altogether lacking. After all, the fight in the _Fragment_ is a night attack, and the fight which precedes the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_, as I have tried to show, is a night attack[451]. But our reason for putting the _Fragment_ before the commencement of the _Episode_ is mainly negative: it lies in the insuperable difficulties which meet us when we try to place it anywhere else.

But, it will be objected, there are difficulties also in placing the _Fragment_ before the _Episode_. Perhaps: but I do not think these difficulties will be found to survive examination.

The first objection to supposing that the _Fragment_ narrates the same fight as precedes the _Episode_ is, that the fight in the _Fragment_ takes place at Finnsburg[452], whilst the fight which precedes the _Episode_ apparently takes place away from Finn's capital: for after the fighting is over, the dead burned, and the treaty made, the warriors depart "to see Friesland, their homes, and their high-town (_h[=e]a-burh_)[453]."

{259}

But I do not see that this involves us in any difficulty. It is surely quite reasonable that Finnsburg--Finn's castle--where the first fight takes place, is not, and was never meant to be, the same as Finn's capital, his _h[=e]aburh_, his "own home." After all, when a king's name is given to a town, the presumption is rather that the town is _not_ his capital, but some new settlement built in a newly acquired territory. _[=E]adwinesburh_ was not the capital of King Eadwine: it was the stronghold which he held against the Picts on the outskirts of his realm. Aosta was not the capital of Augustus, nor Fort William of William III, nor Harounabad of Haroun al Raschid. So here: we know that the chief town of the Frisians was not Finnsburg, but Dorestad: "Dorostates of the Frisians[454]." The fight may have taken place at some outlying castle built by Finn, and named after him _Finnsburg_: then he returned, we are told, to his _h[=e]aburh_: and it is here, _aet his sylfes h[=a]m_, "in his own home" (the poet himself seems to emphasize a distinction) that destruction in the end comes upon him. There is surely no difficulty here.

A second discrepancy has often been indicated. In the _Fragment_ the fight lasts five days before any one of the defenders fall: in the _Episode_ (it is argued) Hildeburh in the morning finds her brother slain[455]. Even were this so, I do not know that it need trouble us much. In a detail like this, which {260} does not go to the heart of the story, there might easily be a discrepancy between two versions[456].

But the whole difficulty merely arises from reading more into the words of the _Episode_ than the text will warrant. It is not asserted in the _Episode_ that Hildeburh found her kinsfolk dead in the morning, but that in the morning she found "murderous bale amid her kinsfolk." Hildeburh woke up to find a fight in progress: how long it went on, the _Episode_ does not say: but that it was prolonged we gather from ll. 1080-5: and there is no reason why the deadly strife which Hildeburh found in the morning might not have lasted five days or more, before it culminated in the death of Hnaef.

Thirdly, the commander in the _Fragment_ is called a "war-young king." This, it has been said, is inapplicable to Hnaef, since he is brother of Hildeburh, who is old enough to have a son slain in the combat.

But an uncle may be very young. Beowulf speaks of his uncle Hygelac as young, even though he seems to imply that his own youth is partly past[457]. And no advantage, but the reverse, is gained, even in this point, if, following Moeller's hypothesis, and assuming that the fight narrated in the _Fragment_ takes place after the treaty with Finn, we make the "war-young king" Hengest. For those who, with Moeller, suppose Hengest to be brother of Hnaef, will have to admit the avuncular difficulty in him also.

* * * * *

SECTION V. SOME DIFFICULTIES IN BUGGE'S THEORY

We may then, I think, accept as certain, that first come the events narrated in the _Fragment_, then those told in the _Episode_ in _Beowulf_. But we are not out of our troubles yet. There are difficulties in Bugge's view which have still to be faced.

The cause of the struggle, according to Bugge and his adherents, is a treacherous attack made by Finn upon his {261} brother-in-law Hnaef. According to the _Episode_, it is the Eotens who are treacherous; so Eotens must be another name for the Frisians.

The word occurs three times in the genitive, _Eotena_; once in the dative, _Eotenum_: as a common noun it means "giant," "monster": earlier in _Beowulf_ it is applied to Grendel and to the other misbegotten creatures descended from Cain. But how "giant" can be applied to the Frisians, or to either of the contending parties in the Finnsburg fight, remains inexplicable[458]. _Eotena_ must rather be the name of some tribe. But what tribe? The only people of whom we know, possessing a name at all like this, are the people who colonized Kent, whom Bede calls Jutes, but whose name would in Anglian be in the genitive _[=E]otna_, but in the dative _[=E]otum_, or perhaps occasionally _[=E]otnum_, _[=E]otenum_[459]. Now a scribe transliterating a poem from an Anglian dialect into West-Saxon should, of course, have altered these forms into the corresponding West-Saxon forms _[=Y]tena_ and _[=Y]tum_. But nothing would have been more likely than that he would have misunderstood the tribal name as a common noun, and retained the Anglian forms (altering _eotum_ or _eotnum_ into _eotenum_) supposing the word to mean "giants." After all, the common noun _eotenum_, "giants," was quite as like the tribal name _[=E]otum_, which the scribe presumably had before him, as was the correct West-Saxon form of that name, _[=Y]tum_.

It is difficult therefore to avoid the conclusion that the "Eotens" are Jutes: and this is confirmed by three other pieces of evidence, not convincing in themselves, but helpful as subsidiary arguments[460].

{262}

(1) We should gather from _Widsith_ that the Jutes were concerned in the _Finnsburg_ business. For in that poem generally (though not always) tribes connected in story are grouped together; and the Jutes and Frisians are so coupled:

[=Y]tum [weold] Gefwulf Fin Folcwalding Fr[=e]sna cynne.

(2) There is another passage in _Beowulf_ in which _Eotenas_ is possibly used in the sense of "Jutes."

We have seen above[461] that according to a Scandinavian tradition Lotherus was exiled _in Jutiam_: and Heremod, who has been held to be the counterpart of Lotherus

_mid Eotenum_ weardh on f[=e]onda geweald fordh forl[=a]cen.

But the identification of Lotherus and Heremod is too hypothetical to carry the weight of much argument.

(3) Finn comes into many Old English pedigrees, which have doubtless borrowed from one another. But the earliest in which we find him, and the only one in which we find his father Folcwald, is that of the Jutish kings of Kent[462]. Here, too, the name Hengest meets us.

The view that the name "Eoten" in the _Finnsburg_ story is a form of the word "Jute" is, then, one which is very difficult to reject. It is one which has in the past been held by many scholars and is, I think, held by all who have recently expressed any opinion on the subject[463]. But this renders very difficult the assumption of Bugge and his followers that the word "Eoten" is synonymous with "Frisian[464]." For Frisians were not Jutes. {263} The tribes were closely related; but the two words were not synonymous. The very lines in _Widsith_, which couple Jutes and Frisians together, as if they were related in story, show that the names were regarded as those of distinct tribes. And this evidence from _Widsith_ is very important, because the compiler of that list of names clearly knew the story of Finn and Hnaef.

But this is not the only difficulty in Bugge's interpretation of the Eotens as Frisians. The outbreak of war, we are told, is due to the treachery of the Eotens. This Bugge and his followers interpret as meaning that Finn must have treacherously attacked Hnaef. Yet the poet speaks of "the warriors of Finn when the sudden danger fell upon them": _th[=a] h[=i][=e] se f[=ae]r begeat_. It is essential to _f[=ae]r_ that it signifies a sudden and unexpected attack[465]: and the unexpected attack must have come, not upon the assailants but upon the assailed.

Yet this difficulty, though it has been emphasized by Moeller[466] and other opponents of Bugge's view, is not insuperable[467], and I hope to show below that there is no real difficulty. But it leads us to a problem not so easily surmounted. If Finn made a treacherous attack upon Hnaef, and slew him, how did it come that Hengest, and Hnaef's other men, made terms with their murderous host?

In the primitive heathen days it had been a rule that the retainer must not survive his vanquished lord[468]. The ferocity of this rule was subsequently softened, and, in point of fact, we _do_ often hear, after some great leader has been slain, of his followers accepting quarter from a chivalrous foe, without being {264} therefore regarded as having acted disgracefully[469]. But, if Finn had invited Hnaef and Hnaef's retainers to be his guests, and had fallen upon them by treachery, the action of the retainers in coming to terms with Finn, in entering his service, and stipulating how much of his pay they shall receive, would be contrary to all standards of conduct as understood in the Heroic Age, and would deprive Hnaef's men of any sympathy the audience might feel for them. But Hnaef's men are not censured: they are in fact treated most sympathetically in the _Episode_, and in the _Fragment_, at an earlier point in the story, they are enthusiastically applauded[470].

It is strange enough in any case that Hnaef's retainers should make terms with the slayer of their lord. But it is not merely strange, it is absolutely unintelligible, if we are to suppose that Finn has not merely slain Hnaef, but has lured him into his power, and then slain him while a guest.

It is to the credit of Bugge that he felt this difficulty: but his attempt to explain it is hardly satisfactory. He fell back upon a parallel between the story of the death of Rolf Kraki and the story of _Finnsburg_. We have already seen that the resemblance is very close between the _Bjarkam['a]l_, which narrates the death of Rolf, and the opening of the _Finnsburg Fragment_. The parallel which Bugge invoked comes from the sequel to the Rolf story[471] which tells how Hiarwarus, the murderer of Rolf Kraki, astonished by the devotion of Rolf's retainers, lamented their death, and said how gladly he would have given quarter to such men, and taken them into his service. Thereupon Wiggo, the one survivor, who had previously vowed to avenge his lord, and had concealed himself with that object, came forward and offered to accept these terms. Accordingly he placed his hand upon the hilt of his new master's drawn sword, as if about to swear fealty to him: but instead of swearing, he ran him through.

"Glorious and ever memorable hero, who valiantly kept his vow," says Saxo[472]. Whether or no we share the exultation of {265} that excellent if somewhat bloodthirsty ecclesiastic, we must admit that Wiggo's methods were sensible and practical. If, singlehanded, he was to keep his vow, and avenge his lord, he could only hope to do it by some such stratagem.

Bugge tries to explain Hengest's action on similar lines: "He does not hesitate to enter the service of Finn in order thereby to carry out his revenge[473]."

But the circumstances are entirely different. Wiggo was left alone, the only survivor of Rolf's household, to face a whole army. But Hengest is no single survivor: he and his fellows have made so good a defence that Finn cannot overcome them by conflict on the _medhel-stede_. Not only so, but, if we accept the interpretation that almost every critic and editor has put upon the passage (ll. 1184-5), Hengest's position is even stronger. Finn has lost almost all his thegns; the usual interpretation puts him at the mercy of Hengest: at best it is a draw[474]. If, then, Hengest wants vengeance upon Finn, why does he not pursue it? Instead of which, according to Bugge, he enters Finn's service in order that he may get an opportunity for revenge.

And note, that Wiggo did not swear the oath of fealty to the murderer of his master Rolf: he merely put himself in the posture to do so, and then, instead, ran the tyrant through forthwith. But Hengest _does_ swear the oath, and _does not_ forthwith slay the tyrant. He spends the winter with him, receives a sword from Hunlafing, after which his name does not occur again. Finn is ultimately slain, but the names which are found in that connection are those of Guthlaf and Oslaf [Ordlaf].

So Bugge's explanation comes to this: Hengest is fighting with success against Finn, but he refrains from vengeance: instead, he treacherously enters his service in order that he may take an opportunity of vengeance, which opportunity, however, it is never made clear to us that he takes.

Had Hengest been a man of that kind, he would not have been a hero of Old English heroic song.

* * * * *

{266}

SECTION VI. RECENT ELUCIDATIONS. PROF. AYRES' COMMENTS

It is one of the merits of Bugge's view--one of the proofs of its general soundness--that it admits of successive improvements at the hands of succeeding commentators. No one has done more in this way than has Prof. Ayres to clear up the story, particularly the latter part of the _Episode_. Ayres evolves unity out of what had been before "a rapid-fire of events that hit all around a central tragic situation and do not once touch it." Hengest does not, Ayres thinks, enter the service of Finn with any such well-formed plan of revenge as Bugge had attributed to him. Hengest was in a difficult situation. It is his mental conflict, "torn between his oath to Finn and his duty to the dead Hnaef," which gives unity to all that follows. It is a tragedy of Hengest, hesitating, like Shakespeare's Hamlet, over the duty of revenge. Prof. Ayres' statement here is too good to summarize; it must be quoted at length:

"How did he feel during that long, blood-stained winter? He naturally thought about home (_eard gemunde_, 1129), but there was no question of sailing then, no need yet of decision while the storm roared outside. By and by spring came round, as it has a way of doing. How did he feel then? Then, like any other Northerner, he wanted to put to sea:

fundode wrecca, gist of geardum.

That is what he would naturally do. He would speak to Finn and be off; in the spring his business was on the sea. That is all right as to Finn, but as to the dead Hnaef it is very like running away; it is postponing vengeance sadly. Will he prove so unpregnant of his cause as that? No; though he would like to go to sea, he thought _rather_ of vengeance, and staid in the hope of managing a successful surprise against Finn and his people:

h[=e] t[=o] gyrn-wraece sw[=i]dhor th[=o]hte thonne t[=o] s[=ae]-l[=a]de, gif h[=e] torn-gem[=o]t thurht[=e]on mihte, thaet h[=e] Eotena b[=e]arn inne gemunde.

All this says clearly that Hengest was thinking things over, whether he should or should not take vengeance upon Finn; it tells us also very clearly, with characteristic anticipation of the outcome of the story, that in the end desire for vengeance carried the day:

Sw[=a] h[=e] ne-forwyrnde worold-r[=ae]denne,

he did not _thus_ prove recreant to his duty. But we have not been told the steps by which Hengest arrived at his decision. That seems {267} to be what we should naturally want to know at this point, and that is precisely what we are about to be told. Occasions gross as earth informed against him[475]."

Then Ayres goes on to explain the "egging," through the presentation of a sword by Hunlafing. This feature of the story is now pretty generally so understood; but Ayres has an interpretation of the part played by Guthlaf and Oslaf, which is new and enlightening.

"Hengest's almost blunted purpose was not whetted by Hunlafing alone. The latter's uncles, Gudhlaf and Oslaf [Ordlaf] took occasion to mention to Hengest the fierce attack (the one, presumably, in which Hnaef had fallen); cast up to him all the troubles that had befallen them ever since their disastrous sea-journey to Finnsburg; they had plenty of woes to twit him with:

sidhdhan grimne gripe G[=u]dhl[=a]f and [=O]sl[=a]f aefter s[=ae]-s[=i]dhe sorge m[=ae]ndon, aetwiton w[=e]ana d[=ae]l.

The effect of all this on Hengest is cumulative. Where he was before in perfect balance, he is now wrought to action by the words of his followers; he can control himself no longer; the balance is destroyed. The restless spirit (Hengest's in the first instance, but it may be thought of as referring to the entire attacking party, now of one mind) could no longer restrain itself within the breast:

ne meahte w[=ae]fre m[=o]d forhabban in hredhre.

Vengeance wins the day[476]."

By this interpretation Ayres has, as he claims, "sharpened some of the features" of the current interpretation of the Finn story. For, as he says, "in some respects the current version was very unsatisfactory; there seemed to be little relation between the presentation of the sword to Hengest and the spectacle of Gudhlaf and Oslaf howling their complaints in the face of Finn."

That Ayres' interpretation enhances the coherency of the story is beyond dispute: that it does so at the cost of putting some strain upon the text in one or two places may perhaps be urged[477]. But that in its main lines it is correct seems to me certain: the story of Finnsburg is the tragedy of Hengest--his hesitation and his revenge. Keeping this well in view, many of the difficulties disappear.

* * * * *

{268}

SECTION VII. PROBLEMS STILL OUTSTANDING

Many of the difficulties disappear: but the two big ones remain. Firstly, if "Eoten" means "Jute," as it is usually agreed that it does, why should the Frisians be called Jutes, seeing that a Frisian is not a Jute? Secondly, when Hengest and the other thegns of Hnaef enter the service of the slayer of their lord, they are not blamed for so doing, but rather excused, _th[=a] him sw[=a] gethearfod waes_. Such a situation is unusual; but it becomes incredible if that slayer, whose service they enter, had fallen upon and slain their lord by treachery, when his guest.

It seems to me that neither of these difficulties is really inherent in the situation, but rather accidental, and owing to the way Bugge's theory, right enough in its main lines, has been presented both by Bugge and his followers. For it is not necessary to assume that Frisians _are_ called _Eotenas_ or Jutes. All that we are justified in deducing from the text is that Frisians and _Eotenas_ are both under the command of Finn. If we suppose what the text demands, _and no more_, we are at one stroke relieved of both our difficulties. Though "Jute" can hardly have been synonymous with "Frisian," nothing is more probable, as I shall try to show[478], than that a great Frisian king should have had a tribe of Jutes subject to him, or should have had in his pay a band of Jutish mercenaries. Now if the trouble was due to these "Eotens"--and we are told that it was[479]--our second difficulty is also solved. It would be much more natural for Hengest to come to terms with Finn, albeit the _bana_ of his lord, if Finn's conduct had not been stained by treachery, and if the blame for the original attack did not rest with him.

And, as I have said, there is nothing in the text which justifies us in assuming that _Eotenas_ means "Frisians" and that therefore _Eotena tr[=e]owe_ refers to Finn's breach of faith. It has indeed been argued that _Eotenas_ and Frisians are synonymous, {269} because in the terms of peace, whilst it is stipulated that Hengest and his comrades are to have equal control with the _Eotena bearn_, it is further stipulated that Finn is to give Hengest's men gifts equal to those which he gives to the _Fr[=e]sena cynn_[480]. Here then _Eotena bearn_ and _Fr[=e]sena cynn_ are certainly parallel, and are both contrasted with Hengest and his troops. But surely this in no wise proves _Eotena bearn_ and _Fr[=e]sena cynn_ synonymous: they may equally well be different sections of Finn's host, just as in _Brunanburh_ the soldiers of Athelstan are spoken of first as _Westseaxe_, and then as _Myrce_. Are we to argue that West-Saxons are Mercians? So in the account of Hygelac's fatal expedition[481] the opponents are called Franks, Frisians, _H[=u]gas_, _Hetware_. A reader ignorant of the story might suppose these all synonymous terms for one tribe. But we know that they are not: the _Hetware_ were the people immediately attacked--the Frankish overlord hastened to the rescue, and was apparently helped by the neighbouring Frisians, who although frequently at this date opposed to the Franks, would naturally make common cause against the pirate from overseas[482].

It was quite natural that the earlier students of the _Finnsburg Episode_, thinking of the two opposing forces as two homogeneous tribes, and finding mention of three tribal names, Danes, Eotens and Frisians, should have assumed that the Eotens must be exactly synonymous with _either_ Danes _or_ Frisians. But it is now recognized that the conditions of the time postulate not so much tribes as groups of tribes[483]. In the _Fragment_ we have, on the side of the Danes, _Sigeferth_, prince of the _Secgan_. The _Secgan_ are not necessarily Danes, because their lord is fighting on the Danish side. Neither need the _Eotenas_ be Frisians, because they are fighting on the Frisian side.

We cannot, then, argue that two tribes are identical, because engaged in fighting a common foe: still less, because they are {270} mentioned with a certain parallelism[484]. And anyway, it is impossible to find in the use of the expression _Eotena bearn_ in l. 1088 any support for the interpretation which makes _Eotena tr[=e]owe_ signify the treachery of Finn himself. For, assuredly, the proviso that Hengest and his fellows are to have half control as against the _Eotena bearn_ does not mean that they are to have half control as against Finn himself. For the very next lines make it clear that they are to enter Finn's service and become his retainers. That Hengest and his men are to have equal rights with Finn's Jutish followers (_Eotena bearn_) is reasonable enough: but they obviously have not equal rights with Finn, their lord whom they are now to follow. _Eotena bearn_ in l. 1088, then, does _not_ include Finn: how _can_ it then be used as an argument that _Eotena tr[=e]owe_ must refer to _Finn's_ faith and his breach of it?

Finn, then, is the _bana_ of Hnaef, but there is nothing in the text which compels us to assume that he is the slayer of his guest.

The reader may regard my zeal to clear the character of Finn as excessive. But it is always worth while to understand a good old tale. And it is only when we withdraw our unjust aspersions upon Finn's good faith that the tale becomes intelligible.

This, I know, has been disputed, and by the scholars whose opinion I most respect.

The poet tells us that Finn was the _bana_ of Hnaef, so, says Ayres, "it is hard to see how it helps matters[485]" to argue that Finn was not guilty of treachery. And Lawrence argues in the same way:

"How is it possible to shift the blame for the attack from Finn to the Eotenas when Finn is called the _bana_ of Hnaef? It does not matter whether he killed him with his own hands or not; he is clearly held responsible; the lines tell us it was regarded as disgraceful for the {271} Danes to have to follow him, and the revenge at the end falls heavily upon him. The insult and hurt to Danish pride would be very little lessened by the assumption that someone else started the quarrel; and for this assumption, too, the lines give no warrant[486]."

Let us take these objections in turn. I do not see how the fact that Finn is called the _bana_ of Hnaef can prove _anything_ as to "the blame for the attack." Of course the older editors may have thought so. Kemble translates _bana_ "slaughterer," which implies brutality, and perhaps culpability. Bosworth-Toller renders _bana_ "murderer," which certainly implies blame for attack. But we know that these are mere mistranslations. Nothing as to "blame for attack" is implied in the term _bana_: "_bana_ 'slayer' is a perfectly neutral word, and must not be translated by 'murderer,' or any word connoting criminality. A man who slays another in self-defence, or in righteous execution of the law, is still his 'bane'[487]." Everyone admits this to be true: and yet at the same time _bana_ is quoted to prove that Finn is to blame; because, for want of a better word, we half-consciously render _bana_ "murderer": and "murderer" _does_ imply blame. "Words," says Bacon, "as a Tartar's bow, do shoot back upon the understanding of the wisest."

Lawrence continues: "The lines tell us that it was regarded as disgraceful for the Danes to have to follow him." But surely this is saying too much. That the Frisians are not to taunt the Danes with following the slayer of their lord is only one of two possible interpretations of the ll. 1101-3. And even if we accept this interpretation, it does not follow that the Danes are regarded as having done anything with which they can be _justly_ taunted. It is part of the settlement between Gunnar and Njal, that Njal's sons are not to be taunted: if a man repeats the taunts he shall fall unavenged[488]. Surely a man may be touchy about being taunted, without being regarded as having done anything disgraceful. Indeed, in our case, the poet implies that taunts would _not_ be just, _th[=a] him sw[=a] gethearfod waes_. But, as I try to show below, no _thearf_ could have excused the submission of retainers to a foe who had just slain their lord by deliberate treachery.

{272}

"The revenge at the end falls heavily upon Finn." It does; as so often happens where the feud is temporarily patched up, it breaks out again, as in the stories of Alboin, Ingeld or Bolli. But this does not prove that the person upon whom the revenge ultimately falls heavily had been a guest-slayer. The possibility of even temporary reconciliation rather implies the reverse.

"The insult and hurt to Danish pride would be very little lessened by the assumption that someone else [than Finn] started the quarrel; and for this assumption, too, the lines give no warrant." But they _do_: for they tell us that it was due to the bad faith of the Eotens. Commentators may argue, if they will, that "Eotens" means Finn. But the weight of proof lies on them, and they have not met it, or seriously attempted to meet it.

* * * * *

SECTION VIII. THE WEIGHT OF PROOF: THE EOTENS

Finn is surely entitled to be held innocent till he can be proved guilty. And the argument for his guilt comes to this: the trouble was due to the bad faith of the Eotens: "Eotens" means "Jutes": "Jutes" means "Frisians": "Frisians" means "Finn": therefore the trouble was due to the treachery of Finn.

Now I agree that it is probable that _Eotenas_ means Jutes; and, as I have said, there is nothing improbable in a Frisian king having had a clan of Jutes, or a body of Jutish mercenaries, subject to him. But that the Frisians as a whole should be called Jutes is, _per se_, exceedingly improbable, and we have no shadow of evidence for it. Lawrence tries to justify it by the authority of Siebs:

"Siebs, perhaps the foremost authority on Frisian conditions, conjectures that ... the occupation by the Frisians of Jutish territory after the conquest of Britain assisted the confusion between the two names."

But _did_ the Frisians occupy Jutish territory? When we ask what is Siebs' authority for the hypothesis that Frisians occupied Jutish territory, we find it to be this: that because in _Beowulf_ "Jute" means "Frisian," some such event must have taken place to account for this nomenclature[489]. So it comes to this: the Frisians must have been called Jutes, because they occupied {273} Jutish territory: the Frisians must have occupied Jutish territory because they are called Jutes. I do not think we could have a better example of what Prof. Tupper calls "philological legend."

Siebs rejects Bede's statement, which places the Jutes in what is now Jutland: he believes them to have been immediately adjacent to the Frisians. For this belief that the Jutes were immediate neighbours of the Frisians there is, of course, some support, though not of a very convincing kind: but the belief that the Frisians occupied the territory of these adjacent Jutes rests, so far as I know, solely upon this identification of the _Eotenas_-Jutes with the Frisians, which it is then in turn used to prove.

But if by Jutes we understand (following Bede) a people dwelling north of the Angles, in or near the peninsula of Jutland, then it is of course true that (at a much later date) a colony of Frisians _did_ occupy territory which is near Jutland, and which is sometimes included in the name "Jutland." But, as I have tried to show above, this "North Frisian" colony belongs to a period much later than that of the Finn-story: we have no reason whatever to suppose that the Frisians of the Finn story are the North Frisians of Sylt and the adjoining islands and mainland--the _Frisiones qui habitabant Juthlandie_[490].

And when we have assumed, without evidence, that, at the period with which we are dealing, Frisians had occupied Jutish territory, we are then further asked to assume that, from this settlement in Jutish territory, such Frisians came to be called Jutes. Now this is an hypothesis _per se_ conceivable, but very improbable. Throughout the whole Heroic Age, for a thousand years after the time of Tacitus, Germanic tribes were moving, and occupying the territory of other people. During this period, how many instances can we find in which a tribe took the name of the people whose territory it occupied? Even where the name of the new home is adopted, the old tribal name is _not_ adopted. For instance, the Bavarians occupied the territory of the Celtic Boii, but they did not call themselves Boii, but Bai(haim)varii, "the dwellers in the land of the Boii"--a very {274} different thing. In the same way the Jutes who settled in the land of the Cantii did not call themselves _Kente_, but _Cantware_, "dwellers in Cantium." Of course, where the old name of a country survives, it does often _in the long run_ come to be applied to its new inhabitants; but this takes many ages. It was not till a good thousand years after the English had conquered the land of the Britons, that Englishmen began to speak and think of themselves as "Britons." In feudal or 18th century days all the subjects of the ruler of Britain, Prussia, Austria, may come to be called British, Prussians, Austrians. But this is no argument for the period with which we are dealing. The assumption, then, that a body of Frisians, simply because they inhabited land which had once been inhabited by Jutes, should have called themselves Jutes, is so contrary to all we know of tribal nomenclature at this date, that one could only accept it if compelled by very definite evidence to do so. And of such evidence there is no scrap[491]. Neither is there a scrap of evidence for the underlying hypothesis that any Frisians _were_ settled at this date in Jutish territory.

And as if this were not hypothetical enough, a further hypothesis has then to be built upon it: viz., that this name "Jutes," belonging to such of the Frisians as had settled in Jutish territory, somehow became applicable to Frisians as a whole. Now this might conceivably have happened, but only as a result of certain political events. If the Jutish Frisians had become the governing element in Frisia, it would be conceivable. But after all, we know something about Frisian history, and I do not {275} think we are at liberty to assume any such changes as would have enabled the Frisian people, as a whole, to be called Jutes. How is it that we never get any hint anywhere of this Jutish preponderance and Jutish ascendancy?

The argument that the "treachery of the Jutes" means the treachery of Finn, King of the Frisians, has, then, no support at all.

One further argument there is, for attributing treason to Finn.

It has been urged that in other stories a husband entraps and betrays the brother of his wife. But we are not justified in reading pieces of one story into another, unless we believe the two stories to be really connected. The Signy of the _V[o,]lsunga Saga_ has been quoted as a parallel to Hildeburh[492]. Signy leaves the home of her father Volsung and her brother Sigmund to wed King Siggeir. Siggeir invites the kin of his wife to visit him, and then slays Volsung and all his sons, save Sigmund. But it is the difference of the story, rather than its likeness, which is striking. No hint is ever made of any possibility of reconciliation between Siggeir and the kin of the men he has slain. The feud admits of no atonement, and is continued to the utterance. Siggeir's very wife helps her brother Sigmund to his revenge.

How different from the attitude of Sigmund and Signy is the willingness of Hengest to come to terms, and the merely passive and elegiac bearing of Hildeburh! These things do not suggest that we ought to read a King Siggeir treachery into the story of Finn.

Again, the fact that Atli entices the brother of his wife into his power, has been urged as a parallel. But surely it is rather unfair to erect this into a kind of standard of conduct for the early Germanic brother-in-law, and to assume as a matter of course that, because Finn is Hnaef's brother-in-law, therefore he must have sought to betray him. The whole atmosphere of the Finn-Hnaef story, with its attempted reconciliation, is as opposed to that of the story of Atli as it is to the story of Siggeir.

{276}

The only epithet applied to Finn is _ferhdh-freca_, "valiant in soul." Though _freca_ is not necessarily a good word, and is applied to the dragon as well as to Beowulf, yet it denotes grim, fierce, almost reckless courage. It does not suggest a traitor who invites his foes to his house, and murders them by night.

I interpret the lines, then, as meaning that the trouble arose from the Jutes, and, since the context shows that these Jutes were on Finn's side, and against the Danes, we must hold them to be a body of Jutes in the service of Finn[493].

* * * * *

SECTION IX. ETHICS OF THE BLOOD FEUD

But, as we have seen, it is objected that this interpretation of the situation, absolving Finn from any charge of treachery or aggression, does not "help matters[494]." Or, as Prof. Lawrence puts it, "the hurt to Danish pride [in entering the service of Finn] would be very little lessened by the assumption that someone else [than Finn] started the quarrel."

These objections seem to me to be contrary to the whole spirit of the old heroic literature.

I quite admit that there is a stage in primitive society when the act of slaying is everything, and the circumstances, or motives, do not count. In the Levitical Law, it is taken for granted that, if a man innocently causes the death of another, as for instance if his axe break, and the axe-head accidentally kill his comrade, then the avenger of blood will seek to slay the homicide, just as much as if he had been guilty of treacherous murder. To meet such cases the Cities of Refuge are established, where the homicide may flee till his case can be investigated; but even though found innocent, the homicide may be at once slain by the avenger, should he step outside the City of Refuge. And this "eye for eye" vengeance yields slowly: it took long to establish legally in our own country the distinction between murder and homicide.

{277}

For "The thought of man" it was held "shall not be tried: as the devil himself knoweth not the thought of man." Nevertheless, even the Germanic _wer-gild_ system permits consideration of circumstances: it often happens that no _wer-gild_ is to be paid because the slain man has been unjust, or the aggressor[495], or no _wer-gild_ will be accepted because the slaying was under circumstances making settlement impossible.

Doubtless in Germanic barbarism there was once a stage similar to that which must have preceded the establishment of the Cities of Refuge in Israel[496]; but that stage had passed before the period with which we are dealing; in the Heroic Age the motive _did_ count for a very great deal. Not but what there were still the literal people who insisted upon "an eye for an eye," without looking at circumstances; and these people often had their way; but their view is seldom the one taken by the characters with whom the poet or the saga-man sympathises. These generally hold a more moderate creed. One may almost say that the leading motive in heroic literature is precisely this difference of opinion between the people who hold that under any circumstances it is shameful to come to an agreement with the _bana_ of one's lord or friend or kinsman, and the people who are willing _under certain circumstances_ to come to such an agreement.

It happens not infrequently that after some battle in which a great chief has been killed, his retainers are offered quarter, and accept it; but I do not remember any instance of their doing this if, instead of an open battle, it is a case of a treacherous attack. The two most famous downfalls of Northern princes afford typical examples: after the battle of Svold, Kolbjorn Stallari accepts quarter from Eric, the chivalrous _bani_ of his lord Olaf[497]; but Rolf's men refuse quarter after the treacherous murder of their lord by Hiarwarus[498].

{278}

That men, after a fair fight, could take quarter from, or give it to, those who had slain their lord or closest kinsman, is shown by abundant references in the sagas and histories. For instance, when Eric, after the fight with the Jomsvikings, offers quarter to his prisoners, that quarter is accepted, even though their leaders, their nearest kin, and their friends have been slain. The first to receive quarter is young Sigurd, whose father Bui has just been killed: yet the writer obviously does not the less sympathize with Sigurd, or with the other Jomsviking survivors, and feels the action to be generous on the part of Eric, and in no wise base on the part of the Jomsvikings[499]. But this is natural, because the Jomsvikings have just been defeated by Eric in fair fight. It would be impossible, if Eric were represented as a traitor, slaying the Jomsvikings by a treacherous attack, whilst they were his guests. Is it to be supposed that Sigurd, under such circumstances, would have taken quarter from the slayer of Bui his father?

In the _Laxdaela Saga_, Olaf the Peacock, in exacting vengeance for the slaying of his son Kjartan, shows no leniency towards the sons of Osvif, on whom the moral responsibility rests. But he accepts compensation in money from Bolli, who had been drawn into the feud against his will. Yet Bolli was the actual slayer of Kjartan, and he had taken the responsibility as such[500]. And Olaf is not held to have lowered himself by accepting a money payment as atonement from the slayer of his son--on the contrary "he was considered to have grown in reputation" from having thus spared Bolli. But after Olaf's death, the feud bursts out again, and revenge in the end falls heavily upon Bolli[501], as it does upon Finn.

On this question a fairly uniform standard of feeling will be found from the sixth century to the thirteenth. That it _does_ make all the difference in composing a feud, whether the slaying from which the feud arises was treacherous or not, can be abundantly proved from many documents, from Paul the Deacon, and possibly earlier, to the Icelandic Sagas. Such composition of feuds may or may not be lasting; it may or may {279} not expose to taunt those who make it; but the questions which arise are precisely these: Who started the quarrel? Was the slaying fair or treacherous? Upon the answer depends the possibility of atonement. There may be some insult and hurt to a man's pride in accepting atonement, even in cases where the other side has much to say for itself. But if the slaying has been fair, composition is felt to be possible, though not without danger of the feud breaking out afresh.

Prof. Lawrence has suggested that perhaps, in the original version of the _Finnsburg_ story, the Danes were reduced to greater straits than is represented to be the case in the extant _Beowulf Episode_. He thinks that it is "almost incomprehensible" that Hengest should make terms with Finn, if he had really reduced Finn and his thegns to such a degree of helplessness as the words of the _Episode_ state. It seems to me that the matter depends much more upon the treachery or the honesty of Finn. If Finn was guilty of treachery and slaughter of his guests, then it _is_ "unintelligible" that Hengest should spare him: but if Finn was really a respectable character, then the fact that Hengest was making headway against him is rather a reason why Hengest should be moderate, than otherwise. To quote the _Laxdaela Saga_ again: though Olaf the Peacock lets off Bolli, the _bani_ of his son Kjartan, with a money payment, he makes it clear that he is master of the situation, before he shows this mercy. Paradoxical as it sounds, it was often easier for a man to show moderation in pursuing a blood feud, just _because_ he was in a strong position. It is so again in the _Saga of Thorstein the White_. But the adversary must be one who deserves to be treated with moderation.

Of course it is quite possible that Prof. Lawrence is right, and that in some earlier and more correct version the Danes may have been represented as so outnumbered by the Frisians that they had no choice except to surrender to Finn, and enter his service, or else to be destroyed. But, whether this be so or no, all parallel incidents in the old literature show that their choice between these evil alternatives will depend upon whether Finn, the _bana_ of their lord, slew that lord by deliberate and premeditated treachery whilst he was his guest, or whether he {280} was embroiled with him through the fault of others, under circumstances which were perfectly honourable. If the latter is the case, then Hnaef's men _might_ accept quarter. Their position is comparable with that of Illugi at the end of the _Grettis Saga_[502]. Illugi is a prisoner in the hands of the slayers of Grettir and he charges them with having overcome Grettir, when already on the point of death from a mortifying wound, which they had inflicted on him by sorcery and enchantment. The slayers propose to Illugi terms parallel to those made to the retainers of Hnaef. "I will give thee thy life," says their leader, "if thou wilt swear to us an oath not to take vengeance on any of those who have been in this business."

Now, note the answer of Illugi: "That might have seemed to me a matter to be discussed, if Grettir had been able to defend himself, and if ye had overcome him with valour and courage; but now it is not to be looked for that I will save my life by being such a coward as art thou. In a word, no man shall be more harmful to thee than I, if I live, _for never can I forget how it was that ye have vanquished Grettir_. Much rather, then, do I choose to die."

Now of course it would have been an "insult and hurt" to the pride of Illugi, or of any other decent eleventh century Icelander, to have been compelled to swear an oath not to avenge his brother, even though that brother had been slain in the most chivalrous way possible; and it would doubtless have been a hard matter, even in such a case, for Illugi to have kept his oath, had he sworn it. But the treachery of the opponents puts an oath out of the question, just as it must have done in the case of the followers of King Cynewulf[503] or of Rolf Kraki, and as it must have done in the case of the followers of Hnaef, had the slaying of Hnaef been a premeditated act of treachery on the part of Finn.

In the _Nj['a]ls Saga_, Flosi has to take up the feud for the slain Hauskuld. Flosi is a moderate and reasonable man, so the first thing he does is to enquire into the _circumstances_ under which Hauskuld was slain. Flosi finds that the circumstances, and the outrageous conduct of the slayers, give him no choice {281} but to prosecute the feud. So in the end he burns Njal's hall, and in it the child of Kari.

Now to have burned a man's child to death might well seem a deed impossible of atonement. Yet in the end Flosi and Kari are reconciled by a full atonement, _the father of the slain child actually taking the first step_[504]. And all this is possible because Flosi and Kari recognise that each has been trying to play his part with justice and fairness, and that each is dragged into the feud through the fault of others. When Flosi has said of his enemy, "I would that I were altogether such a man as Kari is," we feel that reconciliation is in sight.

Very similar is the reconciliation between Alboin and Thurisind in Longobard story, but with this difference, that here it is Alboin who seeks reconciliation by going to the hall of the man whose son he has slain, thus reversing the parts of Flosi and Kari; and reconciliation is possible--just barely possible.

Again, when Bothvar comes to the hall of Rolf, and slays one of Rolf's retainers, the other retainers naturally claim full vengeance. Rolf insists upon investigating the _circumstances_. When he learns that it was his own man who gave the provocation, he comes to terms with the slayer.

Of course it was a difficult matter, and one involving a sacrifice of their pride, for the retainers of Hnaef to come to any composition with the _bana_ of their lord; but it is not unthinkable, if the quarrel was started by Finn's subordinates without his consent, and if Finn himself fought fair. But had the slaying been an act of premeditated treachery on the part of Finn, the atonement would, I submit, have been not only difficult but impossible. If the retainers of Hnaef had had such success as our poem implies, then their action under such circumstances is, as Lawrence says, "almost incomprehensible." If they did it under compulsion, and fear of death, then their action would be contrary to all the ties of Germanic honour, and would entirely deprive them of any sympathy the audience might otherwise have felt for them. Yet it is quite obvious that the retainers of Hnaef are precisely the people with whom the audience is expected to sympathise[505].

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In any case, the feud was likely enough to break out again as it did in the case of Alboin and Thurisind, and equally in that of Hrothgar and Ingeld.

Indeed, the different versions of the story of the feud between the house of Hrothgar and the house of Froda are very much to the point.

Much the oldest version--probably in its main lines quite historical--is the story as given in _Beowulf_. Froda has been slain by the Danes in pitched battle. Subsequently Hrothgar, upon whom, as King of the Danes, the responsibility for meeting the feud has devolved, tries to stave it off by wedding his daughter Freawaru to Ingeld, son of Froda. The sympathy of the poet is obviously with the luckless pair, Ingeld and Freawaru, involved as they are in ancient hatreds which are not of their making. For it is foreseen how some old warrior, who cannot forget his loyalty to his former king, will stir up the feud afresh.

But Saxo Grammaticus tells the story differently. Froda (Frotho) is treacherously invited to a banquet, and then slain. By this treachery the whole atmosphere of the story is changed. Ingeld (Ingellus) marries the daughter of his father's slayer, and, for this, the old version reproduced by Saxo showers upon him literally scores of phrases of scorn and contempt. The whole interest of the story now centres not in the recreant Ingeld or his wife of treacherous race, but in the old warrior Starkad, whose spirit and eloquence is such that he can bring Ingeld to a sense of his "vast sin[506]," can burst the bonds of his iniquity, and at last compel him to take vengeance for his father.

In the _Saga of Rolf Kraki_ the story of Froda is still further changed. It is a tale not only of treachery but also of slaying of kin. Consequently the idea of any kind of atonement, however temporary, has become impossible; there is no hint of it.

Now the whole atmosphere of the Hengest-story in _Beowulf_ is parallel to that of the _Beowulf_ version of the Ingeld-story: agreement is possible, though it does not prove to be permanent. There is room for much hesitation in the minds of Hengest and of Ingeld: they remain the heroes of the story. But if Finn had, as is usually supposed, invited Hnaef to his fort and then {283} deliberately slain him by treachery, the whole atmosphere would have been different. Hengest could not then be the hero, but the foil: the example of a man whose spirit fails at the crisis, who does the utterly disgraceful thing, and enters the service of his lord's treacherous foe. The hero of the story would be some other character--possibly the young Hunlafing, who, loyal in spite of the treachery and cowardice of his leader Hengest, yet, remaining steadfast of soul, is able in the end to infuse his own courage into the heart of the recreant Hengest, and to inspire all the perjured Danish thegns to their final and triumphant revenge on Finn.

But that is not how the story is presented.

* * * * *

SECTION X. AN ATTEMPT AT RECONSTRUCTION

The theory, then, which seems to fit in best with what we know of the historic conditions at the time when the story arose, and which fits in best with such details of the story as we have, is this:

Finn, King of Frisia, has a stronghold, Finnsburg, outside the limits of Frisia proper. There several clans and chieftains are assembled[507]: Hnaef, Finn's brother-in-law, prince of the Hocings, the Eotens, and Sigeferth, prince of the Secgan; whether Sigeferth has his retinue with him or no is not clear.

But the treachery of the Eotens causes trouble: they have some old feud with Hnaef and his Danes, and attack them by surprise in their hall. There is no proof that Finn has any share in this treason. It is therefore quite natural that in the _Episode_--although the treachery of the Eotens is censured--Finn is never blamed; and that in the _Fragment_, Finn has apparently no share in the attack on the hall, at any rate during those first five days to which the account in the _Fragment_ is limited.

The attack is led by Garulf (_Fragment_, l. 20), presumably the prince of the Eotens: and some friend or kinsman is urging Garulf not to hazard so precious a life in the first attack. And {284} here, too, the situation now becomes clearer: if Garulf is the chief of the attacking people, we can understand one of his kinsmen or friends expostulating thus: but if he is merely one of a number of subordinates despatched by Finn to attack the hall, the position would not be so easily understood.

Garulf, however, does not heed the warning, and falls, "first of all the dwellers in that land." The _Fragment_ breaks off, but the fight goes on: we can imagine that matters must have proceeded much as in the great attack upon the hall in the _Nibelungen lied_[508]. One man after another would be drawn in, by the duty of revenge, and Finn's own men would wake to find a battle in progress. "The sudden bale (_f[=ae]r_) came upon them." Finn's son joins in the attack, perhaps in order to avenge some young comrade in arms; and is slain, possibly by Hnaef. Then Finn _has_ to intervene, and Hnaef in turn is slain, possibly, though not certainly, by Finn himself. But Hengest, the thegn of Hnaef, puts up so stout a defence, that Finn is unable to take a full vengeance upon all the Danes. He offers them terms. What are Hengest and the thegns to do?

Finn has slain their lord. But they are Finn's guests, and they have slain Finn's son in his own house. Finn himself is, I take it, blameless. _It is here that the tragic tension comes in._ We can understand how, even if Hengest had Finn in his power, he might well have stayed his hand. So peace is made, and all is to be forgotten: solemn oaths are sworn. And Finn keeps his promise honestly. He resumes his position of host, making no distinction between Eotens, Frisians and Danes, who are all, for the time at least, his followers.

I think we have here a rational explanation of the action of Hengest and the other thegns of Hnaef, in following the slayer of their lord.

The situation resembles that which takes place when Alboin seeks hospitality in the hall of the man whose son he has slain, or when Ingeld is reconciled to Hrothgar. Very similar, too, {285} is the temporary reconciliation often brought about in an Icelandic feud by the feeling that the other side has something to say for itself, and that both have suffered grievously. The death of Finn's son is a set off against the death of Hnaef[509]. But, as in the case of Alboin and of Ingeld, or of many an Icelandic Saga, the passion for revenge is too deep to be laid to rest permanently. This is what makes the figure of Hengest tragic, like the figure of Ingeld: both have plighted their word, but neither can keep it.

The assembly breaks up. Finn and his men go back to Friesland, and Hengest accompanies them: of the other Danish survivors nothing is said for the moment: whatever longings they may have had for revenge, the poet concentrates all for the moment in the figure of Hengest.

Hengest spends the winter with Finn, but he cannot quiet his conscience: and in the end, he accepts the gift of a sword from a young Danish prince Hunlafing, who is planning revenge. The uncles of Hunlafing, Guthlaf and Oslaf [Ordlaf], had been in the hall when it was attacked, and had survived. It is possible that the young prince's father, Hunlaf, was slain then, and that his son is therefore recognised as having the nominal leadership in the operations of vengeance[510]. Hengest, by accepting the sword, promises his services in the work of revenge, and makes a great slaughter of the treacherous Eotens. Perhaps he so far respects his oath that he leaves the simultaneous attack upon Finn to Guthlaf and Oslaf [Ordlaf]. Here we should have an explanation of _swylce_: "in like wise[511]"; and also an explanation of the omission of Hengest's name from the final act, the slaying of Finn himself. Hengest made the Eotens {286} feel the sharpness of his sword: and in like wise Guthlaf and Oslaf conducted their part of the campaign. Of course this is only a guess: but it is very much in the manner of the Heroic Age to get out of a difficulty by respecting the letter of an oath whilst breaking its spirit--just as Hogni and Gunnar arrange that the actual slaying of Sigurd shall be done by Guttorm, who had not personally sworn the oath, as they had.

* * * * *

SECTION XI. GEFWULF, PRINCE OF THE JUTES

Conclusive external evidence in favour of the view just put forward we can hardly hope for: for this reason, amongst others, that the names of the actors in the Finn tragedy are corrupted and obscured in the different versions. Hnaef and Hengest are too well known to be altered: but most of the other names mentioned in the _Fragment_ do not agree with the forms given in other documents. Sigeferth is the Saeferth of _Widsith_: the Ordlaf (correct) of the _Fragment_ is the Oslaf of the _Episode_. The first Guthlaf is confirmed by the Guthlaf of the _Episode_: the other names, the second Guthlaf, Eaha and Guthere, we cannot control from other sources: but they have all, on various grounds, been suspected.

Tribal names are equally varied. Sigeferth's people, the Secgan, are called Sycgan in _Widsith_. And he would be a bold man who would deny (what almost all students of the subject hold) that _Eotena, Eotenum_ in the _Episode_ is yet another scribal error: the copyist had before him the Anglian form, _eotna, eotnum_, and miswrote _eotena, eotenum_, when he should have written the West-Saxon equivalent of the tribal name, _[=Y]tena, [=Y]tum_--the name we get in _Widsith_:

[=Y]tum [weold] Gefwulf Fin Folcwalding Fr[=e]sna cynne.

But in _Widsith_ names of heroes and tribes are grouped together (often, but not invariably) according as they are related in story. Consequently Gefwulf is probably (not certainly) a hero of the Finn story. What part does he play? If, as I have been trying to show, the Jutes are the aggressors, then, as their chief, Gefwulf would probably be the leader of the attack upon the hall. {287}

This part, in the _Fragment_, is played by Garulf.

Now _G[=a]rulf_ is not _Gefwulf_, and I am not going to pretend that it is. But _G[=a]rulf_ is very near _Gefwulf_: and (what is important) more so in Old English script than in modern script[512]. It stands to _Gefwulf_ in exactly the same relation as _Hereg[=a]r_ to _Heorog[=a]r_ or _Sigeferdh_ to _S[=ae]ferdh_ or _Ordl[=a]f_ to _[=O]sl[=a]f_: that is to say the initial letter and the second element are identical. And no serious student, I think, doubts that _Hereg[=a]r_ and _Heorog[=a]r_, or _Sigeferdh_ and _S[=ae]ferdh_, or _Ordl[=a]f_ and _[=O]sl[=a]f_ are merely corruptions of one name. And if it be admitted to be probable that _Gefwulf_ is miswritten for _G[=a]rulf_, then the theory that Garulf was prince of the Jutes, and the original assailant of Hnaef, in addition to being the only theory which satisfactorily explains the internal evidence of the _Fragment_ and the _Episode_, has also powerful external support.

* * * * *

SECTION XII. CONCLUSION

But, apart from any such confirmation, I think that the theory offers an explanation of the known facts of the case, and that it is the only theory yet put forward which does. It enables us to solve many minor difficulties that hardly otherwise admit of solution. But, above all, it gives a tragic interest to the story by making the actions of the two main characters, Finn and Hengest, intelligible and human: they are both great chiefs, placed by circumstances in a cruel position. Finn is no longer a treacherous host, plotting the murder of his guests, without even having the courage personally to superintend the dirty work: and Hengest is not guilty of the shameful act of entering the service of a king who had slain his lord by treachery when a guest. The tale of _Finnsburg_ becomes one of tragic misfortune besetting great heroes--a tale of the same type as the stories of Thurisind or Ingeld, of Sigurd or Theodric.

* * * * *

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FRISIA IN THE HEROIC AGE

It is now generally recognised that loose confederacies of tribes were, at the period with which we are dealing, very common. Lawrence says this expressly: "The actors in this drama are members of two North Sea tribes, or _rather groups of tribes_[513]"; and again[514]: "At the time when the present poem was put into shape, we surely have to assume for the Danes and Frisians, not compact and unified political units, but groups of tribes held somewhat loosely together, and sometimes known by tribal names."

This seems to me a quite accurate view of the political situation in the later Heroic Age. The independent tribes, as they existed at the time of Tacitus, tended to coalesce, and from such coalition the nations of modern Europe are gradually evolved. In the seventh and eighth centuries a great king of Northumbria or Frisia is likely to be king, not of one only, but of many allied tribes. I cannot therefore quite understand why some scholars reject so immediately the idea that the Eotens are not necessarily Frisians, but rather a tribe in alliance with the Frisians. For if, as they admit, we are dealing not with two compact units, but with two groups of tribes, why must we assume, as earlier scholars have done, that _Eotenas_ must be synonymous either with Frisians or Danes? That assumption is based upon the belief that we _are_ dealing with two compact units. It has no other foundation. I can quite understand Kemble and Ettmueller jumping at the conclusion that the Eotens _must_ be identical with the one side or the other. But once we have recognised that confederacies of tribes, rather than individual tribes, are to be expected in the period with which we are dealing, then surely no such assumption should be made.

I think we shall be helped if we try to get some clear idea of the nationalities concerned in the struggle. For to judge by the analogy of other contemporary Germanic stories, there probably is some historic basis for the _Finnsburg_ story: and even if the fight is purely fictitious, and if Finn Folcwalding never existed, still the Old English poets would represent the fictitious Frisian king in the light of what they knew of contemporary kings.

Now the Frisians were no insignificant tribe. They were a power, controlling the coasts of what was then called the "Frisian Sea[515]." Commerce was in Frisian hands. Archaeological evidence points to a lively trade between the Frisian districts and the coast of Norway[516]. From about the sixth century, when "Dorostates of the Frisians" is mentioned by the Geographer of Ravenna (or the source from which he drew) in a manner which shows it to have been known even in Italy as a place of peculiar {289} importance[517], to the ninth century, when it was destroyed by repeated attacks of the Vikings, the Frisian port of Dorestad[518] was one of the greatest trade centres of Northern Europe[519]. By the year 700 the Frisian power had suffered severely from the constant blows dealt to it by the Frankish Mayors of the Palace. Yet evidence seems to show that even at that date the Frisian king ruled all the coast which intervened between the borders of the Franks on the one side and of the Danes on the other[520]. When a zealous missionary demonstrated the powerlessness of the heathen gods by baptizing three converts in the sacred spring of Fosetisland, he was carried before the King of Frisia for judgement[521].

At a later date the "Danes" became the controlling power in the North Sea; but in the centuries before the Viking raids began, the Frisians appear to have had it all their own way.

Finn, son of Folcwald, found his way into some English genealogies[522] just as the Roman Emperor did into others. This also seems to point to the Frisian power having made an impression on the nations around.

We should expect all this to be reflected in the story of the great Frisian king. How then would a seventh or eighth century Englishman regard Finn and his father Folcwalda? Probably as paramount chiefs, holding authority over the tribes of the South and East coast of the North Sea, similar to that which, for example, a Northumbrian king held over the tribes settled along the British coast. Indeed, the whole story of the Northumbrian kings, as given in Bede, deserves comparison: the relation with the subordinate tribes, the alliances, the feuds, the attempted assassinations, the loyalty of the thegns--this is the atmosphere amid which the Finn story grew up in England, and if we want to understand the story we must begin by getting this point of view.

But, if this be a correct estimate of tribal conditions at the time the _Finnsburg_ story took form, we no longer need far-fetched explanations to account for Finnsburg not being in Friesland. It is natural that it should not be, just as natural as that the contemporary Eadwinesburg should be outside the ancient limits of Deira. Nor do we need any far-fetched explanations why the Frisians should be called _Eotenas_. That the King of Frisia should have had Jutes under his rule is likely enough. And this is all that the words of the _Episode_ demand.

* * * * *

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