Biblical and Theological Commentary on The Battle of Maldon and The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth
(avg. read time: 12–25 mins.)
My first commentaries in this series were on Tolkien’s translation and commentary of Beowulf, as well as his famous essay concerning the same work. What I am writing today is similar to those, as it concerns Tolkien’s translation, commentary, and even continuation of an Old English poem that made an impression on Tolkien matched only by Cynewulf’s Crist II poem and the aforementioned Beowulf, that is, The Battle of Maldon. Unlike the other two works, The Battle of Maldon is incomplete, as the only fragment of it that was preserved by happy chance cuts off after 325 lines in the middle of the story (and without the beginning as well). It tells the story of Beorhtnoth/Byrhtnoth, son of Beorhthelm, at the titular battle in 991 against the Vikings, his death, and the deaths of his retinue who chose death in valorous loyalty to survival in cowardice when faced with a no-win scenario. It is, alongside Beowulf, the great demonstration of the “northern spirit of courage” that Tolkien wrote of in the aforementioned works. He expresses the significance of this work as follows:
Such deaths as Byrhtnoth’s are of more import than all the victories of imperial armies since the world began. From them real literature springs – the literature quickened by true human sentiment (so like and so utterly different from its counterfeits).
Taken out of the hurried but moving and impassioned words of this chance fragment his last speech even in this age (shy even when believing of sayings above a whisper) rings movingly true. He died in defence of his lord, England, and Christendom thanking God for all joys of life. And this thing preserved (by chance?!) survives to overthrow the text-book estimate of the England of Æthelred and lets in more light than any other document upon the grievous struggles and disasters and the heroism of the English.1
Beyond this, his love for this story also emerges from its very Englishness and the delight he has as a philologist in engaging with this more ancient form of English. In his words, “The heart may be moved by many other things – but there is perhaps no thrill so salutary as that which comes from catching with sympathetic ear lectures of the voices of one’s own people from far down the years in what was England and is (perhaps) England still.”2
What relevance, then, does Tolkien’s engagement with this text have for this commentary series? That will become more apparent in the ending of Tolkien’s continuation of the story in The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son, as well as his accompanying essay titled “Ofermod.”3 As much as Tolkien admires the northern spirit of courage—particularly as it is embodied among servants like Wiglaf, the retinue in Maldon, and Samwise Gamgee (among others)—he is critical of expressions of it both here and in Beowulf.
But the original poem is also relevant for our analysis. Even as it represents a time of English history and language far removed from Tolkien’s own day (and ours, of course), it also represents a time of English Christendom that will seem foreign and quite objectionable to many in our own day, but which belongs to the Christian family tree for better or worse. Although neither this text nor Tolkien’s text make direct links to biblical texts, there are relevant analogies to draw, as well. With that said, let us first address The Battle of Maldon through Tolkien’s translation and comments on the same.
The Battle of Maldon
The first noticeable element of the assumed Christian framework is referring to the Viking enemies as “heathens” (ll. 55, 181). This term has largely fallen out of use, but it broadly has the same sense as “pagan” in referring to polytheists adhering to traditional religious practices. In other words, anyone who could not be considered a Christian, a Jew, or a Muslim would be considered a “heathen” (the notions of atheism, agnosticism, and broader non-religiosity in some form or another were not unknown in this time, but they were distinctly exceptional, and such terms as we tend to define them would not apply to entire people groups as anything but a polemical label on par with “godless”). The obvious implication is that Beorhtnoth and his troops are Christians fighting in defense of Christendom. This is not to say that the war itself was a religious one per se, but wars in this time inevitably had some religious overlay applied to them by the participants. Such had been the case since ancient times, not least with the entanglements of priests and politicians, cult and state, so that gods were considered involved in earthly battles between humans.
Tolkien will also say in commentary on l. 96 that the term wælwulfas, “while describing vividly the Danes streaming like a pack of hungry wolves ‘west over Panta’, also connotes outlaws, enemies of all Christian men.”4 On the one hand, this presents the Viking enemies in animalistic fashion, as will continue to be the case when the death of Byrhtnoth is narrated. On the other hand, this is an example of describing the enemies of this army as embodying the forces of chaos from out of the ancient memories of the tales the Anglo-Saxons had grown up with.
When the battle is joined, Byrhtnoth’s forces initially hold the tactical advantage by the fact that they hold the causeway the Vikings need to cross, and they hold it well. The Anglo-Saxons may well have won the day if not for the Vikings appealing to Byrhtnoth’s chivalry or, one could just as well say, his “sportsmanship.” That is, they ask for a “fair fight,” that they might have the chance to cross and fight evenly with the Anglo-Saxons. With these foreboding words, the battle takes a turn for the worst:
Then the earl in his overconfident chivalry [90] conceded too much land to that hateful people. Then did he, Byrhthelm’s son, shout over the fatal water (and men hearkened to him): ‘Now we have made room for you, come ye men, quickly to us and to battle. God alone [95] knoweth who may be masters of the stricken field’.5
This is the indication Tolkien takes of the poet who first composed this work being critical of Byrhtnoth. That northern spirit of courage, a gift from God, needed to be guided with wisdom, also a gift from God. Otherwise, courage can devolve into foolhardiness and vain sport when the lives of many that the leader is responsible for are the wager. Byrhtnoth may truly acknowledge God as the higher power and the only one who foreknows what no one else can, but his conduct shows that he had not properly internalized this belief. Otherwise, he might have taken account of wisdom and what would have best achieved the purpose of his being there, which was to protect the kingdom and not to increase his own glory by trying to beat a stronger enemy with the proverbial hand tied behind his back.
The invocation of God is a reminder that we are seeing here a warrior faith passed down through the ages. While metaphors to this effect are utilized in the NT, literal precursors of the same appear in the OT. Perhaps the closest resemblances are in the war stories of the books of Samuel. Among these is a notable contrast from 2 Sam 23:13–17, in which David refuses to drink the water retrieved for him by his elite soldiers when he voiced his desire for water from his hometown well when they were stationed nearby. They risked their lives to get him his water, and he responded by pouring it out to the Lord, saying in 2 Sam 23:17, “The Lord forbid that I should do this. Shall I drink the blood of the men who went at risk of their lives?” It is unclear if Byrhtnoth ever knew this story. But if he did, he did not learn the right lesson from it to implement in his own life as a man who is in command of others. Indeed, one must remember that the poem is not a celebration of Byrhtnoth’s brave defiance of inevitable defeat. If it celebrates anything, the praise is ultimately for the courage of the servants.
Furthermore, we should note that the invocation does not go so far as to say that “God is on our side, and so our victory in this battle is assured.” Naturally, as this is the now-unknown poet’s composition, this is surely to some degree reflective of his own intentions in his craft. He may be critical of the fallen commander, but he is apparently not himself so overly bold as to attribute to the fallen one held as a hero by many the absolutely false assurance of victory. Nor does he wish for the words reflective of Byrhtnoth’s last battle to make some false invocation of God, but he settles for that which is strictly true.
Still, even if the record is hardly a straightforward historical report, it would actually fit for one of Byrhtnoth’s position and background to have said something like this. Recall the background we have discussed in Tolkien’s famous essay on Beowulf. The Norse did not think that victory had anything to do with the good and the right. Those on the side of the gods may win temporary victories, but even the gods too would die in battle at Ragnarök. While Christianity did provide that elusive final victory at the eschaton when Jesus returns, that was no guarantee of any temporary victory within the course of history until that time. Jesus himself was crucified and that crucifixion was necessary to his victory. And so neither his ancestral background or this faith by which he identified himself gave him reason to think that victory in any particular battle was a direct correlation or result of divine approval. God alone knew who would survive the battle, but this was not an indication of favor of an individual or cause one way or the other. After all, there will be many on Byrhtnoth’s own side who would survive the battle, but only on account of cowardice.
If there was ever any doubt about the outcome of the battle after Byrhtnoth’s chivalrous blunder, the man himself is grievously wounded at the height of the battle after he had overcome several of his enemies, crushing them with his superior might (it is said that he was 6’9”):
The gladder was the chief; then laughed aloud that high hearted man, and cried thanks to God for that day’s work that the Lord had granted to him. Then one of the Danish men let fly a javelin from his hands and gripe and [150] it reached and pierced the thane of Æthelred. At his side there stood a youth not yet grown to manhood, a boy in battle, and he boldly snatched the bloodstained spear [155] from Byrhtnoth – he was Wulfmær the young son of Wulfstan; he let it grimly hard fly back again. In passed the point so that he now lay dead on the earth who had so grievously smitten his lord.6
The wound does not kill Byrhtnoth, as he will fight to his last breath with golden-hilted sword in hand, but this definitely marks a turning point. Wulfmær is only the first of the servants whose deeds in avenging his liege are recounted. And all of this happened as, in the midst of his battle euphoria, Byrhtnoth had turned to God in prayer. As in Beowulf, there is an acknowledgment here that the spirit of courage, the arms, the strength to wield them, and the chance to do “that day’s work” were all seen as gifts from God. To warriors like Byrhtnoth, glory was not a zero-sum game, so that the warrior attaining glory and honor in battle meant that God was not given the glory. It was rather that the warrior would attain what he did because of what God had given him in the first place. And thus it is unsurprising when such an attitude is not tempered with wisdom that self-destructive behavior like this emerges. It is not that Byrhtnoth, Beowulf, and those like them are impious, but their piety is malnourished, not fed a balanced diet of virtues that the Spirit seeks to form in them alongside what they excel in (and that is part of the significance of Hrothgar’s great speech to Beowulf before the latter departs from his kingdom).
Even so, it is noteworthy that the poet presents Byrhtnoth as making his last words a prayer to God once more:
Then he could no longer stand firm upon his feet, and he cast his eyes up to Heaven (and said) ‘I thank Thee, Lord of peoples, for all those joys that I have known [175] in this world. Now I have, O merciful God, the greatest need that Thou vouchsafe the grace unto my spirit that my soul may journey to Thee, into thy dominion, King of Angels, passing in peace. I entreat Thee [180] that adversaries of Hell oppress me not’. Then the heathen men smote him and both those that stood by him, Ælfnoth and Wulfmær, both lay dead, together with their lord they gave up their lives.7
That these are given as Byrhtnoth’s last words, and that they are presented alongside the fact that he also prayed in praise of God in the midst of his euphoria, attest to the prevailing sensibilities about prayer in this time, for warriors and otherwise. And it is a sensibility we see embodied throughout the diverse prayers of Scripture as well. In victory and in defeat, in good health and in suffering, in living and in dying, one ought to pray to God. Whatever the circumstances of one’s life, it is the time to pray. Indeed, one ought to remember that many of the psalms were written by the warrior-poet-king David. Many of his songs written in description of pursuit by enemies, his victories, the threats on his life, and how God delivered him were formed from his experiences of wars that preceded his kingship, through which his kingship was established, and throughout his reign. And these prayers of various kinds became the liturgy for corporate worship for others who could find the resonance of their own lives in the psalms he wrote.
It is also notable here that God is addressed as “Metod” in the Old English. This was a name for God in Beowulf as well, a reference to one that the ancestors knew as the Ordainer who governs all events/fates/wyrd. Referring to God in this way, while potentially problematic, was nevertheless an acknowledgment that God had been at work among their ancestors even before the gospel arrived in their lands. He was the one they knew as the source of life, of gifts, and of all good things, including the heroic gifts they valued so highly. Though they knew him and his providential activity by various names, it was one God all along to whom the fragments of truth revealed among their ancestors pointed to. And so Byrhtnoth had known him, thanking him for the joys of his life, and now he prays that his soul may find his way to God and that he may be protected from the forces of Hell. This was a common kind of prayer in medieval Christianity and it is emblematic of the fact that the afterlife and the relationship of the Christian to the same was considered complicated (as I have reviewed all too briefly here and here). But we will return to this later in Tolkien’s narration of his “homecoming.”
With the death of Byrhtnoth and the hewing of his corpse, the story is taken over by his retinue. As outlined in ll. 185–201, many fled after seeing their liege fall. As the poet notes of when that army had been assembled, “many there spoke manly who later in need would not stand firm.”8 Yet with the odds even worse against them because of the flight of cowards, those who remained “cared not for [260] their lives; fiercely did the men of his household put them into the fight, those grim wielders of spears, and God they prayed that they might avenge their lord and patron, and compass a slaughter among their foes.”9 Such prayers may be unsavory to modern/postmodern ears, but there is much historical precedent for them, even among Christians, and even in the Bible with various imprecatory prayers.
The portion that follows hereafter is one of the chief demonstrations of that vaunted northern spirit of courage, the indomitable will it endows, and its defiance in the face of inevitable (or seemingly inevitable) defeat. They did not make the decisions that led to the lost battle. They simply are where they are, and all they have to decide in this situation is to fight or flee. To flee would be to despise the gift God had given, and so the only proper option left is to do what they can with what chance they have been given.
It is in this part that we come to the most notable lines from Beorhtwold/Byrhtwold: “Byrhtwold spake, his shield he raised, an old retainer was he [310] his ash-spear he shook, and right boldly he admonished them thus: ‘Each mind shall be the sterner, heart the bolder, each our spirit greater as our strength lessens!’”10 Tolkien thinks that the quote is older than even the event referenced: “Byrhtwold probably spoke these exact words because they were either proverbial or a familiar quotation.”11
Tolkien provides his own commentary on these lines in his essay “Ofermod,” which I quote here:
The words of Beorhtwold have been held to be the finest expression of the northern heroic spirit, Norse or English; the clearest statement of the doctrine of uttermost endurance in the service of indomitable will. The poem as a whole has been called ‘the only purely heroic poem extant in Old English’. Yet the doctrine appears in this clarity, and (approximate) purity, precisely because it is put in the mouth of a subordinate, a man for whom the object of his will was decided by another, who had no responsibility downwards, only loyalty upwards. Personal pride was therefore in him at its lowest, and love and loyalty at their highest.
For this ‘northern heroic spirit’ is never quite pure; it is of gold and an alloy. Unalloyed it would direct a man to endure even death unflinching, when necessary: that is when death may help the achievement of some object of will, or when life can only be purchased by denial of what one stands for. But since such conduct is held admirable, the alloy of personal good name was never wholly absent. Thus Leofsunu in The Battle of Maldon holds himself to his loyalty by the fear of reproach if he returns home alive. This motive may, of course, hardly go beyond ‘conscience’: self-judgement in the light of the opinion of his peers, to which the ‘hero’ himself wholly assents; he would act the same, if there were no witnesses. Yet this element of pride, in the form of the desire for honour and glory, in life and after death, tends to grow, to become a chief motive, driving a man beyond the bleak heroic necessity to excess—to chivalry. ‘Excess’ certainly, even if it be approved by contemporary opinion, when it not only goes beyond need and duty, but interferes with it.12
For the servants like Wiglaf in Beowulf and the retinue here, they best embody what in Greek was called πίστις or πιστεύω in the verb form. That is, they embody courage in the forms of fidelity, allegiance, and steadfast loyalty. In Tolkien’s words, “It is the heroism of obedience and love not of pride or wilfulness that is the most heroic and the most moving,”13 which is what these servants exemplify. They, even more than the more well-known heroes, thus showed how this virtue was preparation for the gospel and the perseverance called for among the faithful to embody the gospel story. The Christian framework thus provides the fulfillment that brings this virtue to fruition, including in supplying the final victory—via participation in Christ’s victory—that was not possible in the old worldview narrative.
At the same time, because that virtue without others to balance it can lead to the “alloying” Tolkien describes above, the Christian framework also helps to critique the actions of Beorhtnoth and Beowulf. It is in the comments of the “Ofermod” essay that we can see some of the things that Tolkien would have said if he had been able to complete his commentary on Beowulf. After all, Beowulf embodies this spirit of courage, but in a less pure way than his servant Wiglaf, as he is inclined to the “alloyed” form of this courage, and so he risks frustrating its purpose by using it to increase his glory. This risk is at its worst when Beowulf himself is king and he seeks to defend his realm from the dragon. In the interest of sportsmanship, he attempts to make the fight as even as he can, to the point that his heroism would have been in vain. Yet the unalloyed courage in fidelity from Wiglaf is what ultimately keeps this purpose from being frustrated:
He is saved from defeat, and the essential object, destruction of the dragon, only achieved by the loyalty of a subordinate. Beowulf’s chivalry would otherwise have ended in his own useless death, with the dragon still at large. As it is, a subordinate is placed in greater peril than he need have been, and though he does not pay the penalty of his master’s mod with his own life, the people lose their king disastrously.14
The Old English word here means “spirit” or “high spirit,” usually manifested in pride, which, according to Tolkien’s translation of it as “chivalry” in l. 89, can also imply a code of honor observed in battle as if to make it a sport. In Beorhtnoth’s case, it is negatively described as ofermod, which Tolkien translates in The Battle of Maldon as “overconfident chivalry,” as noted above. If there is any doubt about its negativity, Tolkien observes, “In verse the noun occurs only twice, once applied to Beorhtnoth, and once to Lucifer.”15 Of course, that is not to say that Beorhtnoth is presented as being “on the same level” as Lucifer, but his fundamental flaw is being presented in the same terms, and thus the Christian framework of the story also presents his heroism as a failure because it is not balanced by other virtues.
Unfortunately, we do not know how the story of the poem was supposed to have ended, as the fragment cuts off at line 325. The final lines are as follows:
Thus too did Godric [320] Æthelgar’s son exhort them all to fight: again and again he sent a spear and deadly shaft flying against the pirates, as he strode in the foremost ranks of the host, hewing and hurting until he too fell in battle – that was not that [325] Godric that forsook the field…16
This is reminiscent of the reference in John 14:22 to “Judas (not Iscariot),” which is a confusion I imagine this Judas had to endure for a while thereafter in some circles (“No, I’m not that Judas”). The lines do not seem intentionally designed to connect with the biblical reference, but it is nevertheless interesting that in both cases a person must be differentiated from another by the same name who utterly abandoned their masters. But this is no way for a story to end. Tolkien’s own work is not necessarily to speculate on how The Battle of Maldon was supposed to end, but he does supply a continuation of it with The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son.
The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son
The story is almost entirely a dialogue between the young Torhthelm/Totta and the old Tídwald/Tída.17 Interestingly, the Christian elements are more accentuated, as the poem largely relied on more general statements about God without reference either to Christ specifically or any differentiation of the Trinity (as in Torhthelm’s declaration, “Christ forgive me”).18 That is not to say there are no such more general references, though these are the circumlocution “Heaven,” as in the following instances:
May the blast of Heaven
light on the dastards that to death left them
to England’s shame.19
Well, here he is – or what Heaven’s left us20
The former is a line from Torhthelm, calling for God’s wrath upon those who fled the battlefield. The latter is from Tídwald in reference to finding Beorhtnoth’s corpse. That is, this is what God/Providence has left for them to find.
In several other cases, there are, as in the poem, references to “heathens,”21 to “heathen hell,”22 or to the contrast of “heathen or sprinkled.”23 In this last case, the contrast is between the pagans and those who are baptized, which was often done by sprinkling at this time (and still is to this day among Roman Catholics and some others). Likewise, Torhthelm will say,
By the Cross, Tída,
I loved him no less than any lord with him;
and a poor freeman may prove in the end
more tough when tested than titled earls
who count back their kin to kings ere Woden.24
This is a clear contrast of heathen days from the current Christian days through the reference to Odin as “Woden” (the name whence we derive Wednesday/“Woden’s Day”). That is, the lords in question can count back their line to the ancient, pagan past before the land became part of “Christendom.” He is also declaring in agreement with the poet this notion of the courage of a poor freeman embodying that characteristic northern spirit above any leaders that accompanied Beorhtnoth. Tolkien’s story as a whole presents perspectives in tension, and neither fully exemplifies what Tolkien sees as the truth of the matter, but both characters grasp at something of it, as Torhthelm does here in his declaration.
Of course, Tídwald will also say something of the truth about the hearts of men that he knows from his experience of war in his insistence that, though the young Torhthelm may find it easy to excoriate the cowards who fled the field, he may have sang a different tune had he been at the battle:
Bitter taste has iron, and the bite of swords
is cruel and cold, when you come to it.
Then God guard you, if your glees falter!
When your shield is shivered, between shame and death
is hard choosing.25
He also declares in agreement with the poet the fact that Beorhtnoth was in the wrong:
Alas, my friend, our lord was at fault,
or so in Maldon this morning men were saying.
Too proud, too princely! But his pride’s cheated,
and his princedom has passed, so we’ll praise his valour.
He let them cross the causeway, so keen was he
to give minstrels matter for mighty songs.
Needlessly noble. It should never have been:
bidding bows be still, and the bridge-opening,
matching more with few in mad handstrokes!
Well, doom he dared, and died for it.26
Indeed, though Torhthelm may dream of the words of Beorhtwold chanted in a hall in reaffirmation of the spirit of courage, “though doom shall come and dark conquer,”27 Tídwald shall also be keen to note that such words, “sounded fey and fell-hearted / and heathenish, too.”28 For while that northern spirit of courage and the words that encapsulate them may be admirable for their assertion of an indomitable will, they have not the finality that they could be imagined to have in heathen days. For on this side of the gospel, it ought to be known that such forces will not conquer forever (any more than the beast of Dan 7 or Rev 13 should conquer forever).
After all, as the rest of Tolkien’s story reminds us, the whole perspective on life and death is reoriented in the Christian framework. Torhthelm is initially spooked by the battlefield, thinking that waking ghosts/barrow-wights speak to him, but Tídwald reminds him, “Their ghosts are under ground, or else God has them.”29 Likewise, when Torhthelm thinks of a heroic grave that Beorhtnoth might have, Tídwald reminds him:
These are Christian days, though the cross is heavy;
Beorhtnoth we bear not Béowulf here:
no pyres for him, nor piling of mounds;
and the gold will be given to the good abbot.
Let the monks mourn him and mass be chanted!
With learned Latin they’ll lead him home,
if we can bring him back. The body’s weighty!30
Torhthelm had initially chanted, “He has gone to God glory seeking, / Beorhtnoth beloved,”31 and indeed, that is the homecoming Beorhtnoth will receive at the end of the poem. The glory he had sought was that of a hero’s welcome, praise of his mighty deeds, and of a minstrel memorializing the same for generations to recite and emulate. But his deeds instead become the subject of tragedy. And yet his end will also not be that of his ancestors whose mounds and pyres were memorials destined to despondent fading in forlornness. For as a Christian, his homecoming was to be guided by God, entreated with the Latin mass of the Office of the Dead, including by invoking the words of Ps 5:7, 8, and 9. This is recited by the monks whose words close the story:
Dirige, Domine, in conspectu tuo viam meam. Introibo in domum tuam: adorabo ad templum sanctum tuum in timore tuo.
Domine, deduc me in iustitia tua: propter inimicos meos dirige in conspectu tuo viam meam.
Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto: sicut erat in principio et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum.
Dirige, Domine, in conspectu tuo viam meam.32
J. R. R. Tolkien, The Battle of Maldon Together with The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son and “The Tradition of Versification in Old English, ed. Peter Grybauskas (New York: HarperCollins, 2023), 54–55.
Ibid., 55.
The story and the accompanying essay were first published in December 1953 in Essays and Studies of the English Association.
Tolkien, Battle of Maldon, 71.
Ibid., 59–60 (ll. 89–95).
Ibid., 62 (ll. 146–158).
Ibid., 62–63 (ll. 171–184).
Ibid., 63 (ll. 200–201).
Ibid., 65 (ll. 259–264).
Ibid., 67 (ll. 309–313).
Ibid., 81.
Ibid., 28–29.
Ibid., 32.
Ibid., 29–30.
Ibid., 31.
Ibid., 67 (ll. 319–325).
On the possible origin of these names, see ibid., 38–39.
Ibid., 19.
Ibid., 11.
Ibid., 13.
Ibid., 13, 14, 20, 25.
Ibid., 10.
Ibid., 18.
Ibid., 12.
Ibid. See also ibid., 14.
Ibid., 20–21.
Ibid., 24.
Ibid., 25.
Ibid., 9.
Ibid., 15. Cf. ibid., 22.
Ibid., 13.
Direct, O Lord, my way in your sight. I will enter your house: I will worship at your holy temple in awe of you.
O Lord, lead me in your justice: because of my enemies direct my way in your sight.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit: as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Direct, O Lord, my way in your sight.