CHAPTER VIII.
THE USE OF FICTION IN THE HEROIC POEMS.
The question how far the use of fiction was permitted in heroic poetry is of course one to which we cannot possibly hope to give a definite answer. All poetry which deserves the name claims to do something more than provide a bare record of facts. According to the ancient definition[221] its proper function is to express the universal rather than the particular—what may happen or may have happened rather than what has happened. Some freedom of play for the imagination is therefore essential. These remarks hold good for early Teutonic poetry just as much as for Greek. If we could recover the poems recited in Attila's presence (cf. p. [84]) we should doubtless find that they contained far more than a mere statement of facts. In the works which have come down to us however the degree to which freedom is allowed to the imagination varies very greatly from case to case. Thus in the poem on the battle of Brunanburh it is restricted within comparatively narrow limits, while in the almost contemporaneous Hákonarmál the historical fact on which the poem is based is very largely obscured by a wholly fictitious narrative. We may naturally expect that the authors of heroic poems likewise differed in the treatment of their subjects, though not necessarily to the same degree.
As an instance of a poem which obviously contains a large amount of fiction we can hardly do better than take the Anglo-Saxon Widsith. The greater part of this poem consists, as we have seen, of a speech by a minstrel enumerating the various peoples and princes with whom he was acquainted. Amongst others he states that he had visited the Gothic king Eormenric (who died before 375), the Burgundian king Guthhere (who died about 437) and the Langobardic king Aelfwine (who died about 572). Now it is commonly held that the poem is of composite formation, and there can be little doubt that additions have been made to it from time to time. This will account for statements such as those given above and, though it does not prevent them from being fictitious, it may enable us to form some idea as to how fiction was used. Poets of the seventh century probably possessed no chronological tables, and consequently they may not have been aware that the foreign princes of whom they were speaking belonged to quite different ages. Yet without such knowledge the visits of the minstrel may clearly be placed among the 'things which may have happened.' What these poets certainly did know was that Eormenric was a prominent figure in some traditional stories, Guthhere in others. It did no violence to the story (μῦθος) itself to bring an anonymous character into contact both with Eormenric and Guthhere, although doubtless no one would have done this while either of the two was alive or indeed for some time after their death. But we must not in such cases apply the principle that, since A comes into contact with both B and C, therefore B may come into contact with C—and conclude from it that poets of the seventh century thought it right to bring Eormenric and Guthhere together in the same story. That is a more advanced stage and one for which we have no satisfactory evidence in Anglo-Saxon poetry[222].
Now, if we turn to the Old Norse poems, which date of course from a much later period, we certainly find this stage reached. Here Guðrún, the sister of Gunnarr (Guthhere), is represented as the mother of Svanhildr, the wife of Iörmunrekr (Eormenric), as well as of Hamðir and Sörli who attacked that king. It is to be observed that there is no hint of a connection between this story and that of the Burgundian family except in Norse literature. Even here Guðrún is the sole connecting link between the two stories, and there can be little doubt that the confusion is due to a mistaken identification of two different women. In the account of Iörmunrekr given by Saxo, who apparently knows nothing of the Norse version of the story of Sigurðr, Guðrún is the name given not indeed to the mother of Hamðir and Sörli but to a sorceress consulted by them. If the wife of Sigurðr had originally the same name the difficulty would be capable of explanation; and it is to be remembered that the evidence for believing that she was originally called Grímhildr (Kriemhilt) is by no means of a conclusive character. For the identification of persons bearing the same name we may compare the confusion which pervades Scandinavian tradition in regard to the various kings called Fróði[223].
In other cases where we find two stories which seem to be wholly irreconcilable with one another, the difficulty can be traced to the misinterpretation of an epithet. Thus the relationships and adventures of the Swedish kings mentioned in Beowulf differ a good deal from what is recorded of the same persons in Norse literature. In Beowulf the Swedish king Ongentheow has two sons Onela and Ohthere, the former of whom is married to a sister of the Danish kings Hrothgar and Halga[224]. Strife breaks out between Onela and his two nephews, Eanmund and Eadgils, the sons of Ohthere (who is perhaps dead); Eanmund is slain, but Eadgils with the help of Beowulf succeeds in defeating and killing his uncle and gaining for himself the throne. In Norse tradition Aðils (Eadgils) is the son and successor of Óttarr (Ohthere), but the grandfather is called Egill and there is no mention of Eanmund. Aðils again is married to Yrsa, who is both the wife and daughter of Helgi (Halga)—which is hardly compatible with the account given in Beowulf. He engages in war with a king Áli (Onela) whom he defeats and kills with the help of Biarki (Beowulf) and other warriors sent to him by his stepson Hrólfr Kraki. But Áli is said to be a Norwegian, and there is no hint of any relationship on his part to either the Swedish or the Danish royal family.
In this story it seems clear that the Norse tradition has been led astray by a misinterpretation of the expression hinn Upplenzki ('the man of the Uplands'), which is applied to Áli. There was a district called Upplönd in Norway, but it was also the name of the Swedish province in which the capital (Upsala) was situated. Since, according to Beowulf, Onela was the actual king of the Swedes, there can be no doubt that it was the latter to which the title originally referred. The erroneous identification with the Norwegian district—natural enough in Norse tradition—led to the idea that Áli was an invader, and hence to further dislocations in the story.
In the group of stories which cluster round Dietrich von Bern we find a number of unhistorical situations, which may largely be due to similar mistakes rather than to deliberate invention. Thus when Dietrich appears at Etzel's court, as in all German authorities, including Thiðreks Saga af Bern, it is probable that the hero has been confused with his father (Theodemir), who, as we know from Jordanes, was really subject to Attila. This situation cannot be traced in Anglo-Saxon poetry, while in Old Norse literature (apart from Thiðreks Saga) it is limited to Guðrúnarkviða III[225] and the prose introduction to Guðrúnarkviða II, which is believed to be derived from the other poem. The association of Dietrich with Siegfried occurs only in Thiðreks Saga and some of the later German poems, which seem to invent combinations quite freely[226].
But a much larger number of authorities, including the Annals of Quedlinburg, bring Dietrich into connection with Ermanrich and the early Gothic hero Wittich; and this combination is believed to be of much greater antiquity, as the names Theodric and Widia are associated also in the Anglo-Saxon poem Waldhere. Here we are confronted with a question of great difficulty. The association of Theodric and Eormenric is unknown to all the early Scandinavian authorities, and even in Germany it cannot be traced back beyond the end of the tenth century; in the old Hildebrandslied Dietrich's enemy is called Otachar, i.e. Odoacer. Further, apart from the passage in Waldhere, there is little or no decisive evidence for a knowledge of the story of Dietrich von Bern in England[227]; for the statement in Deor that Theodric possessed the Maeringa burg for thirty years may just as probably be applied to the exile of Wolfdietrich with Berchtung of Meran[228]. Now Dietrich and Wolfdietrich must be confused to some extent in German tradition, since they are both credited with an exile of thirty years. Perhaps this confusion goes deeper than is generally recognised. The true explanation may be that a considerable portion of Wolfdietrich's story has been transferred to his namesake. I cannot admit that the identification of Wolfdietrich with the Frankish king Theodberht is anything more than a very doubtful hypothesis; he may really have been an early Gothic prince[229]. Certainly the name was extremely common in that nation, for we meet with four Gothic kings called Theodric within half a century of one another.