The Nibelungenlied / Revised Edition

by Unknown

"There grew up Swanhild, the daughter of Sigurd; she was the most beautiful of all women. That Jörmunrek the Mighty learned and sent his son Randver to ask her hand. And when he came to Jonakr, Swanhild was given over to him that he might bring her to Jörmunrek. Then said Bikki that it had fallen out better if Randver had Swanhild, since he was young, as were they both, and Jörmunrek was old. This counsel pleased the young people well; and thereupon Bikki told it to the King. Then Jörmunrek had his son taken and brought to the gallows, but Randver took his falcon and plucked off the feathers and bade that it be sent to his father; then he was hanged. But when King Jörmunrek saw the falcon, it came into his mind that just as the falcon was incapable of flight and featherless, so was also his kingdom disabled, since he was old and without a son.

"It was once upon a time when King Jörmunrek rode out of the forest from hunting with his men that Swanhild the Queen sat bleaching her hair. Then they rode upon her and trod her to death under the horses' hoofs. And when Gudrun learned this, she egged on her sons to avenge Swanhild. And when they made ready for the journey, she got them mail, and helmets so strong that iron would not take hold upon it. She said the plan for them to follow was that when they came to King Jörmunrek they should fall upon him at night while he slept; Sörli and Hamdir should then hew off his hands and feet, and Erp his head. When, however, they came on the way, they asked Erp what assistance they might have of him if they met King Jörmunrek. He replied that he would give them such aid as the hand gave the foot. They replied that naught at all did the foot depend upon the hand. They were so angry at their mother that she had led them out with words of hatred, that they desired to do that which should be the worst thing of all to her and they killed Erp, since she loved him most. A little while after, as Sörli walked along he slipped with both feet, but held himself up with his hand. Then he said: 'The hand does now help the foot; better it were that Erp were alive!' And when they came to King Jörmunrek's at night, and went in where he slept and hewed off his hands and feet, he awoke and called upon his men and bade them awaken. Then said Hamdir: 'Off were now his head, if Erp were alive!' Then the men-at-arms arose and attacked them, but could not overcome them with weapons. Jörmunrek then called out that stones should be hurled at them, and this was done. Then Sörli and Hamdir fell, and then were dead all the race and descendants of the Gjukings."

The Eddic poems and the "Völsunga Saga" give us even much more fully in detail than does this epitome the deeds of Sigurd's youth of which the "Nibelungenlied" knows so little. The latter, too, has forgotten the early relationship of Sigurd to Brynhild and her whole early history, although her superhuman character is still remembered and obscure reference is made to their previous acquaintance. There is no longer a reason why Siegfried and Brunhild should die together, as in the "Edda." That the ultimate catastrophe falls out differently in the two versions of the story is due to this very fact of the loss of original detail. In that her brothers who had murdered Sigurd live in triumph afterward and no true reconciliation can be possible between them, Kriemhild must of necessity avenge herself upon them, instead of upon Atli, as in the earlier form of the story. And, as has already been remarked, the real significance to the action of the fateful "Ring of the Nibelungs" and the accursed hoard has wholly vanished to give place to reasons that have much more affinity with human motives of conduct.

The "Nibelungenlied," like the Northern poems before it, is legendary, with only here and there a historical fact as a nucleus about which has gathered in the course of the centuries material for many times and places. The destruction of the Burgundians, under their King Gunther, by the Huns, which occurred in the year 437, has undoubtedly furnished the ultimate catastrophe. It is not known, however, that Attila, the Atli of the "Edda" and the Etzel of the "Nibelungenlied," was the leader of the Huns on this occasion, although the event did take place during his lifetime. Attila's brother Bleda appears in the poem as Blœdelin. Giselher, the brother of Gunther, is also mentioned in the old Burgundian law-code, the Lex Burgundionum. Of Siegfried and Brunhild history knows no trace, although an attempt has been made to connect the one with Arminius and the other with Brünehild of Austrasia. The appearance in the poem of Dietrich of Bern, Theodoric the Great, the Ostrogothic conqueror of Italy, who lived from 475 to 526, is an example of the absorption of material from another cycle into the original legend, material which, in its turn, clusters about a historical character. The Bishop Pilgrin, of Passau, represented in the poem as the uncle of the Burgundian kings and of Kriemhild, has a historical prototype in an actual Pilgrin who held the see of Passau from 971 to 991 and has, it may be, been here introduced by the poet to honor him. As for the rest, facts that may have been ultimately historical have been freely used by the poet of the "Nibelungenlied" and his predecessors until it is no longer possible to tell where legend begins and history ends.

That Siegfried and Brunhild are at the end mythical, rather than at all historical, has been surmised, rather than proved. It has been attempted, in point of fact, to show that the whole story has arisen in its earliest form through a union of an old myth of Siegfried with the historical materials that have been indicated and others whose real significance has subsequently been obliterated and lost. The believers of this theory have pointed to the thoroughly mythical character of the version of the story in the "Edda" and particularly of its earliest part as plausible evidence, and they would see in the whole the union of a Frankish myth of Siegfried, originally independent, with a Burgundian historical narrative. Siegfried and Brunhild, in this way, have been thought to embody, at the beginning, the nature-myth of the awakening earth-goddess from the sleep of winter at the reanimating touch of summer. Lachmann makes the fundamental fact at the outset a myth of the death of Balder, and Wilhelm Müller a myth of Freyr, both light-gods of the old mythology. It is, nevertheless, impossible to follow the upholders of these theories into the details of their interpretation, and the whole main assumption of a mythical origin is a matter of doubt. That Siegfried and Brunhild, however, have mythical characteristics that they have retained after all memory of the ancient mythology as such has been absolutely forgotten, no reader of the story can deny, and in this respect the "Nibelungenlied" is no different from the legendary literature of all the nations of the world.

Early German poems on the story of the Nibelungs, although it is altogether likely that they once existed, have not been preserved. The "Nibelungenlied" itself it is not possible to follow back of the twelfth century, by the middle of which it seems to have already had the form in which it has come down to us. The internal evidence of metre, rhyme, and language shows, too, beyond a doubt, that it could not have arisen at a much earlier time.

The author of the poem is unknown. The most plausible hypothesis as to his actual personality makes him an Austrian knight of about 1140, possibly a member of the Kürenberg family, who lived in the neighborhood of Linz, on the Danube. A Kürenberg of the twelfth century is the oldest court poet who used in his lyrics the same strophic form that is characteristic of the "Nibelungenlied," but that the two poets are identical is by no manner of means a certainty. In the same way, the place of origin of the poem is a matter of supposition. In all probability, however, it arose in southeastern German territory in Austria. Although the poet knows the region on the Rhine about Worms, he has an infinitely wider acquaintance with Austrian localities of which he makes specific mention. It was in Austria, too, at this time that the beginnings arose of the court lyric poetry, that Minnesangs Frühling, as the Germans strikingly characterize the period, that presently blossomed out into one of the fullest expressions in all its history of German life and thought.

Bartsch, in the introduction to his edition of the "Nibelungenlied," has most admirably summarized this whole matter. According to him, it was an Austrian poet who, before the middle of the twelfth century, united songs sung at his time and oral tradition, known to him as well as to everybody else, into a single whole. How far folk-song and tradition had anticipated him in this is no longer to be ascertained, but it may be inferred from the Northern form of the legend that it had long since taken place. It remained to him, however, to arrange the whole in its details of sequence of action, to fill out the gaps left by popular song and story, and to give it the impress of his own day, which it so unmistakably bears. That this is not in accord with other ideas of authorship and origin must nevertheless be stated. Karl Lachmann, one of the most astute, if not one of the most mistaken, critics of the poem, taking Wolf's Prolegomena to Homer for his model, set up the theory that has since played an important part in the discussion of the genesis of the "Nibelungenlied."

According to the Lachmann theory, the poem consists of no less than twenty distinct lays, each differing inherently from the rest, and each, with the exception of the Eighth and Ninth, by different authors. To arrive at this result, more than a third of the entire number of stanzas has, for one reason or another, been rejected as not genuine. As Lettsom has cleverly put it in the original preface to his translation, where this whole matter is presented with some detail: "He [Lachmann] has in fact put every stanza and every verse on its trial. Some have been condemned by him to italics, as interpolations; others to brackets, as continuations by different hands; others again, which he supposes to be the latest additions, so far from being pitied for their youth, have been visited with both kinds of punishment. He has not, however, sentenced any of the delinquents to transportation from the text; or, perhaps it would be more correct to say that he has sentenced them, but has not carried the sentence into execution. The result of the whole assize has been that out of the 2,316 stanzas 1,437 have been honorably acquitted; the rest have been italicised, bracketed, or both.... The twenty lays," he continues, "which had already suffered from the interpolations and corruptions incident to oral tradition, were first collected, committed to writing, and patched together into one poem about the year 1210 by some unknown compiler, whose handiwork was afterward corrected or depraved by two separate but equally unknown revisers. It is his opinion that scarcely a stanza of what we possess is older than 1190, while even the latest additions are not more recent than 1225. The whole poem, therefore, is, according to Professor Lachmann, the work of contemporary authors, whether we call their compositions spurious or genuine; and the task undertaken is neither more nor less than to distribute a mass of unowned literary property among nineteen or twenty poets and an indefinite number of poetasters, of whom nothing, not even their existence, is known except by conjecture, and of whose distinguishing characteristics we are of course completely ignorant, except as far as we may guess at them from the internal evidence, real or imagined, of the poem itself."

Lachmann's theory of separate authorship of portions of the poem has not maintained itself against the critics. That there are contradictions in its statements and different values in its parts cannot be denied, but they are not explained on the grounds here set forth. The attempted restoration of the poem by elimination and rearrangement has not left twenty or any number of lays that have actually the air of being separate poems. "It is just here," continues Lettsom, "that the failure of the hypothesis is most conspicuous.... Some of the lays are not ill-adapted, from the nature of their contents, to form separate poems, but they are by no means out of place as episodes in a long work, and are, besides, connected with the rest, while the latter, from the insignificance of their contents alone, from their reference to one another, from their allusions to the past and anticipations of the future, from their abrupt commencements and still more abrupt conclusions, and from their general fragmentary nature, could never have been independent lays.... The dream of Kriemhild forms a strange opening for a lay that just brings Siegfried to Worms, and there leaves him. Nobody, in fact, would have composed a separate poem on so insignificant a matter. The dream, however, is beyond all doubt the introduction, the fit and appropriate introduction, to a poem that must go on at least to the marriage of Kriemhild and the death of her husband.