means he took for eluding it: "he thought as the royal eagle: for also in the brunt of with himself these Recken must all lose their battle he can play tunes; and with a Steel Fidlives." From this time, a grim reckless spirit dlebow, beats strange music from the cleft heltakes possession of him; a courage, an auda- mets of his enemies. There is, in this concity, waxing more and more into the fixed tinual allusion to Volker's Schwertfidelbogen, strength of desperation. The passage once | (Sword-fiddlebow,) as rude as it sounds to us, finished, he dashes the boat in pieces, and casts a barbaric greatness and depth; the light it in the stream, greatly as the others wonder minstrel of kingly and queenly halls is gay at him. also in the storm of Fate, its dire rushing pipes and whistles, to him: is he not the image of every brave man fighting with Necessity, be fiend with giant strokes, yet every stroke that duel when and where it may; smiting the musical?-This Volker and Hagen are united inseparably, and defy death together. "Whatever Volker said pleased Hagen; whatever Hagen did pleased Volker." Why do ye this, good brother?" Said the Ritter Dank wart then, "How shall we cross this river, When the road we come again? Returning home from Hunland, Here must we lingering stay?", Not then did Hagen tell him That return no more could they. In this shipment "into the unknown land" there lies, for the more penetrating sort of commentators, some hidden meaning and allusion. The destruction of the unreturning Ship, as of the Ship Argo, of Æneas's Ships, and the like, is a constant feature of such traditions: it is thought, this ferrying of the Nibelungen has a reference to old Scandinavian Mythuses; nay, to the oldest, most universal emblems shaped out by man's Imagination; Hagen the ferryman being, in some sort, a type of Death, who ferries over his thousands and tens of thousands into a Land still more unknown.* But leaving these considerations, let us remark the deep fearful interest, which, in gathering strength, rises to a really tragical height in the close of this Poem. Strangely has the old Singer, in these his loose melodies, modulated the wild narrative into a poetic whole, with what we might call true art, were it not rather an instinct of genius still more unerring. A fateful gloom now hangs over the fortunes of the Nibelungen, which deepens and deepens as they march onwards to the judgment-bar, till all are engulphed in utter night. But into these last Ten Aventiures, almost like the image of a Doomsday, we must hardly glance at present. Seldom, perhaps, in the poetry of that or any other age, has a grander scene of pity and terror been exhibited than here, could we look into it clearly. At every new step new shapes of fear arise. Dietrich of Bern meets the Nibelungen on their way, with ominous warnings: but warnings, as we said, are now superfluous, when the evil itself is apparent and inevitable. Chriemhild, wasted and exasperated here into a frightful Medea, openly threatens Hagen, but is openly defied by him; he and Volker retire to a seat before her palace, and sit there, while she advances in angry tears, with a crowd of armed Huns to But Hagen has Siegfried's destroy them. Balmung lying naked on his knee, the Minstrel also has drawn his keen Fiddle bow, and the would fain single out Hagen for vengeance; Huns dare not provoke the battle. Chriemhild but Hagen, like other men, stands not alone: and sin is an infection which will not rest with one victim. Partakers or not of his crime, the others also must share his punishment. Singularly touching, in the meanwhile, is king Etzel's ignorance of what every one else understands too well; and how, in peaceful hospitable spirit, he exerts himself to testify his joy over these royal guests of his, who are That night bidden hither for far other ends. the wayworn Nibelungen are sumptuously lodged; yet Hagen and Volker see good to keep, watch: Volker plays them to sleep: Hagen himself rises in tragic greatness; so helpful, so prompt and strong is he, and true to the death, though without hope. If sin can ever be pardoned, then that one act of his is pardonable; by loyal faith, by free daring, and heroic constancy, he has made amends for it. Well does he know what is coming; yet he goes forth to meet it, offers to Ruin his sullen welcome. Warnings thicken on him, which he treats lightly, as things now superfluous. Spite of our love for Siegfried, we must pity and almost respect the lost Hagen, now in his extreme need, and fronting it so nobly. "Mixed was his hair with a gray colour, his limbs strong, and threatening his look." Nay, his sterner qualities are beautifully tempered by another feeling, of which till now we understood not that he was capable,-the feeling of friendship. There is a certain Volker of Alsace here introduced, not for the first time, yet first in decided energy, who is more to Hagen than a brother. This Volker, a courtier Minster to hear mass; they are putting on In the morning the Nibelungen are for the and noble, is also a Spielmann, (minstrel,) a Fidelere gut, (fiddler good;) and surely the gay raiment; but Hagen tells them a different prince of all Fideleres; in truth a very phoenix, instead of silk shirts, hauberks; for rich tale: "Ye must take other garments, Recken;" melodious as the soft nightingale, yet strong mantles your good shields;" "and, beloved * See Von der Hagen's Nibelungen ihre Bedeutung, &c. | masters, moreover squires and men, ye shall "under the door of the house he sat on the when the tones flowed so sweetly they all gave stone: bolder fiddler was there never any; him thanks. Then sounded his strings till all the house rang; his strength and the art were great, sweeter and sweeter he began to play, till flitted forth from him into sleep full many a care-worn soul." It was their last lullaby; they were to sleep no more. Armed men appear, but suddenly vanish, in the night; assassins sent by Chriemhild, expecting no sentinel: it is plain that the last hour draws nigh. deed. Whereupon the curtain drops over that wild scene, "the full highly honoured were lying dead; the people, all had sorrow and lamentation, in grief had the king's feast ended, as all love is wont to do; Ine chan iu nicht bescheiden Waz sider da geschach, Wan ritter unde wrovven Weinen man do sach I cannot say you now What hath befallen since, prince, Here hath the story ending; This is the Nibelungen's Need. We have now finished our slight analysis of this Poem; and hope that readers, who are curious in this matter, and ask themselves, What is the Nibelungen? may have here found some outlines of an answer, some help towards farther researches of their own. To such readers another question will suggest itself: Whence this singular production comes to us, When and How it originated? On which point also, what little light our investigation has yielded may be summarily given. fu arnestly go to the church, and plain to | brand, indignant at the wo she has wrought; God the powerful (Got dem richen) of your sor- King Etzel, there present, not opposing the row and utmost need; and know of a surety that death for us is nigh." In Etzel's Hall, where the Nibelungen appear at the royal feast in complete armour, the Strife, incited by Chriemhild, begins: the first answer to her provocation is from Hagen, who hews off the head of her own and Etzel's son, making it bound into the mother's bosom :" "then began among the Recken a murder grim and great." Dietrich, with a voice of preternatural power, commands pause; retires with Etzel and Chriemhild; and now the bloody work has free course. We have heard of battles, and massacres, and deadly struggles in siege and storm; but seldom has even the poet's imagination pictured any thing so fierce and terrible as this. Host after host, as they enter that huge vaulted Hall, perish in the conflict with the doomed Nibelungen; and even after the terrific uproar, ensues a still more terrific silence. All night, and through morning it lasts. They throw the dead from the windows; blood runs like water; the Hall is set fire to, they quench it with blood, their own burning thirst they slake with blood. It is a tumult like the Crack of Doom, a thousand voiced, wild stunning hubbub: and, frightful like a Trump of Doom, the Sword-fiddlebow of Volker, who guards the door, makes music to that death-dance. Nor are traits of heroism wanting, and thrilling tones of pity and love; as in that act of Rudiger, Etzel's and Chriemhild's champion, who, bound by oath, “lays his soul in God's hand," and enters that Golgotha to die fighting against his friends; yet first changes shields with Hagen, whose own, also given him by Rudiger in a far other hour, had been shattered in the fight. "When he so lovingly bade give him the shield, there were eyes enough red with hot tears; it was the last gift which Rudiger of Bechelaren gave to any Recke. As grim as Hagen was, and as hard of mind, he wept at this gift which the hero good, so near his last imes, had given him; full many a noble Riter began to weep." The worthy Von der Hagen, who may well understand the Nibelungen better than any other man, having rendered it into the modern tongue, and twice edited it in the original, not without collating some eleven manuscripts, and travelling several thousands of miles to make the last edition perfect,-writes a Book some years ago, rather boldly denominated The Nibelungen, its meaning for the present and for ever; wherein, not content with any measurable antiquity of centuries, he would fain claim an antiquity beyond all bounds of dated time. Working his way with feeble mine-lamps of etymology and the like, he traces back the rudiments of his beloved Nibelungen, “to which the flower of his whole life has been consecrated," into the thick darkness of the ScandiAt last Volker is slain; they are all slain, save navian Niflheim und Muspelheim, and the Hindoo only Hagen and Gunther, faint and wounded, Cosmogony; connecting it farther (as already yet still unconquered among the bodies of the in part we have incidentally pointed out) with dead. Dietrich the wary, though strong and the Ship Argo, with Jupiter's goatskin Ægis, invincible, whose Recken too, except old Hilde- the fire-creed of Zerdusht, and even with the brand, he now finds are all killed, though he heavenly Constellations. His reasoning is had charged them strictly not to mix in the somewhat abstruse; yet an honest zeal, very quarrel, at last arms himself to finish it. He considerable learning and intellectual force subdues the two wearied Nibelungen, binds bring him tolerably through. So much he them, delivers them to Chriemhild; " and Herr renders plausible or probable: that in the Dietrich went away with weeping eyes, worthily | Nibelungen, under more or less defacement, lie from the heroes." These never saw each other fragments, scattered like mysterious Runes, yet more. Chriemhild demands of Hagen, Where still in part decipherable, of the earliest the Nibelungen Hoard is? But he answers her Thoughts of men; that the fiction of the Nibethat he has sworn never to disclose it, while lungen was at first a religious or philosophical any of her brothers live. “I bring it to an Mythus; and only in later ages, incorporating end," said the infuriated woman; orders her itself more or less completely with vague brother's head to be struck off, and holds it up traditions of real events, took the form of a to Hagen. "Thou hast it now according to story, or mere Narrative of earthly transacthy will," said Hagen; "of the Hoard knoweth tions; in which last form, moreover, our none but God and I; from thee, she-devil, actual Nibelungen Lied is nowise the original (Valendinne,) shall it for ever be hid." She Narrative, but the second, or even third redackills him with his own sword, once her hus-tion of one much earlier. band's; and is herself struck dead by Hilde- At what particular era the primeval fiction some Account of his embassy to Attila. Moreover, it is on his second marriage, which had in fact so mysterious and tragical a character, that the whole catastrophe of the Nibelungen turns. It is true, the "Scourge of God" plays but a tame part here; however, his great acts, though all past, are still visible in their fruits: besides, it is on the Northern or German personages that the tradition chiefly dwells. of the Nibelungen passed from its Mythological cal events and persons which our primeval into its Historical shape; and the obscure Mythuses have here united with, and so spiritual elements of it wedded themselves strangely metamorphosed? the answer is unto the obscure remembrances of the Northern satisfactory enough. The great Northern ImImmigrations; and the Twelve Signs of the migrations, unspeakably momentous and gloriZodiac became Twelve Champions of Attila's ous as they were for the Germans, have well Wife, there is no fixing with the smallest nigh faded away utterly from all vernacular certainty. It is known from history that Egin- records. Some traces, nevertheless, hart, the secretary of Charlemagne, compiled, names, and dim shadows of occurrences in by order of that monarch, a collection of the that grand movement, still linger here: which, ancient German Songs; among which, it is in such circumstances, we gather with avidity. fondly believed by antiquaries, this Nibelungen, There can be no doubt, for example, but this (not indeed our actual Nibelungen Lied, yet an "Etzel, king of Hunland," is the Attila of older one of similar purport,) and the main history; several of whose real achievements traditions of the Heldenbuch connected there- and relations are faintly, yet still recognisably with, may have had honourable place. Un- pictured forth in these Poems. Thus his first luckily Eginhart's Collection has quite per- queen is named Halke, and in the Scandinavian ished; and only his Life of the Great Charles, versions, Herka; which last (Erca) is also the in which this circumstance stands noted, sur-name that Priscus gives her, in the well-known vives to provoke curiosity. One thing is certain, Fulco, Archbishop of Rheims, in the year 885, is introduced as citing certain German books," to enforce some argument of his by instance of "King Ermerich's crime towards his relations;" which King Ermerich and his crime are at this day part and parcel of the "Cycle of German Fiction," and presupposed in the Nibelungen.* Later notices, of a more decisive sort, occur in abundance. Taking farther into account the general Saxo Grammaticus, who flourished in the "Cycle" or System of Northern Tradition, twelfth century, relates that about the year whereof this Nibelungen is the centre and key1130, a Saxon minstrel being sent to Seeland, stone, there is, as indeed we saw in the Heldenwith a treacherous invitation from one royal buch, a certain Kaiser Ottnit and a Dietrich of Dane to another; and not daring to violate his Bern; to whom also it seems unreasonable to oath, yet compassionating the victim, sang to deny historical existence. This Bern, (Verona,) him by way of indirect warning "the Song of as well as the Rabenschlacht, (Battle of Ravenna,) Chriemhild's Treachery to her Brothers;" that is continually figuring in these Fictions; though is to say, the latter portion of the Story which whether under Ottnit we are to understand Odowe still read at greater length in the existing acer the vanquished, and under Dietrich of Bern, Nibelungen Lied. To which direct evidence, Theodoricus Veronensis, the victor both at Vethat these traditions were universally known rona and Ravenna, is by no means so indubitain the twelfth century, nay, had been in some ble. Chronological difficulties stand much in the shape committed to writing, as "German way. For our Dietrich of Bern, as we saw in Books," in the ninth or rather in the eighth,- the Nibelungen, is represented as one of Etzel's we have still to add the probability of their Champions: now Attila died about the year being "ancient songs," even at that earliest 450; and this Ostrogoth Theodoric did not date; all which may perhaps carry us back fight his great Battle at Verona till 489; that into the seventh or even sixth century; yet not of Ravenna, which was followed by a three farther, inasmuch as certain of the poetic per-years' siege, beginning next year. So that sonages that figure in them belong historically to the fifth. Other and more open proof of antiquity lies in the fact, that these Traditions are so universally diffused. There are Danish and Icelandic versions of them, externally more or less altered and distorted, yet substantially real copies, professing indeed to be borrowed from the German; in particular we have the Niflinga and the Wilkina Saga, composed in the thirteenth century, which still in many ways illustrate the German original. Innumerable other songs and sagas point more remotely in the same direction. Nay, as Von der Hagen informs us, certain rhymed tales, founded on these old adventures, have been recovered from popular recitation, in the Faroe Islands, within these few years. If we ask now, what lineaments of Fact still exist in these Traditions; what are the Histori * Von der Hagen's Nibelungen, Einleitung, è vii. before Dietrich could become Dietrich of Bern, Etzel had been gone almost half a century from the scene. Startled by this anachronism, some commentators have fished out another Theodoric, eighty years prior to him of Verona, and who actually served in Attila's hosts, with a retinue of Goths and Germans; with which New Theodoric, however, the old Ottnit, or Odoacer, of the Heldenbuch, must, in his turn, part company; whereby the case is in no whit mended. Certain it seems, in the mean ume, that Dietrich, which signifies Rich in People, is the same name which in Greek becomes Theodoricus; for, at first, (as in Procopius,) this very Theodoricus is always written dex. which almost exactly corresponds with the German sound. But such are the inconsistencies involved in both hypotheses, that we are forced to conclude one of two things. either that the singers of those old lays were little versed in the niceties of History, and unambitious of passing for authorities therein, which seems a remarkably easy conclusion; | ballad-mongers of that Swabian Era have or else, with Lessing, that they meant some transmitted us their names, so total an oblivion, quite other series of persons and transactions, in this infinitely more important case, may some Kaiser Otto, and his two Anti-Kaisers, (in the twelfth century:) which, from what has come to light since Lessing's day, seems now an untenable position. However, as concerns the Nibelungen, the most remarkable coincidence, if genuine, remains yet to be mentioned. 'Thwortz," a Hungarian Chronicler, (or perhaps chronicle,) of we know not what authority, relates," that Attila left his kingdom to his two sons Chaba and Aladar, the former by a Grecian mother, the latter by Krem heilch, (Chriemhild,) a German; that Theodoric, one of his followers, sowed dissension between them; and along with the Teutonic hosts took part with his half-countryman, the younger son; whereupon rose a great slaughter, which lasted for fifteen days, and terminated in the defeat of Chaba, (the Greek,) and his flight into Asia.”* Could we but put faith in this Thwortz, we might fancy that some vague rumour of that Kremheilch tragedy, swoln by the way, had reached the German ear and imagination; where, gathering round older Ideas and Mythuses, as Matter round its Spirit, the first rude form of Chricmhilde's Revenge and the Wreck of the Nibelungen bodied itself forth in Song. Thus any historical light, emitted by these old Fictions, is little better than darkness visible; sufficient at most to indicate that great Northern Immigrations, and wars and rumours of wars, have been; but nowise how and what they have been. Scarcely clearer is the special history of the Fictions themselves: where they were first put together, who have been their successive redactors and new-modellers. Von der Hagen, as we said, supposes that there may have been three several series of such. Two, at all events, are clearly indicated. In their present shape, we have internal evidence that none of these Poems can be older than the twelfth century; indeed great part of the HeroJook can be proved to be considerably later. With this last it is understood that Wolfram von Eschenbach and Heinrich von Ofterdingen, two singers, otherwise noted in that era, were largely concerned; but neither is there any demonstration of this vague belief: while again, in regard to the Author of our actual Nibelungen not so much as a plausible conjecture can be formed. seem surprising. But those Minnelieder (Lovesongs) and Provençal Madrigals were the Court Poetry of that time, and gained honour in high places; while the old National Traditions were common property and plebeian, and to sing them an unrewarded labour. Whoever he may be, let him have our gratitude, our love. Looking back with a farewell glance, over that wondrous old Tale, with its many-coloured texture "of joyances and hightides, of weeping and of wo," so skilfully yet artlessly knit up into a whole, we cannot but repeat that a true epic spirit lives in it; that in many ways, it has meaning and charms for us. Not only as the oldest Tradition of Modern Europe, does it possess a high antiquarian interest; but farther, and even in the shape we now see it under, unless the "Epics of the Son of Fingal" had some sort of authenticity, it is our oldest Poem also; the earliest product of these New Ages, which on its own merits, both in form and essence, can be named Poetical. Considering its chivalrous, romantic tone, it may rank as a piece of literary composition, perhaps considerably higher than the Spanish Cid; taking in its historical significance, and deep ramifications into the remote Time, it ranks indubitably and greatly higher. It has been called a Northern Iliad; but except in the fact that both poems have a narrative character, and both sing "the destructive rage" of men, the two have scarcely any similarity. The Singer of the Nibelungen is a far different person from Homer; far inferior both in culture and in genius. Nothing of the glowing imagery, of the fierce bursting energy, of the mingled fire and gloom, that dwell in the old Greek, makes its appearance here. The German Singer is comparatively a simple nature; has never penetrated deep into life; never "questioned Fate," or struggled with fearful mysteries; of all which we find traces in Homer, still more in Shakspeare; but with meek believing submission, has taken the Universe as he found it represented to him; and rejoices with a fine childlike gladness in the mere outward shows of things. He has little power of delineating character; perhaps he had no decisive vision thereof. His persons are superficially distinguished, and not altoSome vote for a certain Conrad von Würz-gether without generic difference; but the porburg; others for the above-named Eschenbach and Ofterdingen; others again for Klingsohr of Ungerland, a minstrel who once passed for a magician. Against all and each of which hypotheses there are objections; and for none of them the smallest conclusive evidence. Who this gifted Singer may have been, only in so far as his Work itself proves that there was but One, and the style points to the latter half of the twelfth century,-remains altogether dark the unwearied Von der Hagen himself, after fullest investigation, gives for verdict, 66 we know it not."' Considering the high worth of the Nibelungen, and how many feeble *Weber, (Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 39,) who cites Görres (Zeitung für Einsiedler) as his authority. traiture is imperfectly brought out; there lay no true living original within him. He has little Fancy; we find scarcely one or two similitudes in his whole Poem; and these one or two, which, moreover, are repeated, betoken no special faculty that way. He speaks of the "moon among stars;" says often, of sparks struck from steel armour in battle, and so forth, that they were wie es wehte der wind, "as if the wind were blowing them." We have mentioned Tasso along with him; yet neither in this case is there any close resemblance; the light playful grace, still more, the Italian pomp and sunny luxuriance of Tasso are wanting in the other. His are humble, wood-notes wild; and no nightingale's, but yet a sweet sky-hidden lark's. In all the rhetorical gifts, to say nothing of rhetorical attainments, we should pronounce him even poor. cle he dwelt in, the very ashes remain not like a fair heavenly Apparition, which indeed he was, he has melted into air, and only the Voice he uttered, in virtue of its inspired gift, yet lives and will live. To the Germans this Nibelungen Song is na turally an object of no common love; neither if they sometimes overvalue it, and vague antiquarian wonder is more common than just criticism, should the fault be too heavily visited. After long ages of concealment, they have found it in the remote wilderness, still standing like the trunk of some almost antediluvian oak; nay with boughs on it still green, after all the wind and weather of twelve hun dred years. To many a patriotic feeling, which lingers fondly in solitary places of the Past, it may well be a rallying-point, and “Lovers Trysting-Tree.” Nevertheless, a noble soul he must have been, and furnished with far more essential requisites for Poetry, than these are: namely, with the heart and feeling of a Poet. He has a clear eye for the Beautiful and True; all unites itself gracefully and compactly in his imagination it is strange with what careless felicity he winds his way in that complex narrative, and be the subject what it will, comes through it unsullied, and with a smile. His great strength is an unconscious instinctive strength; wherein truly lies its highest merit. The whole spirit of Chivalry, of Love, and heroic Valour, must have lived in him, and inspired him. Everywhere he shows a noble Sensibility; the sad accents of parting friends, the lamentings of women, the high daring of men, all that is worthy and lovely prolongs itself in melodious echoes through his heart. A true old Singer, and taught of Nature herself! Neither let us call him an inglorious Milton, since now he is no longer a mute one. What good were it that the four or five Letters composing his Name could be printed, and pronounced, with absolute certainty? All that was mortal in him is gone utterly; of his life, and its environment, as of the bodily taberna- Time. For us also it has its worth. A creation from the old ages, still bright and balmy, if we visit it; and opening into the first History of Europe, of Mankind. Thus all is not oblivion; but on the edge of the abyss, that separates the Old world from the New, there hangs a fair rainbow-land; which also in (three) curious repetitions, as it were, in a secondary, and even a ternary reflex, sheds some feeble twilight far into the deeps of the primeval GERMAN LITERATURE OF THE FOURTEENTH [FOREIGN QUARTERLY REVIEW, 1831.] Ir is not with Herr Soltau's work, and its doubtedly among the most remarkable Books, merits or demerits, that we here purpose to not only as a German, but, in all senses, as a concern ourselves. The old Low-German European one; and yet for us perhaps its exApologue was already familiar under many trinsic, historical character, is even more noteshapes; its versions into Latin, English, and worthy than its intrinsic. In Literary History all modern tongues: if it now comes before it forms, so to speak, the culminating point, or our German friends under a new shape, and highest manifestation of a Tendency which they can read it not only in Gottsched's prosaic had ruled the two prior centuries: ever downProse, and Goethe's poetic Hexameters, but wards from the last of the Hohenstauffen Emalso "in the metre of the original," namely, in perors, and the end of their Swabian Era, to Doggerel; and this, as would appear, not with- the borders of the Reformation, rudiments and out comfort, for it is "the second edition ;"-fibres of this singular Fable are seen, among doubtless the Germans themselves will look to innumerable kindred things, fashioning themit, will direct Herr Soltau aright in his praiseworthy labours, and, with all suitable speed, forward him from his second edition into a third. To us strangers the fact is chiefly interesting, as another little memento of the indestructible vitality there is in worth, however rude; and to stranger Reviewers, as it brings that wondrous old Fiction, with so much else that holds of it, once more specifically into view. The Apologue of Reynard the Fox ranks un selves together; and now, after three other centuries of actual existence, it still stands visible and entire, venerable in itself, and the enduring memorial of much that has proved more perishable. Thus, naturally enough, it figures as the representative of a whole group that historically cluster round it; in studying its significance, we study that of a whole intellectual period. As this section of German Literature closely connects itself with the corresponding section of European Literature, and indeed offers an * Reinecke der Fuchs, übersetzt von D. W. Soltau. (Rey-expressive, characteristic epitome thereof, some nard the Fox, translated by D. W. Soltau.) 2d edition, @vo. Lüneburg, 1830. insight into it, were such easily procurable, |