Literature Review
The kings Gunther, Gernot and Giselher, and their sister Kriemhild live at the court in Worms, which is the capital of the kingdom of Burgundy.
They are surrounded by loyal liegemen such as Hagen of Troy, the minstrel Folker from Alzey, Ortlieb of Metz, Dankwart and many others. One night, beautiful Kriemhild dreams of a falcon rent to pieces by two eagles. Her mother, Uta, interprets the falcon as her lover, so Kriemhild decides never to fall in love. But far from it. Soon after, Siegfried of Xanten, curious to see the fabled charming queen, arrives at the Worms court. On his way, he had captured the Treasure of the Nibelungs, including the sword Balmung and the Cloak of Darkness (which makes its bearer invisible), and made himself ruler of the Nibelungs. He had also killed a dragon and bathed in his blood, which made him invulnerable.
| …. | At first Siegfried decides to be Gunther’s vassal, takes the field in the Saxon wars for him and gains his confidence. When Gunther asks him to win strong Brunhild of Isenland for him, he agrees, on condition that he may marry Kriemhild. The Cloak of Darkness makes it easy for Siegfried to overwhelm Brunhild in a sort of combat sports game in Isenland, and so the Burgundians return to Worms in triumph. A double wedding is performed. But Brunhild senses that the man entering her bedchamber is not her true husband. She ties him and hangs him up at the wall. Siegfried helps once again, taking her girdle awayfrom her. The conflict seems resolved. Siegfried and Kriemhild set off for Xanten. Brunhild and Gunther, J. H. Füssli, 1807 |
Years later, Brunhild presses them to return for a visit, wondering why Gunther’s vassal hasn’t been at the court for such a long time to serve his master. Shortly after their arrival, the furious quarrel breaks out between the ladies, which peaks in front of the Cathedral. When Brunhild, being the King’s wife, claims to enter the church in front of the vassal’s spouse, Kriemhild reveals that it was Siegfried who defeated her and shows her the girdle to show proof. Dismayed by Brunhild’s grief, Hagen decides to avenge the humiliation of his king’s wife. He fakes a war and talks guileless Kriemhild into sewing on Siegfried’s coat a patch marking the only spot where the hero remained vulnerable, since a linden leaf stuck there when he was bathing in the dragon’s blood.
| The so-called war quickly turns into a hunting contest in the nearby Odenwald forest. When Siegfried bends to sip the water of a fountain, Hagen kills him from behind with his spear. The next day Kriemhild finds the corpse in front of her chamber. When Hagen later passes the bier in the Cathedral, the wounds of the dead body open up again, and Kriemhild recognises the murderer. Death of Siegfried, Hundeshagen-Handschrift, 15 Jh. | …. |
| …. | The desperate widow swears to herself to take the Treasure and find new friends and avengers. To avert this, Hagen steals the Treasure and throws it into the Rhine. Kriemhild stays mourning for many years until Rudeger of Bechelaren pays a visit to Worms and asks for her hand on behalf of Etzel, king of the Huns. She goes to the land of the Huns and becomes Etzel’s wife. Years later, she invites her brothers and their followers to Hungary. Although Hagen warns them not to go, the Burgundians, whom the poet from now on calls Nibelungs, set off. While they are crossing the Danube, three wise water nymphs tell him that none of the Burgundians but the chaplain will survive the travel. To see for himself whether it is true, Hagen throws the chaplain into the Danube, but with God’s help the chaplain manages to swim to the other side. After a pleasant stay in Bechelaren, the Nibelungs arrive at Etzel’s castle. Kriemhild gives them a cool welcome, and it is obvious that she still thinks of revenge. Hagen and Folker can frustrate her first plans, but eventually a brutal massacre takes its course, only sparing Gunther and Hagen on the Burgundian side. To make Hagen tell her the place where he lowered the Treasure, Kriemhild has her brother Gunther beheaded. |
Part One: Siegfried and Kriemhild
1
Ancient tales relate the marvels of great heroes — their victories and, in some instances, their tragic deaths. Hear now one such tale: the story of the noble King Siegfried and of the fair Kriemhild, who caused the death of many brave knights.
Kriemhild, with her three brothers Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher, grew up in Burgundy. Their father, King Dancrat, and their mother, Queen Uote, held court at Worms on the Rhine. Dancrat, no longer young, had passed the kingship to his three sons.
Also featured in this tale is the vassal Hagen of Troneck, a valiant warrior.
Kriemhild once dreamed that she reared a falcon, but that two eagles tore it apart. She related this event to her mother, who interpreted the dream: “The falcon is a noble man, whom you will marry, but soon afterward he will be taken from you.”
“No,” replied the daughter, “I intend to remain a virgin. I will not let my life be ruined through the love of a man.”
“Be careful before making such a vow,” replied Uote. “True happiness comes only from a man’s love.”
The mother’s prediction did come true. With time Kriemhild did indeed marry a noble warrior, only to lose him through treachery. Her vengeance for this wicked act brought death to many, including her closest kinsmen.
2
We turn now to the great hero Siegfried, who grew up in the city of Xanten on the Rhine, in the Netherlands. He was the son of King Siegmund and Queen Sieglind. The young prince was knighted at midsummer. Part of the celebration was a mass, sung to the glory of God. Afterward a glorious tournament was held. Never before had there been such a gathering of brave and chivalrous knights. A glorious feast followed the jousting, with wandering minstrels entertaining everyone royally. They received generous payment for their service: horses, clothes, and other rich gifts were presented in abundance.
3-4
Meanwhile, tidings of Princess Kriemhild’s beauty and nobility spread abroad, and Prince Siegfried resolved that he would marry no one but her. Thus he set forth for Burgundy, accompanied by twelve warriors. Outfitted with the best armor and weapons, the wooing party made a great impression on the Burgundians.
Although Hagen had never before seen him, he knew immediately who the foreign knight was. “This is mighty Siegfried,” he said. “I do not know his purpose here, but we must treat him with respect. He is the great warrior who slew the Nibelungs, then took possession of their treasure, a hoard so immense that it filled a hundred freight wagons. In addition to gold and precious stones, the treasure also included the famous sword Balmung. The dwarf Alberich, keeper of the Nibelung treasure, attempted to avenge his former masters by attacking Siegfried, but to no avail. The brave prince overpowered him forthwith, then took from him the magic cloak of invisibility. Thereupon Alberich swore loyalty to Siegfried, the new lord of the Nibelung treasure, and thus continued his post as keeper of the treasure.”
Hagen continued telling what he knew about Siegfried: “Furthermore, the great hero slew a dragon and bathed in its blood, which made him invincible against all weapons. No mortal can defeat him in combat. We must receive him with chivalry and honor, and seek his friendship.”
Siegfried accepted the Burgundians’ hospitality and lived at their court for an entire year, but not once during this time did he see the beautiful Princess Kriemhild.
The royal Burgundian household often sponsored jousting tournaments, and Siegfried, time and again, proved his knightly abilities. An even greater test came when news arrived that the Saxons planned to attack the Burgundians. Siegfried came to the aid of his new allies and led the counter-attack against the Saxons, defeating them decisively. He returned to Burgundy to a hero’s welcome.
5
King Dancrat ordered a great festival in celebration of the Burgundians’ victory. It was here that Siegfried first saw the beautiful Kriemhild, standing at her window and observing the festivities below. Her beauty shone incomparably forth. Siegfried knew at once that this was the maiden of his dreams. He now found cause to visit her every day, and they passed the time together with great pleasure, but also with a painful foreboding of tragic events to come.
6
A new person now enters our story: Queen Brunhild of Iceland. Tidings of her great beauty had extended as far as Worms, and King Gunther resolved to win her as his wife. However, Brunhild was renowned not only for her beauty, but also for her vast strength, as well as for her skill at throwing the javelin, hurling a weight, and leaping a great distance. Any man who sought to marry her was required to better her in these three contests. The prize for victory would be Brunhild herself; but the penalty for defeat was the loss of one’s head. Many would-be suitors had challenged the fair Brunhild in these three contests, but until now no one had defeated her, and all had lost their heads.
Gunther announced his intention to woo fair Brunhild, but Siegfried, who knew well how powerful she was, advised against this undertaking. Gunther could not be dissuaded, so Siegfried, out of loyalty to his future brother-in-law (as he hoped) agreed to assist him in this dangerous venture. Making preparations for the journey, Siegfried carefully packed the magic cloak that he had taken from Alberich. Not only did this cloak make its wearer invisible, but it gave him the strength of twelve additional men. Yes, with the aid of this cloak he did win Brunhild for Gunther, but in the end he came to rue this act.
A stout boat was built to carry the party downstream to the open sea, and Siegfried, who knew these waters well, was chosen as captain. On the twelfth day, we are told, they arrived at the great fortress of Isenstein. Siegfried recognized this at once as Brunhild’s domain.
7-8
Wary of Brunhild’s great power, Siegfried insisted that his own identity not be revealed. To preserve his anonymity he introduced himself as Gunther’s vassal.
Brunhild received the wooing party with outward courtesy, accompanied by the severe warning that should Gunther fail to defeat her in the contest, everyone accompanying him would die.
As preparations were being made for the fateful event, Siegfried secretly returned to the ship and put on the magic cloak. Now invisible to all, he returned to the group.
The first contest was to hurl a great spear, so heavy that three of Brunhild’s men together could barely lift it. The fair queen lifted it with ease, then threw it at Gunther, who stood some distance from her. The spear struck his shield, piercing it with a shower of sparks. The invisible Siegfried stood next to Gunther and whispered instructions into his ear. Siegfried then picked up the spear (although Gunther appeared to be the one doing this) and hurled it back at Brunhild. Her shield and chain-mail protected her from the deadly blow, but it came with such force that the impact knocked her off her feet.
Leaping up, she congratulated Gunther on the unexpectedly powerful return, then turned to the next event. Picking up a huge boulder, she hurled it a good twenty-four yards, then with one powerful bound, leaped even further. Gunther, approached the boulder, put his hands on it, but it was the invisible Siegfried who lifted it into the air and threw it an even greater distance than the one achieved by Brunhild. Then he took Gunther into his arms and leaped still further, carrying Gunther with him.
9
Brunhild now had no choice but to accept Gunther’s marriage proposal, and she agreed to return to Burgundy with him. As the party approached Worms, Siegfried was sent ahead to announce the success of Gunther’s venture.
10
Befitting her nobility, fame, and beauty, Brunhild was welcomed in Worms with great celebration. Jousting matches, feasts, and other ceremonies were held in her honor. Queen Uote and Princess Kriemhild were especially munificent in their reception of their new daughter-in-law and sister-in-law.
Preparations were made for two royal weddings: Queen Brunhild of Iceland with King Gunther of Burgundy; and Princess Kriemhild of Burgundy with Prince Siegfried of Xanten. However, Brunhild did not see in Siegfried a man of royalty. She knew him only as Gunther’s vassal, as he had been introduced to her in Iceland.
“Why,” she asked her future husband, “is your royal sister engaged to marry a mere vassal?”
“He is a mighty king, as noble as myself,” replied Gunther. “He has enormous power and great holdings.”
This answer quieted Brunhild, but it did not still the uneasiness within her heart.
The two royal weddings transpired with equal splendor, but the two wedding nights were not at all the same.
Brunhild, disquieted by suspicions about Siegfried’s rank, refused to share Gunther’s bed, unless he were to tell her all that he knew about Siegfried. Gunther insisted that there were no secrets to reveal. Alone in their bedroom, the two continued to quarrel. “Unless you tell me the truth about Siegfried, I shall remain a virgin,” she threatened.
Gunther grew angry, and forgetting her great strength, he attempted to take her by force. She resisted his awkward advances with ease. Taking the cord from her waist, she bound him hand and foot, then hung him from a nail on the wall, where he remained the entire night.
The next morning the two royal bridegrooms greeted one another, and Gunther confessed that his wedding night had not at all met his expectations. With great embarrassment he revealed the misadventure to his new brother-in-law Siegfried. Once again Siegfried agreed to come to the aid of his hapless relative. That night, hidden under the cloak of invisibility, Siegfried entered the bed chamber of Gunther and Brunhild.
“Stop rumpling my shift!” commanded the virgin queen, thinking that Gunther was once again harassing her. But this time it was not Gunther. It was the invisible Siegfried, and he wrestled her onto the bed and held her fast until she finally submitted to Gunther.
This would have settled the issue, but the invisible Siegfried, whether from pride or some other motivation, took a golden ring from Brunhild’s finger and an elaborately embroidered girdle from her waist, then left Gunther and his now subservient wife lying together.
Later Siegfried gave these trophies to Kriemhild, but he came to rue the day that he did so.
11
Time passed. Siegfried returned with Kriemhild to the great city of Xanten. His aging father named him king, and his mother having recently died, his wife became queen. Here the two lived magnificently for ten years. Their marriage was blessed with a son, whom they named Gunther. In Worms Gunther and Brunhild had also had a son, and they named him Siegfried.
12
Meanwhile, Brunhild still suffered from the suspicion that her sister-in-law had married beneath her station. Siegfried, she believed, was merely her husband’s vassal, and thus not entitled to marry into royalty. Eager to set her mind at ease, she proposed to her husband that Siegfried and Kriemhild be invited to a great festival. Gunther, not suspecting his wife’s ulterior motives, agreed, and the invitation was extended.
13-14
Siegfried and Kriemhild returned to Worms, where they were greeted with every courtesy. However, in spite of outward friendship, Brunhild’s jealousy toward Kriemhild soon manifested itself, and they fell to quarrelling about the rank and merits of their respective husbands.
“Your husband calls himself a king,” taunted Brunhild, “but he is nothing more than a vassal to my husband, a real king.”
“Your husband is neither a real king nor a real man,” replied Kriemhild. “Your so-called husband was not even man enough to take your maidenhead on your wedding night. It was my husband who had to do that job for him!”
“Prove it!” stammered Brunhild with anger.
“Prove it I shall!” replied Kriemhild. “Here is the ring that he took from your finger that night, and here is the girdle that he took from your waist!” So saying, she took from her own finger and from her own waist the trophies that Siegfried secretly had taken from Brunhild on her wedding night.
Brunhild, once a proud and powerful queen, now dissolved into tears. She confronted her husband with Kriemhild’s accusations, but nothing that he said could comfort her.
Hagen, King Gunther’s faithful vassal, seeing his queen’s distress swore revenge against the man who, as he saw it, had caused her this grief. “I shall kill him,” he promised.
15
It was well known that Siegfried, having bathed in a dragon’s blood was invincible against all normal weapons. However, it was rumored that in bathing he may have missed one spot, and if an enemy could discover its location, he would have a chance to mortally wound the famous warrior. Hagen vowed to discover Siegfried’s one vulnerable spot. If it did indeed exist, his wife Kriemhild would know where it was.
Sometime later Hagen approached Kriemhild. He directed their conversation to any apprehension that she might have about the dangers that Siegfried might face in time of war.
“Because of the dragon’s blood he is quite safe against any foe,” replied the queen, with assurance.
“Nonetheless,” said the crafty Hagen, “I feel ill at ease for his sake. It is my responsibility to protect him from any danger, and I could better do this if I knew of any way that he might be wounded.”
“Perhaps you are right,” responded the unsuspecting queen. “He does have one small vulnerable spot. While he was bathing himself in the dragon’s blood a leaf fell from a tree onto his back, directly between his shoulder blades, keeping the blood from that one spot. He might be vulnerable there.”
“Could you sew a little mark on his clothing at that spot, so that I can shield him in the event of danger?” asked Hagen.
Seeing no harm in this request, Kriemhild did indeed sew a tiny cross, too small for anyone to notice, at the critical spot on Siegfried’s back.
16
Soon afterward the treacherous Hagen proposed a hunt for bear and boar in a nearby forest. He revealed to Gunther what his plans were concerning Siegfried.
The night before the hunt Kriemhild dreamed that two boars had chased Siegfried over the heath, and that the wildflowers there had been dyed with blood. Relating this frightening dream to her husband, she urged him to stay with her, but he assured her that he was quite safe. Alas, in this he was quite wrong. She would never again see him alive.
At first the hunt proceeded in an accustomed manner, and a number of game animals were slain. As the day advanced, everyone became thirsty from heat and exertion. Coming to a cool, rushing brook, they stopped to quench their thirst. Siegfried unstrapped his sword and leaned his spear against a tree, then bent over the brook to quench his thirst. Hagen pushed Siegfried’s sword from his reach, picked up the spear, and hurled it at the cross embroidered on Siegfried’s back. Blood spurted from the wound, splashing against Hagen’s clothes. The dying hero reached for his sword, but not finding it, he attacked Hagen with his shield, nearly killing him with blows. Siegfried’s strength faded quickly, and he soon fell among the wildflowers, blood still pouring from his wound.
Together the hunters conspired to conceal what had actually happened. “Siegfried rode off by himself,” they would claim, “and was killed by robbers.”
17
They waited for nightfall to return to Worms. Then the cruel and vengeful Hagen had Siegfried’s body laid on the threshold of Kriemhild’s apartment so that she would discover it when she left for matins. The prayer bells rang, and Kriemhild saw her husband’s body, red with gore. The wretched queen first fell speechless into a swoon, then coming to herself, she screamed aloud, “Hagen committed this bloody crime, and it was Brunhild who urged him to do so! The guilty ones shall surely die!”
Hagen denied all guilt, and King Gunther supported his plea. “He was killed by robbers. Hagen did nothing wrong,” he stated.
This deceitful claim, however was soon proven to be false. After Siegfried’s body had been placed on a bier in the cathedral, Kriemhild demanded that Hagen swear his innocence in the presence of the murdered man. It frequently happens even today that when a murderer approaches his victim’s corpse, the dead man’s wounds begin to bleed afresh. This miracle also occurred with Hagen and Siegfried. When the guilty Hagen approached the bier, blood flowed anew from Siegfried’s wound.
Kriemhild now knew without doubt who had killed her husband. Surrounded by Hagen’s and Gunther’s allies and relatives, she was powerless to achieve justice at this time, but she swore in her heart to avenge Siegfried’s death, however long it might take.
18-19
Kriemhild remained at Worms, and on the surface her relationship with the Burgundians improved. Always plotting revenge against Hagen, she extended kindness to her in-laws, and they, in turn, returned the friendship, hoping thus to gain control over the immense Nibelung treasure that was now hers. Recognizing that wealth brings power, Kriemhild ordered that the treasure be brought to her from Nibelungland. So great was this hoard of gems and gold that it required a dozen wagons fully loaded four days and nights, making three trips each day to transport the treasure from the mountain where the dwarf Alberich had kept it safely hidden.
With this immense treasure now at her disposal, Kriemhild began making generous gifts to many Burgundian knights, thus gaining their allegiance and favor. Hagen, sensing danger in these new alliances, urged the Burgundian kings to confiscate the treasure. Disregarding their natural allegiance to their widowed sister, they succumbed to Hagen’s urging and took the vast hoard from Kriemhild.
Soon afterward the three kings had a journey to make, and during their absence Hagen took the treasure and sank in the Rhine at Locheim. He intended to return someday and recover it, but this never happened.
Part Two: Kriemhild’s Revenge
20
The story now turns to Hungary, the domain of the great King Etzel. His wife having recently died, King Etzel desired to take a new queen. Tidings of the beautiful widow Kriemhild had reached his land, and he resolved to woo her, although he was a heathen and she was a Christian.
Rüdiger, Margrave of Pöchlarn and a member of Etzel’s court had known Kriemhild since childhood, and he volunteered to carry Etzel’s marriage proposal to the widowed queen in Worms.
Accompanied by 500 knights, Rüdiger made his way from Hungary to Vienna, then to his home at Pöchlarn, and from thence across Bavaria to the Rhine. Their journey lasted twelve days, and not once were they attacked by robbers.
The Hunnish knights were received in Worms with great courtesy, their leader Rüdiger being well known to the three kings. They received King Etzel’s marriage proposal with great favor.
Only Hagen spoke out against it. “I predict,” he warned, “that if Kriemhild marries King Etzel, she will use her newly gained power to do us great harm.”
However, the Burgundian kings saw only benefits in a marriage between their sister and the Hunnish king, and they urged her to accept the proposal.
At first Kriemhild was reluctant, she being a Christian and Etzel being a heathen, but she soon came to see a great benefit in this marriage for her as well. Etzel’s great power would help her avenge the death of her late husband. She accepted the proposal and forthwith made preparations for the trip to Hungary.
21
Their journey took them first to Pföring on the Danube, then to Passau (where the Inn joins the Danube), then onward toward Etzel’s castle Etzelnburg by way of Eferding, Enns, Pöchlarn, Melk, Mautern, Traisenmauer, Tulln, Vienna, Old Hainburg, and Wieselburg.
22-23
Etzel and his entire court received their new queen with splendor, granting her every courtesy and honor. Etzel and Kriemhild married and they lived together in great luxury. In their seventh year together Kriemhild gave birth to a son, whom they named Ortlieb.
Outwardly, Kriemhild was content in her queenship, but inwardly she never ceased brooding over the wrongs that had been committed against her at home, and in her mind she plotted revenge against those who had been responsible.
To this end she decided to invite her brothers to visit her in Hungary. She selected two trusted minstrels, Werbel and Swemmel, to carry the invitation to Worms, instructing them that they must not tell her kinsmen that they had ever seen her sorrowing, and also that they must insist that Hagen accompany her brothers to Hungary.
24
Werbel and Swemmel, accompanied by twenty-four warriors, journeyed up the Danube as far as Passau, where they called on Bishop Pilgrim. I do not know what route they took from there to the Rhine, but no one robbed them of their goods underway. The Burgundians received them with courtesy and honor, presenting the two minstrels with generous gifts.
King Gunther and most of his associates were inclined to accept the invitation to visit King Etzel and Queen Kriemhild in Hungary. Only Hagen spoke out against the venture: “I killed Kriemhild’s husband with my own hand,” he confessed, “and she will be seeking revenge against us all.”
“Our sister is no longer angry,” replied Gunther.
Giselher then added the taunt, “If you lack the courage to go with us, then you can stay here in safety.”
“I have never lacked courage,” answered Hagen angrily. “I shall go with you.” He then assembled an army of three thousand or more knights to accompany them on their journey.
25
Little did the Burgundians know the tragedy that awaited them, although they were forewarned by Queen Uote. “Do not go,” she implored. “Last night I dreamed that all the birds in this land had died.”
Hagen answered, “We are moved by honor, not by dreams,” and they continued their preparations for the journey ahead.
The Nibelungs (as the Burgundians were now called) rode through Swabia, and no one robbed them. On the twelfth day they arrived at the Danube. The great river had overflowed its banks, and no ferries could be found.
While looking for a possible fording place Hagen came upon a group of water-fairies bathing in the water. As he approached they fled, leaving their clothes behind, and the warrior immediately took possession of their garments.
One of the nixies called to him, “Noble knight, give us back our clothes, and we will tell your fortune.”
He agreed to this, and one of the fairies said, “You can ride on with confidence. Great glory will come to you in Etzel’s land.”
Satisfied with this prediction, Hagen returned the clothing to them. No sooner had they put on their marvelous garments than one of the fairies taunted, “My cousin lied to you. You are riding into a trap. None of you shall return alive from Hungary. Only King Gunther’s chaplain shall be spared.”
Soon afterward the Nibelungs found a ferryman, but he was unwilling to take them across the swollen Danube. This angered Hagen, who struck off the ferryman’s head, then confiscated his boat. One boatload at a time, he ferried the travelers across the river. Their horses swam across, and although the current carried them far downstream, not one of them was lost.
The royal chaplain was in the last boat. Seeing him, Hagen remembered the nixie’s prediction. “I shall prove her wrong,” he said to himself, and threw him overboard. Others tried to rescue him, while Hagen repeatedly pushed him underwater. The struggling chaplain turned back toward the shore, although he could not swim. Miraculously he safely made his way to the bank.
Seeing this, Hagen now knew that he and his fellow knights were doomed to die. After the ferryboat had been unloaded the last time, Hagen smashed it to pieces.
The Nibelungs loaded their gear onto their horses and continued onward toward Hungary. The royal chaplain made his way back to Burgundy on foot.
26-28
Many days later the Nibelungs arrived in Hungary, and they were received, for the most part, with expected courtesy. When Kriemhild greeted the royal party she kissed only Giselher, her youngest brother. Hagen responded to this slight by tightening his helmet straps.
Kriemhild then addressed Hagen, “What have you brought me from the Rhine? Where is the treasure of the Nibelungs? It is rightfully mine. That is what you should have brought here!”
“My lords commanded that it be sunk in the Rhine,” replied Hagen, “and there it shall remain forever!”
29-30
Tension between the Nibelungs and the Hungarians increased at every turn. Hagen, especially, became ever more reckless and provocative. He appeared in public wearing Siegfried’s sword Balmung, which Kriemhild recognized at once.
She confronted him forthwith. “Why did you slay my husband?” she demanded.
“Yes, it was I who killed Siegfried. I did so for the pain that you caused my mistress Brunhild,” admitted Hagen openly, then added, “And if anyone dare avenge this act, man or woman, then let him or her try!”
31
Meanwhile, King Etzel had prepared a jousting festival in honor of his guests. The celebration commenced on Midsummer’s Day with a mass in the cathedral. However, being heathens, the Hungarians sang the mass differently than did the Christians.
Then the jousting began, and at one of the first events a Burgundian knight named Volker, armed with a pointed spear (not a blunted one, as peaceful jousting requires), ran his Hunnish opponent through, killing him instantly. The dead knight’s countrymen responded with a great outcry, and would have attacked the Burgundians forthwith had King Etzel not held them back. His sense of honor would not allow guests at his court to be harmed. “It was an accident,” he insisted. “Volker’s horse stumbled, causing the mishap.”
32
Counter to her husband’s attempts at peacemaking, Kriemhild continued to plot means to bring the Burgundians and the Hungarians into a full-pitched battle, and thus punish her brothers and Hagen for their complicity in the death of her husband and the theft of her treasure. Seeing no other way to start a fight between the two armies, she had her son Ortlieb brought forth. She knew that Hagen would react violently against the young prince, seeing in him a future enemy with great power, and one who would carry out his mother’s wishes for revenge.
33-39
Kriemhild’s dreadful prediction came true. For the reasons foreseen by her, Hagen flew into a rage when he saw her son. He drew his sword and with one blow cut off the boy’s head.
A great slaughter ensued: Hungarians and Nibelungs battled against each other. Each side lost many brave warriors, but the Nibelungs were greatly outnumbered, and in the end every one of them was killed. Gunther and Hagen were the last to die. Both were captured by the Hungarians. Kriemhild ordered that Gunther’s head be cut off and then delivered to Hagen. Following this grisly act, Kriemhild herself, now armed with the sword Balmung, struck off Hagen’s head. Her revenge was complete, although it had come at a terrible price.
One old knight, Hildebrand by name, serving at Etzel’s court, was horrified that such a brave warrior as Hagen be killed by a woman. He drew his own sword and killed Kriemhild.
King Etzel mourned deeply.
I do not know what happened afterward. Here ends the story of the Nibelungs’ last stand.
| Prose Edda | Nibelungenlied |
| Sigurd | Siegfried |
| Brynhild | Brunhild |
| Andvari | Alberich |
| Gjuki | Dancrat |
| Grimhild | Uote |
| Gudrun | Kriemhild |
| Gunnar | Gunther |
| Hogni | Gernot |
| Gotthorm | Giselher |
| Atli | Etzel |
Written down by an anonymous poet c.1200, the Nibelungenlied, to give it its commonly used Modern German title, is the greatest medieval German heroic poem or lay, a revenge saga on an epic scale, which has justly been compared with Homer and with the Old Icelandic Saga of Burnt Njal. It tells of the heroic dragon-slayer Sivrit’s wooing of the beautiful Kriemhilt and King Gunther’s wooing of the Amazon-like Queen Prünhilt. The brutal murder of Sivrit by the fierce anti-hero Hagen, and the vengeance wreaked by Kriemhilt are recounted in bloody detail. Its origins reach back into the fifth century; it underwent a long genesis in the form of oral poetry before taking on written form. The poem proved hugely popular in the Middle Ages, with some forty manuscripts and fragments surviving. The latest of these is the Ambraser Heldenbuch, a huge two-volume compilation of romances and epics, now in the Austrian National Library, which was compiled between 1504 and 1516 for the emperor Maximilian I. After this last late medieval recording of the text the lay disappeared from sight almost entirely for 200 years.
Rediscovered in 1755, the Nibelungenlied then became central to the nationalist thinking of the Romantics, coming to be regarded, anachronistically, as the ‘national epic’ of the Germans. This nationalistic abuse of the text culminated in its popularity in the Third Reich. The Lay of the Nibelungs was a central inspiration behind Richard Wagner’s monumental Ring cycle. Its greatest cinematic treatment is Fritz Lang’s two-part silent film, Siegfried’s Death and Kriemhild’s Revenge (1922–4), one of the high points of Weimar cinema.
The Thirty-eighth Adventure introduces (and kills off ) a large number of characters who would have been familiar to the audience from the Dietrich epics, in particular Biterolf und Dietleib, which accords a prominent role to Rüedeger. Biterolf was probably first written down in the 1250s, in the Austrian or Styrian area familiar to the Nibelungenlied poet, but may well have been circulating earlier in oral form. The audience would have delighted in recognizing old friends from these epics. They were, like the Nibelungenlied itself, anonymous, a constituent element of the genre.
The Nibelungenlied stands head and shoulders above the Dietrich epics in terms of literary quality. We possess evidence of the popularity both of the lay, and of other heroic epics, before the date of the earliest manuscripts, in Wolfram’s Parzival, where, in the eighth book, the cowardly Sir Liddamus argues for discretion being the better part of valour: ‘What kind of Wolfhart would I make? . . . Even if it never won your favour, I would rather act like Rumolt, who gave King Gunther his advice when he left Worms to go to the Huns — he urged him to baste long cutlets and turn them round in the cauldron.’2 Landgrave Kingrimursel recognizes the allusion to ‘Rumolt’s counsel’ in the Nibelungenlied: ‘you say you act like that cook who advised the bold Nibelungs, who set off, undeterred, for where vengeance was wrought upon them for what had happened to Siegfried in the past.’ Liddamus goes on to refer to other characters well known from the Dietrich epics, Sibeche and Ermenrich.
The Nibelungenlied is divided into thirty-nine ‘adventures’ or chapters. (This division and the adventures’ titles are well preserved in the manuscripts, with the exception of the First Adventure.) In the first two adventures we are introduced, in parallel, to the two central protagonists of the first half of the lay, Kriemhilt and Sivrit. The First Adventure tells us of Kriemhilt, Princess of Burgundy, a kingdom which has as its capital Worms on the Rhine.4 Kriemhilt, daughter of Queen Uote, is under the guardianship of her brothers, the three kings of Burgundy, Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher. A prominent figure at the Burgundian court is Hagen of Tronege, vassal and chief adviser to the kings.
The Second Adventure introduces us to Sivrit, Prince of the Netherlands, and tells of his courtly upbringing. In the Third Adventure he rides to Worms, intending to win Kriemhilt for his bride, and from then on Sivrit’s fortunes are intertwined with those of the Burgundians. He is particularly close to King Gunther, who proves to be a weak king, a roi fainéant, much in the same mould as King Arthur in the Arthurian romances of the twelfth-century French poet Chrétien de Troyes and their MHG adaptations by Hartmann von Aue and Wolfram von Eschenbach, or King Marke in the various medieval versions of the tale of Tristan and Isolde. Also in the Third Adventure Hagen gives us a retrospective account of Sivrit’s upbringing, telling of his superhuman strength and its origins, and of his acquisition of the priceless hoard of the Nibelungs, a race of dwarves resident somewhere to the north of the Netherlands. Like Sivrit, Gunther is soon intent on wooing.
He seeks for his bride Prünhilt, Queen of Iceland, an Amazonian figure of supernatural strength. She and Sivrit are parallel, equally dominant personalities, who have an aura of myth about them, and the lay does indeed hint at their prior knowledge of one another.5 The wooing expedition to Iceland ultimately proves successful, but only because Sivrit has recourse to supernatural means: his massive strength and his cloak of invisibility. Once established as queen in Burgundy, Prünhilt quarrels with Kriemhilt over the relative rank of their two husbands, and this dispute over precedence leads to a conspiracy to kill Sivrit. The second half of the lay tells of the vengeance Kriemhilt seeks to take upon the murderers of Sivrit.
The supernatural is far from being absent in the courtly romance, where
giants, dwarves, fairies, and invisibility are frequently met with, but there is a different feel, a different atmosphere when it occurs in the heroic epic. The prophecy of the water-sprites, for example, which leads to Hagen’s brutal attempt on the life of the chaplain, is integral to the sense of wyrd, of inexorable fate, familiar to the reader of Beowulf, of the Hildebrandslied, and of Icelandic sagas such as the great tale of revenge, the Saga of Burnt Njal.
There is probably no poem of German literature that has excited such universal interest, or that has been so much studied and discussed, as the Nibelungenlied. In its present form it is a product of the age of chivalry, but it reaches back to the earliest epochs of German antiquity, and embraces not only the pageantry of courtly chivalry, but also traits of ancient Germanic folklore and probably of Teutonic mythology. One of its earliest critics fitly called it a German Iliad, for, like this great Greek epic, it goes back to the remot¬ est times and unites the monumental fragments of half-forgotten myths and historical personages into a poem that is essentially national in character, and the embodiment of all that is great in the antiquity of the race.
Though lacking to some extent the dignity of the Iliad, the Nibelungenlied surpasses the former in the deep tragedy which pervades it, the tragedy of fate, the inevitable retribution for crime, the never- dying struggle between the powers of good and evil, between light and darkness. That the poem must have been exceedingly popular during the Middle Ages is evinced by the great number of Manuscripts that have come down to us. We pos¬ sess in all twenty-eight more or less complete MSS., preserved in thirty-one fragments, fifteen of which date from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Of all these MSS., but nine are so well preserved that, in spite of some minor breaks, they can be considered complete.
The story of Siegfried, his tragic death, and the dire vengeance visited upon his slayers, which lies at the basis of our poem, antedates the latter by many centuries, and was known to all nations whose lan¬ guages prove by their resemblance to the German tongue their original identity with the German people. Not only along the banks of the Rhine and the Danube and upon the upland plains of Southern Germany, but also along the rocky fjords of Norway, among the Andes and Saxons in their new home across the chan- O nel, even in the distant Shetland Islands and on the snow-covered wastes of Iceland, this story was told around the fires at night and sung to the harp in the banqueting halls of kings and nobles, each people and each generation telling it in its own fashion and adding new elements of its own invention. This great geograph¬ ical distribution of the legend, and the variety of forms in which it appears, make it difficult to know where we must seek its origin. The northern version is in many respects older and simpler in form than the German, but still it is probable that Norway was not the home of the saga, but that it took its rise in Germany along the banks of the Rhine among the ancient tribe of the Franks, as is shown by the many geographical names that are reminiscent of the characters of the story, such as a Siegfried spring in the Odenwald, a Hagen well at Lorsch, a Brunhild bed, near Frankfort, and the well-known Drachenfels, or Dragon’s Bock, on the Bhine. It is to Norway, however, that we must go for our knowlege of the story, for, singularly enough, with the exception of the Nibelungenlied and the popular ballad, German literature has preserved al¬ most no trace of the legend, and such as exist are too late and too corrupt to be of much use in determining the original features of the story.
Just when the legend emigrated to Skandinavia we do not know, but certainly at an early date, perhaps during the opening years of the sixth century. It may have been introduced by German traders, by slaves captured by the Northmen on their frequent maraud¬ ing expeditions, or, as Mogk believes, may have been taken by the Heruli on their return to Norway after their defeat by the Langobardi. By whatever channel, however, the story reached the North, it became part and parcel of Skandin avian folklore, only certain names still pointing to the original home of the legend. In the ninth century, when Harald Harfagr changed the ancient free constitution of the land, many Norwe¬ gians emigrated to Iceland, taking with them these acquired legends, which were better preserved in this remote island because of the peaceful introduction of Christianity, than on the Continent, where the Church was more antagonistic to the customs and legends of the heathen period.
The story, as given in the older Norse versions, is in most respects more original than in the JVibelung- enlied. It relates the history of the treasure of the Nibelungs, tracing it back to a giant by the name of Hreithmar, who received it from the god Loki as a compensation for the killing of the former’s son Otur, whom Loki had slain in the form of an otter. Loki obtained the ransom from a dwarf named Andwari, who in turn had stolen it from the river gods of the Rhine. Andwari pronounces a terrible curse upon the treasure and its possessors, and this curse passes from Loki to the Giant Hreithmar, who is murdered when asleep by his two sons Fafnir and Regin. The latter, however, is cheated out of the coveted prize by Fafnir, who carries it away to the Gnita heath, where he guards it in the form of a dragon. This treasure, with its accompanying curse, next passes into the hands of a human being named Sigurd
(the Norse form of Siegfried, as we have seen), a de- scendant of the race of the Volsungs, who trace their history back to Wodan and are especially favored by him. The full story of Siegfried’s ancestry is far too long to relate here, and does not especially concern us, as it has little or no influence on the later develop¬ ment of the story. It is sufficient for our purpose to know that Siegfried was the son of Siegmund, who was slain in battle before the birth of his son. Si¬ gurd was carefully reared by his mother Hjordis and the wise dwarf Regin, who taught him the know¬ ledge of runes and of many languages.1 At the sug¬ gestion of Regin, Sigurd asks for and receives the steed Grani from the king, and is then urged by his tutor to help him obtain the treasure guarded by the latter’s brother Fafnir. Sigurd promises, but first de¬ mands a sword. Two, that are given him by Regin, prove worthless, and he forges a new one from the pieces of his father’s sword, which his mother had preserved. With this he easily splits the anvil and cuts in two a flake of wool, floating down the Rhine. He first avenges the death of his father, and then sets off with Regin to attack the dragon Fafnir. At the advice of the former Sigurd digs a ditch across the dragon’s path and pierces him from below with his sword, as the latter comes down to drink. In dying the dragon warns Sigurd against the treasure and its curse, and against Regin, who, he says, is planning
Sigurd’s death, intending to obtain the treasure for himself. When Regin sees the dragon safely dead, he creeps from his place of concealment, drinks of the blood, and, cutting out the heart, begs Sigurd to roast it for him. While doing so, Sigurd burns his fingers, and, putting them in his mouth, understands at once the language of the birds and hears them say that Sigurd himself should eat the heart and then he would be wiser than all other men. They also betray Regin’s evil designs, and counsel the lad to kill his tutor. This Sigurd then does, cutting off Regin’s head, drinking the blood of both brothers, and eating Fafnir’s heart.1 On the further advice of the birds Sigurd first fetches the treasure from the cave, and then journeys to the mountain Hindarfjail, where he rescues the sleeping Valkyrie, Sigrdrifa (Brynhild, Brunhild’), who, stung by the sleep thorn of Wodan, and clad in full armor, lies asleep within a castle that is surrounded by a wall of flame. With the help of his steed Grani, Sigurd succeeds in penetrating through the fire to the castle. The sleeping maiden awakes when he cuts the armor from her with his sword, for it was as tight as if grown fast to the flesh. She hails her deliverer with
great joy, for she had vowed never to marry a man who knew fear. At Sigurd’s request she teaches him many wise precepts, and finally pledges her troth to him. He then departs, after promising to be faithful to her and to remember her teachings.
Opposed now to the mythological interpretation is the other view already spoken of, which denies the possibility of mythological features, and does not seek to trace the legend beyond the heroic stage. The best exponent of this view is R. C. Boer, who has made a remarkable attempt to resolve the story into its sim¬ plest constituents. According to him the nucleus of the legend is an old story of the murder of relatives ( Verioandtenmord), the original form being perhaps as follows. Attila (i. e., the enemy of Hagen under any name) is married to Hagen’s sister Grimhild or Gudrun. He invites his brother-in-law to his house, attacks him in the hope of obtaining his treasure, and kills him. According to this view Hagen was originally the king, but later sinks to a subordinate position through the subsequent connection of the story with the Burgundians. It is of course useless to hunt for the date of such an episode in history. Such a murder could have frequently occurred, and can be localized anywhere. Very early we find this Hagen story united with the Siegfried legend. If the latter is mythological, then we have a heterogeneous combination, a mythical legend grafted on a purely human one.
She marries for a second time, her husband now being Etzel, King of the Huns. Although Etzel owes his historical roots to Attila the Hun, he proves to be another weak king. Hagen shifts from being a brutal murderer to a stoic hero (or anti-hero), the ‘hope of the Nibelungs’. The name Nibelungs is transferred to the Burgundians, as they make their fatal journey to Hungary. Kriemhilt undergoes a character change, transformed from the innocent maiden of the early adventures to a ‘she-devil’. The supernatural elements found in the first half of the lay are for the most part lacking in the second half, with the exception of the water-sprites, the wise women who foretell to Hagen the fate of the Nibelungs.
Instead, a whole host of new characters are introduced. The marriage between Kriemhilt and Etzel is promoted by Rüedeger, Margrave of Pöchlarn, a powerful and magnanimous Austrian exile at Etzel’s court. Also in exile at the court are Dietrich of Bern and his retinue of warriors. Foremost among these is old Hildebrant, Dietrich’s master-at-arms. Both Dietrich and Hildebrant figure in the oldest surviving German heroic poem, the Old High German Hildebrandslied, whose manuscript dates from the early ninth century. (In the Hildebrandslied, however, Dietrich and Hildebrand are on opposite sides.)
As the lay moves towards the final catastrophe, Volker of Alzey, the bloodthirsty minstrel, comes to play a prominent role on the Burgundian side. King Gunther now shakes off his weakness and becomes a heroic figure. Other characters on the Hunnish side make brief appearances in the battles: these include Blœdelin, Etzel’s brother, and Irinc, Margrave of Denmark. Ultimately, though, it is the central characters, Kriemhilt, Hagen, and Gunther, who determine the outcome and the doom of the Nibelungs
Written down by an anonymous poet c.1200, the Nibelungenlied, to give it its commonly used Modern German title, is the greatest medieval German heroic poem or lay, a revenge saga on an epic scale, which has justly been compared with Homer and with the Old Icelandic Saga of Burnt Njal. It tells of the heroic dragon-slayer Sivrit’s wooing of the beautiful Kriemhilt and King Gunther’s wooing of the Amazon-like Queen Prünhilt. The brutal murder of Sivrit by the fierce anti-hero Hagen, and the vengeance wreaked by Kriemhilt are recounted in bloody detail. Its origins reach back into the fifth century; it underwent a long genesis in the form of oral poetry before taking on written form. The poem proved hugely popular in the Middle Ages, with some forty manuscripts and fragments surviving. The latest of these is the Ambraser Heldenbuch, a huge two-volume compilation of romances and epics, now in the Austrian National Library, which was compiled between 1504 and 1516 for the emperor Maximilian I. After this last late medieval recording of the text the lay disappeared from sight almost entirely for 200 years.
Rediscovered in 1755, the Nibelungenlied then became central to the nationalist thinking of the Romantics, coming to be regarded, anachronistically, as the ‘national epic’ of the Germans. This nationalistic abuse of the text culminated in its popularity in the Third Reich. The Lay of the Nibelungs was a central inspiration behind Richard Wagner’s monumental Ring cycle. Its greatest cinematic treatment is Fritz Lang’s two-part silent film, Siegfried’s Death and Kriemhild’s Revenge (1922–4), one of the high points of Weimar cinema.
The Thirty-eighth Adventure introduces (and kills off ) a large number of characters who would have been familiar to the audience from the Dietrich epics, in particular Biterolf und Dietleib, which accords a prominent role to Rüedeger. Biterolf was probably first written down in the 1250s, in the Austrian or Styrian area familiar to the Nibelungenlied poet, but may well have been circulating earlier in oral form. The audience would have delighted in recognizing old friends from these epics. They were, like the Nibelungenlied itself, anonymous, a constituent element of the genre.
The Nibelungenlied stands head and shoulders above the Dietrich epics in terms of literary quality. We possess evidence of the popularity both of the lay, and of other heroic epics, before the date of the earliest manuscripts, in Wolfram’s Parzival, where, in the eighth book, the cowardly Sir Liddamus argues for discretion being the better part of valour: ‘What kind of Wolfhart would I make? . . . Even if it never won your favour, I would rather act like Rumolt, who gave King Gunther his advice when he left Worms to go to the Huns — he urged him to baste long cutlets and turn them round in the cauldron.’2 Landgrave Kingrimursel recognizes the allusion to ‘Rumolt’s counsel’ in the Nibelungenlied: ‘you say you act like that cook who advised the bold Nibelungs, who set off, undeterred, for where vengeance was wrought upon them for what had happened to Siegfried in the past.’ Liddamus goes on to refer to other characters well known from the Dietrich epics, Sibeche and Ermenrich.
The Nibelungenlied is divided into thirty-nine ‘adventures’ or chapters. (This division and the adventures’ titles are well preserved in the manuscripts, with the exception of the First Adventure.) In the first two adventures we are introduced, in parallel, to the two central protagonists of the first half of the lay, Kriemhilt and Sivrit. The First Adventure tells us of Kriemhilt, Princess of Burgundy, a kingdom which has as its capital Worms on the Rhine.4 Kriemhilt, daughter of Queen Uote, is under the guardianship of her brothers, the three kings of Burgundy, Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher. A prominent figure at the Burgundian court is Hagen of Tronege, vassal and chief adviser to the kings.
The Second Adventure introduces us to Sivrit, Prince of the Netherlands, and tells of his courtly upbringing. In the Third Adventure he rides to Worms, intending to win Kriemhilt for his bride, and from then on Sivrit’s fortunes are intertwined with those of the Burgundians. He is particularly close to King Gunther, who proves to be a weak king, a roi fainéant, much in the same mould as King Arthur in the Arthurian romances of the twelfth-century French poet Chrétien de Troyes and their MHG adaptations by Hartmann von Aue and Wolfram von Eschenbach, or King Marke in the various medieval versions of the tale of Tristan and Isolde. Also in the Third Adventure Hagen gives us a retrospective account of Sivrit’s upbringing, telling of his superhuman strength and its origins, and of his acquisition of the priceless hoard of the Nibelungs, a race of dwarves resident somewhere to the north of the Netherlands. Like Sivrit, Gunther is soon intent on wooing.
He seeks for his bride Prünhilt, Queen of Iceland, an Amazonian figure of supernatural strength. She and Sivrit are parallel, equally dominant personalities, who have an aura of myth about them, and the lay does indeed hint at their prior knowledge of one another.5 The wooing expedition to Iceland ultimately proves successful, but only because Sivrit has recourse to supernatural means: his massive strength and his cloak of invisibility. Once established as queen in Burgundy, Prünhilt quarrels with Kriemhilt over the relative rank of their two husbands, and this dispute over precedence leads to a conspiracy to kill Sivrit. The second half of the lay tells of the vengeance Kriemhilt seeks to take upon the murderers of Sivrit.
The supernatural is far from being absent in the courtly romance, where
giants, dwarves, fairies, and invisibility are frequently met with, but there is a different feel, a different atmosphere when it occurs in the heroic epic. The prophecy of the water-sprites, for example, which leads to Hagen’s brutal attempt on the life of the chaplain, is integral to the sense of wyrd, of inexorable fate, familiar to the reader of Beowulf, of the Hildebrandslied, and of Icelandic sagas such as the great tale of revenge, the Saga of Burnt Njal.
There is probably no poem of German literature that has excited such universal interest, or that has been so much studied and discussed, as the Nibelungenlied. In its present form it is a product of the age of chivalry, but it reaches back to the earliest epochs of German antiquity, and embraces not only the pageantry of courtly chivalry, but also traits of ancient Germanic folklore and probably of Teutonic mythology. One of its earliest critics fitly called it a German Iliad, for, like this great Greek epic, it goes back to the remot¬ est times and unites the monumental fragments of half-forgotten myths and historical personages into a poem that is essentially national in character, and the embodiment of all that is great in the antiquity of the race.
Though lacking to some extent the dignity of the Iliad, the Nibelungenlied surpasses the former in the deep tragedy which pervades it, the tragedy of fate, the inevitable retribution for crime, the never- dying struggle between the powers of good and evil, between light and darkness. That the poem must have been exceedingly popular during the Middle Ages is evinced by the great number of Manuscripts that have come down to us. We pos¬ sess in all twenty-eight more or less complete MSS., preserved in thirty-one fragments, fifteen of which date from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Of all these MSS., but nine are so well preserved that, in spite of some minor breaks, they can be considered complete.
The story of Siegfried, his tragic death, and the dire vengeance visited upon his slayers, which lies at the basis of our poem, antedates the latter by many centuries, and was known to all nations whose lan¬ guages prove by their resemblance to the German tongue their original identity with the German people. Not only along the banks of the Rhine and the Danube and upon the upland plains of Southern Germany, but also along the rocky fjords of Norway, among the Andes and Saxons in their new home across the chan- O nel, even in the distant Shetland Islands and on the snow-covered wastes of Iceland, this story was told around the fires at night and sung to the harp in the banqueting halls of kings and nobles, each people and each generation telling it in its own fashion and adding new elements of its own invention. This great geograph¬ ical distribution of the legend, and the variety of forms in which it appears, make it difficult to know where we must seek its origin. The northern version is in many respects older and simpler in form than the German, but still it is probable that Norway was not the home of the saga, but that it took its rise in Germany along the banks of the Rhine among the ancient tribe of the Franks, as is shown by the many geographical names that are reminiscent of the characters of the story, such as a Siegfried spring in the Odenwald, a Hagen well at Lorsch, a Brunhild bed, near Frankfort, and the well-known Drachenfels, or Dragon’s Bock, on the Bhine. It is to Norway, however, that we must go for our knowlege of the story, for, singularly enough, with the exception of the Nibelungenlied and the popular ballad, German literature has preserved al¬ most no trace of the legend, and such as exist are too late and too corrupt to be of much use in determining the original features of the story.
Just when the legend emigrated to Skandinavia we do not know, but certainly at an early date, perhaps during the opening years of the sixth century. It may have been introduced by German traders, by slaves captured by the Northmen on their frequent maraud¬ ing expeditions, or, as Mogk believes, may have been taken by the Heruli on their return to Norway after their defeat by the Langobardi. By whatever channel, however, the story reached the North, it became part and parcel of Skandin avian folklore, only certain names still pointing to the original home of the legend. In the ninth century, when Harald Harfagr changed the ancient free constitution of the land, many Norwe¬ gians emigrated to Iceland, taking with them these acquired legends, which were better preserved in this remote island because of the peaceful introduction of Christianity, than on the Continent, where the Church was more antagonistic to the customs and legends of the heathen period.
The story, as given in the older Norse versions, is in most respects more original than in the JVibelung- enlied. It relates the history of the treasure of the Nibelungs, tracing it back to a giant by the name of Hreithmar, who received it from the god Loki as a compensation for the killing of the former’s son Otur, whom Loki had slain in the form of an otter. Loki obtained the ransom from a dwarf named Andwari, who in turn had stolen it from the river gods of the Rhine. Andwari pronounces a terrible curse upon the treasure and its possessors, and this curse passes from Loki to the Giant Hreithmar, who is murdered when asleep by his two sons Fafnir and Regin. The latter, however, is cheated out of the coveted prize by Fafnir, who carries it away to the Gnita heath, where he guards it in the form of a dragon. This treasure, with its accompanying curse, next passes into the hands of a human being named Sigurd
(the Norse form of Siegfried, as we have seen), a de- scendant of the race of the Volsungs, who trace their history back to Wodan and are especially favored by him. The full story of Siegfried’s ancestry is far too long to relate here, and does not especially concern us, as it has little or no influence on the later develop¬ ment of the story. It is sufficient for our purpose to know that Siegfried was the son of Siegmund, who was slain in battle before the birth of his son. Si¬ gurd was carefully reared by his mother Hjordis and the wise dwarf Regin, who taught him the know¬ ledge of runes and of many languages.1 At the sug¬ gestion of Regin, Sigurd asks for and receives the steed Grani from the king, and is then urged by his tutor to help him obtain the treasure guarded by the latter’s brother Fafnir. Sigurd promises, but first de¬ mands a sword. Two, that are given him by Regin, prove worthless, and he forges a new one from the pieces of his father’s sword, which his mother had preserved. With this he easily splits the anvil and cuts in two a flake of wool, floating down the Rhine. He first avenges the death of his father, and then sets off with Regin to attack the dragon Fafnir. At the advice of the former Sigurd digs a ditch across the dragon’s path and pierces him from below with his sword, as the latter comes down to drink. In dying the dragon warns Sigurd against the treasure and its curse, and against Regin, who, he says, is planning
Sigurd’s death, intending to obtain the treasure for himself. When Regin sees the dragon safely dead, he creeps from his place of concealment, drinks of the blood, and, cutting out the heart, begs Sigurd to roast it for him. While doing so, Sigurd burns his fingers, and, putting them in his mouth, understands at once the language of the birds and hears them say that Sigurd himself should eat the heart and then he would be wiser than all other men. They also betray Regin’s evil designs, and counsel the lad to kill his tutor. This Sigurd then does, cutting off Regin’s head, drinking the blood of both brothers, and eating Fafnir’s heart.1 On the further advice of the birds Sigurd first fetches the treasure from the cave, and then journeys to the mountain Hindarfjail, where he rescues the sleeping Valkyrie, Sigrdrifa (Brynhild, Brunhild’), who, stung by the sleep thorn of Wodan, and clad in full armor, lies asleep within a castle that is surrounded by a wall of flame. With the help of his steed Grani, Sigurd succeeds in penetrating through the fire to the castle. The sleeping maiden awakes when he cuts the armor from her with his sword, for it was as tight as if grown fast to the flesh. She hails her deliverer with
great joy, for she had vowed never to marry a man who knew fear. At Sigurd’s request she teaches him many wise precepts, and finally pledges her troth to him. He then departs, after promising to be faithful to her and to remember her teachings.
Opposed now to the mythological interpretation is the other view already spoken of, which denies the possibility of mythological features, and does not seek to trace the legend beyond the heroic stage. The best exponent of this view is R. C. Boer, who has made a remarkable attempt to resolve the story into its sim¬ plest constituents. According to him the nucleus of the legend is an old story of the murder of relatives ( Verioandtenmord), the original form being perhaps as follows. Attila (i. e., the enemy of Hagen under any name) is married to Hagen’s sister Grimhild or Gudrun. He invites his brother-in-law to his house, attacks him in the hope of obtaining his treasure, and kills him. According to this view Hagen was originally the king, but later sinks to a subordinate position through the subsequent connection of the story with the Burgundians. It is of course useless to hunt for the date of such an episode in history. Such a murder could have frequently occurred, and can be localized anywhere. Very early we find this Hagen story united with the Siegfried legend. If the latter is mythological, then we have a heterogeneous combination, a mythical legend grafted on a purely human one.
She marries for a second time, her husband now being Etzel, King of the Huns. Although Etzel owes his historical roots to Attila the Hun, he proves to be another weak king. Hagen shifts from being a brutal murderer to a stoic hero (or anti-hero), the ‘hope of the Nibelungs’. The name Nibelungs is transferred to the Burgundians, as they make their fatal journey to Hungary. Kriemhilt undergoes a character change, transformed from the innocent maiden of the early adventures to a ‘she-devil’. The supernatural elements found in the first half of the lay are for the most part lacking in the second half, with the exception of the water-sprites, the wise women who foretell to Hagen the fate of the Nibelungs.
Instead, a whole host of new characters are introduced. The marriage between Kriemhilt and Etzel is promoted by Rüedeger, Margrave of Pöchlarn, a powerful and magnanimous Austrian exile at Etzel’s court. Also in exile at the court are Dietrich of Bern and his retinue of warriors. Foremost among these is old Hildebrant, Dietrich’s master-at-arms. Both Dietrich and Hildebrant figure in the oldest surviving German heroic poem, the Old High German Hildebrandslied, whose manuscript dates from the early ninth century. (In the Hildebrandslied, however, Dietrich and Hildebrand are on opposite sides.)
As the lay moves towards the final catastrophe, Volker of Alzey, the bloodthirsty minstrel, comes to play a prominent role on the Burgundian side. King Gunther now shakes off his weakness and becomes a heroic figure. Other characters on the Hunnish side make brief appearances in the battles: these include Blœdelin, Etzel’s brother, and Irinc, Margrave of Denmark. Ultimately, though, it is the central characters, Kriemhilt, Hagen, and Gunther, who determine the outcome and the doom of the Nibelungs
Reference:
https://api.pageplace.de/preview/DT0400.9780191572685_A23535778/preview-9780191572685_A23535778.pdf
https://dn790007.ca.archive.org/0/items/nibelungenliedtr00bost/nibelungenliedtr00bost.pdf