Vol. 3 Preface

Much then is irrecoverably lost to our mythology; I turn to the sources that remain to it, which are partly Written Memorials, partly the never resting stream of living Manners and Story. The former may reach far back, but they present themselves piecemeal and disconnected, while the popular tradition of today hangs by threads which ultimately link it without a break to ancient times. Of the priceless records of the Romans, who let the first ray of history fall on their defeated but unsubdued enemy, I have spoken in the fourth and sixth chapters. If among gods and heroes only Tuisco, Mannus and Alx are named in German, and the rest given in 'Romana interpretatio;' on the other hand, the female names Nerthus, Veleda, Tanfana, Huldana (for Hludana), Aliruna, have kept their original form; and so have names of peoples and places that lead back to gods, Ingaevones, Iscaevones, Herminones, Asciburgium. Christian authors also, writing in Latin, prefer the Roman names, yet, when occasion calls, Wodan, Thunar, Frea, Sahsnot cannot be avoided. The refined language of the Goths, and the framework of their hero-legend, lead us to imagine a very full development of their faith, then just giving way to christianity, though to us it has sunk into such utter darkness: such expressions as fráuja, halja, sibja, unhulþo, skôhsl, anz, faírguni, sáuil (as well as sunna), vaíhts, alhs, gudja, hunsl, dulþs, jiuleis, midjun-gards, aúhns, aþn, blôtan, inveitan, must have heathen notions lying at their base, and these would offer themselves far more abundantly if portions of the Gothic Old Testament had reached us. After the lapse of a few centuries we find the other dialects all more or less corrupted when compared with the Gothic, and as a long interval had then passed since the conversion of most of the races, heathenism must have retreated farther from the language also and the poetry. Nevertheless the fragment of Muspilli, the Abrenuntiatio, the Merseburg Lay and a few others, still allow our glances to rove back beyond our expectationæ isolated words occur in glosses, and proper names of men, places, herbs, point to other vestigesæ not only do gods and heroes step out of the mist, as Wuotan, Donar, Zio, Phol, Paltar, Frôho, Sintarfizilo, Orentil, and goddesses or wise women, as Frouwa, Folla, Sindgund, Wurt; but a host of other words, itis, wiht, urlac, fuld, haruc, hliodar, paro, sigil, zunkal, etc. are found uneradicated. Of course, among the Saxons, who remained heathen longer, especially among the Anglo-Saxons, whose language preserved its warmth better by poetry, such relics are trebly numerous, for beside Wôden, Thunor, Freá, Bealdor, Helle, Eástre, Hrêðe, and the rich store of names in the genealogies, there add themselves Forneot, Wôma, Geofon, Gersuma, Wuscfreá, Bregowine, Earendel, ides, wyrd, wælcyrge, þyrs, eoten, geola, hleodor, bearo, neorxenawong, hæleðhelm, Brosingamene, and many more. What the Middle High German poetry inevitably loses by comparison with the older, is compensated by its greater quantity: together with hero-names like Nibelunc, Schiltunc, Schilbunc, Alberîch, Wielant, Horant, which fall at once within the province of mythology, it has treasured up for us the words tarnkappe, albleich, heilwâc, turse, windesbrût, goltwine and the like, while in oft-recurring phrases about des sunnen haz, des arn winde, des tiuvels muoter, we catch the clear echo of ancient fables. Most vividly, in never-tiring play of colours, the minne-songs paint the triumphal entry of May and Summer: the pining heart missed in the stately march its former god. The personifications of Sælde and Aventiure spring from a deep-hidden root; how significant are the mere names of Wunsch and vâlant, which are not found in all the poets even, let alone in O.H.German! Yet we cannot imagine otherwise than that these words, although their reference to Wuotan and Phol was through long ages latent, were drawn directly and without a break from heathenism. They are a proof of the possibility of traditions lingering only in certain spots, and thus finding their way after all to here and there a poet; totally silenced in places and periods, they suddenly strike up somewhere else, though any district, any dialect, can boast but few or comparatively few of these; it is not many arch-mythical terms, like frau, hölle, wicht, that our language has constant need of, and has never to this day cast off.

If these numerous written memorials have only left us sundry bones and joints, as it were, of our old mythology, its living breath still falls upon us from a vast number of Stories and Customs, handed down through lengthened periods from father to son. With what fidelity they propagate themselves, how exactly they seize and transmit to posterity the essential features of the fable, has never been noticed till now that people have become aware of their great value, and begun to set them down in collections simple and copious. Oral legend is to written records as folk-song is to poetic art, or the rulings recited by schöffen (scabini) to written codes.

But the folk-tale wants to be gleaned or plucked with a delicate hand. Grasp it rudely, it will curl up its leaves, and deny its dearest fragrance. There lies in it such a store of rich development and blossom, that, even when presented incomplete, it contents us in its native adornment, and would be deranged and damaged by any foreign addition. Whoever should venture on that, ought, if he would shew no gap in his harness, to be initiated into all the innocence of popular poetry; as he who would coin a word, into all the mysteries of language. Out of elben (elves) to make elfen, was doing violence to our language; with still less of forbearance have violent hands been laid on the colouring and contents even of myths. They thought to improve upon the folk-tale, and have always fallen short of it: not even where it shews gaps, is any restoration to be dreamt of, which sits upon it as new whitewash on old ruins, contriving with a couple of dabs to wipe out all the charm. Astonishing are the various shapes its identity assumes, additional adornments spring up on ground where we least expect it; but it is not in every soil that it thrives luxuriantly, here and there it shews scanty or shy; it is sure to be vigorous where rhymes and spells abound in it. The heaviest crops seem to be realized by those collections which, starting from a district rich in legend, glean cautiously from the surrounding neighbourhoods, without straying far from its limits; thus Otmar's Harz-sagen found a favourable field, which is probably worth going over a second time within the like modest bounds. Among collections that have lately come to light, I name Börner's Tales of the Orla-gau, which, grown up on rich legendary soil, yield much that is valuable, though the accompanying discourses fail to realize the true nature of Folk-legend. Bernhard Baader's Tales of Upper Germany afford a rich treasure, in simple suitable language; but in Mone's Anzeiger they are presented in so scattered and inconvenient a form, that they ought to be re-digested in a new edition: the two different versions of the story of Dold (quoted on p. 983), are a good illustration of what I meant just now by 'meagre' and 'luxuriant.' Bechstein's Thuringian Legends seem to me only in the last two volumes to attain the true point of view, and to offer something worth having. The Legends of Samogitia and the Mark, collected by Reusch and Kuhn, satisfy all requirements; they furnish most copious material, and put to shame the notion that any district of Germany is poor in popular traditions, which only elude those who know not the right way to approach them. Soon perhaps we shall get collections laid out on the same thoughtful plan from Holstein, Westphalia, Bavaria and Tyrol.

For Denmark too we have a model collection by Thiele, whose last edition has only just reached me, and still remains unused. Many of the finest Swedish legends have been given us in various places, but a still greater number must be lying ungathered: Afzelius's Sago-häfder, welcome as they are, go too much on the plan of extracting the juice from whatever came to hand. Norway can hardly be less stocked with legend than Sweden, it has moreover its popular lays to shew, into which songs of the Edda have been transmuted, witness the lay of Thor's hammer (p. 181) and the Sôlar-lay. In our own day, J. W. Wolf is labouring on the popular traditions of Belgium, and Rob. Chambers on those of Scotland, with zeal and visible success.

The Fairy-tale (märchen) is with good reason distinguished from the Legend, though by turns they play into one another. Looser, less fettered than legend, the Fairy-tale lacks that local habitation, which hampers legend, but makes it the more home-like. The Fairy-tale flies, the legend walks, knocks at your door; the one can draw freely out of the fulness of poetry, the other has almost the authority of history. As the Fairy-tale stands related to legend, so does legend to history, and (we may add) so does history to real life. In real existence all the outlines are sharp, clear and certain, which on history's canvas are gradually shaded off and toned down. The ancient mythus, however, combines to some extent the qualities of fairy-tale and legend; untrammelled in its flight, it can yet settle down in a local home.

It was thought once, that after the Italian and French collections of Fairy-tales it was too late to attempt any in Germany, but this is contradicted by fact; and Molbech's collection, and many specimens inserted in his book by Afzelius, testify also how rich Denmark and Sweden are in fairy-tales not yet extinct. But all collections have wellnight been overtopt lately by the Norwegian (still unfinished) of Moe and Asbiörnsen, with its fresh and full store; and treasures not a few must be lurking in England, Scotland, and the Netherlands, from all of which Mythology may look to receive manifold gain.

To indicate briefly the gain she has already derived from the Folk-tale (legend): it is plain that to this alone we owe our knowledge of the goddesses Holda, Berhta and Fricka, as also the myth of the Wild Hunt which leads us straight to Wôdan. The tale of the old beggar-wife is a reminiscence of Grîmnir. Of the wise-women, of swan-wives, of kings shut up in hills we should have learnt little from written documents, did not Legend spread her light over them; even the myths of the Sin-flood and the World's Destruction she has not lost sight of to this day. But what is most fondly cherished in her, and woven into the gayest tissues, is the delightful narratives of giants, dwarfs, elves, little wights, nixies, night-hags and home-sprites, these last being related to the rest as the tame beasts of the fable are to the wild and unsubjugated: in poetry the wild is always superior to the tamed. The legend of the sun-blind dwarfs (pp. 466n., 1247) and that of the blood-vat (pp. 468n., 902) remind us of the Edda.

In the Fairy-tale also, dwarfs and giants play their part: Swan-witchen (Swan-white) and Dorn-röschen (Thorn-rose =Sleeping Beauty), pp. 425, 1204 are a swan-wife and a valkyr; the three spinning-wives, p. 415, are norns; the footstool hurled down from the heavenly seat (p. 136), Death as a godfather (p. 853), the player's throw and Jack the gamester (pp. 818n., 887) reach back to heathen times. Fairy-tales, not legends, have in common with the god-myth a multitude of metamorphoses; and they often let animals come upon the stage, and so they trespass on the old Animal-epos.