TH

THE LAY OF THE NIBELUNGEN.

con

lesson that it is the purpose with which we look upon things that constitutes the difference between man and man. Some creatures, both men and brutes, seem to have no definite purpose in mind at all. They breathe, eat, drink, sleep, and do other things, just to keep themselves vegetating. But there are many degrees between this and the fullest recognition of duty and an aim in life. The first studies the classics, French, German, Spanish, or Italian, because it happens to be the fashion, or because it belongs to the education of the "gentleman." The second likes to be able to say of himself and have people say of him in society, "What a master of languages!" The third wants to make money; he will get more gold-dust at the end of every year with every additional language. The fourth man needs the languages to better get along in foreign countries. A fifth means to make the study a servant to other studies. The chemist might be studying German, French, and Italian to avail himself of valuable untranslated works in his special department; the physicist, Greek, and Latin, to examine into theories of natural phenomena as held by his Greek and Roman predecessors. All this may be very necessary and noble; but, I think, there is yet a grander purpose possible in such a vast and unsurpassed study as that which we have under consideration—I mean, of course, the study of language in itself, which can not be undertaken without directly and indirectly serving the highest interests of man. From this point of view it presents two quite distinct phases. One, philology, deals with the whole

HE man who goes out on a hunting expedition makes the duct of his eye and gun the main object of his work and attention, but subservient to it may be made an endless variety of experiences, in the sense of the French meaning of the word expérience, by which any and every new impression on the human mind may be embraced. It depends altogether on the whole make-up of the man, what he will bring back with him as the reward of his toil. If he be nothing but a hunter, he will have his game; if a hunter and traveler, he carries with him besides the game impressions of land and people; the botanist probably would not lose sight of the modest forget-menot and the boisterous sunflower on his path over mountain and dale; the geologist-hunter is not contented with the surface of the various regions, but his spiritual eye unconsciously penetrates deeper into the mysteries of things. So we see that the impressions which we receive every day, in fact every moment of our lives, depend in great measure on the whole of our former acquire ments-experiences, if you like it better. The statement regarding the hunter holds good, however, in all human enterprises. The butcher and the great physiologist view the same carcass with altogether different purposes and results. The one counts the dollars and cents coming from it; the other listens to the secret voices of nature, which point out for him the remotest recesses of the wonderful structure. The one harvests worldly riches; the other stores away riches of the mind, to be used for the interests of his fellow-men. From this we may learn the noble universe; it tells the tale of everlasting

struggles between forces in one form- would involve a much greater knowl

man; and forces in another form-all that is outside of man. The birth of human speech, the rising, the life, the sufferings, the changes, the sleep, the downfall, the death, and numberless other metamorphoses in language, offer so many stupendous phenomena to us weak mortals, that we are utterly unable to grasp them, but we stand in silent admiration, just as we admire nature, although we can not understand her grandeur. Every word in human speech bears in its bosom its own remote history, and besides the history of mankind and nature. We could not ask the first letter of the alphabet for its origin, without entering upon a boundless field of inquiry, before which all the wisdom of all the Humboldts that ever lived would modestly bow down into the very dust. Some great philosopher - I do not remember his name― said something of this kind: "If we wanted to penetrate into the very essence of an atom, we would have to know all about the universe; and to know the essence of the universe, we would have to know all about every atom." With some modification this might be applied to language. If we wanted to penetrate into the secrets of any sound, we would not only have to know all about language, but also all about everything in nature. This may not seem perfectly rational to him who has never given himself to thought on language and words. But if we examine any word, we see that it is made up of single sounds represented by letters. In the word "book" the first let ter is b; it may be found in all modern, and, probably, in all ancient languages. How did it come there? Do we know the history of the first development of speech to answer the question? Was it first gradually developed in man? or did it come into existence with man, and when? The answer to these questions

edge of the history of man than we now possess. Or, a third possible case, was that letter suddenly bestowed upon man? When? where? This whole question is, then, as you see, very complex, and I am sure you agree with me when I say there is no man wise enough to answer. And granted there be a solution to this first question, how shall we dispose of the second in the series? Why was it, and how became it necessary for man to possess that and other sounds? Here you stand before the sanctum sanctorum to which no human erudition will offer a key. Behind words and letters there is much information to be gained, but in words there is often expressed a world of real history impartially told. Words like "printing," "thermometer," "steam-engine,” “telegraph," "phonography," disclose in their present signification, to our vision, much of progress in man's history, reminding us at the same time of darker ages that knew little of the civilization of these latter days. Impartially study words like "reformation," "Protestant,” “Lutherism," and you may see heaven's torch descend to illumine man's path through life. You may behold man battling for intellectual freedom, battling to throw off fetters the most oppressive. The words "Columbia," "America," "Washington," "Dakota," "Pennsylvania," "Georgia,” “Delaware,” “New York," "Richmond," "Massachusetts," "Oakland," the many Spanish names on this coast, the name "Berkeley," and thousands of others, must cause the patriotic strings in your heart to vibrate whenever you trace their history. The study of words like "MaundyThursday," "picnic," "ultramontane," "carnival," "rosary," "pax" as in "to kiss the pax," throws light upon many a dark point in the culturgeschichte history of development of customs and manners of nations.

"Vallisneria," a peculiar plant; "Eustachian tube," a canal that connects the drum of the ear with the back part of the mouth; "Spinozism," a form of pantheism; "Xantippe," a quarrelsome woman; "Darwinism," and of late, "Beecherism," are words that in some instances immortalize, in others perpetuate, the names of remarkable men, and, if carefully studied, are full of revelations. I might continue the enumeration of these dictionary sphinxes for many an hour, but that is not the present object. I do wish, however, to recommend to the reader rambles through. English and foreign dictionaries. The cry against literary studies in general and language-study in particular, in these days, arises from ignorance. Can a subject be treated lightly that demands of you constant application in all directions, and is productive of the widest culture? The so-called practical education alone is no education at all. It is a sort of training that may produce at best onesided little men to be handled by others; it never can produce independent workers-thinkers. But let us follow the subject to the other, if possible, still loftier phase which it presents.

The writings of great men comprise not only all that has been hinted at, but they invite us to deeper and more direct meditations upon all things that may be worthy of our thoughts. The careful study of these writings forms the culminating point of all language-study. Prose and poetry do not, however, stand on an equality. The latter adds to the mere expression of thought all the beauties of euphony, of metre, of rhyme, of choice of words and constructions, and often even of melody. Where in prose we would read, "Liberty can prosper only at the expense of the blood of the citizen," the poet, this time Schiller, the noblest of the noble, sings,

"Peace sows its harvest in the patriot's tomb." Where we might say, "With advancing

civilization navigation commenced; man built himself dwellings," Schiller sings: "The azure river-god his watery fields

Lends to the raft; her home the dryad yields." Notice how much mastery in two lines. The words "river-god" and "dryad" (the nymph who, according to Greek fancy, inhabited and guarded the tree), lead you back many steps in the history of man. How much of art and music in two lines, yet only a most insignificant part of the whole of Schiller's compositions. On the rise of the fine arts, we find in the same poet:

"Flushed into life, the pictured image breaks;

Waked by the chisel, stone takes soul and speaks!''

Our engineers may be interested to hear how Schiller speaks of the noble beginning in that direction:

"Light as aloft we see the iris spring,

Light as the arrow flying from the string;
O'er the wide river, rushing to the deep,

The lithe bridge boundeth with its airy leap."
Of scientific research in general the
poet creates for us this picture:
"But all the while, best pleased apart to dwell,
Sits musing Science in its noiseless cell;
Draws meaning circles, and with patient mind
Steals to the spirit that the whole designed;
Gropes through the realm of matter for its laws,
Learns where the magnet or repels or draws,
Follows the sound along the air, and flies
After the lightning through the pathless skies;
Seeks, through dark Chance's wonder- teeming

maze,

The guiding law which regulates and sways; Seeks, through the shifting evanescent shows, The central principle's serene repose." What true scientist could read those words and refuse his admiration for a man who was able in a dozen lines to give in substance the whole aim and work of science? How much of insight into scientific research behind that statement. Who could have made it but a great man, at home in the sciences and arts-a Schiller, a man treading the earth, and reaching with his intellect far out into the universe? Who finally could refuse his admiration for studies that bring one into communion

with such men, except he who knows ure," from which I take this, is full of little or nothing about them? the heroism of those days. You follow the trained fiery steeds with your eye, while in your ear resounds "great noise of weapons and of cheer."

had never seen here upon earth aught so sweet. As the clear full moon leads the stars, so she shone above other women fair." Siegfried finds one or two opportunities to speak to her. Whether with gentle pressure he caressed her white hand in fond love, the poet can not tell. "Nor can I believe he did not do it," he adds, leaving us to ponder over so important a question.

The poet goes on in the next "adventure," telling us how Gunther, the brother of Chriemhild, having heard of Brunhild, the majestic giant-woman, conceives the idea to win her. Brunhild, the invincible Queen of Isenland, enjoys the reputation of great strength; the knight who wants to gain her love must measure himself with her in open contest. Many a warrior lost his life in the daring attempt. Gunther requests Siegfried to accompany him upon the dangerous journey, which Siegfried promises. In exchange Gunther gives him hope that Chriemhild may become his wife. Accompanied by Hagen and Dankwart they start, provided with precious garments made of silk "as white as the snow," and embroidered with gold, diamonds, and pearls, the work of a goodly number of the ladies of the court. "In seven weeks created they the garments." On the twelfth morning the adventurers arrive in Brunhild's land. Success crowns the efforts of the brave knights, but only after severe encounters, in which the queen shows her superior skill, and during which Siegfried, making use of his Tarnkappe (the cloak of invisibility), guides the arm of his friend. Thus he overcomes the giantess. Brunhild is, however, unwilling to sail with Gunther until she has assembled "her cousins

and those in her pay." Those from Worms fear that evil might spring from this for them, and Siegfried hastens off to the land of the Nibelungen whom he formerly had subjected, and there, after many chivalrous deeds, he equips

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a thousand warriors. He then leads them to Gunther, who explains to Brunhild that they were his body-guard whom he had left behind. The queen finally consents to accompany her lover, after having provisionally intrusted her sceptre to her uncle. Siegfried hastens forward to announce the distinguished pair. The imposing feasts that followed I shall not attempt to describe.

Siegfried reminds Gunther of his promise, who I may say obtains without any difficulty Chriemhild's consent to become Siegfried's. If I interpret this chapter rightly, at this time we receive the first clews to future complications. The best judges in such matters are at a loss to decide which of the two women is the more beautiful; and besides, it seems as if Brunhild sheltered in her heart the first germs of love-hatred against Siegfried, springing from his superior bravery, which in such a woman must cause admiration; but it is counteracted by the fact that he is to marry Chriemhild, her rival in beauty. Do not accept my view too readily, but read for yourselves. No commentator has come to similar conclusions.

Brunhild is in the beginning none too tender to her husband, as we learn from his own complaint to Siegfried, which might seem to us highly comical were it not for sympathy with poor Gunther. His own words are: "I offended her, when she bound me; to a nail she bore me, and high up on the wall me hung. I there remained in great distress the whole night, ere she freed me. How sweetly she rested all that while!"

We next accompany Siegfried and his beautiful bride to their home, where his father surrenders to him the throne. The queen bears him a son, who is named Gunther, after his uncle. Gunther returns the compliment by calling his son after the noble Siegfried. Ten years have elapsed, and during this time the two couples have seen nothing of