William Morris and the Volsungs
By Emily Baldo.
William Morris’ nineteenth-century adaption of the thirteenth-century The Saga of the Volsungs remains mostly accurate to its source material, although it takes on less of a saga format, but it stays true to those values which are so vital to the original: honor, strength, and courage. However, something that is interesting in terms of Morris’ work in relation to the original is a deeper expansion of the tone, the imagery, and the story aspect of the saga. Rather than stating the brave and terrifying acts of the Volsung line, Morris is descriptive, exploring the imagery more than the source material does. This is especially interesting as imagery can be largely up to individual interpretation, but Morris holds true to the tone of his source material and conveys the characters accurately to their portrayals in The Saga of the Volsungs.
One area where this is evident is the scene where Sigurd defeats Fafnir, the giant serpent. In The Saga of the Volsungs, the scene is straightforward, with the essential details: “And when the serpent crawled over the pit, Sigurd plunged the sword up under the left shoulder, so that it sank to the hilt…when the huge worm felt his mortal wound he thrashed his head and his tail, destroying everything that got in his way…Then Fafnir died” (Saga 63-65). Sigurd’s bravery is apparent, certainly, and readers get the idea of Fafnir’s size and strength, but it is very limited in grandeur. Morris, on the other hand, includes a more dramatic version of the event: “And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;/And over the Glittering Hearth fair shone the sun and the day,/And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o’er the fateful place,/As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain or bows the acres’ face” (Morris 112). Morris writes with a sweeping tone that does fit the grandness of Sigurd’s gestures and the scope of the events of the Saga, and perhaps the Victorian ideas of aesthetic and drama affected his choice to add more extravagance, more detail, in his adaptation. While those in the thirteenth century did have an interest in that extravagance, it was more about honor or strength or renown, thus the literature that may seem to lack what modern readers consider the greatest attributes to a written piece.
Another example of Morris’ imagery and descriptive writing style is when Sigurd hears the birds speak as he roasts the heart of the serpent. In the Saga it is again only the necessary information for readers, stating what Sigurd will gain from eating the heart: “‘Then he would be wiser than any man’” (Saga 66). Morris, on the other hand, gives the birds great detail in their speeches, giving readers information such as the time of day and adding a bit more embellishment to the story. “And the seventh: ‘Arise, O Sigurd, lest the hour be overlate!/For the sun in the mid-noon shineth, and swift is the hand of Fate:/Arise! lest the world run backward and the blind heart have its will…’” (Morris 116). While these additional words and the seven birds that speak as opposed to the few phrases in the Saga may seem convoluted, they do add to the story aspect of the myths, in providing the information from the source material in a way that may seem more interesting and magical to readers. This again relates to the differences in audience: thirteenth-century readers valued different characteristics in their literature and stories than those of the Victorian age, who enjoyed works like that of Morris.
These expanded, sweeping descriptions of settings and scenes from the original Saga are largely concerned with the natural world, which is a larger theme of much Victorian literature, and Morris’ emphasis on nature reveals that he holds it as a detail of great importance in the literature. By giving more of a focus to the elements, the animals, even the celestial bodies, Morris appears to almost view the natural world as an additional character in the piece. It provides that grandeur, the backdrop fitting for such a line as the Volsungs. It adds not only depth, but that Victorian touch that makes it, in my opinion, read more like a story than a series of events.
While Morris’ adaptation of The Saga of the Volsungs remains true to its source material, the Victorian-era author did take the opportunity to embellish the myths of the Saga with sweeping imagery and descriptive diction in “Sigurd the Volsung.” Whether it be due to his own personal preference or to those of the demographic he wrote for, it is intriguing to see the differences in writing and tone in these two works that convey the same stories.
