TABLE OF KINGS. (continued 3)

Amongst bright Asgard’s lords

Is one, As-Luptur hight.

Like honey are his words;

His heart is filled with spite:

His form is passing fair,

And winning is his mien;

But still his guileful leer

Shows all is false within.

Though oft his traitorous wiles

The Aser’s wrath provoke,

His smooth tongue still beguiles,

And stops the impending stroke.

Oft cited to appear

He cowers the Ash before.^[60]

At Odin’s table near

His place to Asa Thor.^[61]

He was, indeed, as a god, the familiar companion of Thor; who, however, had no great wish for his society. Like most of the gods, he was married. His wife, Signe, was an amiable being, who loved him in spite of his depravity. By her he had two sons, Nari and Vali, whose fate will be mentioned in the proper place. But he had other and more mischievous offspring by the giantess Augerbode,—Fenris the wolf, Jormungandur the great serpent, and Hela the queen of death. This alleged affinity will confirm the observation, 101that there was originally but one Loke, the lord of Utgard, and consequently the everlasting foe of the gods. How the Asgard Loke should become so wicked as to produce such offspring, might surprise us, if we were not assured that he was not so originally, and that he became so by eating the half-roasted heart of an enchantress.

These three children of Loke were reared in Utgard by the mother. The fatal influence which they were to exercise over the universe, was not concealed from Vala, the mysterious prophetess of heaven, or from Skulda, the Norny of the future. The gods being warned, sent to secure them. Jormungandur, one of the most dreaded, was seized, and by Odin cast into the great sea that separates the human from the giant world. There so large did it become, that it surrounded the whole earth,—being condemned to hold its tail in its mouth, and thus to form a circle. There he lies, waiting for the time when destiny will unloose him—the Ragnarok, or the twilight of the gods; when he will assist in the destruction of the visible universe.

Hela, the next mythologic offspring, is hideous to behold,—her body being half livid, half of natural colour. By Odin, or rather by destiny, of which he was merely the instrument, she was placed in the upper confines of Nifleheim,—in the region which, from her, is called Hell (Helheim). She was invested with dominion over six, or perhaps seven, of the nine worlds, (as we have before observed, there is some doubt whether Muspelheim be eternal,)—over men, and dwarfs, and giants, and gods. All who die a natural death proceed to her “drear abode:” hence her title, queen of the dead. “Hela’s hall,” says the prose Edda, “is affliction; her table is famine; her knife is hunger; her threshold, a drawbridge; her bed, lingering sickness; her tent, cursing.” She too, like Odin, had nornies, whose province it was to summon mortals to her vast domain. But these were much inferior in loveliness and dignity to the celestial nornies. They appeared to 102the fated victim by night only. Hela herself was sometimes believed thus to appear. She had a dark red cock, to signify, by its crowing, the approach of fate; and a spectre horse, to carry the doomed to her gloomy abode.

The third demon offspring of Loke, the wolf Fenris, is no less wonderful than his brother and sister. The one had been surprised and, thrown into the sea; the other had been partly persuaded to submit, through the high dignity offered to her; but Fenris, who was more powerful, was also more troublesome. He was taken, indeed, and bound; but he snapped his fetters, strong as they were, as if they had been nothing. A massive chain was now made, and he was bid to try its strength: it snapped as if it had been dried clay. Another was made double the strength of the preceding,—the strongest that the gods could make; but with a very slight effort it too gave way. What was to be done with this formidable criminal,—one destined, if oracles were true, to endanger the world? The gods had no fetter in which to bind him; the giants, who were skilful, could not be expected to join in any design against one of their own body,—one, too, that was naturally hostile to the Aser. In this, as in many other dilemmas, recourse was had to the Dwarfs in the bowels of the earth. At the instance of Skirnir, the messenger of Freyr, they constructed a chain called Gleipner; which, though so slender as to resemble a silken thread, was nevertheless not to be broken by gods, or giants, or dwarfs. The Edda acquaints us with the materials of which it was constructed. These were six, all curious enough to deserve mentioning:—the sound made by the feet of a cat; the beard of a woman; the roots of huge rocks; the fibres of trees; the breath of fishes; the spittle of birds. But how bind by it the formidable monster? Deceit must be used. Repairing with him to a solitary island, the gods desired him to try his strength on this, as he had done on preceding things. “Little honour,” replied the cunning demon, “can result 103from breaking a silken thread; but probably it may be enchanted!” and he refused to try it. He was next taunted and jeered; and in vexation he at length consented to be bound; but then, to be assured that the gods were honest in their proffer, he insisted that some one of them should put a hand in his mouth. They were in utter dismay; but the undaunted Tyr^[62], the northern Mars, the defender of the gods, at length resolved to sacrifice a member for the preservation of the universe. He therefore placed his hand in the open jaw, and the wolf allowed himself to be fettered. The chain was cunningly fastened round his body, passed through a rent rock, carried downwards to the centre of the earth, and there made fast. Fenris now tried as before; but so far from escaping, every effort that he made only entangled him the more, and rivetted his bonds the more firmly. He therefore desisted; but in his anger he bit off the hand of Tyr. From that moment the god has been only left-handed; but as he uses that hand with much effect, he is still to be dreaded. He alone had courage to take food to an animal, the roaring of which was felt by all nature, until the gods thrust a sword into his jaws, and thus gagged him. There he lies until Ragnarok, when, like Midgard’s serpent, he will break loose.

There is no personage in the whole system of a more mythic character than Loke. He was evidently the personification of the active evil principle. His name signifies flame; and he is a representative of the demon of fire—the destructive, in opposition to the alimentary, aerial fire, of which Balder may be considered the symbol. At this day the devil is called Loke by the Norwegians. Still there is frequently some obscurity in the mythi respecting him, and it is occasioned by his being so often confounded with the demon king of Utgard. Though they were originally one, the Edda has made him into two, in conformity no doubt with the 104genius of two distinct systems of mythology. The mysterious allusion to the assistance which he afforded Odin in the work of creation, is one great proof of his identification with the powers of evil: his relationship with the giants, on both sides, sufficiently accounts for his hostility towards the gods, with whom he associated that he might find an opportunity of triumphing over them. He is styled a coward, because his deeds will not bear the light—the inventor of deceit, of lies, of every thing base. The first of his offspring, the great serpent, is evidently a relic of the Celtic creed. The Britons acknowledged its existence; and there are two bold promontories on the coast to which they have given the name of the Worm’s Head.^[63] Of the wolf Fenris the character is more obscure, though no less confirmatory of the mythos. It is doubtless a symbol of destruction. In several countries of the East, it is believed that a wolf will finally destroy, if not the world, the sun and moon. Thus, in the Budhist system, a wolf, Rakoo, is always on the watch to swallow both luminaries. This mythos, we suspect, with a living writer^[64], has given rise to the superstition so common in the middle ages,—that of men-wolves; viz., the power possessed by some men of assuming the form of that animal. Hela, or death, the offspring of sin, or Satan (Loke), needs no explanation. We may, however, observe, that there is some plausibility in the arguments of Magnussen, when he attempts to show that Helheim is more ancient than Valhalla; that it is the place of punishment acknowledged by the original inhabitants, while the warrior’s heaven was introduced by the Gothic conquerors.

The mythological fables in which Loke so prominently appears, will illustrate his character better, and certainly more agreeably, than any formal description. In most of them he was associated with Thor; but we 105select one in which Odin and Hoenir were concerned with him. Hoenir, we must observe, is but another name for Vile, the brother of Odin, who assisted in the work of creation.^[65]

RAPE OF IDUNA.

The three Aser one day left Asgard to see other worlds, especially Utgard. Travelling over dreary wastes, they reached a mountainous region, more hungry than they had for some time been. Entering a valley, they found a herd of cattle, and killed one of the animals for supper. Loke, who was to be the cook, made a fire, and proceeded to his task, while the two nobler gods walked about. But notwithstanding the great heat of the fire, the ox would not roast. A voice, from the tree above him, told him that he would have no supper unless he promised to let the speaker join. He looked up, and seeing an eagle only, gave his consent. The bird now descended to the fire, and seized both shoulders, which he, considering as somewhat too large a share, would not permit. Taking a large billet of wood, he struck the unreasonable animal; when the eagle instantly flew upwards, one end of the billet adhering to its beak. But alas! the other end was no less tenacious of Loke’s hand; and away he was dragged over mountain, wood, and stream, his arm ready to fall from his body, and his feet sorely wounded by being trailed over the sharp rocks and bushes. He lustily called for help to Odin and Thor. “Cry away!” replied the eagle, who was no other than the giant Thiasse in that shape^[66]; “but never shalt thou be released from this situation, unless thou promise by oath to bring Iduna and her apples from Asgard to me!”

Iduna was the wife of Braga, the god of eloquence, and daughter to the dwarf Ivalldr, one of the most scientific of his race. She was a goddess, and the wife of a god: for both honours she was no doubt indebted to the wonderful apples of which she was the guardian, 106and which had been given her by her kindred. They had this virtue, that when the gods felt the approach of age, they had only to eat of these apples to be restored to all the bloom of youth. The giants, like the gods, were subject to decay; and, like the gods, they wished for the means of immortality,—to escape the dark empire of Hela.

As Loke was no friend to the Aser, he swore to comply with the giant’s demand, within a given time. He was therefore released, and enabled to return with the two gods to Asgard. When the covenanted time arrived, he told Iduna, that in a neighbouring wood he had discovered some apples, much finer, and much more valuable, than any she possessed. Her curiosity being raised, she took some of her own apples with her, to compare with the others, and was accompanied by Loke to the wood; but scarcely had they passed the boundary of Asgard, than Thiasse arriving in the eagle’s shape, bore her away to the dark mountains of Utgard.

Great was the consternation of the Aser at the disappearance of Iduna and her apples. The effect was soon visible: they became weaker, less supple, decrepit, and wrinkled. Though the season was spring, the flowers withered, and the leaves became sear as at the close of autumn. A council of the gods was convoked to learn how and whither Iduna had disappeared. No one could give them any other information than this,—that she had been last seen with Loke departing from Asgard. Loke was examined; and when he showed a disposition to evade the questions that were asked, Thor seized him, and threw him into the air so high that his heels struck the moon, and then descended to the sea. All this was nothing in comparison with what he would suffer if he did not restore the goddess. He readily promised to do so, if Freya would lend him her disguise, that of a hawk. Being furnished with it, he flew in that disguise to Utgard, and reached the abode of Thiasse just 107as that giant had left it to row for a short time on the neighbouring sea. Changing Iduna into a swallow, he returned with her in his claws towards Asgard. When Thiasse returned, and learned the departure of the goddess, he resumed his eagle’s dress, and rapidly followed in the direction which the hawk had taken. He obtained sight of the fugitives just as they approached Asgard; and he would certainly have overtaken them but for a stratagem of the Aser, who were anxiously watching the pursuit. Forming a vast pile of faggots under the walls of the city, they set fire to it; and the flames ascended so high as to burn the eagle’s wings. Thiasse fell to the ground, and was immediately despatched by Thor.

This is one of the most interesting fables of the prose Edda. It has doubtless a meaning, though we are by no means sure that Magnussen has discovered the right one. According to him, Iduna is the spring, which may be called the renewer of nature’s youth. Spring is always accompanied by joy and harmony,—by the song of birds, by the cheerful hum of men, by the gambols of animals, by the sportive winds: hence it is personified in Iduna: she is the wife of Braga, the god of poetry, of music, of song, of harmony. Thiasse, the giant, is the winter: Iduna flies from him in the shape of the swallow, which is everywhere the bird of spring. The destruction of the giant by the flames, denotes the season of winter killed by the heat of the spring.—That this explanation of the mythos is ingenious, as well as plausible, cannot be denied; but we are not quite satisfied with it. Though a meaning is involved in these fables, we doubt whether all the incidents are thus designed. Many were invented through the love of invention, or rather to please the multitude; and by such inventors physical principles would not always be observed. For this obvious reason, much caution is requisite in interpretations which have not positive authority for their base.

108The next mythos in which Loke is exhibited, is in connection with Thor.

THOR’S VISITS TO UTGARD.

Geyruth, also called Geirrod, was one of the Aser’s most formidable enemies. In the former volume we have given, from Saxo Grammaticus, a description of his empire^[67],—a description rivalling in power of invention any to be found in Homer. To it we refer the reader, before he proceeds any farther with this narrative, as nothing can be more curious than to compare the account which Saxo derived from tradition (no Edda had then been compiled), and, what is more, from Danish tradition, with that given in the sacred books of the Scandinavians from Norwegian sources.

Thor’s first journey was preceded by that of Loke. Loke, with all his cunning, was frequently in trouble;—and how could the devil be otherwise? Assuming a hawk’s disguise, (the hawk in more countries than the North was the symbol of that personage,) he entered the dominions of Geyruth, was caught, and, when he refused to answer the questions that were put to him, was shut up in a chest during three months. His revenge then gave way, and he confessed who he was. The giant then released him, on his promise to bring Thor to Utgard, without belt or hammer. The object of the giant’s policy may be easily guessed. Thor, the defender of Asgard, the everlasting enemy of the giants, would be reduced to the same level with themselves when deprived of those wonderful treasures. Loke had no difficulty in prevailing on the stout-hearted god to visit the dominions of the giant king. On the way to that region, within the boundaries of Utgard, was a magic forest, of which the trees were all iron. It was inhabited by certain enchantresses, who were the mothers of male and female sorcerers, who could at any time assume the wolf’s shape. These enchantresses were 109cruel: they often raised storms, and enticed travellers into their power from the mere love of destruction. Thor met one of these witches, who cautioned him against the arts of Geyruth, and presented him with a pair of iron gloves, a girdle, and a staff.

On reaching the river Vimur, the longest one in the world, he observed Gialp, one of the giant’s daughters, standing astride the whole river,—one foot on each bank; and making the water rise in a fearful manner. He threw a rush at her, and forced her to retire. Wading across, he proceeded to Geyruth’s palace, which he entered, and a separate lodging was provided for him. In one corner of the cavern was a stool, on which he sat down; but scarcely was he seated, when the stool began to rise from the ground. With the staff which he held, he struck the roof of the cave, and immediately heard a loud scream beneath him. On looking, he discovered, with broken backs, three daughters of his host, who had placed themselves on the roof with the design of crushing him to death. Geyruth himself did not escape more easily. Inviting Thor to drink with him, the two sat down in another part of the palace, one on each side of a large fire. Having sat for some time, the giant seized a red-hot iron wedge that was glowing in the fire, and threw it with all his might at the god. The latter caught it with his gloved hand, and returned it with such force, that though Geyruth had run behind a pillar, it went through both pillar, himself, and the walls of the palace. Still it remained in his breast; and in that position, attended by his three maimed daughters, he has remained ever since.^[68]

In the second journey, which is much more imaginative, Thor was accompanied by Loke. The temple of Upsal had been visited by Utgardelok (the demon king of Utgard)^[69], who had not only extinguished the sacred fire, but made a ruin of the edifice. Now Upsal was the palace which, above all others in Midgard, Odin loved. In it Thor and Frigga too were 110worshipped with great pomp; and the priestesses of the latter were of royal blood,—the daughters of kings. Great was the wrath of the three deities. Thor, in particular, was observed to knit his brows, and to clench his fist at table: but he spoke not a word; for he was revolving the means of vengeance. Formidable as he knew the demon king to be in natural, and still more in supernatural power,—in a science unknown to the gods,—he resolved to invade his dominions. Having emptied a full horn presented to him by one of the Valkyrs, he called for his car, for his goats, and for Loke, as the companion of his journey. Having harnessed the animals, nailed on their golden shoes, wound the reins round his waist, he entered with Loke; and grasping Miölner in his right hand, proceeded at a rapid pace down the bridge Bifrost.

Adown the pointed way

As drove the impetuous god,

The red flames, lambent, play

Along the wheel-tracks broad.

Heimdal his horn blew loud,^[70]

The god with sleepless eye;

Seven maids submissive bowed^[71]

As the gold car flew by.

On earth some meteor dire

Men thought then to behold;

The heavens were fraught with fire;

In peals the thunder rolled.^[72]

Reaching a cottage towards nightfall, they asked for hospitality, which was readily granted. Humble was the cot; and it contained little for gods to banquet on,—nothing but simple vegetables. But Thor was not anxious on this account. With his hammer he slew his two goats, which were skinned and roasted with considerable 111despatch. Ample was the entertainment; not only was the flesh delicious, but the place teemed with excellent mead; and some idea may be formed of a divine appetite, when we add, that the two goats were entirely devoured,—all but the bones, which Thor desired should be carefully thrown back into the skins that were stretched before the hearth. But Thialf, a son of the rustic host, and a mere stripling, broke a thigh-bone of one goat for the sake of the marrow. The next morning, before daybreak, Thor arose, and swung his hammer over the two skins, when suddenly the two goats rose up as if nothing had happened. But one of them limped; and dreadful was the countenance of the god. Supplication, however, disarmed him; he took the youth and a sister into his service; and leaving the car and the goats at the peasant’s cottage, all four proceeded on foot. The boy, who immediately won the favour of his master, carried a wallet; and the maiden, quite a beauty, tripped lightly along. Thor marched pensively; his hammer flung over his shoulder; his dark locks escaping from his silvery casque. They reached the sea, which was agitated by a dreadful tempest; and Loke began to be afraid; but he was compelled to follow the god, who rushed into the water, like some thundering rock. The mortals too followed: but the storm continued to rage; and they required all the help of the leader to reach the other side. A trackless desert was next to be traversed; and on they went, in darkness, except that the moon now and then gleamed,—weary, hungry, wet, and faint. Other trials were to be encountered,—the storm, the lightning, the slippery ice, the deep mud; the roaring wind, which the demon king excited by his magic power. Thor, who had to support the maiden Roska, lost his temper; and he vowed revenge on Utgardelok when he should meet him. What seemed to be a hut, in the midst of the pitiless waste, presented itself; and three of them entered it, Thor himself remaining at the entrance with his mallet in his hand, to protect them while they slept. 112Vast, and of a strange form, was the only apartment which the hut contained; but in a storm any port is welcome. Towards morning, while Thor glanced in great anger over the waste, he heard a strange noise, and felt a strange motion. Rising, he beheld, by the faint glimmer of the moon, a vast giant—so vast as to cover several acres—asleep and snoring. Grasping his mallet, he was preparing to punish the intruder, when up started the giant. “Who are you?” demanded Thor. “Skrymner, the servant of king Utgardelok, just come from Jotunheim.” He addressed Thor by name, of whose feats he had heard much; but common report, he thought, had been too favourable; for after all, even he, who was of little esteem compared with his fellows, could put this hero of the gods in the palm of his right hand. “I have lost my gauntlet!” suddenly observed the giant, who groping for it, took it up. What was it but the strange hut in which Loke and the two mortals had passed the greater part of the night? All but Thor were dismayed at this commencement of their acquaintance with the subjects of Utgardelok; but Thor trusted in his hammer. “What brings you so far to look at a desert?” was the natural question of Skrymner. Thor replied, that he was determined to see, face to face, their boasted monarch, whose magic and frozen mountains he only ridiculed. The giant thought he might rue his boldness: however, if he was determined to proceed, let him do so, and he (Skrymner) would be his guide. When evening came, and the giant laid down to sleep under a great tree, until supper was ready, there was more magic. Neither Thialf, nor Loke, nor Thor himself, could open the wallet, or cut the strings. In great wrath the god seized his hammer, and struck at the forehead of the sleeping giant. “Has a leaf fallen on my face?” asked the giant, rubbing his face, and wondering why they had not gone to sleep. Towards midnight, the snoring of Skrymner so enraged Thor, that he arose, and aimed a hard and more vigorous blow at the monster: the hammer seemed to enter his very 113brain. “Has an acorn fallen?” was the cool observation of the other, as he rubbed his face. A third blow, which seemed to send the very handle into the giant’s head, had no better effect; so that Thor now began to have less confidence in the weapon which had hitherto terrified all created things.

But we must not dwell on events which have been so frequently described.^[73] The adventures of the god and his companions at the palace of Utgardelok were not such as to inspire him with more confidence. Loke—fire itself, which consumes all things—was beat at eating. Thialf—a mythologic personage too, though represented as a peasant’s son, his name signifying thought—is exceeded in the race. The mighty thunderer himself is vanquished in three successive trials. Though he is the sun, the greatest drinker surely in all nature, he cannot much lessen a large horn of liquor that is presented to him: he cannot lift a huge tom-cat from the floor: he cannot, in wrestling, throw a toothless old woman, who brings him on one knee. In much shame, though in no consternation, the god returned with his companions. On leaving the confines of the city, however, he was made acquainted with the deceptions that had been practised on him. The three blows which he had struck, were not at a head, but at a rocky mountain; and deep were the dells which they had made in it. The horn was the ocean; yet he had drunk so much of it as to leave in many places land instead of water. The cat was Midgard’s great serpent, which he had almost lifted from the sea. The old woman was Hela, the goddess of death, who with all her strength could only bring him on one knee. In great anger, he was going to exact revenge for such tricks, when the spectre and the city itself vanished like mist.

114This mythos in a great degree explains itself. The contest between Thor and Utgard’s monarch is evidently one between the summer and the winter, between heat and cold, between light and darkness. Many of the details, we believe, in opposition to Magnussen, who sees in every thing a physical meaning, to have been created without any other design than entertainment.

Hymis-quida, a song about Hymir, is from the elder Edda, and is of great antiquity.

THOR AND THE GIANT HYMIR.

The sea-god Ægir gave a banquet to the gods; but he was little prepared for such drinkers, and his mead fell short. Thor called for more with some anger; and that anger was not diminished when he found that no more was forthcoming. The excuse was, that Ægir had not a cauldron large enough to brew sufficient mead at a time. Tyr, who was present with the rest, and who, though a god, is represented as the son of the giant Hymir, observed that his father had one a mile deep, which might be obtained by stratagem. On this business the two gods immediately departed in the chariot of Thor towards Hymir’s abode, which lay on the confines of the eastern sea. Here they found two ladies, the mother and wife of the giant; the former a strange creature, with 900 heads; the latter, who was the mother of Tyr, a fine woman, and kind as she was comely. She told them both that she feared Hymir’s return; since he was subject to dreadful passions; and she hid them behind some kettles. Towards evening he returned, in no good humour. As he entered the house, the icy mountains emitted a thundering noise. An old man he was to view, and the hairs of his head, which resembled a forest, were frozen. His wife, saluting him, told him that their son was arrived, in company with the famous enemy of the giants and the friend of men, Veor.^[74] “Look,” she added, “where 115they sit, at the extremity of the house, to avoid thy glance!” The giant looked; but they were concealed by the nine kettles. At his glance, however, the tree or beam from which they were suspended, burnt into two, and eight of them burst. The two gods now advanced; and though Hymir was compelled to exercise some degree of hospitality, he did so unwillingly. Three oxen (one for each, we suppose, unless the lion’s share was to be Hymir’s,) were ordered to be roasted. But Thor showed that he had more than a giant’s appetite; for, to the surprise of his host, he ate two of the animals himself. This made the latter observe, that the next evening the two visitors must eat what they could take in hunting or fishing for themselves. The next day, therefore, Thor proposed to fish, if the giant would give him bait. “Go amongst the cattle, and seize one,” was the reply. “I suspect, however,” Hymir added, “that thou wilt not easily catch such bait.” Without reply, Thor went into the wood, and seizing the horns of a large black bull, pulled off its head, and returned to the giant, who expressed some surprise at such a feat in one so little. They now went out into the sea, and the giant hauled two whales. But nobler was the prey of Thor: with the bull’s head he caught the great serpent Jormungandur, the head of which he drew out of the water, and which spewed venom upon him. The rocks trembled; the desert places howled, and the ancient earth rolled itself closer. He then struck the monster with his mallet, and it sank. Hymir rowed back, sullen and silent; and the strength which had been exhibited in bringing the two whales to his mountain home, gave him some reason for thought. When returned, the two gods were desired to try their strength in other things. A cup was put into the hands of Thor, and he was defied to break it. In vain did he dash it against several pillars in succession: he split them, but it remained unbroken. The wife now whispered him to throw it against the giant’s head, which was much harder than the rock. 116He did so; the head was uninjured; but the cup was broken, and the owner lamented its loss. The next trial of strength was to carry the great cauldron out of the house. Tyr tried twice; but could not so much as move it. But Thor placed it upon his head; and though the edges descended to his heels, he walked away with it. He was now pursued by a great number of giants whom he slew with his mallet.—From that time the sea-god was able to treat the Aser men to their satisfaction.

Of this mythos the physical meaning is dark; and this darkness is probably owing to the fondness with which the northern scalds added extraneous circumstances for the sake of embellishment. Nothing, indeed, is more hopeless than the attempt to restore these ancient pieces to the original fragmentary state in which they were left by the priests of Thor and of Odin. The scald has, by embellishing, concealed the priest; the fabulist concealed the philosophic theologian. All that we can safely assert is, that there is here a physical contest between heat and cold, between evaporation and congelation; that the sun (Thor), having drunk up all the streams of the earth, now invades the dominions of frost and snow. The bursting of the vessels under the glance of Hymir, is a notion universally diffused in the northern latitudes. Thus, the two magicians the suitors of Gunhilda, could destroy every thing by their glance.^[75] The meaning doubtless is, that excessive frost makes every thing brittle, and may therefore be said to split every thing.

If the scalds took such liberties with the ancient or poetic Edda, as often to bury the sun, they were more licentious still in regard to the younger or prose Edda. This work was evidently compiled to explain the former. With it a licence still more dangerous has been taken; so that, in many instances, it bears little conformity with the preceding work. We may add, that by modernising, paraphrasing, and embellishing the 117prose Edda, Ohlenschlager has done no service to the ancient mythology of his country: he cannot be followed by any one that would form a correct notion of the subject. In the same manner as the compilers of the second Edda deviated from the spirit of the first, so has the celebrated Danish poet deviated from them.^[76] For the sake of illustrating this divergence, let us advert for a moment to the same adventure in the prose Edda and in the version of Ohlenschlager: it will be found to have lost its mythical character in proportion to the improvement of its fable.

When Thor reflected on the gross impositions which Utgardelok had practised on him, he was apprehensive, and not without reason, that gods and men would take him for a fool. To vindicate his merits, he ventured again to visit Utgard, and without Loke, whose honour he justly suspected. This time he would, like them, change his form, and he obtained from Odin, in the shape of ointment, power that would enable him to do so. Leaving behind his car and his goats—

O’er Dovre’s ridge^[77] he strode,

For cliff nor torrent slack’d;

The tall pines, where he trode,

Like field of stubble crack’d.

Sneehattan’s peak of snow,

And Jotunfieldt he past,

Then sought the plains below,

And the sea reach’d at last;

He mark’d in curling wreath

The dull wave roll away,

And saw where, far beneath,

The serpent, brooding, lay.

His heart with hope beat high,

His voice shook as he spake,

Turning to Heaven his eye,

“No more, accursed snake,”

118Quoth he: “in giant bend

Earth prison’d shalt thou keep,

Nor struggling sea-man send

To fell Ran’s cavern deep.”

“But being now resolved to proceed with caution, he began by changing his form. Throwing his ponderous helmet on the ground, it became a rock covered with pines.

Next, from his cloven chin,

He tore the bushy beard;

Which, cast in the ravine,

A thorny copse appear’d.

A smooth-faced peasant boy

He stood, in wadmel^[78] blue,

White Heimdall smiled for joy

The cunning wile to view.

Now straight to Hymir’s grot

He hies, a simple hind,

His flaxen ringlets float

Wild in the morning wind;

His belt, by magic cheat,

A woollen girdle seem’d,

Art with like art to meet,

No shame the Aser deem’d.

Miölner, as woodman’s axe,

Athwart his arm he bare,

His courage high ’gan wax

At thought of vengeance near.

In moss-lined cavern deep,

Lull’d by a torrent’s play,

Taking his morning sleep,

At length the giant lay.”

“The poet in describing Hymir’s residence gives a vivid picture of Norwegian scenery, black rugged rocks crowned with pines, a waterfall, a river white with foam dashing through thick brushwood down the ravine, and hard by a verdant dell filled with cattle. On hearing a stranger’s step, Hymir sprang up, 119and demanded of the stripling how he dared unbidden to venture into his wood. Thor replied that he felt no apprehension:

‘My pulse beats steadily,’

The youth replied: ‘for ne’er

Hath Nornies’ stern decree

Been changed, I trow, by fear.

One of a form so good,

Of generous soul should be;

My little drop of blood,

What would it profit thee?’”

“He finishes a long speech by saying, that his object was to obtain the giant’s permission to accompany him when he went out to fish.

The grisly giant grinn’d

So wide, that either ear

His mouth appear’d behind,

Ne’er yet was seen such leer;

The earth shook all around,

He laugh’d so heartily,

‘One with a heart so sound

I’ll never harm,’ quoth he.”

“He then granted the request, and invited Thor to take shelter in his cave from the keen morning wind, adding tauntingly,

‘When many a league from shore

The kraken’s snort we hear,

And whirling Maelström’s roar,

’Tis then we’ll talk of fear.’”

“Thor asked only to be put to the proof, and now begged to be allowed to take with him what he might want for his fishing. Hymir assented, telling him that for bait he would find a grub amongst the cows. Thor went into the field, and a wild bull rushing towards him, he seized it by the horns and brake off its head, and then throwing it over his shoulders leaped the enclosure, and hastened to Hymir, who was getting the boat ready.

When Hymir the bull’s head

On the youth’s shoulders saw,

He laugh’d, and own’d the deed

Was good for one so raw.

120Then shoved the boat from shore,

Swift through the waves it flew.

Hymir plied well his oar,

And Thor row’d stoutly too.”

“The god now became elated at the near prospect of measuring himself with the serpent, and gave full liberty to his thoughts. If he could succeed in slaying it,

‘By Yggdrasil^[79], the feat

Would glad me more, by far,

In Valhall than to beat

Ten score Einheriar.

What fruitful seeds of ill

To mar man’s mortal state,

And earth with woes to fill,

From the worm emanate!

His pestilential breath

Fevers and plagues doth cause,

And each disease to death

Which man untimely draws.

When one in manhood’s prime

Feels his approaching end,

And ere yet lapsed his time,

To Hela’s power must bend;

When his heart-broken spouse

Sees hope’s last promise fail,

Then his fell might he’ll rouse

To mock the widow’s wail.

Her babe, which will not rest

When the pale mother clasps,

And gives in vain the breast,

Struggling for life it gasps.

Poor babe, as early rose

Late fresh—she sees its eye

In death for ever close—

Nor weeps for agony:

When one, who purely burns,

Absent for many a year,

To his true love returns

And finds her on her bier.

121When from a mourning realm

Some virtuous prince is ta’en,

Or chief has bow’d his helm;

Then sure the foul snake’s seen

Writhing for joy. Their birth

All serpents, which infest

Man’s central spot of earth,

Draw from his nostril’s blast.

The great snake, whose wide jowl,

(To th’ southwards, far away)

Will gulp a raging bull,

Through him first saw the day.

Its tail wound round an oak

It watcheth long its prey,

Which from the affrighted flock

Struggling it drags away.

Others, with diamond eyes,

To Askur’s mortal race,

Death-doomed! though less in size,

Alas! not fatal less.

Fair sight their forms to view

Basking in new-donn’d sheen,

To their’s the violet’s blue

Must yield, or emerald’s green:

They know, by wizard gaze,

Coil’d ’neath some leafy bower,

Their prey with fear to glaze,

And charm him to their power.

Gaunt Fenris, Loptur’s son,

Who loves to prowl the night,

Bewilder’d travellers down

Hurling from rocky height:

When bloody treason’s rife,

When for some murder foul

The bandit whets his knife,

The wolf for joy doth howl.

All who delight in blood

From him beginning have;

From him the tiger brood,

The hyæna’s traitor laugh;

122The like each robber beast,

Which from the fair light shrinks,

Fitchet of plunderers least,

Marten, and fox, and lynx.

For nought hath Fenris ruth,

When midnight winds blow hoarse,

His sacrilegious tooth

Tears from its grave the corse—

Still ’twere my chiefest joy

The foul worm and his brood

Of reptiles to destroy.

Grieves me that man the food

Of crawling worms should be:

This slain, his life should pass,

From loathsome sickness free,

In years of happiness.

And, when th’ o’erpeopled earth

No more her sons could feed,

The bravest should stand forth,

And like good warriors bleed.

Not hatred should unsheath

Their swords, nor lust of power,

But a soul-warming wrath,

Gone when the fight was o’er.

From some dark cloud the fray

I’d watch, my bolts in hand

The boldest on their way

To Odin’s hall to send.”

Thus mused the Aser Thor,

And pull’d with all his might,

Each time he struck his oar

The dark-green wave turn’d white.

The more his anger burn’d

The huge boat sped the more,

Seem’d as the waves it spurn’d

Skimming like Dolphin o’er—

So swiftly on it flew,

The sides began to split,

The sea so fast came through,

The twain in water sit.

123Quick Hymir sprang to bale

It out, and loud to roar,

(His giant-heart ’gan fail)

‘Avast there! back your oar.

‘An you keep on this rate

We soon to Ran shall go’—

Quoth Thor: ‘Take heart, must yet

A score good leagues or so.’

‘Score leagues!’ cried Hymir: ‘why,

Art mad! mark’st not the storm!

E’en now I can descry

Where lies fell Midgard’s worm.’

‘And what care I for worm!’

Cried Thor, the fisher good:

‘The bleak north’s bitterest storm

But fans my heated blood—

I love the tempest’s roar—

Ha! there the foul worm struck,

Now I’ll take in mine oar,

And try with line my luck.’

Then rising to full height,

The iron kedge he took,

Which, though it seem’d him light,

Must serve him for a hook.

The gory bullock’s head

He took him for a bait—

The giant, pale with dread,

In the stern, trembling, sate.

For line, he next made loose

His belt, and one end pass’d

Twice round his waist, with noose

Well bound to th’ other fast

The baited hook he tied,

And in the ocean threw:

O’er the boat’s yielding side

The girdle, hissing, flew.”

Ohlenschlager.

“It must be confessed,” says the prose Edda, “that Thor here made quite as great a fool of Jormungandur as Utgard’s-Lok did of him, when the giant king caused him to lift up 124the worm, believing it was a cat. The worm gulped down the ox’s head so ravenously, that the hook stuck deep in his jaws. As soon as he perceived this, he plunged with such violence, that both Thor’s fists struck against the sides of the boat, on which the god’s anger got up and his strength at the same time, and he pulled so furiously against the snake, that both his legs went through the boat, and he remained standing on the bottom of the sea. He now pulled up the serpent to the edge of the boat, and, to say the truth, it was a terrible sight to see Thor look so grim at the serpent, and the serpent all the while gaping and spewing out poison against Thor. It is reported also that the giant Hymir changed colour, and became white with fear, when he saw the snake, and the dark blue sea breaking through the sides of the boat.

“In the same moment Thor seized hold of his hammer and swung it round in the air, but the giant fumbled about for his knife, and scored Thor’s knot over, by which means the snake got loose and sank down to the bottom of the sea. Thor threw his hammer after it, and it has been asserted that he thus knocked its head off against the breakers. But I think that it is pretty certain that the Midgard’s worm still lives and lies in the sea. Thor then lifted his arm and gave Hymir such a cuff on the side of the head that he fell overboard, and the soles of his feet were turned up in the air, but Thor waded to shore.”^[80]

The contrast between the preceding version and the simple relation in the venerable poetic Edda will, no doubt, appear striking to the reader, and abundantly confirm all the observations we have made on the subject.

THOR AND THE GIANT THRYM.

The poem of Thrym’s-guida, or the song about Thrym, in the elder Edda, has a physical meaning, though that meaning is dark. Awaking one morning, Thor could not find his hammer. Like Jove he shook his head and his beard, and groped about in every direction. Calling Loke to him, he said, “Here is a mishap, never before known in earth or heaven,—I have lost my hammer!” No doubt but it had been stolen during the night by one of the giants, who were always on the 125alert to injure the Aser. Both gods then went to Freya, to borrow her hawk’s-dress, as Loke had before borrowed it to recover Iduna.^[81] “And thou should’st have it,” replied the goddess, “if it were gold, nay, if it were even silver.”^[82] Loke assumed the dress, and flew into the giant region of Utgard. There he found Thrym, one of Utgard’s lords, making golden collars for his dogs, dressing the manes of his horses, and singing all the time. Seeing Loke, he inquired, “What news of the Aser? What of the elves? What brings thee alone to Jotunheim?” “Neither Aser nor elves are very well, just now:—hast thou hidden Thor’s hammer?” “That I have, eight miles below the earth’s surface; and regain it shall you never, unless you bring me the goddess Freya to wife!” The condition was a hard one. Freya was the queen of love; she was the Venus of Asgard; and she was also the moon,—two things much wanted in the cold dark region of Jotunheim. Away flew Loke, his wings resounding, until he reached Asgard, where he was anxiously met by Thor. “Hast thou been to Giant-land? And hast thou succeeded in thine errand?” “I have been to Giant-land, and I have succeeded in my errand. Thrym, the lord of the frost giants, has thy mallet, and thy mallet he will not restore, unless he has Freya to wife!” The loss of Freya would be a great loss, but that of the thunderbolt was worse; for how without it could Asgard be defended against the giants? Away went the two gods to Freya, and the Thunderer most unceremoniously bade her to prepare herself for a husband, and for a ride to Jotunheim:—

Angry was Freya,

And she trembled (with rage),

The whole palace of the gods

Was shaken.

The gods and goddesses were now assembled to deliberate on other means of recovering the hammer.

126Heimdall proposed that Thor himself should assume the bridal dress, with the habit and ornaments of Freya, and proceed to Jotunheim:—

Let us make on him

The keys to jingle^[83];

And a woman’s dress

To flow below his knees;

And on his breast

The jewell’d ornaments;

And let us put on him

The handsome head-gear.

Thor did not much relish the proposal, from a fear that the gods would hereafter hold him to be degraded,—would regard him as really a woman. Loke told him, however, that he had only to choose between the mode of recovering his mallet, and of seeing Asgard in possession of the giants. He then suffered himself to be conveyed in the manner proposed. Then spake Loke, the son of Laufeya:—

“I as thy servant

With thee will go:

We together will ride

To the land of the giants.”

The chariot was brought out, the goats were yoked, and the two Aser rapidly proceeded to their destination,—so rapidly, that the rocks split, and the earth blazed under the shining wheels:—

Then spake Thrym,

Lord of the Thurser^[84];

“Arise, ye giants,

And strew the benches.

Then bring unto me

Freya my bride,

The daughter of Niord

From Nocturn:

127“Bring into the bower

The cows with golden horns,

And the coal-black oxen,

The giant’s delight.

Many jewels have I

And many treasures:

Of Freya alone

Have I need.”

The giants arrived, and the bridal feast was prepared. Great was the surprise of Thrym to see his bride eat a whole ox, and eight salmon into the bargain; and to send after all three barrels of mead:—

“Who ever saw a bride

Eat so greedily?

Never did I see one

Devour so much;

Nor any virgin

Swill so much mead!”

The reply of Loke, disguised as a handmaid, was ready:—

“Nothing has Freya tasted

These eight nights (days),^[85]

So great was her desire

To be in Jotunheim.”

The giant in a gallant style wished to kiss his bride; but no sooner did he lift the veil, and see her looks, than he started back in great alarm:—

“Why so angry

The glance of Freya?

I see from her eyes

The very fire doth issue.”

The reply of Loke, the handmaid, was equally ready:—

“No sleep hath Freya had

These eight nights:

Such was her longing

To visit Jotunheim!”

128The giant’s sister came for a bridal present, and one she was about to get that she little expected. The mallet, by Thrym’s command, was now brought forth, that the wedding might be solemnised over it. The god laughed as he grasped his well-known bolt; and no sooner did he grasp it than he killed Thrym, the sister, and all assembled.^[86]

129According to Magnussen, the physical meaning of the poem is this. During the winter, Thor, the god of 130thunder, sleeps; and Thrym, the lord of that season, hides the thunderbolt. Loke (flame, and by an extension of the metaphor, heat) is sent in pursuit of it. The sun and moon were very meet and very natural gifts for the inhabitants of the dark region to solicit from the gods; and the world, on the present occasion, must have been left in darkness, or rather perhaps in cold, but for the interference of Thor. In the foundation of his theory, the critic is doubtless correct; but in the explanation of the attendant circumstances,—that in which the god assumes the female habit—he is whimsical enough. The truth is, that the foundation only can be traced in any of their myths: the circumstances 131are introduced purely for the sake of the embellishment, or for ensuring greater probability to the fable.

Before we dismiss Thor, we must advert to the goddess Sif, his wife. The word means a conjunction, kindred, and probably she was one of his family. By her he had two sons, Magne and Mode, and two daughters, Thrude and Lora. He was not her first husband, whose name does not appear; but she had a son named Uller by that husband.^[92] She excelled in chastity, and was much worshipped, not in Scandinavia only, but among the Vends, and perhaps the Slavonians, as a personification of the summer-earth. Her greatest pride is her fair hair, which, like the hammer of Thor, and the magic ring possessed by Odin, was the work of the dwarfs. She is thus described by Ohlenschlager:

Sif, tall and fair with native grace,

To none in beauty need give place

Save her whom Odin called to light,

To make the erst dull world more bright.

Fair tho’ she be, to Freya ne’er

Can stately Sif in form compare.

Not her’s the clear eye’s speaking glance,

Age-frozen blood might make to dance:

Or heart which passion ne’er had felt

Like snow ’neath mid-day sun to melt.

* * * * * * * * *

Sif seems some Amazon to be,

Her look replete with dignity,

Her eye beams no impassioned glance,

But rests in cold indifference.

Her round arms, form’d alike to prove

The contests or of war or love;

Her swan-like bosom’s faultless curve

Would Bragi’s golden lyre deserve.

Smaller though Freya’s hand, not snow

Than Sifs, fresh fallen on mountain brow,

More white, nor softer virgin down

Of Eyder-fowl, nor breast of swan.

Two pencill’d brows of darkest brown

Meet on her front, and seem to frown:

132What gentler beauty would deface,

To hers but adds another grace;

Her pearly teeth, of dazzling white,

With ruby lips form contrast bright;

But her first charm, past all compare,

Is her long, silken, amber hair.

NIORD, FREYR, FREYA.

Niord, a lord of the Vaner, obtained, as we have before related^[93], a share in the government of the Aser. He could not, indeed, do otherwise after the junction of the two people. Mythologically, he is the lord of Vindheim, the region of the winds, and consequently the ally of Ægir, the god of the sea. His palace, Noatun, is represented as on the borders of the ocean. Thus, Ohlenschlager, who may be followed where poetical description merely is required:—

Niord who with ocean’s god

Full oft in league is found,

Loves o’er the raging flood

In swift career to bound.

Skimming each billow’s back,

Loud neighs his coal-black steed:

On the calm wave no track

He leaves—so great his speed.^[94]

Niord was twice married. By his first wife, who was also his sister, and we are distinctly informed that the union of such near relatives was peculiar to the Vanir (the custom, however, was common to the Egyptians, the Persians, and the royal family of Peru), he had two children, Freyr^[95] and Freya.^[96] His second wife was Skada, daughter of the giant Thiasse. The circumstances which led to his marriage were these. No sooner did Skada hear that her father had been killed by Thor^[97], than she armed herself, and proceeded to Asgard to avenge his death. As the condition of 133peace, the gods proposed that she should take a husband from them, but that, while choosing, she should be blindfolded. She groped about, and at length fixed on one whose feet were small and well formed, whom she thought to be Balder. It was Niord; and the marriage was celebrated. The pair, however, could not agree about their place of residence. The bride could not bear the sea-shore; the waves, she observed, would not let her sleep, and she longed for her native mountains. He was no less hostile to her father’s abode. A compromise was at length effected; the couple were to live nine days in Thrymheim, and three days in Noatun; that is, nine days in the mountains, and three on the sea-coast. But this compromise was of no long duration. The two were so dissimilar in character that they could not agree; there was a separation; and Skada became the wife of Odin.^[98] Of Niord we shall only add that though little is said of him in the Edda, he must have been a primary deity from the terms of the oath solemnly taken by the Scandinavians:—“So help me Freyr, and Niord, and the mighty Aser!”

Freyr, the son of Niord, has been mentioned as one of the twelve ruling gods of Asgard—as god of sunshine, of rain, and consequently of vegetation. Alfheim, his residence, the kingdom of the light elves, was given him in the morning of time, when he had cut his first tooth. One day he had the presumption to ascend Lidskialf, the awful seat of Odin^[99]; and he was punished for it by falling in love with Gerda, daughter of the giant Gymer, whom he saw issue from her father’s palace in the North. Surpassing, indeed, was the maiden’s beauty; it was so bright as to enlighten the whole region. He gazed and loved; and after the beautiful vision had departed, he descended, melancholy and miserable, to his own palace. What hope was 134there of winning a giant maiden? Would the gods themselves sanction such a connection? Sleep and appetite forsook him. In much anxiety, Niord besought his confidential messenger, Skirnir, to draw from Freyr the cause of his affliction. With some persuasion, Skirnir consented, and by much entreaty obtained the secret:

From Gymer’s house

I have seen a maiden issue

For whom I long.

Her fair arms shone

So as to enlighten air and sea.

Dearer is the maid to me

Than ever was maid to any youth.

But of gods or demigods

Not one will wish

That we should be united.

Skirnir loves the lord with whom he was reared; and he proposes, if Freyr will give him the horse “regardless of flame,” and the sword, to go and win the lady for him. Having mounted, he thus addressed the animal:—

“Dark is the night without;

Yet it is time for us to go

Through the misty hills,

Through the land of the Thurser.

We both must return,

Or both be seized

By the powerful giant.”

He rode to Jotunheim, and before the gate of Gymer saw fierce dogs. On a hill close by was a herdsman, to whom he rode, and inquired by what means he might pass the dogs so as to speak with Gymer’s daughter. The herdsman replied, that he must either be dead already, or about to die, to venture on such an errand; never could he speak to the lady. Skirnir observed, that he could but die; that he feared not death; and he dismounted. The noise attracted the attention of Gerda: she caused the stranger to enter, and thus addressed him:—

135“Who art thou?—of the elves?

Or of the Aser sons?

Or of the wiser Vaner?

Why comest thou hither, alone,

Through raging flames

To visit our hall?”

He replied that he was not an Elf, nor an Aser, nor a Vanir; and he offered her eleven apples,—no doubt those of immortality, stolen from the treasury of Iduna,^[100]—if she would bestow her love on Freyr, the most agreeable of all beings. She rejected the apples with scorn, declaring that she would never live with Freyr. He then offered her the ring—the very ring—which was laid on the funeral pyre with Balder, the son of Odin—that ring which every ninth night produced eight other rings of the same weight. It too she scorned; she had gold enough in her father’s house. He then bade her look at the sword which he held in his hand, and threatened to behead her unless she would love Freyr. Still she refused; and said that if he and her father met, there would be bloodshed. Other threats he employed, and commenced a charm which was for ever to deprive her of beauty, of happiness, of worldly esteem, and consign her to the most direful woes. In the midst of the charm, she interrupted him; she could resist no longer; she offered him a cup of mead; and at length named the very night on which she would meet Freyr in the grove of Barre.—Skirnir now returned in great joy. He is met by Freyr, who will not allow him to dismount until he has said what success has attended him. The news, which ought to fill him with joy, makes him impatient. One night seems long; nine seems an age. The giant-maiden kept her promise; and for a reward, Skirnir received the sword of Freyr.^[101]

Freya, the sister of Freyr, and the goddess of love, is thus described by Ohlenschlager:—

——Freya’s hall

With precious gems o’erlaid,

Stands in a lonely vale,

Which rose-tree forests shade;

137Swans, white as virgin snow,

There on the calm lakes sail,

Lovers, who ne’er brake vow,

Tell there their ardent tale.

138But in Folkvangur’s bower

Nought like its matchless queen;

Mid many a beauteous flower

No flower like her, I ween.

139Her form so round and slight,

Her look which love doth beam,

Her step as Zephyr’s light,

Exceeds e’en poet’s dream.

140Each small, white, taper hand,

A blushing rose doth bear,

Which through her faery land

Breathe forth their fragrant air.

Their sweets no guardian thorn

From rude touch needs defend,

’Tis they to even and morn

The roseate tints which lend.

Like her no goddess kind,

She saves from wounds and death,

Her sigh—the sweet south wind

O’er the wild flowers doth breathe.^[110]

Round tears for mortal woe

Each morn her blue eyes fill,

Which on the flowers below

In purest dew distil.

Her daughters Siofna^[111] hight

And Hnos, with amber hair,

Not e’en the spirits of light

Can boast of aught so fair.

Whate’er is passing bright

On earth, from Hnos we call:

Siofna gives slumbers light,

The morn on pure souls fall.^[112]

Freya had an equal share with Odin in the souls of all slain in fight; for is not love the cause of as much bloodshed as any other passion? All maidens of birth also hastened to her palace of Vingolf. Her car was drawn by two wild cats, or perhaps leopards; and next to 141Frigga, with whom she has been often confounded; she was the most powerful of all the goddesses. Her husband was Oddur, of whom little is known, except that he travelled far and wide, and that her attachment to him induced her to follow him, weeping tears of gold. Yet, if report be true, she was not always distinguished for conjugal faith. She had two daughters by Oddur, both exquisitely fair to behold; and she had four attendants, to each of whom was intrusted some portion of her sovereignty. Thus Siofna was the goddess of first love; Lofna removed all obstacles which impeded the fruition of lovers’ wishes; Var presided over betrothals, and punished false vows; Tir, the portress of Freya’s palace, refused admission to all who were not qualified to enter; and she was the enemy of all unfortunate lovers: she it was who prevented the fruition of their hopes.

This mythos explains itself more satisfactorily than any other.

ÆGIR AND RAN

Were of giant race, and deities of the deep. They had nine daughters, personifications of the billows, the currents, and the storm.

Ægir might be propitiated; but Ran was always cruel, when the fates would permit her: she occasioned shipwrecks in which she delighted, on account of the spoil which they brought her. She had a wonderful net, with which she caught such mariners as fell into the sea.

In crystal halls his head

Rears Ægir, Ran’s stern spouse;

A silver helmet red

With coral guards his brows;

His beard, of ocean weeds,

His spear with amber deck’d,

And pearls, but show he needs,

And the proud waves are check’d.

142The emblem of his sway

When lifts the watery god—

Quick sinks the raging sea,

Obedient to his rod;

His pearly muscle throne,

In Hlesey may be seen;

Has daughters nine by Ran,

Three are the billows green.^[113]

There was a brilliant feast held in the palace of Ægir, beneath the waves. Gods, goddesses, and elves were present to honour it; and the great cauldron which Thor had stolen^[114] contained mead enough for all the guests. This feast, therefore, was subsequent to the other, when the want of that liquor was resented by Thor. On this occasion Thor was not present, but Loke was; yet no welcome guest was he. The deities did not like him; first, because he had a wicked tongue, and next, because he had but too much reason for using it at their expense. Two of the sea-gods, attendants, obtaining from all the praise of dexterity, Loke killed one of them, merely because he could not bear to hear any one commended. In great anger the gods excluded him from the festive hall; but he, at length, returned, and asked for his place, not in a penitential mood, but in the resolution of creating strife. All seemed inclined to reject him, until he won upon Odin by reminding him of past times:

Rememberest thou, Odin,

How, in the morning of time,

We mixed blood together?^[115]

To taste of liquor

Thou swarest never,

Unless it were brought to us both.

The sire of gods was moved by this appeal; and he cried—

143Arise, Vidar,

And let the wolf’s father

Take his place at the board!

He did take his place; and as each of the guests remonstrated with him on his ill-nature, he launched out into new abuse. He spared none; and though his reproaches were bitter, they had foundation enough to render them keenly felt. Neither the awful dignity of Odin, nor the thunderbolt of Thor, who arrived about the midst of the festival, could shield them from his attacks. We have not space for the alleged vices of the dwellers in the Scandinavian Olympus; but his abuse made the gods inwardly resolve to effect his destruction whenever the opportunity occurred. His share in the death of Balder (to which we shall soon advert) hastened the time.

OTHER DEITIES.

The three Nornies, Urda, Verdandi, and Skula, are celebrated in Scandinavian mythology. Of them we have before spoken, and have little to add here. Their origin was unknown. They appear to have sprung up with the great tree Yggdrasil, and to have been dependent only on the mysterious Al-fader. They were said to have more sympathy than destined beings would be expected to have, and to have wept over the fall of their favourites. Both Urda and Skula were frequently consulted by the gods, who were ignorant of their own fate.

Besides these there were inferior Nornies among the elves and the dwarfs.

Night and Day (Nott and Dagr) were also deified; so was the horse Rimfaxi (frost-mane), which carried night, and the horse Skinfaxi (bright mane), which drew the car of day. Dew is merely foam which falls from the bits of the former horse. Night was the daughter of the great Norvè; and being married to the god Delling 144(the dawn) the offspring was Day. There is some poetry in the following description from the poetic Edda:

Delling’s son (day) forth

Drove his horse,

Richly beset

With shining stones.

O’er Manheim (earth) gleamed

The courser’s mane,

Who drew in his car

The baffler of Dualin (day).

Through earth’s great

Gates of the north,

Beneath the outer root

Of the ancient tree,

To rest now glided

Giantesses and giants,

Ghosts and dwarfs,

And dark-alfs.

Heroes arose,

Alf-beamer (sun) got up:

Northwards to Niflheim,

Night is flown.

On Argiöll (rainbow) stood

Ulfruna’s son (Heimdall),

The great horn-sounder

Of heaven’s hill.

The deity of winter was the giant Hrsnelgar, who dwelt in a cavern towards the dreary pole, and from whose wings comes the bleak north wind. Thus the Vafthrudnis-mal:—

The giant Hrsnelger

At Heaven’s extremity

Sits under an eagle’s form.

From his wings, ’tis said,

The cold winds sweep

Over all nations.

This is the giant whom Thorkil saw in the cave.^[116] In two or three places there is also allusion to a summer god, Sfosoder, the sweet, the pleasant; a contrast with Hrsnelgar, the devourer of carrion.

145The Valkyrs, the elves, and dwarfs, having been already described, all that now remains is to relate the circumstances which will precede and accompany the destruction of the world. Many of them have a connection with the fate of

BALDER.

On this personage historically—if indeed there ever was one of this name and character—we have already dwelt^[117]; we have now to consider him mythologically.

Balder had fearful dreams, and he believed that something dreadful was impending over him. He consulted his mother Frigga, who, though a prophetess, could not interpret his dreams, or foresee the kind of danger that was at hand. The gods were assembled; and as from ancient oracles they had learned how their fate was linked with his, they were the more anxious for the result. But all was darkness. Odin cut Runes in vain. Thrain and Dain, two dwarfs who excelled all beings in Runic wisdom, could only say that the dream was heavy, and that it portended evil. At this time Iduna was in the power of Thiasse^[117], but she must be consulted, for she was a great prophetess. Heimdall, Loke, and Braga went to Jotunheim for that purpose. As she groaned for the joys of Asgard, the gods out of pity had previously sent her a wolf’s skin, by clothing herself in which she forgot the past. Why then should the three Aser proceed on their monstrous horses to her abode? Her only reply was by tears, which, though they proved that she dreaded, also proved that she knew not the cause of that dread. Again were the Aser convoked; and it was then resolved that Frigga should exact from every thing an oath not to injure Balder. But how could destiny be averted? She overlooked the Mistletoe.

At this crisis, when the future was impenetrable to the most prophetic of gods and dwarfs, Odin descended to 146consult the awful Vala, whose tomb lay on the confines of Helheim. His descent we have before related.^[118] He returned to Asgard with the certainty that nothing could avert the fate of his beloved son, or that of the gods, of whose ruin it was the forerunner.

In the work of destiny, Loke, as might be expected, was the most active agent. He it was who drew from Frigga the secret of the Mistletoe; he it was who directed the blind Hoder to cast it; he it was who after Hela had consented to release Balder from her empire, if all creatures would lament for him, either persuaded the giant-woman to refuse, or personated one himself.

That this mythos of Balder—one of the most celebrated in the whole range of Scandinavian lore—has a physical meaning, is evident: it denotes the departure of the summer sun from the northern hemisphere. Some of the circumstances, however, have not been happily explained; and for the reason that we have more than once assigned,—that they never can be explained, since they were invented, not on physical principles, but to embellish the fable, and render it more interesting.

PUNISHMENT OF LOKE.

The crimes of Loke were now full; and the gods determined to suffer them no longer. Their vengeance fell, first, on his two sons, Nari and Vali. The latter being changed into a wolf, devoured his brother. With some difficulty Loke himself was taken by Thor, and, like Prometheus, bound to the flinty rocks. If he has not a vulture to feed on his entrails, he has something quite as bad,—a serpent hung over his head, which every moment drips its venom. More fortunate, however, than his prototype, he has a wife, Signi, who perpetually watches by his side, and building a large basin, catches the venom intended for him. But at 147intervals she is obliged to empty the basin; and when she does so, his agony, owing to the poison falling on his unprotected face, is the cause of earthquakes. There, like his monstrous offspring, the serpent^[119] and the wolf^[120], he must remain until Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods, when he and they and the whole visible universe will be destroyed.

RAGNAROK, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS.

Of this consummation, so much dreaded by gods and elves and giants and men, the prose Edda gives the following account:—

“There will first come a winter which shall be called Fimbulveter; snow will fall from every quarter, and hard frost and cutting winds have sway, so that the heat of the sun will have no influence. Three such winters, unalleviated by any summer, will follow each other. Previously to this the whole world will be scourged, during three winters also, by wars and bloodshed. Brothers will kill each other through avarice, and there will be no mercy even from parents to their children.

“And now, to the great affliction of mankind, one wolf will devour the sun, another the moon, the stars will disappear from the firmament, the earth quake violently, trees be torn up by their roots, mountains fall together, all chains and bonds be burst asunder, and the wolf Fenris will break loose. Then will the ocean rise above its shores, for the great Midgard’s serpent will recover its giant strength, and struggle to gain the land.

“At length he will succeed, the ship Nagelfare will be set afloat, and the giant Hymir take the helm. Nagelfare is built of the nails of dead men, and it should be remarked that when a person dies and his nails are not cut, materials are furnished towards the building of 148a vessel, whose completion both gods and men should seek to delay as long as possible.

“Fenris now rushes onward open-mouthed; fire streams from his eyes and nostrils; his under jaw touches the earth, the upper heaven, and he would open them still wider if there were space. Jormungandur vomits out poison, which renders the air and the waters deadly. He is the most terrible of all, and fights by the side of the wolf.

“In the midst of the confusion the heavens are rent asunder, and the sons of Muspell (the genii of fire) ride forth, led on by Surtur, who is clothed in flame, and whose unrivalled sword surpasses in brightness the sun itself. The bridge Bifrost gives way beneath their weight. The sons of Muspell press onwards to the plain Vigrid, which extends five hundred miles every way, and where they meet Fenris and Jormungandur. Asa-Loke also has repaired thither, and at the same time appears Hymir with the Giants of the Frost. All the sons of Hela follow Loke.

“But now, on the other side, Heimdall rouses himself, and blowing with all his might on his Gjallar-horn, wakes up the Aser who hold council as to what is to be done. Odin rides to Mimer’s well to ascertain what is best; the Ash Yggdrasil is shaken, and all earth and heaven are in dismay.

“The Aser and Einheirar march to the plain Vigrid, with Odin at their head. Armed with his golden helm, his glittering mail and his spear, Gungnir, he encounters Fenris who swallows him up.

‘Then is accomplished

The goddess’ second-heart’s grief.^[121]

Then falls the god

Best beloved of Frigga.’—Voluspa.

“At the same moment his son Vidar advances to avenge his father; he presses down with his foot the 149wolf’s lower jaw, and raising the other with his hand, rends him till he dies. Thor fights with the serpent, and acquires great fame by slaying him, but overpowered by the poison which he spews forth, recoils back nine paces, and falls dead to earth.

“Freyr is opposed to Surtur, but now misses his good sword which he had given to Skirnir, and is slain. The dog, Garmer, who had hitherto been bound in a cavern, escapes and rushes upon Asa-Tyr, and both fall. In like manner Loke and Heimdall slay each other. After all this Surtur pours out fire upon the earth, and the whole world is consumed. The great Ash, however, outlives this general ruin.

‘Yggdrasil’s Ash

Totters, but stands.’—Voluspa.

“Good and just men will now be transported to Gimlè, which is built of red gold, and where there are various splendid and delightful habitations. Bad men, perjurers, murderers, and the seducers of other men’s wives, will go to Nastrond, a vast, hideous dwelling, whose gates face northwards. It is built of adders, whose heads are turned inwards, and are continually spewing out poisons which form a large lake or river, where its inmates are to swim eternally, suffering horrible tortures.^[122]

“A new earth, fairer and more verdant than the other, will arise out of the sea; from which the grain will shoot forth of itself. Vidar and Vale will survive the general destruction, and dwell upon the plain Ida, where Asgard lay before. Thither also will repair Magne and Mode, the sons of Thor, taking Miölner with them. Balder and Hoder will return from Hela, and these gods will sit together, and talk over the events of past times.

‘The Aser will meet

On Ida’s plain,

150And talk of the mighty

Earth-surrounder^[123]:

There they will call to mind

Great deeds of olden-time,

And the lofty gods’

Ancient learning.’^[124]—Voluspa.

“During the conflagration caused by Surtur, a man and a woman, Lif and Livthraser, will lie concealed in a place called Homimer’s Holt, and there nourish themselves with the morning-dew. From them is to spring the second race of men.”^[125]

The Voluspa also refers to the second and more blissful world:—

A hall I see

More brilliant than the sun,

Roofed with gold,

On the summit of Gimlè;

There shall dwell

A virtuous race,

And enjoy blessedness

To time eternal.

Thither cometh the mighty one

To the council of the gods,

In his strength from above;

He who thinketh for all.

He issueth judgments,

He causeth strife to cease,

And establisheth peace

To endure for ever.

This is to finish the visible universe, with its physical gods. But the immortality of the human soul is a doctrine strongly inculcated by the religion of the North. The souls of the gods, indeed, are, with two or three exceptions, to perish; and for this reason,—that they are physical gods merely,—mythologic creations to denote the powers and functions of nature. In this circumstance there is something pleasing to contemplate. The physical Alfader (Odin) has passed into 151annihilation; but the eternal Alfadur (Almighty God) remains to govern the world, and to reward the good whom he has admitted to Gimlè. Thus even in the darkest systems (and few are darker than the Scandinavian) sages have attempted to vindicate the ways of Providence.

SECTION III.^[126] INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY INTO DENMARK AND SWEDEN.

OBSCURE EFFORTS OF THE ANGLO-SAXON MISSIONARIES TO CHRISTIANISE FRISIA AND DENMARK.—VICTORIES OF CHARLEMAGNE PREPARE THE WAY FOR A WIDER DIFFUSION OF CHRISTIANITY.—FEALTY OF HARALD KLAK.—MISSIONARIES SENT INTO THE NORTH.—ST. ANSCAR.—CREATION OF AN ARCHBISHOPRIC.—ST. REMBERT.—SUCCEEDING ARCHBISHOPS.—FLUCTUATIONS IN THE STATE OF THE NEW RELIGION.—ITS ULTIMATE ESTABLISHMENT IN THE KINGDOMS OF THE NORTH.

As the introduction of Christianity into Norway has been already related, we have briefly to contemplate its origin and progress in the two sister kingdoms.

Nothing can be more obscure than the origin of the Christian worship in these regions. Probably it was much more ancient than is generally supposed; but the number of Christians prior to the ninth century must have been exceedingly small; and of these most were probably converts only in name,—joining the adoration of Thor and Odin with that of Christ. We know that in the seventh century Anglo-Saxon missionaries endeavoured to obtain an entrance into Denmark, the contiguity of 152which to Frisia, and especially Germany, could not fail to attract the pious zeal of those excellent men. St. Wilfrid could do no more than evangelise a few of the Frisians. His successor, St. Willibrod, who in 696 was consecrated archbishop of the Frisias, passed into Jutland. Though the mission failed, the prelate brought away thirty young Danes, whom he designed to send as missionaries into that barbarous region. Wherever this venerable man preached, he attempted to demolish the idols. Even in the sacred island of Heligoland, where a tempest had cast him, he exhibited the same undaunted zeal; and on his death in 739, he had impressed the neighbouring people with much respect for his character. That he escaped martyrdom, which seems to have been his aim, can be ascribed only to that Providence which suffers not a sparrow to fall unheeded to the ground. But ages are required to extirpate an old and to plant a new religion. If many converts were made, they bore little proportion to the bulk of the population; nor could the salutary effects be permanent when there was no church, no succession of missionaries to continue the work. We need not be, therefore, surprised at the martyrdom of St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany, in 755. When the victories of Charlemagne had disposed the Saxons to receive the yoke of Christ, there was a better opening for the gospel, not in Saxony only, but in other parts of the North; for many of the Scandinavians, especially of Denmark, were in the same great confederation. St. Sturm contemplated the conversion of Denmark; but he was prevented by the emperor, who was more anxious for the progress of the truth in his new conquests than in more distant regions.

|822 to 826.|

During the reign of Charlemagne, no serious effort was made to establish a permanent mission in Denmark or Sweden. Louis le Debonnair had more zeal or better opportunities; and he readily sanctioned the departure of Ebbo, archbishop of Rheims. Ebbo was a Saxon, and more eager for the conversion of the kindred Danes 153than any of the French prelates. Encouraged by a papal bull, he ventured on the perilous enterprise in 822. Fortunately for him, Harald, surnamed Klak, who ruled over a portion, at least, of Jutland, had need of imperial aid to secure himself on the throne. As the condition of such aid, he agreed not only to become a vassal of the empire, but to embrace Christianity, and do all in his power to make his subjects embrace it. The court of Harald was near the present city of Sleswic, in the duchy of that name. Ebbo, accompanied by the monk Halitger, proceeded thither, and was permitted by the royal consent to preach to the people. But the fortunes of Harald were diversified; he was expelled three or four times, and as often enabled to return, as much through foreign assistance as through the efforts of his own partisans. That he was unpopular may easily be inferred from these revolutions in his fortunes. Of this unpopularity one cause was doubtless his profession of the new faith; another was the homage which he had paid to the emperor. Yet the efforts made by the kings who reigned in Zealand to create a monarchy, and consequently to destroy the Reguli, who aimed at independence, was, doubtless, more injurious to his interests, than the disaffection of the pagans. But during his intervals of peace, his patronage of Christianity was serviceable to the cause. Ebbo naturally left the country when the king was expelled; and there was danger of the good seed being choked, when another and more zealous missionary was raised by divine Providence both to continue the work which he had begun, and to extend it to Sweden.

|826 to 830.|

Anscar, a monk of Corbey in Westphalia, was from his youth an enthusiastic churchman. He had dreams and visions, which to him seemed prophetic of his future martyrdom. For that result he accordingly prepared; and soon loved to contemplate it as an object of desire rather than of fear. When, therefore, he heard that missionaries were required to continue the labour which Ebbo had abandoned, and to return again with Harald 154into Denmark, he readily offered himself, and was joyfully accepted. The perils, indeed, of the enterprise had no charms for the luxurious ecclesiastics of that age,—men whom the favours of succeeding monarchs had enriched; and Anscar with another monk, Aubert, were the only inmates of the great establishment at Corbey that could be induced to go. Indeed the community were not a little amazed to witness the self-devotion of these missionaries. Leaving Corbey, the latter repaired into South Jutland. From Harald, however, they received less assistance than they had been led to expect. Knowing his unpopularity, he remained chiefly in a fortress which the emperor had given him. Of Louis, indeed, he was the vassal, not for Jutland merely, which might never acknowledge him, but for the extensive region on the sea-coast, from Holland to Hamburg. Yet he showed little gratitude to his imperial master. He was suspected,—probably with much justice—of favouring the piratical ravages of the Danes on the Frisian coast. However, he outwardly conformed to Christianity, and was the avowed patron of the missionaries, though he left them to struggle with difficulties which he might have done more to remove. But we must make some allowance for the situation in which he was placed. He had been for many years—he was now—at war with other pretenders to the throne; and as these pretenders (the sons of Gudred) were supported by the influence of the pagan chiefs, he had cares which he deemed more urgent than those of religion. In 828 he was signally defeated, and compelled to seek refuge within the bounds of the fief which he held of the emperor. Probably Anscar retreated with him; and subsequently returned to his post. But the death of his coadjutor, and the desperate state of Harald’s affairs, convinced him that the time for the conversion of Jutland was not yet come; and he listened to a proposal, made by some Swedish ambassadors to the emperor, of introducing the gospel into that country.

155According to the Swedish historians, who will not admit that the Danes were converted before themselves, Christianity had been embraced by many of the Goths many years antecedent to the arrival of St. Anscar. They assert that in 813 a church was erected at Linkoping, through the holy zeal of Herbert, a Saxon ecclesiastic. That the gospel was preached in Gothia before it reached Sweden, is probable enough; but we very much doubt whether the result was so great as the national writers would have us believe. However this be, St. Anscar was the first apostle of the Swiar. Reaching Birca, the capital—a place not far distant from the modern Stockholm—he converted some of king Biorn’s council, and was permitted to preach freely. This visit was auspicious; success appeared to be inevitable; but in the midst of his labours, after a residence of six months only, he and his companion returned to Germany. Why? To report what had been effected, says his biographer, Rembert, and to solicit further aid for prosecuting the great work. But it these objects were necessary (which we are unable to perceive), surely one of them might have remained to confirm the new converts. Anscar was the bearer of a letter from Biorn to the emperor, written in runic characters, and bearing testimony to the success of the two monks.

|830 to 852.|

The pope and the emperor were much gratified by the unexpected opening in the North. To reward Anscar, and stimulate him to greater exertions, he was made archbishop of Hamburg, with a jurisdiction over all the Scandinavian kingdoms, when he should have converted them to Christianity. In addition he was invested with the legatine authority over these regions; but it was shared with Ebbo, who knew less of the people, of their wants, and of their disposition, and who certainly had not either the zeal or the prudence of the other. One of Ebbo’s first acts was to consecrate a bishop, Gansbert, whom he dispatched into Sweden, while Anscar sent a vicar. It was evidently not the saint’s intention to 156return. He thought, and justly, that Denmark was a field sufficiently wide for his own exertions, and that he might superintend the Swedish mission from his new metropolis. That mission slowly but surely gained ground; while his own exertions in the more southern portion of his immense diocese corresponded, if not with his wishes, probably with his hopes. Both he and Gansbert, however, had the fault of all Roman catholic missionaries; they baptized before they had sufficiently instructed. Hence they had the mortification to see many of their converts join the worship of Odin and Thor with that of Christ; and many to forsake their new profession with as much levity as they had embraced it. Other misfortunes arrived. Hamburg was assailed by pirates: the sacred buildings were consumed by fire; the same fate attended the books which the saint had collected; and would, no doubt, have befallen him and his clergy, had they not fled from the danger. These pirates were headed by a king—Eric of Jutland and Frisia. For some time the work was nearly at a stand. Another disappointment—the loss of a monastery, which Anscar had held with the archbishopric, and from which the chief support of the mission was derived—paralysed his exertions. A misfortune no less serious was the expulsion of Gansbert from Sweden. This event is wrapt in some obscurity. It could not be entirely caused by religious persecution; for the king was still tolerant. Perhaps Nithard, the companion of Gansbert, and the nephew of Anscar, abused the popular deities and their worshippers. There was a great commotion; the mission-house was plundered and destroyed; Nithard was killed; the bishop with his clergy forced to leave the kingdom. All this, however, was “non-jussu regis,” which the Swedish historians convert into “Berone nesciente.” Yet Anscar did not despair. Though poor, he contrived still to instruct some of the Danish children, whom he designed as missionaries for both kingdoms. Being afterwards sent ambassador to Eric—the very prince who had 157burned his cathedral, and who by Harda-Canute’s death had become king of all Denmark—he so far softened that monarch as to obtain permission to preach without hinderance. At Sleswic he was allowed to build a new church; the number of converts increased; and their ardour was increased by the extension of their commerce with the Christian empire. Such converts, indeed, could do little credit to religion; still toleration was an advantage which in time might, he hoped, effect all that could be desired.

|852.|

Unfortunate as had been the issue of the mission to Sweden, Ardgar, a hermit of much sanctity, was persuaded to renew it. He was soon joined by some Danish converts. By Herigar, one of the chief nobles of the country, who had sincerely embraced Christianity at the first preaching of Anscar, they were received with joy. Through his influence the infant worship was again permitted at Birca; but it made little progress; and Ardgar, whose heart yearned for his old anchoretical life, at length resigned his missionary office, and left the country. Still Anscar was not discouraged. The see of Bremen being united with that of Hamburg, offered him more ample means to prosecute his meritorious enterprise. In the same view, he prevailed on the German sovereign to send him ambassador to both kingdoms. From Eric, the Danish king, he bore a letter to Olaf^[127] of Sweden, containing an honourable recommendation of his character and conduct. Eric asserted that he had never known so good a man as the archbishop; he had therefore allowed him to labour in his own way for the good of the people. But on his arrival in Sweden he found new obstacles. The Odinic priests were seriously alarmed at the efforts 158which during above twenty years had been made to establish Christianity in the North. The imposture to which they had recourse affords a good illustration of the popular character, no less than of their religious notions. Just as Anscar and his clergy arrived at the capital, a man suddenly appeared there, who asserted that he was the bearer of a communication from the gods to king Olaf and his people. The substance of it was, that the ancient deities had conferred great prosperity on Sweden; that hitherto they had no reason to complain of ingratitude in their worshippers; that now, however, there was a sad lack of zeal, their altars being comparatively deserted for those of a new and hostile divinity; that if the people were anxious for another god, why go out of their own country for one? “If,” added they, “you really wish for another, we will readily admit your late king, Eric, to the honours of deification!” Gross as the imposture was, it was undisputed; the hearts of the Swedes began to warm towards the Aser, and a temple was erected to Eric, when altars smoked with continued sacrifices.

|853 to 865.|

The aspect of affairs was so unfavourable, that the companions of the archbishop urged him to leave the country. But he would not a second time abandon his post. He had been successful with Eric of Denmark, and he endeavoured to be equally so with Olaf. Inviting that king to a feast, he redoubled his attentions, which coming as they did not merely from an archbishop, but from the ambassador of a powerful monarch, were peculiarly grateful to Olaf. Yet Olaf was a limited sovereign; though he readily promised to afford the missionaries all the liberty he could, he was bound to consult the will of the people, and even that of the gods. In the true pagan spirit, he believed that other countries might have local deities as well as Scandinavia,—deities as powerful and as able to protect their worshippers. He advised the archbishop to send a deputy to the next Al-Thing, or general meeting of the freemen, promising that he would use his influence to obtain the 159requisite licence for the celebration of the new worship. “Olaf first mentioned the subject to his chiefs; lots were cast; and the gods were declared—probably through some intrigue of the king’s—not to be unfavourable to the preaching of Christianity. When, according to the Germanic custom, the people were assembled in their annual plaids, Olaf caused the subject of the French embassy to be proclaimed by a herald. In the discussion which followed, much murmuring was heard; one party condemning the innovation as disrespectful to their ancient gods; another vindicating it as necessary to the well-being of the kingdom. A venerable old man at length spoke:—‘King and people, listen to me! The worship of this new god is already known to us, and we also know that he often assists those who call on him. This many of us have experienced amidst the perils of the deep, as well as on other occasions: why then should we reject what we know to be useful? Formerly many of our people went to Dorstadt, to embrace this advantageous faith; now, as the passage thither is dangerous, why should we reject a good which is brought to our own doors?’—‘We have often found our own gods unpropitious: let us cultivate the favour of this god, who is as willing as he is able always to aid his servants.’ The shrewd barbarian succeeded, because he touched in the hearts of his hearers a chord that responded to his own. Neither he nor they had much notion of a religion which did not confer temporal blessings; all had been disappointed at one time or other in their invocations for them; all, therefore, were disposed to receive favourably proposals from a god who promised them a constant succession of such blessings. This was a poor foundation on which to build; but it was better than none. A proclamation was now made that churches might be built, and that whoever pleased was at liberty to embrace the faith of Christ. While these things were passing in Sweden, a revolution in Denmark was fatal to Eric, and, for a time, to the new religion, which the 160next king prohibited. But this time was a brief one; for the prudence of Anscar, who now returned from Sweden, fully repaired the disaster. The ecclesiastics whom he sent to both countries he enjoined to imitate the example of St. Paul,—to labour for their own maintenance, so as to be chargeable to no one. It was probably this necessity of manual labour that rebutted many, even more than the persecutions they endured; for during the whole of his pontificate, he had great difficulty in providing the infant churches with pastors.”^[128]