Asgard and the Gods
The Tales and Traditions of Our Northern Ancestors
PART FIFTH. ODIN, FATHER OF THE GODS AND OF THE ASES
The prophetess Wola sat before the entrance of her cave, and thought over the fate of the world. Her prophetic power enabled her to pierce bounds that are impenetrable to the human eye. She saw what was going on near her, what was taking place at a distance. She watched the labours and battles, the patient endurance and the victories of nations and heroes. She saw how Allfather ruled the world, how he kept the giants in submission, how he flung the spear of death over the armies, and afterwards sent his Walkyries to bring to his hall those heroes who had fallen victoriously. Let us now turn our attention to what was revealed to her penetrating sight.
Mother Night was driving in her dark chariot on her accustomed course above Midgard, bringing peaceful slumber to all creatures. The bright boy, Mani (Moon), followed quickly in her steps, and the gloomy mountains were bathed in the light he shed around. Down below in the valley, the maiden, Selke, was wandering beside a stream, which playfully rippled and murmured at the feet of its mistress, and then flowed on quickly, and dashing over the stones that barred its course, flung itself into the depth below. But Selke saw nothing of all this; her eyes were fixed on the fountain from out of which the brook flowed, for there sat a woman wondrously beauteous of countenance, with long shining golden hair, looking down into the clear water in which her form was mirrored. After awhile she rose, and went higher up the steep side of the mountain to the place where grew the healing herbs that the goddess needed for the cure of wounds and sores.
While employed in this peaceful task, the rocky door leading into the interior of the mountain suddenly opened, and a monstrous giant came out from it. No sooner did the fiend sight the lovely maiden than he rushed towards her with a wild yell. She fled, while he pursued her, as higher and higher she climbed, until at length she reached the summit of a lofty rock, which hung over the edge of a great abyss. The hunt-cry from the distance now fell upon her ear, and the baying of hounds, and she knew who was coming to her assistance; but her pursuer drew nearer and nearer, and his icy talons almost grasped her neck; boldly she ventured the tremendous leap - the ground was reached in safety.
The mark of her foot is still to be seen on the rock, and the truth of this assertion can be verified by any one who chooses to go and look at the Maiden's Leap in the Selkethal (Harz Mountains).
The giant saw her take the fearful spring, and, surprised, he hesitated for a moment; but soon regaining courage, he rushed on and took the mighty leap after her. But, like a flash of lightning, and accompanied by loud peals of thunder, a shining spear came flying through the air, and the monster fell with a crash dead into the deep abyss.
The storm rose; it howled through the wood, and Wodan's raging host, the Wild Hunt, rushed past. The great god's nightly following was composed of armed men, armed women and children, hounds and ravens and eagles; and he, the King, preceded them all on horseback; together they stormed over the trembling fields and through the dark quaking forests. Ancient pines were broken down rocks fell, and the mountains shook to their foundations, for the Father of Victory was on his way to a great battle.
The King had far to go, and his horse had lost a shoe, which forced him to halt for a time. Master Olaf, the smith of Heligoland, was still in his smithy at work in the midnight hour. A storm was howling round the house, and the sea was beating on the shore, when suddenly he heard a loud knocking at his gate.
"Open quick and shoe my horse; I have a long journey to make, and daybreak approaches."
Master Olaf opened the door cautiously, and saw a stately rider standing beside a giant horse. His armour, shield, and helmet were black, a broad sword was hanging at his side, his horse shook its mane, champing the bit and pawing the ground impatiently.
"Whither art thou going at this time of night, and in such haste?" asked the smith.
"I left Norderney yesterday. It is a clear night, and I have no time to lose, as I must be in Norway before daybreak."
"If thou hadst wings, I could believe thee," laughed the smith.
"My horse is swift as the wind. But see, a star pales here and there; so make thee haste, good smith."
Master Olaf tried on the shoe. It was too small, but, lo! it gradually grew and grew, until it had fastened itself round the hoof. The smith was awe-struck, but the rider mounted, and as he did so his sword rattled in its sheath.
"Good-night, Master Olaf," he cried. "Thou hast shod Odin's horse right well, and now I hasten to the battle."
The horse gallopped on over sea and land. A light shone round Odin's head and twelve eagles flew after him swiftly, but could not overtake him. He now began to sing in magic words of the stream of time, and the spirit that works in it, of birth, and of the passage to eternity. And all the time the storm-wind roared, and the waves dashed upon the shore, a harp-like accompaniment to the song. He who has ever heard that music straightway forgets his home and his cravings for the hearth. The sailor on the foaming water, the traveller in the valley and the shady grove, each feels it strangely stirring his soul, each longs to go out at once to Odin.
The warriors were gathered together in the green-wood, armed for the combat; the brave sons of King Eric of the bloody axe, who had lately fallen in battle, were there, and Hakon, too, his brother, the powerful king of Norway. All at once they heard sweet soft sounds in the air, like the sighing of the wind and the whisper of green leaves. Quickly the sounds grew louder, and the storm wind roared through the trees and over the assembled host. "Odin is coming," cried the warriors, "he is choosing his Einheriar." And then the Father of Battles came with his following; he came in the storm that he might rule the combat. He halted high up above the armies in a grey sea of clouds. He called the Walkyries, Gondul and Skogul, before him, and bade them so to lead the chances of the fight, that the bravest should be victorious, and should then be received into the ranks of the Einheriar.
He flung his spear over the contending heroes, and immediately the blast of horns and loud war-cries were heard. A cloud of arrows hissed through the air; javelins and heavy battle-axes broke through helmet and shield; swords were crossed in single combat; blood streamed from innumerable wounds, reddened the armour of the men-at-arms and trickled down upon the flowers that carpeted the crimson ground.
Foremost in the battle was King Hakon fighting with sword and spear. As he cut his way through the enemy's ranks over the fallen men, he heard the Walkyries talking beside him. They were in the midst of the strife, mounted on their white horses, holding their bright shields in front of them, and leaning upon their spears.
"The army of the gods is waxing great," said Gondul, "for the Ases are preparing to welcome Hakon with a goodly train of followers to the glorious home."
The King heard it, and asked: "Is it just that ye should reward me with death, instead of the victory for which I am striving with my might?"
Skogul answered: "We have decreed that thine enemies should give way before thee. Thou shalt win the battle, and then take thy part in the feast of the Einheriar. We will now ride on before thee, and announce that thou art coming to look upon the face of the Father of Victory himself."
When King Hakon ascended to Asgard from the field of glory, Hermodur, the swift, and Bragi, the divine singer, went out to meet him, and said: "Thou shalt have the peace of the Einheriar; receive therefore the draught prepared for the heroes of the Ases." Hereupon the king's helmet and coat of mail were taken off, but he retained his sword and spear, that he might enter the presence of the Father of Victory with his arms in his hands.
This was how the Northern skalds sang of the God of Battles, of the choosers of the dead, and of the fate of heroes. Is it then to be wondered at, that the princes and nobles of those races should have gone forth joyously on their bold Wiking raids, and that they should have esteemed a glorious death on the field of battle far better than to sink to inglorious rest at home? The German bards also sang after this fashion of their heroes; hence the struggle against Rome which lasted four hundred years, and the Germanic raids upon Britain, Gaul, Italy, Spain, and even upon far Africa. The War-god sang his storm-song in their ears; they heard the voices of the Walkyries through the din of the battle; they saw the gates of Walhalla open before them, and the Einheriar signing to them to approach. Therefore the day of battle was in their eyes either a feast of victory, or of entrance into the verdant home of the heroes.
In the foregoing tale, the events of which have been derived from German and Norse sagas and lays, we have seen the chief god of the North as leader of the Wild Hunt, conqueror of the earth-born giant, god of the storm and ruler of the battle; but we must try to get a still deeper insight into his nature.
Wodan, Odin in the North, according to the oldest conceptions.
Wodan was the highest and holiest god of the Germanic races. His name is connected with the German word Wuth, and used to be both spelt and pronounced Wuotan, which word did not then mean rage or wrath, as Wuth does now, but came from the Old-German watan, impf. wuot, i.e., to penetrate, to force one's way through anything, to conquer all opposition. The modern German water, and the English wade, are derived from the old word, though considerably restricted in meaning. Wuotan was therefore the all-penetrating, all-conquering Spirit of Nature. The Longobards, by a letter-change, called him Gwodan; the Franks, Godan or Gudan; the Saxons, Wode; and the Frisians, Woda. The Scandinavians called him Odin, from which the mythological name Odo was derived. He was known under the names of Muot (courage) and Wold by the South Germans. But everywhere he was regarded as the same great god, and was worshipped as such by the whole Germanic race.
When man had freed himself from the power of the impressions made upon him by nature as a whole, he began to have a more distinct consciousness of certain manifestations of the forces of nature, and after that to pay them divine honours. He then regarded the storm which tore through the forests with irresistible violence, which blew down the cottages of the peasants, and wrecked vessels out at sea, as the ruler of all things, as the god whose anger must be appeased by prayers and sacrifices. At first he was worshipped under the form of a horse or of an eagle, as these were types of strength and swiftness. But when the mastery of the human race over the animal world was better understood, the god was endowed with a human form. He was described in the legends and stories, now as a mighty traveller who studied and tried the dispositions of men, and now as an old man with bald head, or with thick hair and a beard which gained him in the North the name of Hrossharsgrani (horse-hair bearded). He had usually only one eye, for the heavens have but one sun, Wodan's eye. He wore a broad-brimmed hat pulled down low over his forehead, which represented the clouds that encircle the sun, and a blue mantle with golden spangles, i.e., the starry heavens. These attributes again prove him to have been the Spirit of Nature. In the completely developed myth regarding him in the Edda, he was described as being of grand heroic form, with a golden helmet on his head, and wearing a shining breast-plate of chain-mail. His golden ring Draupnir was on his arm, and his spear Gungnir in his right hand. Thus attired, he advanced to attack the Fenris-Wolf, when the Twilight of the Gods was beginning to fall; thus attired, he sat on his throne Hlidskialf, wrapped in the folds of his mantle, and governed gods and men.
There are many tales and traditions about Wodan in his original form of storm-god. They are to be found in Germany, England, France, and Scandinavia, which shows how wide-spread the worship of him was. Chief amongst the stories referring to the old Teutonic god are those of the Wild Hunt, and of the Raging Host.
The Myths of the Wild Hunt and of the Raging Host.
These myths have their origin in the belief that the supreme One takes the souls of the dead to himself, carries them through the air with him, and makes them his followers on his journeys by night. As the Romans regarded Mercury as the leader of the dead, they thought that the Teutons also honoured him as the highest god. The soul was looked upon as aerial, because it was invisible like air. It was held that when a dying man had drawn his last breath, his soul passed out of him into the invisible element. Thus the Hebrews had the same word to express spirit and breath, and the old Caledonians, as Ossian's poems prove, heard the moans and loving words of their dead friends in the whisper of the breeze, in the soft murmur of the waves; they felt that the invisible was near them, when a solitary star sent down its rays to them through the dusk of the evening. The idea of a god has no place in these poems. The Teutons, on the contrary, believed that it was the god himself who bore the spirits of the dead up into his kingdom.
The traditions of the Wœnsjäger, the Wild Huntsman, Wuotan's or the Raging Host, have their origin in heathen times, as their names show, although they have undergone considerable modifications in many respects since then. They arose from the impression made upon the people by phenomena that they could not understand, and which they consequently supposed were caused by some divinity. Every noise sounds strange and mysterious on a quiet night. The solitary traveller passing through forests or over heaths or mountains, when the light of the moon and stars was obscured by drifting clouds, heard the voices of spirits in the hooting of owls, in the creaking of branches, and in the roaring, whistling, and howling of the tempest, and his excited imagination made him think that he saw forms, which became the more distinct the more his superstitious fancy was drawn upon. Forest-rangers, solitary dwellers in remote places, especially charcoal-burners, who often spend long stretches of time without seeing a human being, tell strange stories even now-a-days. These tales are founded on the ancient beliefs of the race, are repeated by one man to another, and detached fragments of the old faith are still preserved by tradition.
In Pomerania, Mecklenburg, and Holstein, Wode is said to be out hunting whenever the stormy winds blow through the woods. In Western Hanover it is said to be the Woejäger, in Saterland the Woinjäger, and in other places, the Wild Huntsman that haunts the Woods. He is supposed to ride on a white horse, to wear a broad-brimmed hat slouched over his forehead, and a wide cloak (the starry heavens) wrapped round his shoulders. This cloak has gained him the name of Hakel-bärend (Mantel-wearing) in Westphalia. Indeed, the story has even been transferred from the divine to the human.
It was said that Hans von Hakelberg, chief huntsman of the Duke of Brunswick, and an enthusiastic sportsman, liked hunting better than going to church, and used to devote his Sundays as well as week-days to this amusement, for which reason he was condemned to hunt for ever and ever with the storm. His grave is shown near the Klopperkrug, an inn not far from Goslar, and a picture of both him and his hounds is carved on the headstone of the grave. His burial place is also pointed out in the Sollinger wood, near Uslar.
Wode seldom hunted alone. He was generally surrounded by a large pack of hounds, and accompanied by a number of huntsmen, who all rushed on driven by the storm, shouting and holloaing, in pursuit of a spectral boar or wild horse. He was also said to chase a spectral woman with snow-white breast, whom he could only catch once in seven years, and whom he bound across his saddle when he had at length succeeded in overtaking her. In Southern Germany it was a moss-woman or wood-maiden, a kind of dryad or wood-nymph, whom the Wild Huntsman pursued, and whom he bound to his horse in the same way as the other, when once he had caught her. Perhaps this story represents the autumnal wind blowing the leaves off the trees.
When the people heard the Wild Huntsman approaching them they threw themselves upon their face on the ground, as otherwise they would have been in danger of being carried off by the huntsmen.
The story tells us that this was the fate of a ploughman who was caught up by them and taken away to a hot country where black men lived. He did not come home again until many years afterwards. Whoever joined in the holloa of the wild huntsmen was given a stag's leg which became a lump of gold; but whoever imitated the shout jeeringly had a horse's leg thrown to him, which gave out a pestiferous smell and stuck to the scoffer. A little dog was sometimes left on the hearth of a house through which the Wild Huntsman had gone. It immediately began to whine and howl miserably, so as to disturb the whole household.
The people had then to get up and brew some beer in egg-shells, whereupon the creature would exclaim: "Although I am as old as the Bohemian Forest, I never saw such a thing in my life before." Then it would jump up, rush off and vanish. But if this charm was not applied, the people of the house were obliged to feed the creature well, and let it lie upon the hearth for a whole year, until Wode returned and took it away with him.
The Wild Hunt generally went on in the sacred season, between Christmas and Twelfth Night. When its shouts were particularly loud and distinct, it was said that it was to be a fruitful year. At the time of the summer solstice, and when day and night become of equal length, the Wild Hunt again passed in the wind and rain, for Wodan was also lord of the rain, and used to ride on his cloud-horse, so that plentiful rains might refresh the earth.
The traditions of the Raging Host much resemble those of the Wild Hunt. They are stories about the army of the dead under the leadership of Wodan. People thought they could distinguish men, women and children as the host passed them at night. Those who had lately died were often seen in it, and sometimes the death of others was foretold by it.
"Walther von Milene!" cried out voices in that terrible army, and Walther, a celebrated warrior, was soon afterwards killed in battle. In this instance the story reminds us of Wish-father chooser of the dead, who called the Einheriar to his Walhalla; and still more is this the case, when the Raging Host is described as rushing past like a troop of armed men, when knights and men-at-arms were seen in shining or even fiery armour, and mounted upon black horses, from whose nostrils shot forth sparks of flame. Then it was said that the war-cries of the combatants, the clash of arms and trampling of horses' feet, could be heard above the din of the storm.
Wodan has long since died out of the minds of the people, yet his character and actions are clearly shown in tradition, and his name also appears in proverbial sayings, charms, and invocations. Seventy years ago the Mecklenburg farmers, after the harvest was brought home, used to give their labourers Wodel-beer, a feast at which there was plenty to eat and drink. The people poured out some of the beer upon the harvest field, drank some themselves, and then danced round the last remaining sheaf of corn, swinging their hats and singing:
"Wôld! Wôld! Wôld!
hävenhüne weit wat schüt,
jümm hei dal van häven süt.
Vulle kruken un sangen hät hei,
upen holte wässt manigerlei:
hei is nig barn un wert nig old.
Wôld! Wôld! Wôld!"*
"Wôld! Wôld! Wôld!
The Heaven-Giant knows what happens here;
From Heaven downwards he does peer.
He has full pitchers and cans.
In the wood grows many a thing.
He ne'er was child, and ne'er grows old,
Wôld! Wôld! Wôld!"
* Grimm's "Teutonic Mythology," translated by J. S. Stallybrass, vol. i, p. 156. (London: Sonnenschein nd Allen.)
In Hesse and in Lippe-Schaumburg the harvesters stick a bunch of flowers into the last sheaf, and beat their scythes together, exclaiming, Waul; in Steinhude they dance round a bonfire they have lighted on a hill-top, and shout, Waude. In many parts of Bavaria they dance round a straw figure called Oanswald or Oswald (Ase Wodan). But the people have now quite forgotten the Ase and think only of St. Oswald. In these instances the god appears in his highest form as the god of heaven, the giver of good harvests. The Aargau riddle shows him as lord of the starry heavens, who raises the dead up to his bright mansions above:-
"Der Muot mit dem Breithuot
Hat mehr Gäste, als der Wald Tannenäste.""Muot with the broad hat
Has more guests than the wood has fir-twigs."
In England the Wild Hunt is called Herlething, from a mythical king Herla, who was once invited by a dwarf to attend his marriage. He followed his entertainer into a mountain, and three hundred years elapsed before he and his attendants returned to the world. Amongst other parting gifts the dwarf gave him a beautiful dog, which the head huntsman was desired to take before him on his horse. At the same time every one was warned not to dismount until the dog jumped down. Several of the king's followers disregarded this, and got down from their horses; but no sooner did they touch the ground than they crumbled away to dust. The dog is still sitting on the saddle bow, and the Wild Hunt is still going on.
In the time of Henry II it was said to have shown itself in a meadow in full daylight. The blowing of the horns and shouts of the hunters drew the people of the neighbourhood to the place. They recognised some of their dead friends among the huntsmen, but when they spoke to them, the whole train rose in the air, and vanished in the river Wye.
In France, in Wales, and in Scotland, King Arthur is the leader of the Wild Hunt. In France, the Wild Hunt, or Raging Host, is called Mesnie Hellequin, the last word of which is evidently derived from Hel (kingdom of the dead), for the leader of the hunt is called the Hel-huntsman. According to other traditions, Charles the Great, Charlemagne, rides in front of the band, while strong Roland carries the banner. We recognise, moreover, the Raging Host (l'armée furieuse) under the name of Chasse de Caïn (Cain's Hunt), or Chasse d'Hérode (Hunt of Herodias, who caused the murder of John the Baptist). Perhaps, however, Hérode really means Hrodso (glory-bearer), one of the names by which Odin was known. Equally famous is le grand veneur de Fontainebleau, (the great Huntsman of Fontainebleau), whose shouts were heard beside the royal palace the day before Henry IV was murdered by Ravaillac. The Raging Host also passed over the heavens twice, darkening the sun, before the Revolution broke out. The populace everywhere believes that its appearance is the foreshadowing of pestilence, or war, or of some other great misfortune.
THE SLEEPING HEROES
The legend of the Wild Huntsman has, as we have seen from the foregoing, been applied to human beings, and circumstance and place have been added to the tale. There was not always an infernal element clinging to the appearance of the Hunt, for emperors, kings, and celebrated heroes were amongst the representatives of the Father of the Gods. In Lausitz, Dieterbernet - in Altenburg, Berndietrich, the great Ostrogothic king Theoderick of Bern (Verona) was supposed to rush through the air, and vanish in the mountains. In the same way, according to the Northern myth, the Summer Odin, who brought green leaves and flowers, and ripened the golden ears of corn, used to wander away through dark roads in Autumn, and then a false Odin came, and seating himself on the other's throne, sent snowstorms over the wintry earth. Or, as another tale has it, the good god passed the period during which the imposter reigned, sunk in a deep enchanted sleep within a mountain. But no sooner did Spring return, than he rose again in his power, drove the intruder from his throne, and once more scattered his blessings over gods and men.
These conceptions of Allfather, derived from natural phenomena, were so deeply impressed in the mind and very being of the Teutonic race, that they personified them by applying to their early kings and heroes the attributes of Odin. King Henry the Fowler, whose victories over the Slavs, Danes and Hungarians restored the power of the German empire, is supposed to be lying sunk in magic sleep in the Südemer hill near Goslar. Amongst other sleeping heroes is Frederick Barbarossa, the story of whose death in the East is believed by no one, and who was and is still said to lie slumbering in Kyfthäuser.
There are a number of traditions about the ruins of Kyfthäuser and the great Hohenstaufe, who still lives in the memory of his people. The high castle-hill rises sheer above the green fields away over in Thuringia. On its western side, a tower is still in existence. It stands eighty feet high, although with broken walls, and overlooks the wood and piles of stone below. On solemn occasions the emperor is supposed to lead his processions thence, and afterwards to dine there with his followers. According to the legend, the weary old emperor sleeps his "long sleep" in an underground chamber of the castle, with the companions of his travels, Christian of Mayence, Rainald of Cologne, Otto of Wittelsbach, the ancestor of the royal house of Bavaria, and many others besides. Barbarossa's beard has grown round and through the stone table, casks of good old wine, treasures of gold, silver and precious stones are lying about in heaps, and a magic radiance lights up the high vaulted hall; that this is the case is proved by many fortunate eye-witnesses, who at different times have been permitted to enter the room. One of these was a herdsman, who left his cattle browsing amongst the ruins, and went to gather flowers for his sweetheart. He found a strange blue blossom, and no sooner had lie put it in his nosegay than his eyes were opened, and he perceived an iron door that he had never seen before. It opened at his touch; he went down a flight of stairs and entered the lighted banqueting hall. There he saw the heroes and their imperial leader sitting round the table, all sound asleep in their chairs.
Barbarossa was awakened by the noise. "Are the ravens still flying round the battlements?" he asked, looking up.
The herdsman said that they were, and the emperor went on:
"Then I must sleep for another hundred years."
After that he invited the youth to help himself to as much as he liked of the treasures he saw before him, and not to forget the best.
The herdsman filled his pockets as he was told. When he got out into the open air once more, the door shut behind him with a crash, and he could never find it again, for he had forgotten the best thing, the little blue flower. So the emperor is still sleeping with his heroes in his favourite palace. But the time will come when the empire is in greatest need of him, when the ravens will no longer fly round the battlements; then he will arise in all his might, will break the magic bonds that hold him, and sword in hand fight a great and bloody battle against the enemies of his country upon the Walser Field or on the Rhine. Then he will hang his shield on a withered pear-tree, which will immediately begin to sprout again, and blossom and bear fruit: the glorious old times of the German Empire will return, bringing with them unity and peace in their train.
THE HIGHER CONCEPTION OF WODAN (ODIN)
Wodan, the giver of victory. - Ambri and Assi the Winilers, stood fully armed before the warlike Vandals. Their victory or servitude would be decided by the coming battle.
"Give us the victory, Father of Battles," prayed the princes of the Vandals, as they offered up sacrifices to Wodan. And the god answered: "To them will be given the victory who come first before me on the morning of the day of battle."
On the other hand Ibor and Ajo, dukes of the Winilers, went by the counsel of their wise woman, Mother Gambara, into the holy place of Freya, Wodan's wife, and entreated her to aid them.
"Well," said the Queen of Heaven, "let your women go out ere daybreak dressed in armour like the men, their hair combed down over their cheeks and chins, let them take up a position towards the east, and I will give ye a glorious victory."
The dukes did as she commanded.
As soon as the first rosy tints of dawn appeared in the sky, Freya wakened the great Ruler, and pointed eastwards towards the armed host.
"Ha!" said the god in astonishment, "what long-bearded warriors are these?"
"Thou hast named them," answered the queen, "so now do thou give them the victory." And thus the Winilers gained great glory, and were henceforth known by the name of Long Beards (Longobards).
As in the Northern myths, the Longobards also held great Wodan to be the giver of victory. But above all other qualities, he was the god who blessed mankind, and brought joy and prosperity to his people.
In the heathen times many games and processions were held in his honour, of which traces still remain in the customs and beliefs of the people. In many districts, for instance, the battle of the false Odin, who usurped the throne for the seven winter months, with the true Odin, who brought blessings and summer into the world, was celebrated by a mimic fight, succeeded by sacrifices and feasting. This lasted for centuries, and was continued until quite recent times in the festivals of the first of May.
A May Count or May King was chosen, and he was generally the best runner or rider, or the bravest in the parish. He was dressed in green and adorned with garlands of may and other flowers. He then hid himself in the wood; the village lads went out to seek him there, and when they had found him, they put him on horseback, and led him with shouts and songs of joy through the village. The May King was allowed to choose a queen to share his honours at the dance and at the feast.
In other places the most modest and diligent of the girls was chosen as Queen of May, and led into the village with the King, which was intended to commemorate the marriage of the Summer Odin with the Earth, whose youth was renewed by the genial Spring. It was at one time a regular practice to have a May-ride in Sweden, at which the May Count, decked in flowers and blossoms, had to fight against Winter, who was wrapped up in furs. May won the victory after a burlesque hand-to-hand engagement.
Odin, the good and beneficent god, was also called Oski, i.e., "wish" in Norse, a word that is related to the German Wonne (rapture): he was the source of all joy and rapture.
ODIN AT GEIRÖD'S PALACE
King Hraudung had two handsome sons, Geiröd and Agnar, the one ten and the other eight years old. The boys one day went out in a boat to fish. But the wind rose to a storm, and carried them far away from the mainland to a lonely islet, where the boat struck and broke in pieces. The boys managed to reach the shore in safety, and found there a cottager and his wife, who took compassion on them and gave them shelter. The woman took great care of the younger brother Agnar throughout the winter, while her husband taught Geiröd the use of arms and gave him much wise counsel. That winter the children both grew wonderfully tall and strong, and this was not surprising, for their guardians had been Odin and his wife Frigg. When spring returned, the boys received a good boat and a favourable wind from their protectors, so that they soon reached their native land. But Geiröd sprang on shore first, shoved the boat out to sea again, and cried, "Sail thou away, Agnar, into the evil spirits' power!" The great waves, as though in obedience to the cruel boy's behest, carried the boat and Agnar far away to other shores. Geiröd hastened joyfully up to the palace, where he found his father on his death-bed. He succeeded to the kingdom, and ruled over all his father's subjects and those he had gained for himself by force of arms and gold.
Odin and Frigg were once sitting on their thrones at Hlidskialf gazing down at the world of mortal men and at their works. "Seest thou," said the Ruler, "how Geiröd, my pupil, has gained royal honours for himself? Agnar has married a giantess in a foreign land, and now that he has returned home, is living in his brother's palace poor and despised." "Still Geiröd is only a base creature, who hoards gold and treats his guests cruelly instead of showing them hospitality," replied the thoughtful goddess. Then Allfather determined to prove his favourite, and to reward him if all were well, but to punish him should he find that the accusation was just. He, therefore, in the guise of a traveller from a far country, started for Geiröd's palace. A broad-brimmed hat, drawn well down over his brows, shaded his face, and a blue cloak was wrapped around his shoulders. But the King had been warned by Frigg of a wicked enchanter, so he had the stranger seized and brought before his judgment-seat.
To all the questions asked him, the prisoner would only reply that his name was Grimnir, and disdained to give further information about himself. Whereupon the king got into a passion, and commanded that the obstinate fellow should be chained to a chair between two fires upon which fresh fuel was to be continually thrown, so that the pain he suffered might induce him to speak out.
The stranger remained there for eight nights, suffering bitter agony, without having had a bite or a sup the whole time, and now the flames were beginning to lick the seam of his mantle. Secretly Agnar, the disinherited, gave him a full horn of beer, which he emptied eagerly to the last drop. Then he began to sing, at first low and softly, but afterwards louder and louder, so that the halls of the castle echoed again, and crowds assembled without to listen to the strain. He sang of the mansions of the blessed gods, of the joys of Walhalla, of the Ash Yggdrasil, of those that dwelt within it, and of its roots in the depths of the worlds.
The halls trembled, the strong walls shook as he sang of Odin's deeds, and of him whom Odin's favour had raised on high, but who was now delivered over to the sword because he had drunk of the cup of madness. "Already," he said, "I see my favourite's sword stained with his blood. Now thou seest Odin himself. Arise if thou canst!" And Grimnir arose, the chains fell from his hands, the flames played harmlessly about his garments; he stood there in all his Ase's strength, his head surrounded by rays of heavenly light Geiröd had at first half drawn his sword in anger; but now, when he tried to descend from his throne in haste to attempt to propitiate the god, it slipped quite out of its sheath, he tripped over it and fell upon it, so that its blade drank in his heart's blood. After his death, Agnar ruled over the kingdom, and by the favour of Odin his reign was long and glorious.
ODIN BETWEEN TWO FIRES IN GEIRÖD'S PALACE
ODIN, THE DISCOVERER OF THE RUNES, AND GOD OF POETRY AND WISDOM
Odin's power and wisdom and knowledge are described in the Edda and in many of the lays of the skalds. He went to Mimir, the wise Jotun, who sat by the fountain of primeval wisdom, drank daily of the water and increased his knowledge thereby. The Jotun refused to allow the god to drink of his fountain, unless he first pledged him one of his eyes. Allfather did as he requested him, in order that he might create all things out of the depth of knowledge, and from that day forward Mimir drank daily of the crystal stream out of Allfather's pledge. Other accounts make out that the water was drawn out of Heimdal's Giallarhorn. Both accounts are given in the Northern poems. The myth from which they came shows us the meaning that lay at their foundation.
Mimir, a word related to the Latin memor, memini, signifies memory; that it was known to the Germans is indicated by the similar sounds of the names of the Mümling, a stream in the Odenwald, and of Lake Mumel in the Black Forest, where the fairies lived. Mimir drew the highest knowledge from the fountain, because the world was born of water; hence, primeval wisdom was to be found in that mysterious element. The eye of the god of heaven is the sun, which enlightens and penetrates all things; his other eye is the moon, whose reflection gazes out of the deep, and which at last, when setting, sinks into the ocean. It also appears like the crescent-shaped horn with which the Jotun drew the draught of wisdom.
According to other poems, Mimir was killed, but his head, which still remained near the fountain, prophesied future events. Before the Twilight of the Gods came to pass, Odin used to whisper mysterious things with him about the Destruction and Renewal of the world.
At one time when the god was standing with his golden helmet on, by the side of the holy fountain on the high hill, and learning the runic signs from Mimir's head, he discovered the Hugrunes (spirit-runes). As we have already shown, these runes were not exactly used as formulae for writing connected sentences. They were only the accented letters used in Northern and Old-German poems; that is to say, they were letters of similar sound used for alliterative purposes. The following examples are some of those that remain to us from olden time: hearth and home; wind and weather; hand and heart. They were intended as a help to the memory when learning and singing the lays.
Odin gained power over all things by means of the runes, through which he was able to- make all bend to his will, and to obtain authority over the forces of nature. He knew runic songs that were effectual in battle, in discord, and in time of anxiety. They blunted the weapons of an opponent, broke the chains of noble prisoners, stopped the deadly arrow in its flight, turned the arms of the enemy against themselves, and calmed the fury of angry heroes. When a bark was in danger on the stormy sea, the great god stilled the tempest and the angry waves by his song, and brought the ship safe to port. When he sang his magic strain, warriors hastened to his assistance and he returned unhurt out of the battle. At his command a man would arise from the dead even after he had been strangled. He knew a song that gave strength to the Ases, success to the elves, and even more wisdom to himself; another that gave him the love of woman so that her heart was his for ever more. But his highest, holiest song was never sung to woman of mortal birth, but was kept for the Queen of Heaven alone, when he was sitting peacefully by her side.
THE DRAUGHT OF INSPIRATION. ODIN'S VISIT TO GUNLÖD.
JOURNEY TO WAFTHRUDNIR
Kwasir, a man whom the Ases and Wanes had created amongst them, and whom they had inspired with their own spirit, was loved by gods and men for his wisdom and goodness. He travelled through all lands, teaching and benefiting the people. Wherever he went he tamed down the wild passions of all men, and taught them better and purer manners and customs.
The evil race of Dwarfs alone, they that burrowed in the earth in search of treasures, cared nought for the love, although they envied the wisdom of Kwasir. Fjalar and Galar, brothers of this people, invited him one day to a feast, and then murdered him treacherously with many wounds. They caught his blood in three vessels, the kettle Odrörir (inspiration), and the bowls Son (expiation) and Boden (offering). They mixed rum-honey with it, and made it into mead, which gave all who drank of it the gift of song and of eloquence that won every heart.
As the wicked deed of the Dwarfs had brought them such good luck, they invited the rich giant Gilling and his wife to visit them, and took the former out fishing with them. Then they upset the boat in the surf under great over-hanging rocks, so that Gilling was drowned, while they, being good swimmers, righted the boat again, and rowed to land.
When the giantess heard the sad fate of her husband, she wept and moaned, and refused to be comforted. The Dwarfs offered to take her to the rock on which the body had been washed. But as she was leaving the house, Galar threw a mill-stone from above down upon her head, so that she also was killed. Now Suttung, son of the murdered giant's brother, heard of the evil deed, and set out to avenge it. He seized the Dwarfs and made ready to bind them to a solitary rock out in the sea, that they might die there of hunger. They begged for mercy, promising to give him the wonderful mead concocted out of Kwasir's blood, in atonement for what they had done. The giant accepted the expiation offered him; he took the three vessels containing the liquor to a hollow mountain that belonged to him, and set his daughter Gunlöd to keep guard over the magic drink.
Odin, the God of Spirit, was told of all these things by his ravins Hugin and Munin. He determined to get possession of the Draught of Inspiration at any cost to himself, that it might no longer be kept uselessly hidden away by the giant in the interior of the earth, but might refresh gods and heroes, so that wisdom and poetry might delight the world. He therefore, in the guise of a simple traveller, started for Jotunheim. He came to a field where nine uncouth fellows were mowing hay. He offered to sharpen their scythes for them, and make them cut as well as the best swords. The men were pleased with his offer, so he pulled a whet-stone out of his pocket, and whetted and sharpened the scythes. When he at last returned them to the mowers, they found that they could work much quicker and better than before, and each wanted to have the whet-stone for himself. So the traveller threw it amongst them, and they struggled and fought for it with their scythes, until at length they all lay dead on the ground.
The traveller went on his way till he came to the master of the estate, the Jotun Baugi, a brother of Suttung, who received him hospitably. In the evening the giant complained that his farm-servants were all killed, and that his splendid crop of hay could not be harvested. Then Bölwerker (Evil-doer), as the traveller called himself, offered to do nine men's work if his host would get him a draught of Suttung's mead.
"If thou wilt serve me faithfully," answered the Jotun, "I will try to fulfil thy desire; but I will not hide from thee that my brother is very chary of giving a drop of it away."
Bölwerker was satisfied with this promise, and worked as hard as the nine farm-servants for the whole summer.
When winter came, Bangi, true to his promise, drove to his brother's dwelling with the traveller, and asked for a draught of the mead. But Suttung declared that the vagabond should not have a single drop.
"We must now try what cunning will do," said Bölwerker; "for I must and shall taste that mead, and I know many enchantments that will help me to what I want. Here is the mountain in which the mead is hidden, and here is my good auger, Rati, which can easily make its way through the hardest wall of rock. Take it and bore a hole with it, no matter how small."
The Jotun bored as hard as he could. He soon thought that he had made a hole right through the rock, but Bölwerker blew into it and the dust came out into the open air. The second time they tried, it blew into the mountain, and Bölwerker, changing himself into a worm, wriggled through the hole so quickly that treacherous Bangi, who stabbed at him with the auger, could not reach him.
When he had got into the cave, the Ase stood before the blooming maiden Gunlöd, in all his divine beauty and wrapped in his starry mantle. She nodded her acquiescence when he asked her for shelter and for three draughts of the inspiring mead.
Three days he spent in the crystal mansion, and drank three draughts of the mead, in which he emptied Odrörir, Son and Boden He was intoxicated with love, with mead, and with poetry. Then he took the form of an eagle, and flew with rhythmical motion to the divine heights, even as the skald raises himself to the dwellings of the immortals on the wings of the song that is born of love, of wine, and inspiration. But Suttung heard the flap of the wings and knew who had robbed him of his mead.
ODIN'S VISIT TO GUNLÖD
His eagle-dress was at hand, he therefore threw it round his great shoulders, and flew so quickly after the Ase that he almost came up with him. The gods watched the wild chase with anxiety. They got cups ready to receive the delicious beverage. When Odin with difficulty reached the safe precincts of holy Asgard, he poured the mead into the goblets prepared for it. Since that time Allfather has, given the gods the Draught of Inspiration, nor has he denied drops of Odrörir to mortal men when they felt themselves impelled to sing to the harp of the deeds of the gods and of earthly heroes.
Odin possessed knowledge of all past, present, and future events, since he had drunk of the fountain of Mimir and of Odrörir. He therefore determined to attempt a contest with Wafthrudnir, the wisest of the Jotuns, in which the conquered was to lose his head.
In vain Frigg strove, in her fear, to dissuade him from the perilous undertaking; he set out boldly on his way and entered the giant's hall as a poor traveller called Gangrader.
Stopping on the threshold of the banqueting hall, he said, "My name is Gangrader, I have come a long way; and now I ask thee to grant me hospitality and to let me strive with thee in wise talk."
Wafthrudnir answered him: "Why dost thou stand upon the threshold, instead of seating thyself in the room? Thou shalt never leave my hall unless thou hast the victory over me in wisdom. We must lay head against head on the chance; come forward then and try thy luck."
He now proceeded to question his guest about the horses that carried Day and Night across the sky, the river that divided Asgard from Jotunheim, and the field where the Last Battle was to be fought. When Gangrader had shown his knowledge of all these things, the giant offered him a seat by his side, and in his turn answered his guest's questions as to the origin of earth and heaven, the creation of the gods, how Niörder had come to them from the wise Wanes, what the Einheriar did in Odin's halls, what was the origin of the Norns, who was to rule over the heritage of the Ases after the world had been burnt up, and what was to be the end of the Father of the gods.
After Wafthrudnir had answered all of these questions, Gangrader asked: "I discovered much. I sought to find out the meaning of many things, and questioned many creatures. What did Odin whisper in the ear of his son before he ascended the funeral pile? "
Recognising the Father of the gods by this question, the conquered Jotun exclaimed: "Who can tell what thou didst whisper of old in the ear of thy son? I have called down my fate upon my own head, when I dared to enter on a strife of knowledge with Odin. Allfather, thou wilt ever be the wisest."
The poet does not tell us whether the visitor demanded the head of the conquered Jotun. Nor does he mention the word that Odin whispered to his son before he went down to the realms of Hel; but the context leads us to suppose that it was the word Resurrection, the word which pointed to the higher, holier life, to which Baldur, the god of goodness, should be born again, when a new and purer world should have arisen from the ashes of the old, sin-laden world.
ODIN, FATHER OF THE ASES.
ODIN'S DECENDANTS
From later poems Odin appears not only as Ruler of the world, and Father of all Divine beings, who gradually as time went on became more and more subordinate to him, but also as progenitor of kings and heroic races, such as the kings of the Anglo-Saxons and Franks, as well as of the rulers of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden.
According to the Edda, Odin had three sons, Wegdegg, the East Saxon; Beldegg (Baldur or Phol), the West Saxon (Westphalian); and Sigi, to whom Franconia was given; and three others, Skiöld, Säming, and Yngwi, who were made kings of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. Other sagas show that Wals, Sigmund, and Sigurd, the hero of the Niflung Lay, were descended from Sigi, while Brand and Heingest or Hengist, Horsa and Swipdager were descended from Beldegg. The Anglo-Saxon genealogical tables make out that Voden (Wodan) and Frealaf (Freya) had seven sons, who were the founders of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. Others, on the contrary, only show three sons here also, which makes them more in agreement with the northern genealogies.
According to the higher ideas regarding him, Odin was the father of gods and men; the latter were created by him, while the former were his direct or indirect descendants. His son by Jörd (the Earth) was strong Thor, father of Magni and Modi (Strength and Courage); by Frigg he had Baldur and Hodur; by Rinda, Wali, who afterwards became the avenger of Baldur; and by the nine mothers, the mysterious watchman Heimdal. Besides these, there were the poet-god Bragi; the divine messenger, Hermodur; the brave archer, Uller; and even the god of heaven, Tyr, who otherwise received the highest honours. Related to him were Forseti, son of Baldur, and Widar, who were to rule over the new world of holiness and innocence. Thus he was the Father of the Ases. On the other hand, Hönir, who gave to newly created man senses and life, and Loki, who gave him blood and blooming complexions, were Odin's brothers or comrades in primeval times. Great Niörder, his bright son Freyer and his daughter Freya belonged to another divine race, that of the Wanes; they were first brought into Asgard as hostages, but were received into the ranks of the Ases.