* * * * * *
The fact itself of these Witches being simply transfigurations, or later disguises, of the Teutonic Norns is fully established—as may be seen from Grimm or Simrock. In delineating these hags, Shakspeare has practically drawn upon old Germanic sources, perhaps upon current folk-lore of his time.
It has always struck me as noteworthy that in the greater part of the scene between the Weird Sisters, Macbeth and Banquo, and wherever the Witches come in, Shakspeare uses the staff-rime in a remarkable manner. Not only does this add powerfully to the archaic impressiveness and awe, but it also seems to bring the form and figure of the Sisters of Fate more closely within the circle of the Teutonic idea. I have pointed out this striking use of the alliterative system in Macbeth in an article on “An old German Poem and a Vedic Hymn,” which appeared in Fraser in June, 1877, and in which the derivation of the Weird Sisters from the Germanic Norns is mentioned.
The very first scene in the first act of Macbeth opens strongly with the staff-rime:
1st Witch. When shall we three meet again—
In thunder, lightning or in rain?
2d Witch. When the hurly-burly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
3d Witch. That will be ere set of sun.
1st Witch. Where the place?
2d Witch.Upon the heath.
3d Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.
1st Witch. I come, Graymalkin!
All. Paddock calls. Anon.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
Not less marked is the adoption of the fullest staff-rime—together (as above) with the end-rime—in the third scene, when the Weird Sisters speak. Again, there is the staff-rime when Banquo addresses them. Again, the strongest alliteration, combined with the end-rime, runs all through the Witches’ spell-song in Act iv, scene 1. This feature in Shakspeare appears to me to merit closer investigation; all the more so because a less regular alliteration, but still a marked one, is found in not a few passages of a number of his plays. Only one further instance of the systematic employment of alliteration may here be noted in passing. It is in Ariel’s songs in the Tempest, Act i, scene 2. Schlegel and Tieck evidently did not observe this alliterative peculiarity. Their otherwise excellent translation does not render it, except so far as the obvious similarity of certain English and German words involuntarily made them do so. But in the notes to their version of Macbeth the character of the Weird Sisters is also misunderstood, though Warburton is referred to, who had already suggested their derivations from the Valkyrs or Norns.
It is an error to say that the Witches in Macbeth “are never called witches” (compare Act i, scene 3: “‘Give me!’ quoth I. ‘A-roint thee, witch!’ the rump-fed ronyon cries”). However, their designation as Weird Sisters fully settles the case of their Germanic origin.
This name “Weird” is derived from the Anglo-Saxon Norn Wyrd (Sax. Wurth; O. H. Ger. Wurd; Norse, Urd), who represents the Past, as her very name shows. Wurd is die Gewordene—the “Has Been,” or rather the “Has Become,” if one could say so in English.
* * * * * *
In Shakspeare the Witches are three in number—even as in Norse, German, as well as in Keltic and other mythologies. Urd, properly speaking, is the Past. Skuld is the Future, or “That Which shall Be.” Verdandi, usually translated as the Present, has an even deeper meaning. Her name is not to be derived from vera (to be), but from verda (Ger. werden). This verb, which has a mixed meaning of “to be,” “to become,” or to “grow,” has been lost in English. Verdandi is, therefore, not merely a representative of present Being, but of the process of Growing, or of Evolution—which gives her figure a profounder aspect. Indeed, there is generally more significance in mythological tales than those imagine who look upon them chiefly as a barren play of fancy.
Incidentally it may be remarked that, though Shakspeare’s Weird Sisters are three in number—corresponding to Urd, Verdandi and Skuld—German and Northern mythology and folk-lore occasionally speak of twelve or seven of them. In the German tale of Dornröschen, or the Sleeping Beauty, there are twelve good fays; and a thirteenth, who works the evil spell. Once, in German folk-lore, we meet with but two Sisters of Fate—one of them called Kann, the other Muss. Perhaps these are representatives of man’s measure of free will (that which he “can”), and of that which is his inevitable fate—or, that which he “must” do.
Though the word “Norn” has been lost in England and Germany, it is possibly preserved in a German folk-lore ditty, which speaks of three Sisters of Fate as “Nuns.” Altogether, German folk-lore is still full of rimes about three Weird Sisters. They are sometimes called Wild Women, or Wise Women, or the Measurers (Metten)—namely, of Fate; or, euphemistically, like the Eumenides, the Advisers of Welfare (Heil-Räthinnen), reminding us of the counsels given to Macbeth in the apparition scene; or the Quick Judges (Gach-Schepfen). Even as in the Edda, these German fays weave and twist threads or ropes, and attach them to distant parts, thus fixing the weft of Fate. One of these fays is sometimes called Held, and described as black, or as half dark half white—like Hel, the Mistress of the Nether World. That German fay is also called Rachel, clearly a contraction of Rach-Hel, i.e. the Avengeress Hel.
Now, in Macbeth also the Weird Sisters are described as “black.” The coming up of Hekate with them in the cave-scene might not unfitly be looked upon as a parallel with the German Held, or Rach-Hel, and the Norse Hel; these Teutonic deities being originally Goddesses of Nocturnal Darkness, and of the Nether World, even as Hekate.
In German folk-lore, three Sisters of Fate bear the names of Wilbet, Worbet and Ainbet. Etymologically these names seem to refer to the well-disposed nature of a fay representing the Past; to the warring or worrying troubles of the Present; and to the terrors (Ain = Agin) of the Future. All over southern Germany, from Austria to Alsace and Rhenish Hesse, the three fays are known under various names besides Wilbet, Worbet, and Ainbet—for instance, as Mechtild, Ottilia, and Gertraud; as Irmina, Adela, and Chlothildis, and so forth. The fay in the middle of this trio is always a good fay, a white fay—but blind. Her treasure (the very names of Ottilia and Adela point to a treasure) is continually being taken from her by the third fay, a dark and evil one, as well as by the first. This myth has been interpreted as meaning that the Present, being blinded as to its own existence, is continually being encroached upon, robbed as it were, by the dark Future and the Past. Of this particular trait there is no vestige in Shakspeare’s Weird Sisters. They, like the Norns, “go hand in hand.” But there is another point which claims attention Shakspeare’s Witches are bearded. (“You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.” Act i, scene 3.)
It need scarcely be brought to recollection that a commingling of the female and male character occurs in the divine and semi-divine figures of various mythological systems—including the Bearded Venus. Of decisive importance is, however, the fact of a bearded Weird Sister having apparently been believed in by our heathen German forefathers.
Near Wessobrunn, in Upper Bavaria, where the semi-heathen fragment of a cosmogonic lay, known as “Wessobrunn Prayer,” was discovered, there has also been found, of late, a rudely-sculptured three-headed image. It is looked upon as an ancient effigy of the German Norns. The Cloister of the three Holy Bournes, or Fountains, which stands close by the place of discovery, is supposed to have been set up on ground that had once served for pagan worship. Probably the later monkish establishment of the Three Holy Bournes had taken the place of a similarly named heathen sanctuary where the three Sisters of Fate were once adored. Indeed, the name of all the corresponding fays in yet current German folk-lore is connected with holy wells. This quite fits in with the three Eddic Bournes near the great Tree of Existence, at one of which—apparently at the oldest, which is the very Source of Being—the Norns live, “the maidens that over the Sea of Age travel in deep foreknowledge,” and of whom it is said that:
They laid the lots, they ruled the life
To the sons of men, their fate foretelling.
Now, curiously enough, the central head of the slab found near Wessobrunn, in the neighborhood of the Cloister of the Three Holy Bournes, is bearded. This has puzzled our archæologists. Some of them fancied that what appears to be a beard might after all be the hair of one of the fays or Norns, tied round the chin. By the light of the description of the Weird Sisters in Shakspeare’s Macbeth we, however, see at once the true connection.
In every respect, therefore, his “Witches” are an echo from the ancient Germanic creed—an echo, moreover, coming to us in the oldest Teutonic verse-form; that is, in the staff-rime.
Karl Blind.
Elves. The elves of later times seem a sort of middle thing between the light and dark elves. They are fair and lively, but also bad and mischievous. In some parts of Norway the peasants describe them as diminutive naked boys with hats on. Traces of their dance are sometimes to be seen on the wet grass, especially on the banks of rivers. Their exhalation is injurious, and is called alfgust or elfblæst, causing a swelling, which is easily contracted by too nearly approaching places where they have spat, etc. They have a predilection for certain spots, but particularly for large trees, which on that account the owners do not venture to meddle with, but look on them as something sacred, on which the weal or woe of the place depends. Certain diseases among their cattle are attributed to the elves, and are, therefore, called elf-fire or elf-shot. The dark elves are often confounded with the dwarfs, with whom they, indeed, seem identical, although they are distinguished in Odin’s Raven’s Song. The Norwegians also make a distinction between dwarfs and elves, believing the former to live solitary and in quiet, while the latter love music and dancing. (Faye, p. 48; quoted by Thorpe.)
The fairies of Scotland are precisely identical with the above. They are described as a diminutive race of beings of a mixed or rather dubious nature, capricious in their dispositions and mischievous in their resentment. They inhabit the interior of green hills, chiefly those of a conical form, in Gaelic termed Sighan, on which they lead their dances by moonlight; impressing upon the surface the marks of circles, which sometimes appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a deep green hue, and within which it is dangerous to sleep, or to be found after sunset. Cattle which are suddenly seized with the cramp, or some similar disorder, are said to be elf-shot. (Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; quoted by Thorpe.)
Of the Swedish elves, Arndt gives the following sketch: Of giants, of dwarfs, of the alp, of dragons, that keep watch over treasures, they have the usual stories; nor are the kindly elves forgotten. How often has my postillion, when he observed a circular mark in the dewy grass, exclaimed: See! there the elves have been dancing. These elf-dances play a great part in the spinning-room. To those who at midnight happen to enter one of these circles, the elves become visible, and may then play all kinds of pranks with them; though in general they are little, merry, harmless beings, both male and female. They often sit in small stones, that are hollowed out in circular form, and which are called elf-querns or mill-stones. Their voice is said to be soft like the air. If a loud cry is heard in the forest, it is that of the Skogsrå (spirit of the wood), which should be answered only by a He! when it can do no harm. (Reise durch Sweden; quoted by Thorpe.)
The elf-shot was known in England in very remote times, as appears from the Anglo-Saxon incantation, printed by Grimm in his Deutsche Mythologie, and in the appendix to Kemble’s Saxons in England: Gif hit wœre esa gescot oððe hit wœre ylfa gescot; that is, if it were an asa-shot or an elf-shot. On this subject Grimm says: It is a very old belief that dangerous arrows were shot by the elves from the air. The thunder-bolt is also called elf-shot, and in Scotland a hard, sharp, wedge-shaped stone is known by the name of elf-arrow, elf-flint, elf-bolt, which, it is supposed, has been sent by the spirits. (Quoted by Thorpe.)
Our ancestors divided the universe into nine worlds, and these again into three groups:
1. Over the earth. Muspelheim, Ljosalfaheim and Asaheim.
2. On the earth. Jotunheim, Midgard and Vanheim.
3. Below the earth. Svartalfaheim, Niflheim and Niflhel.
The gods had twelve abodes:
1. Thrudheim. The abode of Thor. His realm is Thrudvang, and his palace is Bilskirner.
2. Ydaler. Uller’s abode.
3. Valaskjalf. Odin’s hall.
4. Sokvabek. The abode of Saga.
5. Gladsheim, where there are twelve seats for the gods, besides the throne occupied by Alfather.
6. Thrymheim. Skade’s abode.
7. Breidablik. Balder’s abode.
8. Himminbjorg. Heimdal’s abode.
9. Folkvang. Freyja’s abode.
10. Glitner. Forsete’s abode.
11. Noatun. Njord’s abode.
12. Landvide. Vidar’s abode.
According to the Lay of Grimner, the gods had twelve horses, but the owner of each horse is not given:
(1) Sleipner (Odin’s), (2) Goldtop (Heimdal’s), (3) Glad, (4) Gyller, (5) Gler, (6) Skeidbrimer, (7) Silvertop, (8) Siner, (9) Gisl, (10) Falhofner, (11) Lightfoot, (12) Blodughofdi (Frey’s).
The owners of nine of them are not given, and, moreover, it is stated that Thor had no horse, but always either went on foot or drove his goats.
The favorite numbers are three, nine and twelve. Monotheism was recognized in the unknown god, who is from everlasting to everlasting. A number of trinities were established, and the nine worlds were classified into three groups. The week had nine days, and originally there were probably but nine gods, that is, before the vans were united with the asas. The number nine occurs where Heimdal is said to have nine mothers, Menglad is said to have nine maid-servants, Æger had nine daughters, etc. When the vans were united with the asas, the number rose to twelve:
(1) Odin, (2) Thor, (3) Tyr, (4) Balder, (5) Hoder, (6) Heimdal, (7) Hermod, (8) Njord, (9) Frey, (10) Uller, (11) Vidar, (12) Forsete.
If we add to this list Brage, Vale and Loke, we get fifteen; but the Eddas everywhere declare that there are twelve gods, who were entitled to divine worship.
The number of the goddesses is usually given as twenty-six.
Loke and his offspring are so fully treated in our Norse Mythology, that we content ourselves by referring our readers to that work.
Freyja’s ornament Brising. In the saga of Olaf Tryggvason, there is a rather awkward story of the manner in which Freyja became possessed of her ornament. Freyja, it is told, was a mistress of Odin. Not far from the palace dwelt four dwarfs, whose names were Alfrig, Dvalin, Berling and Grer; they were skillful smiths. Looking one day into their stony dwelling, Freyja saw them at work on a beautiful golden necklace, or collar, which she offered to buy, but which they refused to part with, except on conditions quite incompatible with the fidelity she owed to Odin, but to which she, nevertheless, was tempted to accede. Thus the ornament became hers. By some means this transaction came to the knowledge of Loke, who told it to Odin. Odin commanded him to get possession of the ornament. This was no easy task, for no one could enter Freyja’s bower without her consent. He went away whimpering, but most were glad on seeing him in such tribulation. When he came to the locked bower, he could nowhere find an entrance, and, it being cold weather, he began to shiver. He then transformed himself into a fly and tried every opening, but in vain; there was nowhere air enough to make him to get through [Loke (fire) requires air]. At length he found a hole in the roof, but not bigger than the prick of a needle. Through this he slipt. On his entrance he looked around to see if anyone were awake, but all were buried in sleep. He peeped in at Freyja’s bed, and saw that she had the ornament round her neck, but that the lock was on the side she lay on. He then transformed himself to a flea, placed himself on Freyja’s cheek, and stung her so that she awoke, but only turned herself round and slept again. He then laid aside his assumed form, cautiously took the ornament, unlocked the bower, and took his prize to Odin. In the morning, on waking, Freyja seeing the door open, without having been forced, and that her ornament was gone, instantly understood the whole affair. Having dressed herself, she repaired to Odin’s hall, and upbraided him with having stolen her ornament, and insisted on its restoration, which she finally obtained. (Quoted by Thorpe.)
Mention is also made of the Brósinga-men in the Beowulf (verse 2394). Here it is represented as belonging to Hermanric, but the legend concerning it has never been found.
This myth about Frey and Gerd is the subject of one of the most fascinating poems in the Elder Edda, the Journey of Skirner. It is, as Auber Forestier, in Echoes from Mistland, says, the germ of the Niblung story. Frey is Sigurd or Sigfrid, and Gerd is Brynhild. The myth is also found in another poem of the Elder Edda, the Lay of Fjolsvin, in which the god himself—there called Svipday (the hastener of the day)—undertakes the journey to arouse from the winter sleep the cold giant nature of the maiden Menglad (the sun-radiant daughter), who is identical with Freyja (the goddess of spring, promise, or of love between man and woman, and who can easily be compared with Gerd). Before the bonds which enchain the maiden can in either case be broken, Bele (the giant of spring storms, corresponding to the dragon Fafner in the Niblung story,) must be conquered, and Wafurloge (the wall of bickering flames that surrounded the castle) must be penetrated. The fanes symbolize the funeral pyre, for whoever enters the nether world must scorn the fear of death. (Auber Forestier’s Echoes from Mistland; Introduction, xliii, xliv.) We also find this story repeated again and again, in numberless variations, in Teutonic folk-lore; for instance, in The Maiden on the Glass Mountain, where the glass mountain takes the place of the bickering flame.
The tree Lerad (furnishing protection) must be regarded as a branch of Ygdrasil.
In Heimskringla Skidbladner is called Odin’s ship. This is correct. All that belonged to the gods was his also.
For a thorough analysis of Thor as a spring god, as the god who dwells in the clouds, as the god of thunder and lightning, as the god of agriculture, in short, as the god of culture, we can do no better than to refer our readers to Der Mythus von Thor, nach Nordischen Quellen, von Ludwig Uhland, Stuttgart, 1836; and to Handbuch der Deutschen Mythologie, mit Einschluss der Nordischen, von Karl Simrock, Vierte Auflage, Bonn, 1874.
The death of Balder is justly regarded as the most beautiful myth in Teutonic mythology. It is connected with the Lay of Vegtam in the Elder Edda. Like so many other myths (Frey and Gerd, The Robbing of Idun, etc.) the myth symbolizes originally the end of summer and return of spring. Thus Balder dies every year and goes to Hel. But in the following spring he returns to the asas, and gladdens all things living and dead with his pure shining light. Gradually, however, the myth was changed from a symbol of the departing and returning summer, and applied to the departing and returning of the world year, and thus the death of Balder prepares the way for Ragnarok and Regeneration. Balder goes to Hel and does not return to this world. Thokk refuses to weep for him. His return is promised after Ragnarok. The next spring does not bring him back, but the rejuvenated earth. Thus the death of Balder becomes the central thought in the drama of the fate of the gods and of the world. It is inseparably connected with the punishment of Loke and the twilight of the gods. The winter following the death of Balder is not an ordinary winter, but the Fimbul-winter, which is followed by no summer, but by the destruction of the world. The central idea in the Odinic religion, the destruction and regeneration of the world, has taken this beautiful sun-myth of Balder into its service. Balder is then no more merely the pure holy light of heaven; he symbolizes at the same time the purity and innocence of the gods; he is changed from a physical to an ethical myth. He impersonated all that was good and holy in the life of the gods; and so it came to pass that when the golden age had ceased, when thirst for gold (Gulveig), when sin and crime had come into the world, he was too good to live in it. As in Genesis fratricide (Cain and Abel) followed upon the eating of the forbidden fruit, and the loss of paradise; so, when the golden age (paradise) had ended among the asas, Loke (the serpent) brought fratricide (Hoder and Balder) among the gods; themselves and our ancestors regarded fratricide as the lowest depth of moral depravity. After the death of Balder
Brothers slay brothers,
Sisters’ children
Shed each other’s blood,
Hard grows the world,
Sensual sin waxes huge.
There are sword-ages, ax-ages—
Shields are cleft in twain,—
Storm-ages, murder-ages,—
Till the world falls dead,
And men no longer spare
Or pity one another.
Upon the whole we may say that a sun-myth first represents the death of the day at sunset, when the sky is radiant as if dyed in blood. In the flushing morn light wins its victory again. Then this same myth becomes transferred to the death and birth of summer. Once more it is lifted into a higher sphere, while still holding on to its physical interpretation, and is applied to the world year. Finally, it is clothed with ethical attributes, becomes thoroughly anthropomorphized, and typifies the good and the evil, the virtues and vices (light and darkness), in the character and life of gods and of men. Thus we get four stages in the development of the myth.
Ragnarok. The word is found written in two ways, Ragnarok and ragnarökr. Ragna is genitive plural, from the word regin (god), and means of the gods. Rok means reason, ground, origin, a wonder, sign, marvel. It is allied to the O.H.G. rahha = sentence, judgment. Ragnarök would then mean the history of the gods, and applied to the dissolution of the world, might be translated the last judgment, doomsday, weird of gods and the world. Rokr means twilight, and Ragnarokr, as the Younger Edda has it, thus means the twilight of the gods, and the latter is adopted by nearly all modern writers, although Gudbr. Vigfusson declares that Ragnarok (doomsday) is no doubt the correct form. And this is also to be said in favor of doomsday, that Ragnarok does not involve only the twilight, but the whole night of the gods and the world.
This chapter of Skaldskaparmal contains much valuable material for a correct understanding of the Nibelungen-Lied, especially as to the origin of the Niblung hoard, and the true character of Brynhild. The material given here, and in the Icelandic Volsunga Saga, has been used by Wm. Morris in his Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs. In the Nibelungen-Lied, as transposed by Auber Forestier, in Echoes from Mist-Land, we have a perfect gem of literature from the middle high German period, but its author had lost sight of the divine and mythical origin of the material that he wove into his poem. It is only by combining the German Nibelungen-Lied with the mythical materials found in Norseland that our national Teutonic epic can be restored to us. Wagner has done this for us in his famous drama; Jordan has done it in his Sigfrid’s saga; Morris has done it in the work mentioned above; but will not Auber Forestier gather up all the scattered fragments relating to Sigurd and Brynhild, and weave them together into a prose narrative, that shall delight the young and the old of this great land?
We are glad to welcome at this time a new book in the field of Niblung literature. We refer to Geibel’s Brunhild, translated, with introduction and notes, by Prof. G. Theo. Dippold, and recently published in Boston.
This is usually called the peace of Frode, which corresponds to the golden age in the life of the asas. Avarice is the root of crime, and all other evils. Avarice is at the bottom of all the endless woes of the Niblung story. The myth explaining why the sea is salt is told in a variety of forms in different countries. In Germany there are several folk-lore stories and traditions in regard to it. In Norway, where folk-lore tales are so abundant, we find the myth about Menja and Fenja recurring in the following form:
Long, long ago there were two brothers, the one was rich and the other was poor. On Christmas eve the poor one had not a morsel of bread or meat in his house, and so he went to his brother and asked him for mercy’s sake to give him something for Christmas. It was not the first time the brother had had to give him, and he was not very much pleased to see him this time either.
“If you will do what I ask of you, I will give you a whole ham of pork,” said he.
The poor man promised immediately, and was very thankful besides.
“There you have it, now go to hell,” said the rich one, and threw the ham at him.
“What I have promised, I suppose, I must keep,” said the other. He took the ham and started. He walked and walked the whole day, and at twilight he came to a place where everything looked so bright and splendid.
“This must be the place,” thought the man with the ham.
Out in the wood-shed stood an old man with a long white beard, cutting wood for Christmas.
“Good evening,” said the man with the ham.
“Good evening, sir. Where are you going so late?” said the man.
“I am on my way to hell, if I am on the right road,” said the poor man.
“Yes, you have taken the right road; it is here,” said the old man. “Now when you get in, they will all want to buy your ham, for pork is rare food in hell; but you must not sell it, unless you get the hand-mill that stands back of the door for it. When you come out again I will show you how to regulate it. You will find it useful in more than one respect.”
The man with the ham thanked the old man for this valuable information, and rapped at the devil’s door.
When he came in it happened as the old man had said. All the devils, both the large ones and the small ones, crowded around him like ants around a worm, and the one bid higher than the other for the ham.
“It is true my wife and I were to have it for our Christmas dinner, but, seeing that you are so eager for it, I suppose I will have to let you have it,” said the man. “But if I am to sell it, I want that hand-mill that stands behind the door there for it.”
The devil did not like to spare it, and kept dickering and bantering with the man, but he insisted, and so the devil had to give him the hand-mill. When the man came out in the yard he asked the old wood-chopper how he should regulate the mill; and when he had learned how to do it, he said “thank you,” and made for home as fast as he could. But still he did not reach home before twelve o’clock in the night Christmas eve.
“Why, where in the world have you been?” said the woman. “Here I have been sitting hour after hour waiting and waiting, and I haven’t as much as two sticks to put on the fire so as to cook the Christmas porridge.”
“Oh, I could not come any sooner. I had several errands to do, and I had a long way to go too. But now I will show you,” said the man. He set the mill on the table, and had it first grind light, then a table-cloth, then food and ale and all sorts of good things for Christmas, and as he commanded the mill ground. The woman expressed her great astonishment again and again, and wanted to know where her husband had gotten the mill, but this he would not tell.
“It makes no difference where I have gotten it; you see the mill is a good one, and that the water does not freeze,” said the man.
Then he ground food and drink, and all good things, for the whole Christmas week, and on the third day he invited his friends: he was going to have a party. When the rich brother saw all the nice and good things at the party, he became very wroth, for he could not bear to see his brother have anything.
“Christmas eve he was so needy that he came to me and asked me for mercy’s sake to give him a little food, and now he gives a feast as though he were both count and king,” said he to the others.
“But where in hell have you gotten all your riches from?” said he to his brother.
“Behind the door,” answered he who owned the mill. He did not care to give any definite account, but later in the evening, when he began to get a little tipsy, he could not help himself and brought out the mill.
“There you see the one that has given me all the riches,” said he, and then he let the mill grind both one thing and another. When the brother saw this he was bound to have the mill, and after a long bantering about it, he finally was to have it; but he was to pay three hundred dollars for it, and his brother was to keep it until harvest.
“When I keep it until then, I shall have ground food enough to last many years,” thought he.
Of course the mill got no chance to grow rusty during the next six months, and when harvest-time came, the rich brother got it; but the other man had taken good care not to show him how to regulate it. It was in the evening that the rich man brought the mill home, and in the morning he bade his wife go and spread the hay after the mowers,—he would get dinner ready, he said. Toward dinner he put the mill on the table.
“Grind fish and gruel: Grind both well and fast!” said the man, and the mill began to grind fish and gruel. It first filled all the dishes and tubs full, and after that it covered the whole floor with fish and gruel. The man kept puttering and tinkering, and tried to get the mill to stop; but no matter how he turned it and fingered at it, the mill kept on, and before long the gruel got so deep in the room that the man was on the point of drowning. Then he opened the door to the sitting-room, but before long that room was filled too, and the man had all he could do to get hold of the door-latch down in this flood of gruel. When he got the door open he did not remain long in the room. He ran out as fast as he could, and there was a perfect flood of fish gruel behind, deluging the yard and his fields.
The wife, who was in the meadow making hay, began to think that it took a long time to get dinner ready. “Even if husband does not call us, we will have to go anyway. I suppose he does not know much about making gruel; I will have to go and help him,” said the woman to the mowers.
They went homeward, but on coming up the hill they met the flood of fish and gruel and bread, the one mixed up with the other, and the man came running ahead of the flood.
“Would that each one of you had an hundred stomachs, but have a care that you do not drown in the gruel flood,” cried the husband. He ran by them as though the devil had been after him, and hastened down to his brother. He begged him in the name of everything sacred to come and take the mill away immediately.
“If it grinds another hour the whole settlement will perish in fish and gruel,” said he.
But the brother would not take it unless he got three hundred dollars, and this money had to be paid to him.
Now the poor brother had both money and the mill, and so it did not take long before he got himself a farm, and a much nicer one than his brother’s. With his mill he ground out so much gold that he covered his house all over with sheets of gold. The house stood down by the sea-shore, and it glistened far out upon the sea. All who sailed past had to go ashore and visit the rich man in the golden house, and all wanted to see the wonderful mill, for its fame spread far and wide, and there was none who had not heard speak of it.
After a long time there came a sea-captain who wished to see the mill. He asked whether it could grind salt.
“Yes, it can grind salt,” said he who owned the mill; and when the captain heard this, he was bound to have it, let it cost what it will. For if he had that, thought he, he would not have to sail far off over dangerous waters after cargoes of salt. At first the man did not wish to sell it, but the captain teased and begged and finally the man sold it, and got many thousand dollars for it. When the captain had gotten the mill on his back, he did not stay there long, for he was afraid the man might reconsider the bargain and back out again. He had no time to ask how to regulate it; he went to his ship as fast as he could, and when he had gotten some distance out upon the sea, he got his mill out.
“Grind salt both fast and well,” said the captain. The mill began to grind salt, and that with all its might. When the captain had gotten the ship full he wanted to stop the mill; but no matter how he worked, and no matter how he handled it, the mill kept grinding as fast as ever, and the heap of salt kept growing larger and larger, and at last the ship sank. The mill stands on the bottom of the sea grinding this very day, and so it comes that the sea is salt.
1. The third volume of this work has not yet appeared.
2. Keyser.
3. White Skald.
4. Black Skald.
5. Dasent translates “hövuðtungur” (chief or head tongues) with “lords,” which is certainly an error.
6. Near Upsala.
7. A heroic poem, giving the pedigree (tal) of Norse kings.
8. Heimskringla: Ynglinga Saga, ch. v.
9. Heimskringla: Harald Harfager’s Saga, ch. xix.
10. The walker.
11. Elder Edda: Havamal.
12. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 6.
13. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 56.
14. Elder Edda: Hyndla’a Lay, 34.
15. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 30.
16. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 31.
17. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 35.
18. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 8. In Old Norse the sun is feminine, and the moon masculine. See below, sections 11 and 12.
19. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 40, 41. Comp. Vafthrudner’s Lay, 21.
20. That wolves follow the sun and moon, is a wide-spread popular superstition. In Sweden, a parhelion is called Solvarg (sun-wolf).
21. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 43, 44.
22. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 12, 14-16, 18, 19.
23. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 24.
24. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 29.
25. Elder Edda: Fafner’s Lay, 13.
26. The Icelandic barr. See Vigfusson, sub voce.
27. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 35, 34.
28. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 22.
29. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 70.
30. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 37.
31. Elder Edda. Loke’s Quarrel, 29, 47.
32. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 46-50.
33. Oku is derived from the Finnish thunder-god, Ukko.
34. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 24.
35. The author of the Younger Edda is here mistaken. See note on page 82.
36. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 12.
37. Compare Vainamoinen, the son of Ukko, in the Finnish epic Kalevala.
38. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 11.
39. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 14.
40. Icel. frú (Ger. frau; Dan. frue), pl. frúr, means a lady. It is used of the wives of men of rank or title. It is derived from Freyja.
41. This etymology is, however, erroneous, for the word is derived from oln or öln, and the true form of the word is ölnliðr = the ell-joint (wrist); thus we have ölnboge—the elbow; öln = alin (Gr. ὠδίνη; Lat. ulna; cp. A.-S. el-boga; Eng. elbow) is the arm from the elbow to the end of the middle finger, hence an ell in long measure.
42. Compare the Anglo-Saxon brego = princeps, chief.
43. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 13.
44. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 15.
45. Possibly this ought to read the ninth world, which would correspond with what we read on page 72, and in the Vala’s Prophecy. See also notes. It may be a mistake of the transcriber.
46. Both these words mean sloth.
47. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 36
49. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 36.
50. This is the Niblung story in a nut-shell.
51. Elder Edda: Skirner’s Journey, 42.
52. The Fenris-wolf in Ragnarok.
53. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 18.
54. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 19.
55. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 20.
56. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 23.
57. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 41.
58. Elder Edda: Grimner’s Lay, 44.
59. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 29, 30.
60. Bonde = peasant.
61. Called Ymer in the Younger Edda, but the Elder Edda calls him Hymer.
62. Commit adultery.
63. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 48, 49.
64. Fenris-wolf.
65. Loke.
66. Frey.
67. The Fenris-wolf.
68. Thor.
69. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 50-52, 54-57, 59, 60, 62, 63.
70. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 18.
71. Elder Edda: The Vala’s Prophecy, 40, 41.
72. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 51.
73. Holt = grove.
74. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 45.
75. Elder Edda: Vafthrudner’s Lay, 47.
76. This part of the Younger Edda corresponds to the Latin Ars Poetica, and contains the rules and laws of ancient poetry.
77. Thor’s.
78. Thor.
79. Jord’s (= earth’s) son = Thor.
80. Thor.
81. Odin’s.
82. The earth.
83. Thor.
84. Thor.
85. The giant Hrungner.
86. Thor.
87. Thor’s.
88. Icelandic proverb.
89. Icelandic proverb.
90. A river in Jotunheim.
91. Thor’s kinsmen = the asas.
92. Thruda was a daughter of Thor and Sif.
93. A troll-woman.
94. Shield.
95. Elder Edda: the Lay of Fafner, 32, 33.
96. The drink of the Volsungs = venom; the tortuous venom-serpent = the Midgard-serpent.
97. Thor.
98. These words are spoken by the maidens while they put the mill together.
99. Frode.
100. The mill.
101. Quoted from memory.
102. Njorvasound, the Straits of Gibraltar; so called from the first Norseman who sailed through them. His name was Njorve. See Ann. for nordisk Oldkyndighed, Vol. I, p. 58.
103. See note, page 221.
104. Svithjod the Great, or the Cold, is the ancient Sarmatia and Scythia Magna, and formed the great part of the present European Russia. In the mythological sagas it is also called Godheim; that is, the home of Odin and the other gods. Svithjod the Less is Sweden proper, and is called Mannheim; that is, the home of the kings, the descendants of the gods.
105. The Saracens’ land (Serkland) means North Africa and Spain, and the Saracen countries in Asia; that is, Persia, Assyria, etc.
106. Blueland, the country of the blacks in Africa, the country south of Serkland, the modern Ethiopia.
107. Tartareans.
108. Kalmuks.
109. Mongolians.
110. The Tanais is the present Don river, which empties into the Sea of Asov.
111. Asgard is supposed, by those who look for historical fact in mythological tales, to be the present Assor; others, that it is Chasgar in the Caucasian ridge, called by Strabo Aspargum the Asburg, or castle of the asas. We still have in the Norse tongue the word Aas, meaning a ridge of high land. The word asas is not derived from Asia, as Snorre supposed. It is the O.H. Ger. ans; Anglo-Sax. os = a hero. The word also means a pillar; and in this latter sense the gods are the pillars of the universe. Connected with the word is undoubtedly Aas, a mountain-ridge, as supporter of the skies; and this reminds us of Atlas, as bearer of the world.
112. The temple-priests performed the functions of priest and judge, and their office continued hereditary throughout the heathen period of Norse history.
113. See Norse Mythology, page 174.
114. See Brage’s Talk, p. 160; and Norse Mythology, pp. 247 and 342.
115. In the Vala’s Prophecy of the Elder Edda it is said that Odin talks with the head of Mimer before the coming of Ragnarok. See Norse Mythology, p. 421.
116. This shows that the vans must have belonged to the mythological system of some older race that, like the ancient Romans (Liber and Libera), recognized the propriety of marriage between brothers and sisters, at least among their gods. Such marriages were not allowed among our Odinic ancestors. Hence we see that when Njord, Frey and Freyja were admitted to Asgard, they entered into new marriage relations. Njord married Skade, Frey married Gerd, and Freyja married Oder. Our ancestors were never savages!
117. Turkland was usually supposed to mean Moldau and Wallachia. Some, who regard the great mountain barrier as being the Ural Mountains, think Turkland is Turkistan in Asia. Asia Minor is also frequently styled Turkland.
118. Ancient Norse writers connect this event with Mithridates and Pompey the Great. They tell how Odin was a heroic prince who, with his twelve peers or apostles, dwelt in the Black Sea region. He became straightened for room, and so led the asas out of Asia into eastern Europe. Then they go on to tell how the Roman empire had arrived at its highest point of power, and saw all the then known world—the orbis terrarum—subject to its laws, when an unforeseen event raised up enemies against it from the very heart of the forests of Scythia, and on the banks of the Don river. The leader was Mithridates the Great, against whom the Romans waged three wars, and the Romans looked upon him as the most formidable enemy the empire had ever had to contend with. Cicero delivered his famous oration, Pro lege Manilia, and succeeded in getting Pompey appointed commander of the third war against Mithridates. The latter, by flying, had drawn Pompey after him into the wilds of Scythia. Here the king of Pontus sought refuge and new means of vengeance. He hoped to arm against the ambition of Rome all his neighboring nations whose liberties she threatened. He was successful at first, but all those Scythian peoples, ill-united as allies, ill-armed as soldiers, and still worse disciplined, were at length forced to yield to the genius of the great general Pompey. And here traditions tell us that Odin and the other asas were among the allies of Mithridates. Odin had been one of the gallant defenders of Troy, and at the same time, with Æneas and Anchises, he had taken flight out of the burning and falling city. Now he was obliged to withdraw a second time by flight, but this time it was not from the Greeks, but from the Romans, whom he had offended by assisting Mithridates. He was now compelled to go and seek, in lands unknown to his enemies, that safety which he could no longer find in the Scythian forests. He then proceeded to the north of Europe, and laid the foundations of the Teutonic nations. As fast as he subdued the countries in the west and north of Europe he gave them to one or another of his sons to govern. Thus it comes to pass that so many sovereign families throughout Teutondom are said to be descended from Odin. Hengist and Horsa, the chiefs of those Saxons who conquered Britain in the fifth century, counted Odin in the number of their ancestors. The traditions go on to tell how he conquered Denmark, founded Odinse (Odinsve = Odin’s Sanctuary; comp. ve with the German Wei in Weinacht), and gave the kingdom to his son Skjold (shield); how he conquered Sweden, founded the Sigtuna temple, and gave the country to his son Yngve; how finally Norway had to submit to him, and be ruled by a third son of Odin, Saming.
It has been seriously contended,—and it would form an important element in an epic based on the historical Odin,—that a desire of being revenged on the Romans was one of the ruling principles of Odin’s whole conduct. Driven by those foes of universal liberty from his former home in the east, his resentment was the more violent, since the Teutons thought it a sacred duty to revenge all injuries, especially those offered to kinsmen or country. Odin had no other view in traversing so many distant lands, and in establishing with so much zeal his doctrines of valor, than to arouse all Teutonic nations, and unite them against so formidable and odious a race as the Romans. And we, who live in the light of the nineteenth century, and with the records before us, can read the history of the convulsions of Europe during the decline of the Roman empire; we can understand how that leaven, which Odin left in the bosoms of the believers in the asa-faith, first fermented a long time in secret; but we can also see how in the fullness of time, the signal given, the descendants of Odin fell like a swarm of locusts upon this unhappy empire, and, after giving it many terrible shocks, eventually overturned it, thus completely avenging the insult offered so many centuries before by Pompey to their founder Odin. We can understand how it became possible for “those vast multitudes, which the populous north poured from her frozen loins, to pass the Rhine and the Danube, and come like a deluge on the south, and spread beneath Gibraltar and the Libyan sands;” how it were possible, we say, for them so largely to remodel and invigorate a considerable part of Europe, nay, how they could succeed in overrunning and overturning “the rich but rotten, the mighty but marrowless, the disciplined but diseased, Roman empire; that gigantic and heartless and merciless usurpation of soulless materialism and abject superstition of universal despotism, of systemized and relentless plunder, and of depravity deep as hell.” In connection with this subject we would refer our readers to Mallet’s Northern Antiquities, pp. 79-83, where substantially the same account is given; to Norse Mythology, pp. 232-236; to George Stephen’s Runic Monuments, Vol. I; and to Charles Kingsley’s The Roman and the Teuton.