Poetry a gift from the gods—The scald—Many sagas based on poems—Honour paid to poets—Their moral power—Poets on the battle-field—Recital of poems at feasts—Saga telling—Forms of poetry—The harp—Parables and puzzles—Gest’s riddles.

Poetry (or Scaldship) was reckoned among the Idróttir, and was considered a gift from the gods. The people looked to their poets to perpetuate in songs and transmit to future generations the deeds of their heroes, and the fame which was to cling to their names when they had gone to Valhalla. From these poets, or scalds, we learn all we know of the history of the earlier Norse tribes; from their songs the people heard of the birth of their religion; of the creation of the world, of the wisdom of the past, &c. Without them the history and deeds of the race must have been lost to us, and we would only have had left the antiquities of the early times to ponder over. These songs filled the youth of the country who listened to them with ambition, urging them to emulate the deeds of those whose praises were sung.

In no literature which has come down to us do we see dying heroes such as Ragnar Lodbrok, Hjalmar, Orvar Odd, and others, singing the deeds they had accomplished as life is ebbing away from them, and they are ready to enter into Hel. Whether these heroes sang these songs at such a time or not, or whether they were written by poets at a later time, matters little. The people of the land believed in them.

In this peculiar branch of poetry the earlier Norsemen stand wholly apart from those of other lands.

The figurative names given to scaldship^[278] by the poets show how the earlier traditions were impressed upon the mind—Kvásirs blood, Dvergar mead, Suttungs mead, Asar’s mead, Odreyris liquid, Odin’s gift, Odin’s freight, The Dvergar’s sea, The Dvergar’s ale, Jötnar’s mead.

Bragi was supposed to be the most eloquent scald among the Asar.

The origin of poetry is given in Hávamál; but in the later Edda we have a more minute account of how it was learned by the Asar.

When Hler of Hlessö, who was also called Ægir, came to Asgard to visit the Asar, he made many inquiries, among which was the following:—

“Ægir said: ‘Whence has come the idrótt which you call scaldship?’ Bragi answered: ‘The origin was that the gods (Asar) went to war with a people called Vanir. They appointed a truce thus; both went to a vessel and spat on it. When parting, the gods, unwilling to let this mark of truce be lost, took it, and out of it shaped a man, Kvasir. He is so wise that no one can ask him any question that he cannot answer. He travelled far and wide about the world to teach wisdom to men. When invited home to the Dvergar, Fjalar and Galar, they called him to a secret meeting and slew him. They let his blood run into two tubs and a kettle called Odreyrir (song-rearer), but the tubs are called Són (sacrifice), and Bodn. They mixed^[279] the blood with honey, and therefrom came the mead of which whosoever drinks becomes a skald or a wise man. The Dvergar told the Asar that Kvasir had been suffocated by too much wisdom, because no one was so wise that he could put questions to him. Thereupon these Dvergar invited to them a Jötun called Gilling and his wife, and offered him to row out to sea with them. Rowing along the shore they struck on hidden rocks, and the boat was upset. Gilling could not swim, and was drowned. But the Dvergar turned over their boat and rowed to the shore” (Later Edda 57, Bragarœdur).

Many of the sagas, if not all, were based upon the poetry which is often quoted in them, and both were used and kept as historical records.

“Olaf had been king in Norway fifteen years, including the winter when Svein Jarl and he were both in the land. Yule was past when he left his ships and went on shore, as has been told. This record of his reign was first written by the priest, Ari Thorgilsson, the wise, who was truthful, had a good memory, and was so old that he remembered the saga-telling of those who were so old that they could remember these events. Ari has himself related this in his books, and has named the men from whom he had this knowledge” (St. Olaf’s Saga, c. 189).

The scalds were honoured above all men, and married even mighty kings’ daughters, and many of them were great warriors.

“Thórolf, son of Herjolf Hornabrjot, and Olaf, his brother, were kings in Upplönd; with them was the poet Flein Hjörsson, who was brought up in Mæri on an island called Jösrheid where his father lived. Flein went to Denmark to visit King Eystein, and there got so much honour on account of his poetry that the king gave him his daughter” (Landnama v. ch. 1).

King Harald Fairhair had a feast for his friends and followers.

“Of all his hirdmen the king valued his scalds the most. They were placed on the second high-seat bench (annat ondvegi). At the furthest end from them sat Audun Illskœlda (thus called because he wrote satirical songs). He was older than any of them, and had been the scald of Halfdan Svarti (black), the father of King Harald. Next to him sat Thorbjorn Hornklofi, and then Olvir Hnufa, and next to him Bard was placed” (Egil’s Saga, ch. 8).

“Thereupon Gunnlaug sailed from England (London) with traders north to Dublin. At that time King Sigtrygg Silkiskegg (silk-beard), son of Olaf Kvaran and Queen Kormlöd, ruled Ireland; he had then ruled only a short time. Gunnlaug went before him and greeted him well and honourably. The king received him well. Gunnlaug said: ‘I have made a song about you, and I want to get a hearing.’ The king answered: ‘No man has before delivered a poem to me, and I shall certainly listen to it.’ Gunnlaug then sang the drapa, and this is the refrain:

“The king thanked him for the song, and asked his treasurer with what it should be rewarded. He answered: ‘With what will you reward it, lord?’ The king said: ‘How will it be rewarded, if I give him two knerrir (trading-ships)?’ The treasurer replied: ‘That is too much, lord; other kings give costly things, good swords or good gold-rings, as rewards for a song.’ The king gave him his own clothes of new scarlet, a lace-ornamented kirtle, a cloak with the finest furs on it, and a gold ring which weighed a mark. Gunnlaug thanked him, and stayed there for a short time, and went thence to the Orkneys” (Gunnlaug Ormstunga’s Saga, ch. 8).

The moral power of a renowned poet was often very great.

“Sindri, a high-born man, was renowned among Halfdan the Black’s warriors; formerly he had been with King Harald, and was the greatest friend of both. Guthorm was a great scald, and had made a song about each. They had offered him a reward, but he refused it, saying that they must grant him one request, and this they promised. He went to King Harald (to reconcile him and Halfdan), and so much did the kings honour him that they were reconciled at his request” (Olaf Tryggvason, Fms., vol. i. c. 12).

The scalds were always on the battlefield near the shieldburgh, in order to witness the heroism of the combatants, and sing their victory or glorious death. With their vapnasong (weapon-song) they encouraged the champions in battle, or with their Sigrljod (lay of victory) praised the bravery of the hero.

“It is said that King Olaf (before the battle of Stiklastad 1015–30) arrayed his men, and then arranged the shieldburgh which was to protect him in the battle, for which he selected the strongest and most valiant men. He then called his scalds and bid them go into the shieldburgh. ‘You shall stay here,’ said the king, ‘and see what takes place, and then no Saga is needed to tell you afterwards what you shall make songs about’” (Fostbrœdra Saga, c. 47).

These rulers loved to be surrounded by men who could entertain them and their guests during the long winter evenings, or at festivals, and took great pride in having poems made about them.

“One summer an Icelander came to King Harald, who asked him what he knew. He said he knew some sagas. The king said: ‘I will receive thee, and thou shalt join my hird this winter, and always entertain my men when they want it, whoever asks thee.’ He did so. He was soon well liked by the hird; they gave him clothes, and the king himself gave him a good weapon. This went on till near Yule, when the Icelander began to look sad; the king saw it, and asked him for the reason, and he said it was his variable temper. The king answered: ‘That is not the reason, but I will guess it; I suspect that thy sagas are now all told, for thou hast always entertained every man who asked thee this winter, and often by night and day; now thou dost not like the sagas to be wanting during Yule, but wilt not tell the same sagas again.’ The Icelander said: ‘Thy guess is right; the only saga that remains is one which I dare not tell here, for it is your Utfarar saga’ (saga of Harald’s voyage to the Holy Land). The king answered: ‘That is a saga which I am most curious to hear; now thou shalt not recite before Yule, for people are now very busy, but the first Yule-day thou shalt begin this saga and tell part of it; then there will be great drinking, and they cannot sit long listening to it. I will manage that the saga shall last during Yule, and thou wilt not find while thou tellest it whether I like it well or ill.’ Accordingly the Icelander began his saga first Yule-day, and after he had told it a short while the king told him to stop. People then began to talk much about this entertainment; some said it was very bold of the Icelander to tell this saga, and had doubts how the king would like it; some thought he told it well, others less well. The king took good care that they listened well; he managed that it lasted as long as Yule. The thirteenth day the king said: ‘Art thou not curious to know, Icelander, how I like the saga?’ He answered: ‘I am afraid to hear, lord.’ The king said: ‘I think it very well told, and nowhere is the truth deviated from; but who taught thee?’ He answered: ‘I used in Iceland to go to the Thing every summer, and every summer I learnt a part of the saga which was told by Haldór Snorrason.’ The king said: ‘It is not strange that thou knowest it well, as thou hast learnt it from him, and this saga shall be of use to thee; thou art welcome to stay with me as long as thou wilt.’ He stayed with the king that winter, and in the spring the king gave him some good wares to trade in, and he became a thriving man” (Harald Hardradi, c. 6).

Saga-telling seems to have taken place also in England.

“Then Játvard the good (Edward Confessor), son of King Adalrad (Ethelred), was chosen king in England. He remembered the friendship of his father Adalrad with King Olaf Tryggvason. He adopted the custom of telling on the first Easter-day the Saga of King Olaf Tryggvason to his chiefs and hirdmen” (Flateyjarbók, i. 506 (Olaf Tryggvason’s Saga)).^[280]

Some poets used poetry as their mode of speech.

“Sigvat scald had been a long time with King Olaf, who had made him his marshal. Sigvat was not quick of speech in unbound words (prose), but poetry was so easy to him that song flowed from his tongue as fast as he talked; he had made journeys to Valland, and during these he had come to England and met Knut the powerful” (St. Olaf’s Saga (Heimskringla), ch. 170).

There were two well-known forms of poetry.

The Drapa, a heroic laudatory poem, generally written in memory of a deceased man, and Flokk, a shorter poem.

The memory of some men was extraordinary; the blind scald Stuf recited before King Harald Hardradi in one evening thirty songs; in answer to a question he said that he knew at least half as many more longer drapas.

An Icelander, named Stuf, went to Norway, and stayed with a bondi in Upplönd. To him came King Harald Hardradi on a visit, and sat talking to Stuf.

“Then the bondi came into the stofa, and said the king must find it dull. ‘It is not so,’ answered the king, ‘for this winter guest of thine entertains me well, and I will drink to him this evening’; and thus it happened. The king talked much to Stuf, and he gave wise answers; when the men went to sleep the king asked Stuf to stay in the room where he was to sleep, in order to entertain him. Stuf did so; when the king was in his bed Stuf entertained him, and sang a flokk, and when it was finished he asked him to sing more.

“The king was awake a long time, while Stuf entertained him, and at last said: ‘How many songs hast thou sung now?’ Stuf answered: ‘I intended that you should count them.’ ‘I have done it,’ said the king; ‘they are thirty now, but why doest thou only sing flokks? Doest thou not know any drapas?’ Stuf answered: ‘I know no fewer drapas than flokks, though many flokks which I know are still unsung’” (Fornmanna Sögur, c. 6).

The harp is mentioned in Voluspa, and seems to have been used in early times. Gunnar played his harp with such skill that even champions were moved. He could also play with his toes, and charm snakes with its tones, Rognvald also reckoned harp-playing among his Idróttir. Norna Gest was very skilful on this instrument, and played famous tunes.

“Gest took his harp and struck it long and well that evening, so that every one thought it pleasant to listen; he played Gunnar’s tune best; finally he played the old Gudrúnarbrögd, which they had not heard before; afterwards they went to sleep” (Norna Gest’s Saga, ch. 2 (Fornaldarsögur i.)).

King Hugleik’s orchestra consisted of harp^[281] and other instruments, and Olaf Skautkonung kept for his table regular performers.

We have no description of the shape or size of the harp. It was no doubt a large instrument, as a little girl, Aslaug, wife of Ragnar Lodbrok, could be hidden in it, and from Herraud and Bosi’s Saga we learn that a man could stand in it upright. They sometimes had strings of silver and gold.

The harp shown on the wood carvings give us an idea of its shape.

Mental Exercises.—The unravelling of puzzles seems to have been one of the most favourite pastimes among chiefs and other powerful men, and deep penetration was required to understand them. Heidrek, a king of Reidgotaland, was credited with having been able to unravel any riddle that had ever been propounded to him.

“A man named Gest the blind was a powerful hersir in Reidgotaland, but wicked and overbearing; he had kept back the tribute belonging to King Heidrek, and there was great enmity between them. The king sent him word that he must come to him and submit to the judgment of his wise men, or fight. Gest did not like either of these terms, and became very uneasy, for he knew that he had committed many offences; he then resolved to sacrifice to Odin for help, and begged of him to look on his case, and promised a large reward. Late one evening there was a knock at the door, and Gest the blind went to open it; he asked the name of the man who had come, and he answered his name was Gest; then they inquired of each other about the tidings. The guest asked if anything grieved him; Gest the blind told him everything carefully. The guest said: ‘I will go to the king on thy behalf, and see how it will go; let us exchange appearance and clothes;’ and thus they did. The bondi^[282] went away and hid himself while the guest went in and stayed there during the night, and every one thought it was Gest the blind. Next day Gest went on the journey to the king, and did not stop until he came to Arheimar (Heidrek’s seat); he went into the hall and greeted the king well. The king was silent and looked angrily at him. ‘Herra (lord),’ said Gest, ‘I am here in order to be reconciled with you.’ The king asked: ‘Wilt thou obey the judgment of my wise men?’ Gest replied: ‘Are there no other terms?’ The king said: ‘There are; if thou wilt come with a riddle which I cannot guess, and thus procure thyself peace.’ Gest answered: ‘I am little able to do that, and besides the other part (the king) may be heard about it.’ ‘Wilt thou rather submit to the decision of the wise men?’ said the king. ‘I should prefer,’ said Gest, ‘to come with some riddles.’ The king agreed, and two chairs were brought on which they sat down. Gest then propounded his riddles’” (Hervarar Saga, ch. 15).

“The sword hit the tail, and took off what it touched, and therefore the hawk has a short tail ever after; then the sword hit a man of the hird, and he was at once slain. Odin then said: ‘Because thou, King Heidrek, drewest thy sword and wantedst to slay me, and thyself brokest the truce which thou hadst set between us, the worst of thralls shall be thy slayers.’ Then Odin flew away, and thus they parted” (Hervarar Saga, c. 15).