The final destruction of the world, and regeneration of gods and men, is called Ragnarok; that is, the Twilight of the gods (Ragna, from regin, gods, and rökr, darkness).

The journey through life has been a long one, and yet we have not reached the end, for the end is also the beginning. Death is the center, where the present and future existence meet. When life ends, there is a change, there comes a new day and a sun without a shadow.

In comparing the Greek mythology with the Norse, it was stated, that the Norse has a theoktonic myth, while the Greek lacks the final act of the grand drama. The Greeks knew of no death of the gods; their gods were immortal. And yet, what were they but an ideal conception of the forms of life? And this life with all its vanity, pomp and glory, the Greek loved so dearly, that he thought it must last forever. He imagined an everlasting series of changes. But what will then the final result be? Shall the thundering Zeus forever continue to thunder? Shall the faithless Aphrodite forever be unfaithful? Shall Typhon forever go on with his desolations? Shall the sinner continue to sin forever, and shall the world continue without end to foster and nourish evil? These are questions that find no satisfactory answer in the Greek mythology.

Among the Norsemen, on the other hand, we find in their most ancient records a clearly expressed faith in the perishableness of all things; and we find this faith at every step that the Norsemen has taken. The origin of this faith we seek in vain; it conceals itself beneath the waters of the primeval fountains of their thoughts and aspirations. They regarded death as but the middle of a long life. They considered it cowardice to spare a life that is to return; they thought it folly to care for a world that must necessarily perish; while they knew that their spirits would be clothed with increased vigor in the other world. Happy were they who lived beneath the polar star, for the greatest fear that man knows, the fear of death, disturbed them not. They rushed cheerfully upon the sword; they entered the battle boldly, for, like their gods, who every moment looked forward to the inevitable Ragnarok, they knew that life could be purchased by a heroic death.

The very fact that the gods in the creation proceeded from the giant Ymer foreshadowed their destruction. The germ of death was in their nature from the beginning, and this germ would gradually develop as their strength gradually became wasted and consumed. That which is born must die, but that which is not born cannot grow old.

The gradual growth of this germ of death, and corresponding waste of the strength of the gods, is profoundly sketched throughout the mythology. The gods cannot be conquered, unless they make themselves weak; but such is the very nature of things, that they must do this. To win the charming Gerd, Frey must give away his sword, but when the great final conflict comes he has no weapon. In order that the Fenris-wolf may be chained, Tyr must risk his right hand, and he loses it. How shall he then fight in Ragnarok? Balder could not have died, had not the gods been blind and presumptuous; their thoughtlessness put weapons into the hands of their enemy. Hoder would never have thrown the fatal mistletoe, had not their own appointed game been an inducement to him to honor his brother. When Loke became separated from Odin, the death of the gods was a foregone conclusion.

The imperfection of nature is also vividly depicted in the Eddas. The sun was so scorching hot that the gods had to place a shield before it; the fire was so destructive that the gods had to chain it, in order that it might not bring ruin upon the whole world. Life, after the natural death, was not continued only in the shining halls of Valhal, but also in the subterranean regions among the shades of Hel.

Our old Gothic fathers, in the poetic dawn of our race, investigated the origin and beginning of nature and time. The divine poetic and imaginative spark in them lifted them up to the Eternal, to that wonderful secret fountain which is the source of all things. They looked about them in profound meditation to find the image and reflection of that glorious harmony which their soul in its heavenly flight had found, but in all earthly things they discovered strife and warfare. When the storms bent the pine trees on the mountain tops, and when the foaming waves rolled in gigantic fury against the rocky cliffs, the Norseman saw strife. When the growl of the bear and the howl of the wolf blended with the moaning of the winds and the roaring of the waters, he heard strife. In unceasing conflict with the earth, with the beasts and with each other, he saw men stand, conquer, and fall. If he lifted his weary eye toward the skies, he saw the light struggling with darkness and with itself. When light arose out of darkness, it was greeted with enthusiasm; when it sank again into darkness, its rays were broken and it dissolved in glimmering colors; and if he looked down into the heart of man, into his own breast, he found that all this conflict of opposing elements in the outward world did but faintly symbolize that terrible warfare pervading and shattering his whole being. Well might he long for peace, and can we wonder that this deep longing for rest and peace, which filled his heart in the midst of all his struggles,—can we wonder, we say, that his longing for peace found a grand expression in a final conflict through which imperishableness and harmony were attained?

This final conflict, this dissolution of nature’s and life’s disharmony, the Edda presents to us in the death of the gods, which is usually, as stated, called Ragnarok.

There is nothing more sublime in poetry than the description, in the Eddas, of Ragnarok. It is preceded by ages of crime and terror. The vala looks down into Niflheim,

The growing depravity and strife in the world proclaim the approach of this great event. First there is a winter called Fimbul-winter, during which snow will fall from the four corners of the world; the frosts will be very severe, the winds piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun will impart no gladness. Three such winters shall pass away without being tempered by a single summer. Three other similar winters follow, during which war and discord will spread over the whole earth. Brothers for the sake of mere gain shall kill each other, and no one shall spare either his parents or his children. Thus the Elder Edda:

Then shall happen such things as may truly be regarded as great miracles. The Fenris-wolf shall devour the sun, and a severe loss will that be to mankind. The other wolf^[81] will take the moon, and this, too, will cause great mischief. Then the stars shall be hurled from the heavens, and the earth shall be shaken so violently that trees will be torn up by the roots, the tottering mountains will tumble headlong from their foundations, and all bonds and fetters will be shivered to pieces. The Fenris-wolf then breaks loose and the sea rushes over the earth on account of the Midgard-serpent writhing in giant rage and gaining the land. On the waters floats the ship Naglfar (nail-ship), which is constructed of the nails of dead men. For this reason great care should be taken to die with pared nails, for he who dies with his nails unpared supplies materials for the building of this ship, which both gods and men wish may be finished as late as possible. But in this flood shall Naglfar float, and the giant Hrym be its steersman.

The Fenris-wolf advances and opens his enormous mouth; the lower jaw reaches to the earth and the upper one to heaven, and he would open it still wider had he room to do so. Fire flashes from his eyes and nostrils. The Midgard-serpent, placing himself by the side of the Fenris-wolf, vomits forth floods of poison, which fill the air and the waters. Amidst this devastation the heavens are rent in twain, and the sons of Muspel come riding through the opening in brilliant array. Surt rides first, and before and behind him flames burning fire. His sword outshines the sun itself. Bifrost (the rainbow), as they ride over it, breaks to pieces. Then they direct their course to the battle-field called Vigrid. Thither repair also the Fenris-wolf and the Midgard-serpent, and Loke with all the followers of Hel, and Hrym with all the frost-giants. But the sons of Muspel keep their effulgent bands apart on the battle-field, which is one hundred miles (rasts) on each side.

Meanwhile Heimdal arises, and with all his strength he blows the Gjallar-horn to arouse the gods, who assemble without delay. Odin then rides to Mimer’s fountain and consults Mimer how he and his warriors are to enter into action. The ash Ygdrasil begins to quiver, nor is there anything in heaven or on earth that does not fear and tremble in that terrible hour. The gods and all the einherjes of Valhal arm themselves with speed and sally forth to the field, led on by Odin with his golden helmet, resplendent cuirass, and spear called Gungner. Odin places himself against the Fenris-wolf. Thor stands by his side, but can render him no assistance, having himself to combat the Midgard-serpent. Frey encounters Surt, and terrible blows are exchanged ere Frey falls; and he owes his defeat to his not having that trusty sword which he gave to Skirner. That day the dog Garm, that had been chained in the Gnipa-cave, breaks loose. He is the most fearful monster of all, and attacks Tyr, and they kill each other. Thor gains great renown for killing the Midgard-serpent, but at the same time, retreating nine paces, he falls dead upon the spot, suffocated with the floods of venom which the dying serpent vomits forth upon him. The wolf swallows Odin, but at that instant Vidar advances, and setting his foot upon the monster’s lower jaw he seizes the other with his hand, and thus tears and rends him till he dies. Vidar is able to do this because he wears those shoes which have before been mentioned, and for which stuff has been gathered in all ages, namely, the shreds of leather which are cut off to form the toes and heels of shoes; and it is on this account that those who desire to render service to the gods should take care to throw such shreds away. Loke and Heimdal fight and kill each other. Then Surt flings fire and flame over the world. Smoke wreathes up around the all-nourishing tree (Ygdrasil), the high flames play against the heavens, and earth consumed sinks down beneath the sea.

All this is vividly and sublimely presented in the Elder Edda, thus:

The wolf referred to in the first strophe is Maanegarm (the moon-devourer), of whom we have made notice before. The hag in the Ironwood is Angerboda (anguish-boding), with whom Loke begat children. Evil is being developed. The gods become through Loke united with the giants. The wood is of iron, hard and barren; the children are ravenous wolves. On the hill-top sits Egder (an eagle), a storm-eagle, the howling wind that rushes through the wood, and howling wind is the music produced upon his harp. The cock is a symbol of fire, and it is even to this day a common expression among the Norsemen, when a fire breaks out, that the red cock is crowing over the roof of the house. There are three cocks, one in the bird-wood, one in heaven, and one in the lower regions with Hel. The idea then is, that the cock as a symbol of fire announces the coming of Ragnarok in all the regions of the world. The vala continues:

These strophes are taken from Völuspá (the prophecy of the vala); and besides these we also have a few strophes of the lay of Vafthrudner, in the Elder Edda, referring to the final conflict:

And in the second part of this same poem, in which Odin asks and Vafthrudner answers:

The terrible dog mentioned several times is Hel’s bloody-breasted and murderous hound. Like the Fenris-wolf and Loke, this dog had been bound at Gnipa-cave, although the Eddas tell us nothing about when or how this was done.

When it is said that another woe comes over Hlin, the maid-servant is placed for Frigg herself; and the former woe implied is the death of Balder, the other woe meaning the approaching death of Odin.

It is worthy of notice, that as this final conflict is inevitable, the gods proceed to it, not with despair and trembling, but joyfully and fearlessly as to a game, for it is the last. Odin rides to the battle adorned; he knows that he must die, and for this very reason he decorates himself as does a bride for the wedding, and the gods follow him; even those who are defenseless voluntarily expose themselves on the plain of Vigrid. They are determined to die.

Which are the powers that now oppose each other? On the one side we have those who have ruled and blessed heaven and earth; and fighting against them we find their eternal enemies, those powers which had sprung into being before heaven and earth were created, and those which had developed in the earth and in the sea, and which no asa-might can conquer. From Muspelheim come the sons of Muspel in shining armor; from Muspel’s world came originally the sun, moon and stars. It is a fundamental law in nature that all things destroy themselves, all things contain an inherent force that finally brings ruin; that is the meaning of perishableness or corruption. A second host consists of the frost-giants. From the body of the old giant Ymer was formed the earth, the sea, the mountains, the trees, etc.; the giants must therefore assist in the destruction of their own work. The third host is Loke and his children, born in time and the offspring of that which was created. They are the destructive elements in that which was created; the ocean becoming a fierce serpent, mid the fire a devouring wolf. Loke himself is the volcanic fire which the earth has produced within its bowels; and then there is all that is cowardly represented by the pale Hel with her bloodless shadows, the life which has turned into shadowy death. All these forces oppose each other. Those who fought in life mutually conquer each other in death. Odin, whose heaven is the source of all life, is slain by the Fenris-wolf, the earthly fire, which has brought all kinds of activities into the life of man; but the wolf, after he has conquered, falls again at the hands of Vidar, the imperishable, incorruptible force of nature. In this duel heaven and earth are engaged. The god of the clouds, Thor, contends with the Midgard-serpent,—many a struggle they have had together; now the clouds and ocean mutually destroy each other. Since the death of Balder, Frey is the most pure and shining divinity. His pure and noble purpose and longing are still within him, but his sword, his power, is gone. Hence he is stricken down by Surt, the warder of Muspelheim. Heimdal stretched his brilliant rainbow over the earth, Loke his variegated stream of fire within the earth; the one proclaiming mercies and blessings, the other destruction; both perish in Ragnarok. Hel and her pale host also betake themselves to the final contest, but the Eddas say nothing about their taking part in the fight. How can they? They are nothing but emptiness, the mere vanity of the heart, in which there is no substance; they are but the darkness which enwraps the earth, and are not capable of deeds.

Thus is Ragnarok! The great antagonism pervading the world is removed in a final struggle, in which the contending powers mutually destroy each other. Ragnarok is an outbreak of all the chaotic powers, a conflict between them and the established order of creation. Fire, water, darkness and death work together to destroy the world. The gods and their enemies meet in a universal, world-embracing wrestle and duel, and mutually destroy each other. The flames of Surt, the supreme fire-god, complete the overthrow, and the last remnant of the consumed earth sinks into the ocean.

But when the heavens and the earth and the whole world have been consumed in flames, when the gods and all the einherjes and all mankind have perished,—what then? Is not man immortal? Are not all men to live in some world or other forever? The vala looks again, and

Vidar and Vale survive; neither the flood nor Surt’s flame has harmed them, and they dwell on the plain of Ida, where Asgard formerly stood. Thither come the sons of Thor, Mode and Magne, bringing with them their father’s hammer, Mjolner. Hœner is there also, and comprehends the future. Balder and Hoder sit and converse together; they call to mind their former knowledge and the perils they underwent, and the fight with the wolf Fenrer, and with the Midgard-serpent. The sons of Hoder and Balder inhabit the wide Wind-home. The sun brings forth a daughter more lovely than herself, before she is swallowed by Fenrer; and when the gods have perished, the daughter rides in her mother’s heavenly course.

During the conflagration caused by Surt’s fire, a woman by name Lif (life) and a man named Lifthraser lie concealed in Hodmimer’s forest. The dew of the dawn serves then for food, and so great a race shall spring from them that their descendants shall soon spread over the whole earth.

Then the vala

Toward the north on the Nida-mountains stands a large hall of shining gold, which the race of Sindre, that is the dwarfs, occupy. There is also another hall called Brimer, which is also in heaven, in the region Okolner, and there all who delight in quaffing good drink will find plenty in store for them. Good and virtuous beings inhabit all these halls.

But there is also a place of punishment. It is called Naastrand (strand of dead bodies). In Naastrand there is a vast and terrible structure, with doors that face to the north. It is built entirely of the backs of serpents, wattled together like wicker-work. But all the serpents’ heads are turned toward the inside of the hall, and continually vomit forth floods of venom, in which wade all those who have committed murder, perjury, or adultery. The vala, in the Elder Edda,

Or as it is stated in Hyndla’s lay, after she has described Heimdal, the sublime protector of the perishable world:

And when the vale in Völuspá, beginning with the primeval time, has unveiled, in the most profound sentences, the whole history of the universe,—when she has gone through every period of its development down through Ragnarok and the Regeneration, the following is her last vision:

Thus ends the vala’s prophecy (völuspá.) She has revealed the decrees of the Father of Nature; she has described the conflagration and renovation of the world, and now proclaims the fate of the good and of the evil.

The world and the things in it perish, but not the forces. Some of the gods reappear in the regenerated earth, while some do not. They who reappear are mentioned in pairs, excepting Hœner, who is alone. Balder and Hoder are together; likewise Vidar and Vale, and Mode and Magne. Neither Odin nor Thor nor the vans appear. They perished with the world, for they represented the developing forces of this world; they were divinities representing that which came into being and had existence in it. On the other hand, Balder and Hoder came back from Hel. They represent light and darkness; but they are alike in this respect, that they are nothing substantial, nothing real, they are only the condition for something to be, or we might say they are the space, the firmament, in which something may exist. They are the two brothers whose sons shall inhabit the wide Wind-home. Thus when heaven and earth have passed away there is nothing remaining but the wide expanse of space with light and darkness, who not only rule together in perfect harmony, but also permeate each other and neutralize each other.

Hœner comes back. He was originally one of the trinity with Odin and Loder (Loke); but the gods received Njord as a hostage from the vans, and gave to the vans in return Hœner, as a security of friendship between them. This union between the asas and vans is now dissolved. Hœner has nothing more to do among the vans. Their works all perished with the old earth. He is the developing, creative force that is needed now in the new world as it was in the old.

Vidar is the imperishable force in original nature, that is, in crude nature, but at the same time united with the gods. He is the connecting link between gods and giants. His mother was Grid, a giantess, and his father was Odin. The strong Vale begotten of Odin and Rind (the slumbering earth) is the imperishable force of nature which constantly renews itself in the earth as a habitation of man. Both Vidar and Vale are avenging gods. Vale avenges the death of Balder, and Vidar the death of Odin, and thus we have in Vidar and Vale representatives of the imperishable force of nature in two forms, the one without and the other within the domain of man, both purified and renewed in the regenerated earth.

In the atmosphere and in the dense clouds reigned Thor, with his flashing fire and clattering thunder. Thunder and lightning have passed away, but the forces that produced them, courage and strength, are preserved in Thor’s sons, Mode (courage) and Magne (strength). They have their father’s hammer, Mjolner, and with it they can strike to the right and to the left, permeating the new heaven and new earth. What a well of profound thought are the Eddas!

The parents of the new race of men are called Lif and Lifthraser. Life cannot perish. It lies concealed in Hodmimer’s forest, which the flame of Surt was not able to destroy. The new race of mankind seem to possess a far nobler nature than the former, for they subsist on the morning dew.

Do Mimer and Surt live? They are the fundamental elements of fire and water. The Eddas are not clear on this point, but an affirmative answer seems to be suggested in the fact that the better part of every being is preserved.

The good among men find their reward in Gimle; for he that made man gave him a soul, which shall live and never perish, though the body shall have mouldered away or have been burnt to ashes; and all that are righteous shall dwell with him in the place called Gimle, says the Younger Edda. The dwarfs have their Sindre, and their golden hall on the Nida-mountains; and the giant has his shining drinking hall, Brimer, but it is situated in Okolner (not cool), where there is no more frost.

The Elder Edda seems to point out two places of punishment for men. Giants and dwarfs are not punished, for they act blindly, they have no free will. But the wicked of mankind go to Naastrand and wade in streams of serpent-venom, and thence they appear to be washed down into Hvergelmer, that horrible old kettle, where their bodies are torn by Nidhug, the dragon of the uttermost darkness.

There is a day of judgment. The good and bad are separated. The god, whom the Edda dare not name, is the judge. The Younger Edda once calls him Allfather, for he is to the new world what Odin was to the old. He was before the beginning of time, and at the end of time he enters upon his eternal reign.

The reward is eternal. Is the punishment also eternal? When light and darkness (Balder and Hoder) can live peaceably together,—when darkness can resolve itself into light,—cannot then the evil be dissolved in the good; cannot the eternal streams of goodness wash away the evil? We think so, and the Edda seems to justify us in this thought; at least the Elder Edda seems to take this view of the subject. Listen again to the last vision of the vala:

When there is an intermediate state, a transition, a purification, a purgatory, then this purification must sooner or later be accomplished; and that is the day of the great judgment, when Nidhug must sink, and nevermore lift his wings loaded with dead bodies. This idea is beautifully elaborated in Zendavista. The Edda has it in a single line, but the majority of its interpreters have not comprehended it. We who are permeated by the true Christian spirit, we know how great joy there is in heaven over a sinner who is converted; we know the God of mercy, who does not desire the ruin of a single sinner, and the God of omnipotence, who with his hand is able to press the tears of repentance from the heart, though it be hard as steel; we comprehend why he lets Nidhug sink down. All darkness shall be cleared up and be gilded by the shining light of heaven.

Such was the origin, the development, the destruction and regeneration of the world. And now, says the Younger Edda, as it closes the deluding of King Gylfe, if you have any further questions to ask, I know not who can answer you; for I never heard tell of anyone who could relate what will happen in the other ages of the world. Make therefore the best use you can of what has been imparted to you.

Upon this Ganglere heard a terrible noise all around him. He looked, but could see neither palace nor city anywhere, nor anything save a vast plain. He therefore set out on his return to his kingdom, where he related all that he had seen and heard; and ever since that time these tidings have been handed down from man to man by oral tradition, and we add, may the stream of story never cease to flow! May the youth, the vigorous man, and the grandfather with his silvery locks, forever continue to refresh their minds by looking into and drinking from the fountain that reflects the ancient history of the great Gothic race!

In closing, we would present this question: Shall we have northern art? We have southern art (Hercules and Hebe), we have oriental art (Adam and Eve), and now will some one complete the trilogy by adding Loke and Sigyn? Ay, let us have another Thorvaldsen, and let him devote himself to northern art. Here is a new and untrodden field for the artist. Ye Gothic poets and painters and sculptors! why stand ye here idle?