The Younger Edda; Also called Snorre's Edda, or The Prose Edda
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.
CHAPTER XI.
The tree Lerad (furnishing protection) must be regarded as a branch of
Ygdrasil.
CHAPTER XII.
In Heimskringla Skidbladner is called Odin’s ship. This is correct. All
that belonged to the gods was his also.
CHAPTER XIII.
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.
CHAPTER XIV.
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.
CHAPTER XV.
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.
THE NIFLUNGS AND GJUKUNGS.
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.
MENJA AND FENJA.
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:
WHY THE SEA IS SALT.
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.