The Younger Edda Part 18
CHAPTER XII.
In Heimskringla Skidbladner is called Odin's ship. This is correct. All that belonged to the G.o.ds was his also.
CHAPTER XIII.
For a thorough a.n.a.lysis of Thor as a spring G.o.d, as the G.o.d who dwells in the clouds, as the G.o.d of thunder and lightning, as the G.o.d of agriculture, in short, as the G.o.d 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 G.o.ds and of the world. It is inseparably connected with the punishment of Loke and the twilight of the G.o.ds. 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 G.o.ds; he is changed from a physical to an ethical myth. He impersonated all that was good and holy in the life of the G.o.ds; and so it came to pa.s.s 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 G.o.ds; 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 G.o.ds 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 ragnarokr.
Ragna is genitive plural, from the word regin (G.o.d), and means of the G.o.ds. Rok means reason, ground, origin, a wonder, sign, marvel. It is allied to the O.H.G. _rahha_ = sentence, judgment. Ragnarok would then mean _the history of the G.o.ds_, and applied to the dissolution of the world, might be translated _the last judgment_, _doomsday_, _weird of G.o.ds and the world_. Rokr means _twilight_, and Ragnarokr, as the Younger Edda has it, thus means _the twilight of the G.o.ds_, 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 G.o.ds 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 h.o.a.rd, 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 h.e.l.l," 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 h.e.l.l, 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 h.e.l.l; 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 d.i.c.kering 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 h.e.l.l 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.