Chapter XIII: Section II (1)

CHIEF MYTHOLOGICAL PERSONAGES OF SCANDINAVIA.

ODIN, THOR, AND LOKE.—THEIR CHARACTERS PHYSICALLY INTERPRETED.—THEIR
WIVES AND OFFSPRING.—THE THREE DEMON CHILDREN OF LOKE.—INFLUENCE OF
THIS DEITY OVER THE FATE OF THE UNIVERSE.—HE IS PRESENT IN EVERY GREAT
MYTHOS.—RAPE OF IDUNA.—THOR’S VISITS TO JOTUNHEIM.—THOR AND THE GIANT
HYMIR.—THOR AND THE GIANT THRYM.—NIVOD, FREYR, FREYA.—EXPEDITION OF
SKIRNIR-ÆGIR AND RAN.—OTHER DEITIES.—BALDER.—PUNISHMENT OF
LOKE.—RAGNAROK.—RECOGNITION OF A GREAT FIRST CAUSE BY THE PAGAN
SCANDINAVIANS.

ODIN, THOR, LOKE.

The first two gods we place together, as well for the purpose of comparison as that of contrast; the last, because his agency is necessary to explain the other two.

According to the Eddas, ODIN had several wives; the first was _Frea_, or _Frigga_, by whom he had five sons, Thor, Balder, Braga, Hermod, and Tyr: the second was _Skada_, by whom he had Semming; the third was _Grydur_, by whom he had Vidar; the fourth was _Rinda_, by whom he had Balder, or Bo.[52]

In Valhalla he has a table separate from the Einheriar, but he lives only on wine; and the meats set before him he distributes to two wolves which stand by his side. These are _Geri_ the devouring, and _Freki_ the fierce.

He learns all that passes on earth, without the trouble of ascending Lidskialf[53], by means of two ravens, which leave Asgard at daybreak, and at dinner time return, to perch on his shoulders, and whisper into his ear all that they have seen. These ravens are—Observation and Memory; both presents from the enchantress Hulda. Hence he is called the raven god.

These mythi are for the most part sufficiently obvious. Frigga is a personification of the earth; while Odin himself, in his character of chief god, may represent heaven. Heaven and earth give origin to—thunder (Thor), the summer-sun (Balder), the swift messenger (Hermod), the hospitable board (Braga), and the undaunted defender of nature (Tyr). Skada, the daughter of the giant Thiasse, and a nymph of the mountains, is a personification of the spring winds; but we cannot see the import of the mythos—if, indeed, there were any intended—in regard to Semming. Why Vidar should be the offspring of Grydur is equally dark; but there is propriety enough in making the frost (Rinda) the mother of barrenness. The two wolves at Odin’s side denote his ferocity as the god of battles; and the two ravens, memory and observation, explain his knowledge of the past and present. To that of the future this god had no pretensions; this was reserved to the Norny Skulda, and to a few of the Valas, or prophetesses.

Immediately dependent on Odin—the ministers of his will as the god of war—were the three Valkyrs, or choosers of the slain. They also administer to the slain at his banquet.

There are many legends respecting Odin, who often visited mankind. We select one because it illustrates the observations we have made in regard to the rivalry of him and Thor. Sterkodder, the celebrated champion[54], when a child, was taken captive. He fell to the lot of one named Granè, or Whiskers, who was named Horsehair Whiskers, and who brought him up as a foster-son. This was no other than Odin in disguise, whose attachment to one destined to become so unrivalled in arms may be easily conceived. One night the destiny of the young man, unknown to himself, was to be shown him. Horsehair Whiskers, of whose quality he was ignorant, embarked with him in a small boat, and they proceeded to an island, landed, and by midnight reached an open plain in the centre of a forest. There he saw a large assemblage; and within the ring formed by the assemblage were twelve seats, for so many judges. Eleven were full, but one was empty, and Horsehair Whiskers immediately seated himself in it. From the instantaneous salute of Odin by the judges, and the mention of his name, the chieftain perceived that he was in the awful presence of that deity, and of the other gods. Odin said that the judges should now decree Sterkodder his destiny. Thor then spoke and said, “Alfhild, the mother of Sterkodder’s father, chose for her son’s-father (_husband_) a very wise Jötunn (_giant_) in preference to Asathor; wherefore I appoint to Sterkodder that he shall have neither son nor daughter, and thus be the last of his race.”

_Odin._ “I grant him to live three men’s age.”

_Thor._ “He shall do a vile act in each of them.”

_Odin._ “I give him that he shall own the best weapons and harness.”

_Thor._ “And I appoint him that he shall own neither land nor sand.”

_Odin._ “I give him that he shall be rich in money.”

_Thor._ “I lay on him that he shall never seem to have enough.”

_Odin._ “I give him victory and martial skill in every fight.”

_Thor._ “I lay on him that in every fight he shall lose a limb.”

_Odin._ “I give him the poet’s faculty, so that he shall produce poems with as much ease as unmeasured language.”

_Thor._ “He shall never be able to remember the verses he makes.”

_Odin._ “I grant him that he shall be favoured by those of greatest rank and name.”

_Thor_. “He shall be hated by all others.”

Then the judges ratified to Sterkodder all that had been said, and the council broke up.

The Saga from which this incident has been derived was written by a Norwegian, who certainly held Thor to be the equal, if not the superior, of Odin. It is not unlike the magian scene at the creation of the world, when to every good thing decreed by Ormusd, an evil one was joined by Ahriman. That Odin and Thor were rival deities, and that they gave rise to hostile sects, is evident. And there is another point from which this hostility may be viewed. The warriors who went to Valhalla were all of noble birth; they were jarls or herser, were rich and powerful. But what became of meaner freemen and thralls (serfs) who fell in battle? They went to Thrudheim to the palace of Thor, Bilskirner[55], which that the owner might not be outdone, had the same number of gates as the palace of Odin, viz. five hundred and forty. Does not this prove that Thor was the native, Odin the foreign, god?—that the former belonged to the vanquished, the latter to the victorious people? The very name of Thor shows that he was a Celtic divinity. He is the _Taranis_ of Lucan, the Toron of the Scottish Highlands, and the Tiermes of the Lapps.[56]

The visit of Odin to the giant Vafthrudnir, and his contest with him[57], may also serve to illustrate his boasted knowledge, as well as power. Frigga, his wife, was alarmed when she first heard of her husband’s intention to visit “that learned giant.” He conquers, indeed, in the strife, but not through any superiority of knowledge: it is rather by an unworthy artifice.

_Frigga_, the wife of Odin, was a distinguished personage in the northern Olympus. She is the queen and mother of the gods. Her palace, called Fensale, was magnificent; and it was a sort of drawing-room for all the goddesses. Her prescience was great; she could foresee the future, and she was invoked by women in childbed.

According to the vulgar genealogy,—that which the Odinists, in opposition to the Thorists, were anxious to establish,—THOR was the eldest son of Odin and Frigga. Even in Sweden he was, after Odin, the first in rank among the gods. We may even doubt whether by one sect of the Odinists he was not esteemed the first; for his image at Upsal, where he is represented seated on a throne, with the attributes of divine majesty about him,—while Odin, the war god, is standing at his right hand with a drawn sword, and Frigga, the goddess of production, on his left, with the fruits of nature in her hands,—clearly establishes his predominancy. His strength was unrivalled; and his structure so large, that no horse could carry him: he always travelled in a chariot drawn by two he-goats. He had three treasures, all unrivalled, all made by the Dwarfs. Of these the most famous was his hammer, called _Miölner_ (the miller, the bruiser), which, when thrown by his powerful hand, was irresistible; yet, however far it was thrown, it always returned to him. Formidable as it was, it was so small that he could put it in his pocket. No hands but his could touch it; nor even he without his wonderful steel gloves, the second of his treasures. The third was a belt,—_Melgingandur_, which doubled his strength whenever he girded it on. Above all the gods, he was the enemy of the Rimthurser, or Frost Giants, against whom, with his dreaded weapon, he waged unceasing war. The very glare of his eyes was tremendous: it was lightning; and lightning was emitted by his chariot wheels as he rolled along. Every day did he make the circuit of Asgard, to drive away the giants.

Of this mythos an interpretation is scarcely necessary. Miölner is his thunderbolt. His antipathy to the giants—the powers alike of darkness and of cold, and his daily circuit round Asgard, sufficiently explain themselves. His gloves and belt were an embellishment, which have no necessary connection with his nature. The latter is to be found in many oriental fictions, (the Arabian Nights, for instance,) and in many also current throughout Europe. His wife, _Sif_, is another illustration of the mythos. She is held to be a personification of the summer earth, and is represented in the act of distributing fruits and flowers. She, like her husband, was peculiarly worshipped in Norway. By a former husband she had a son—Uller, the god of hunters, whose residence was Ydale, or the Dewy Valley.[58] The most wonderful of her peculiarities was her _hair_, which was unrivalled for its beauty, and to which we have before adverted.

The fact, that Sif was worshipped in Norway alone, of all the Scandinavian regions, is another argument in favour of her husband’s supreme worship, long before the arrival of the Aser. A still stronger one is to be found in the fact, that Thrudheim, or Thrudvang, was the name of a district in that kingdom, no less than of a palace in heaven: and the strongest of all is, the peculiar affection with which he was regarded by the Norwegians, who held him to be their native, their tutelary god. He seems to have had some attributes of the Roman thunderer: the same day (Thursday), and the same planet (Jupiter), were sacred to him.

The giants of whom Thor was thus the natural, the everlasting enemy, were, as we have frequently observed, the offspring of Bergelmer, the old man of the mountains, and of his wife, who escaped the destruction of their race by the blood of Ymer, only because they chanced to be at sea, fishing, when the giant was slain. Repairing to the dark lower region which lies within the polar seas, they soon peopled it. Darkness, indeed, was the element of these beings: no sun enlightened or cheered them. When they visited earth, it was during the night, for then their power was the greatest. In magic they surpassed all other beings: they possessed many secrets, relating to the origin and nature of things, unknown to the wisest of the gods. With them the three Nornies, or destinies,—with them Vala herself, the great prophetess of heaven, was educated. They regarded the Aser with dislike,—as usurpers of a world which rightly belonged to them; and towards the sons of Askur, the creation of the gods, they bore equal dislike. This feeling, indeed, did not prevent the Aser from occasionally intermarrying with them; but the marriages were never well assorted. The king of this vast gloomy region was Ugarthiloc, or, more correctly, Utgardelok, viz. the Loke of Utgard, the monarch of the outer world. The notion entertained of this personage, and of the whole race, by the Danes, we have shown on a former occasion.[59] Wild as the legends there related may seem, they have their meaning. The reader will not fail to observe, that these original inhabitants of the earth—this people destroyed by the Aser, and exiled into the dreary wastes of the North, were the original Finnish, or rather Celtic race, whom the Goths expelled. The mythology of that race was full of giants; the Druids boasted of an acquaintance with nature denied to the rest of mankind; and the boast was probably a just one. The testimony borne by Cæsar to the extensive character of their knowledge, will abundantly illustrate this part of the historical question. Again, the Celts pretended to mystical science: in proof of it, look to Cæsar, to the traditions rife wherever the Celts have been located, and, above all, to the fragments of the ancient Welsh bards preserved in the Archæologia of the principality. The Eddas are filled with Celtic mythological allusions. For example, Celtic were the dwarfs or fairies of the benevolent class; while the malignant ones, who were a kind of evil genii, came with the Aser from a seat where the two principles of good and evil were a dominant article of the popular creed.

A personage no less important than Odin or Thor in the Scandinavian mythology, is LOKE, or, as he is sometimes called, Luptur. He was important, not from his power, or his wisdom, or his dignity, but from his cunning, his treachery, his ill-nature, and the influence which he exercised alike over gods and men. He was the son of the giant Farbautè, by the enchantress Laufeya. Though of giant race, he obtained admission among the gods: indeed, as his manners were exceedingly pleasant, his mirth constant, and his wit unbounded, whenever they were not mixed with spite, he could not fail to be acceptable to so vulgar a race as the Aser. But when, as indeed was often the case, there was malice in his jokes, his laughter made the hearer shudder. Why the gods should tolerate him, is not very clear; but destiny was probably the reason which a devout Odinist would have assigned for it,—a very convenient reason in most systems of mythology. His birth might be traced to the origin of time; for, in some way or other, he was concerned with Odin in the work of creation, though the connection is very obscurely hinted at. He was a relation, we are told, of the Utgard Loke, or Ugarthiloc, the monarch of the frosty giants. These two personages were no doubt originally the same; but as the Celts and Aser had different notions of the same being, it was found necessary to introduce the two into the united creed. In virtue of his connection with them, Loke often visited the giants, by whom he was as little trusted as by the Aser. But he was sometimes useful to both; and, from the malice of his nature, no less than from his dislike to the gods, whom he at once feared and hated, he was frequently the ally of the giants in their efforts to recover their lost dominion, and to destroy the usurpers. If he thus brought the latter into danger, he alone could extricate them from it. In perfect accordance with the Eddas, he is thus described by Ohlenschlager:—

Amongst bright Asgard’s lords
Is one, As-Luptur hight.
Like honey are his words;
His heart is filled with spite:
His form is passing fair,
And winning is his mien;
But still his guileful leer
Shows all is false within.

Though oft his traitorous wiles
The Aser’s wrath provoke,
His smooth tongue still beguiles,
And stops the impending stroke.
Oft cited to appear
He cowers the Ash before.[60]
At Odin’s table near
His place to Asa Thor.[61]

He was, indeed, as a god, the familiar companion of Thor; who, however, had no great wish for his society. Like most of the gods, he was married. His wife, _Signe_, was an amiable being, who loved him in spite of his depravity. By her he had two sons, Nari and Vali, whose fate will be mentioned in the proper place. But he had other and more mischievous offspring by the giantess Augerbode,—_Fenris_ the wolf, _Jormungandur_ the great serpent, and _Hela_ the queen of death. This alleged affinity will confirm the observation, that there was originally but one Loke, the lord of Utgard, and consequently the everlasting foe of the gods. How the Asgard Loke should become so wicked as to produce such offspring, might surprise us, if we were not assured that he was not so originally, and that he became so by eating the half-roasted heart of an enchantress.

These three children of Loke were reared in Utgard by the mother. The fatal influence which they were to exercise over the universe, was not concealed from Vala, the mysterious prophetess of heaven, or from Skulda, the Norny of the future. The gods being warned, sent to secure them. Jormungandur, one of the most dreaded, was seized, and by Odin cast into the great sea that separates the human from the giant world. There so large did it become, that it surrounded the whole earth,—being condemned to hold its tail in its mouth, and thus to form a circle. There he lies, waiting for the time when destiny will unloose him—the Ragnarok, or the twilight of the gods; when he will assist in the destruction of the visible universe.

Hela, the next mythologic offspring, is hideous to behold,—her body being half livid, half of natural colour. By Odin, or rather by destiny, of which he was merely the instrument, she was placed in the upper confines of Nifleheim,—in the region which, from her, is called Hell (Helheim). She was invested with dominion over six, or perhaps seven, of the nine worlds, (as we have before observed, there is some doubt whether Muspelheim be eternal,)—over men, and dwarfs, and giants, and gods. All who die a natural death proceed to her “drear abode:” hence her title, queen of the dead. “Hela’s hall,” says the prose Edda, “is affliction; her table is famine; her knife is hunger; her threshold, a drawbridge; her bed, lingering sickness; her tent, cursing.” She too, like Odin, had nornies, whose province it was to summon mortals to her vast domain. But these were much inferior in loveliness and dignity to the celestial nornies. They appeared to the fated victim by night only. Hela herself was sometimes believed thus to appear. She had a dark red cock, to signify, by its crowing, the approach of fate; and a spectre horse, to carry the doomed to her gloomy abode.

The third demon offspring of Loke, the wolf Fenris, is no less wonderful than his brother and sister. The one had been surprised and, thrown into the sea; the other had been partly persuaded to submit, through the high dignity offered to her; but Fenris, who was more powerful, was also more troublesome. He was taken, indeed, and bound; but he snapped his fetters, strong as they were, as if they had been nothing. A massive chain was now made, and he was bid to try its strength: it snapped as if it had been dried clay. Another was made double the strength of the preceding,—the strongest that the gods could make; but with a very slight effort it too gave way. What was to be done with this formidable criminal,—one destined, if oracles were true, to endanger the world? The gods had no fetter in which to bind him; the giants, who were skilful, could not be expected to join in any design against one of their own body,—one, too, that was naturally hostile to the Aser. In this, as in many other dilemmas, recourse was had to the Dwarfs in the bowels of the earth. At the instance of Skirnir, the messenger of Freyr, they constructed a chain called Gleipner; which, though so slender as to resemble a silken thread, was nevertheless not to be broken by gods, or giants, or dwarfs. The Edda acquaints us with the materials of which it was constructed. These were six, all curious enough to deserve mentioning:—the sound made by the feet of a cat; the beard of a woman; the roots of huge rocks; the fibres of trees; the breath of fishes; the spittle of birds. But how bind by it the formidable monster? Deceit must be used. Repairing with him to a solitary island, the gods desired him to try his strength on this, as he had done on preceding things. “Little honour,” replied the cunning demon, “can result from breaking a silken thread; but probably it may be enchanted!” and he refused to try it. He was next taunted and jeered; and in vexation he at length consented to be bound; but then, to be assured that the gods were honest in their proffer, he insisted that some one of them should put a hand in his mouth. They were in utter dismay; but the undaunted Tyr[62], the northern Mars, the defender of the gods, at length resolved to sacrifice a member for the preservation of the universe. He therefore placed his hand in the open jaw, and the wolf allowed himself to be fettered. The chain was cunningly fastened round his body, passed through a rent rock, carried downwards to the centre of the earth, and there made fast. Fenris now tried as before; but so far from escaping, every effort that he made only entangled him the more, and rivetted his bonds the more firmly. He therefore desisted; but in his anger he bit off the hand of Tyr. From that moment the god has been only left-handed; but as he uses that hand with much effect, he is still to be dreaded. He alone had courage to take food to an animal, the roaring of which was felt by all nature, until the gods thrust a sword into his jaws, and thus gagged him. There he lies until Ragnarok, when, like Midgard’s serpent, he will break loose.

There is no personage in the whole system of a more mythic character than Loke. He was evidently the personification of the active evil principle. His name signifies _flame_; and he is a representative of the demon of fire—the _destructive_, in opposition to the alimentary, aerial fire, of which Balder may be considered the symbol. At this day the devil is called Loke by the Norwegians. Still there is frequently some obscurity in the mythi respecting him, and it is occasioned by his being so often confounded with the demon king of Utgard. Though they were originally _one_, the Edda has made him into two, in conformity no doubt with the genius of two distinct systems of mythology. The mysterious allusion to the assistance which he afforded Odin in the work of creation, is one great proof of his identification with the powers of evil: his relationship with the giants, on both sides, sufficiently accounts for his hostility towards the gods, with whom he associated that he might find an opportunity of triumphing over them. He is styled a coward, because his deeds will not bear the light—the inventor of deceit, of lies, of every thing base. The first of his offspring, the great serpent, is evidently a relic of the Celtic creed. The Britons acknowledged its existence; and there are two bold promontories on the coast to which they have given the name of the Worm’s Head.[63] Of the wolf Fenris the character is more obscure, though no less confirmatory of the mythos. It is doubtless a symbol of destruction. In several countries of the East, it is believed that a wolf will finally destroy, if not the world, the sun and moon. Thus, in the Budhist system, a wolf, Rakoo, is always on the watch to swallow both luminaries. This mythos, we suspect, with a living writer[64], has given rise to the superstition so common in the middle ages,—that of men-wolves; viz., the power possessed by some men of assuming the form of that animal. Hela, or death, the offspring of sin, or Satan (Loke), needs no explanation. We may, however, observe, that there is some plausibility in the arguments of Magnussen, when he attempts to show that Helheim is more ancient than Valhalla; that it is the place of punishment acknowledged by the original inhabitants, while the warrior’s heaven was introduced by the Gothic conquerors.

The mythological fables in which Loke so prominently appears, will illustrate his character better, and certainly more agreeably, than any formal description. In most of them he was associated with Thor; but we select one in which Odin and Hoenir were concerned with him. Hoenir, we must observe, is but another name for Vile, the brother of Odin, who assisted in the work of creation.[65]

RAPE OF IDUNA.

The three Aser one day left Asgard to see other worlds, especially Utgard. Travelling over dreary wastes, they reached a mountainous region, more hungry than they had for some time been. Entering a valley, they found a herd of cattle, and killed one of the animals for supper. Loke, who was to be the cook, made a fire, and proceeded to his task, while the two nobler gods walked about. But notwithstanding the great heat of the fire, the ox would not roast. A voice, from the tree above him, told him that he would have no supper unless he promised to let the speaker join. He looked up, and seeing an eagle only, gave his consent. The bird now descended to the fire, and seized both shoulders, which he, considering as somewhat too large a share, would not permit. Taking a large billet of wood, he struck the unreasonable animal; when the eagle instantly flew upwards, one end of the billet adhering to its beak. But alas! the other end was no less tenacious of Loke’s hand; and away he was dragged over mountain, wood, and stream, his arm ready to fall from his body, and his feet sorely wounded by being trailed over the sharp rocks and bushes. He lustily called for help to Odin and Thor. “Cry away!” replied the eagle, who was no other than the giant Thiasse in that shape[66]; “but never shalt thou be released from this situation, unless thou promise by oath to bring Iduna and her apples from Asgard to me!”

Iduna was the wife of Braga, the god of eloquence, and daughter to the dwarf Ivalldr, one of the most scientific of his race. She was a goddess, and the wife of a god: for both honours she was no doubt indebted to the wonderful apples of which she was the guardian, and which had been given her by her kindred. They had this virtue, that when the gods felt the approach of age, they had only to eat of these apples to be restored to all the bloom of youth. The giants, like the gods, were subject to decay; and, like the gods, they wished for the means of immortality,—to escape the dark empire of Hela.

As Loke was no friend to the Aser, he swore to comply with the giant’s demand, within a given time. He was therefore released, and enabled to return with the two gods to Asgard. When the covenanted time arrived, he told Iduna, that in a neighbouring wood he had discovered some apples, much finer, and much more valuable, than any she possessed. Her curiosity being raised, she took some of her own apples with her, to compare with the others, and was accompanied by Loke to the wood; but scarcely had they passed the boundary of Asgard, than Thiasse arriving in the eagle’s shape, bore her away to the dark mountains of Utgard.

Great was the consternation of the Aser at the disappearance of Iduna and her apples. The effect was soon visible: they became weaker, less supple, decrepit, and wrinkled. Though the season was spring, the flowers withered, and the leaves became sear as at the close of autumn. A council of the gods was convoked to learn how and whither Iduna had disappeared. No one could give them any other information than this,—that she had been last seen with Loke departing from Asgard. Loke was examined; and when he showed a disposition to evade the questions that were asked, Thor seized him, and threw him into the air so high that his heels struck the moon, and then descended to the sea. All this was nothing in comparison with what he would suffer if he did not restore the goddess. He readily promised to do so, if Freya would lend him her disguise, that of a hawk. Being furnished with it, he flew in that disguise to Utgard, and reached the abode of Thiasse just as that giant had left it to row for a short time on the neighbouring sea. Changing Iduna into a swallow, he returned with her in his claws towards Asgard. When Thiasse returned, and learned the departure of the goddess, he resumed his eagle’s dress, and rapidly followed in the direction which the hawk had taken. He obtained sight of the fugitives just as they approached Asgard; and he would certainly have overtaken them but for a stratagem of the Aser, who were anxiously watching the pursuit. Forming a vast pile of faggots under the walls of the city, they set fire to it; and the flames ascended so high as to burn the eagle’s wings. Thiasse fell to the ground, and was immediately despatched by Thor.

This is one of the most interesting fables of the prose Edda. It has doubtless a meaning, though we are by no means sure that Magnussen has discovered the right one. According to him, Iduna is the spring, which may be called the renewer of nature’s youth. Spring is always accompanied by joy and harmony,—by the song of birds, by the cheerful hum of men, by the gambols of animals, by the sportive winds: hence it is personified in Iduna: she is the wife of Braga, the god of poetry, of music, of song, of harmony. Thiasse, the giant, is the winter: Iduna flies from him in the shape of the swallow, which is everywhere the bird of spring. The destruction of the giant by the flames, denotes the season of winter killed by the heat of the spring.—That this explanation of the mythos is ingenious, as well as plausible, cannot be denied; but we are not quite satisfied with it. Though a meaning is involved in these fables, we doubt whether all the incidents are thus designed. Many were invented through the love of invention, or rather to please the multitude; and by such inventors physical principles would not always be observed. For this obvious reason, much caution is requisite in interpretations which have not positive authority for their base.

The next mythos in which Loke is exhibited, is in connection with Thor.

THOR’S VISITS TO UTGARD.

Geyruth, also called Geirrod, was one of the Aser’s most formidable enemies. In the former volume we have given, from Saxo Grammaticus, a description of his empire[67],—a description rivalling in power of invention any to be found in Homer. To it we refer the reader, before he proceeds any farther with this narrative, as nothing can be more curious than to compare the account which Saxo derived from tradition (no Edda had then been compiled), and, what is more, from Danish tradition, with that given in the sacred books of the Scandinavians from Norwegian sources.

Thor’s first journey was preceded by that of Loke. Loke, with all his cunning, was frequently in trouble;—and how could the devil be otherwise? Assuming a hawk’s disguise, (the hawk in more countries than the North was the symbol of that personage,) he entered the dominions of Geyruth, was caught, and, when he refused to answer the questions that were put to him, was shut up in a chest during three months. His revenge then gave way, and he confessed who he was. The giant then released him, on his promise to bring Thor to Utgard, without belt or hammer. The object of the giant’s policy may be easily guessed. Thor, the defender of Asgard, the everlasting enemy of the giants, would be reduced to the same level with themselves when deprived of those wonderful treasures. Loke had no difficulty in prevailing on the stout-hearted god to visit the dominions of the giant king. On the way to that region, within the boundaries of Utgard, was a magic forest, of which the trees were all iron. It was inhabited by certain enchantresses, who were the mothers of male and female sorcerers, who could at any time assume the wolf’s shape. These enchantresses were cruel: they often raised storms, and enticed travellers into their power from the mere love of destruction. Thor met one of these witches, who cautioned him against the arts of Geyruth, and presented him with a pair of iron gloves, a girdle, and a staff.

On reaching the river Vimur, the longest one in the world, he observed Gialp, one of the giant’s daughters, standing astride the whole river,—one foot on each bank; and making the water rise in a fearful manner. He threw a rush at her, and forced her to retire. Wading across, he proceeded to Geyruth’s palace, which he entered, and a separate lodging was provided for him. In one corner of the cavern was a stool, on which he sat down; but scarcely was he seated, when the stool began to rise from the ground. With the staff which he held, he struck the roof of the cave, and immediately heard a loud scream beneath him. On looking, he discovered, with broken backs, three daughters of his host, who had placed themselves on the roof with the design of crushing him to death. Geyruth himself did not escape more easily. Inviting Thor to drink with him, the two sat down in another part of the palace, one on each side of a large fire. Having sat for some time, the giant seized a red-hot iron wedge that was glowing in the fire, and threw it with all his might at the god. The latter caught it with his gloved hand, and returned it with such force, that though Geyruth had run behind a pillar, it went through both pillar, himself, and the walls of the palace. Still it remained in his breast; and in that position, attended by his three maimed daughters, he has remained ever since.[68]

In the second journey, which is much more imaginative, Thor was accompanied by Loke. The temple of Upsal had been visited by Utgardelok (the demon king of Utgard)[69], who had not only extinguished the sacred fire, but made a ruin of the edifice. Now Upsal was the palace which, above all others in Midgard, Odin loved. In it Thor and Frigga too were worshipped with great pomp; and the priestesses of the latter were of royal blood,—the daughters of kings. Great was the wrath of the three deities. Thor, in particular, was observed to knit his brows, and to clench his fist at table: but he spoke not a word; for he was revolving the means of vengeance. Formidable as he knew the demon king to be in natural, and still more in supernatural power,—in a science unknown to the gods,—he resolved to invade his dominions. Having emptied a full horn presented to him by one of the Valkyrs, he called for his car, for his goats, and for Loke, as the companion of his journey. Having harnessed the animals, nailed on their golden shoes, wound the reins round his waist, he entered with Loke; and grasping Miölner in his right hand, proceeded at a rapid pace down the bridge Bifrost.

Adown the pointed way
As drove the impetuous god,
The red flames, lambent, play
Along the wheel-tracks broad.

Heimdal his horn blew loud,[70]
The god with sleepless eye;
Seven maids submissive bowed[71]
As the gold car flew by.

On earth some meteor dire
Men thought then to behold;
The heavens were fraught with fire;
In peals the thunder rolled.[72]

Reaching a cottage towards nightfall, they asked for hospitality, which was readily granted. Humble was the cot; and it contained little for gods to banquet on,—nothing but simple vegetables. But Thor was not anxious on this account. With his hammer he slew his two goats, which were skinned and roasted with considerable despatch. Ample was the entertainment; not only was the flesh delicious, but the place teemed with excellent mead; and some idea may be formed of a divine appetite, when we add, that the two goats were entirely devoured,—all but the bones, which Thor desired should be carefully thrown back into the skins that were stretched before the hearth. But Thialf, a son of the rustic host, and a mere stripling, broke a thigh-bone of one goat for the sake of the marrow. The next morning, before daybreak, Thor arose, and swung his hammer over the two skins, when suddenly the two goats rose up as if nothing had happened. But one of them limped; and dreadful was the countenance of the god. Supplication, however, disarmed him; he took the youth and a sister into his service; and leaving the car and the goats at the peasant’s cottage, all four proceeded on foot. The boy, who immediately won the favour of his master, carried a wallet; and the maiden, quite a beauty, tripped lightly along. Thor marched pensively; his hammer flung over his shoulder; his dark locks escaping from his silvery casque. They reached the sea, which was agitated by a dreadful tempest; and Loke began to be afraid; but he was compelled to follow the god, who rushed into the water, like some thundering rock. The mortals too followed: but the storm continued to rage; and they required all the help of the leader to reach the other side. A trackless desert was next to be traversed; and on they went, in darkness, except that the moon now and then gleamed,—weary, hungry, wet, and faint. Other trials were to be encountered,—the storm, the lightning, the slippery ice, the deep mud; the roaring wind, which the demon king excited by his magic power. Thor, who had to support the maiden Roska, lost his temper; and he vowed revenge on Utgardelok when he should meet him. What seemed to be a hut, in the midst of the pitiless waste, presented itself; and three of them entered it, Thor himself remaining at the entrance with his mallet in his hand, to protect them while they slept. Vast, and of a strange form, was the only apartment which the hut contained; but in a storm any port is welcome. Towards morning, while Thor glanced in great anger over the waste, he heard a strange noise, and felt a strange motion. Rising, he beheld, by the faint glimmer of the moon, a vast giant—so vast as to cover several acres—asleep and snoring. Grasping his mallet, he was preparing to punish the intruder, when up started the giant. “Who are you?” demanded Thor. “Skrymner, the servant of king Utgardelok, just come from Jotunheim.” He addressed Thor by name, of whose feats he had heard much; but common report, he thought, had been too favourable; for after all, even _he_, who was of little esteem compared with his fellows, could put this hero of the gods in the palm of his right hand. “I have lost my gauntlet!” suddenly observed the giant, who groping for it, took it up. What was it but the strange hut in which Loke and the two mortals had passed the greater part of the night? All but Thor were dismayed at this commencement of their acquaintance with the subjects of Utgardelok; but Thor trusted in his hammer. “What brings you so far to look at a desert?” was the natural question of Skrymner. Thor replied, that he was determined to see, face to face, their boasted monarch, whose magic and frozen mountains he only ridiculed. The giant thought he might rue his boldness: however, if he was determined to proceed, let him do so, and he (Skrymner) would be his guide. When evening came, and the giant laid down to sleep under a great tree, until supper was ready, there was more magic. Neither Thialf, nor Loke, nor Thor himself, could open the wallet, or cut the strings. In great wrath the god seized his hammer, and struck at the forehead of the sleeping giant. “Has a leaf fallen on my face?” asked the giant, rubbing his face, and wondering why they had not gone to sleep. Towards midnight, the snoring of Skrymner so enraged Thor, that he arose, and aimed a hard and more vigorous blow at the monster: the hammer seemed to enter his very brain. “Has an acorn fallen?” was the cool observation of the other, as he rubbed his face. A third blow, which seemed to send the very handle into the giant’s head, had no better effect; so that Thor now began to have less confidence in the weapon which had hitherto terrified all created things.

But we must not dwell on events which have been so frequently described.[73] The adventures of the god and his companions at the palace of Utgardelok were not such as to inspire him with more confidence. Loke—fire itself, which consumes all things—was beat at eating. Thialf—a mythologic personage too, though represented as a peasant’s son, his name signifying _thought_—is exceeded in the race. The mighty thunderer himself is vanquished in three successive trials. Though he is the sun, the greatest drinker surely in all nature, he cannot much lessen a large horn of liquor that is presented to him: he cannot lift a huge tom-cat from the floor: he cannot, in wrestling, throw a toothless old woman, who brings him on one knee. In much shame, though in no consternation, the god returned with his companions. On leaving the confines of the city, however, he was made acquainted with the deceptions that had been practised on him. The three blows which he had struck, were not at a head, but at a rocky mountain; and deep were the dells which they had made in it. The horn was the ocean; yet he had drunk so much of it as to leave in many places land instead of water. The cat was Midgard’s great serpent, which he had almost lifted from the sea. The old woman was Hela, the goddess of death, who with all her strength could only bring him on one knee. In great anger, he was going to exact revenge for such tricks, when the spectre and the city itself vanished like mist.

This mythos in a great degree explains itself. The contest between Thor and Utgard’s monarch is evidently one between the summer and the winter, between heat and cold, between light and darkness. Many of the details, we believe, in opposition to Magnussen, who sees in every thing a physical meaning, to have been created without any other design than entertainment.

_Hymis-quida_, a song about Hymir, is from the elder Edda, and is of great antiquity.

THOR AND THE GIANT HYMIR.

The sea-god Ægir gave a banquet to the gods; but he was little prepared for such drinkers, and his mead fell short. Thor called for more with some anger; and that anger was not diminished when he found that no more was forthcoming. The excuse was, that Ægir had not a cauldron large enough to brew sufficient mead at a time. Tyr, who was present with the rest, and who, though a god, is represented as the son of the giant Hymir, observed that his father had one a mile deep, which might be obtained by stratagem. On this business the two gods immediately departed in the chariot of Thor towards Hymir’s abode, which lay on the confines of the eastern sea. Here they found two ladies, the mother and wife of the giant; the former a strange creature, with 900 heads; the latter, who was the mother of Tyr, a fine woman, and kind as she was comely. She told them both that she feared Hymir’s return; since he was subject to dreadful passions; and she hid them behind some kettles. Towards evening he returned, in no good humour. As he entered the house, the icy mountains emitted a thundering noise. An old man he was to view, and the hairs of his head, which resembled a forest, were frozen. His wife, saluting him, told him that their son was arrived, in company with the famous enemy of the giants and the friend of men, Veor.[74] “Look,” she added, “where they sit, at the extremity of the house, to avoid thy glance!” The giant looked; but they were concealed by the nine kettles. At his glance, however, the tree or beam from which they were suspended, burnt into two, and eight of them burst. The two gods now advanced; and though Hymir was compelled to exercise some degree of hospitality, he did so unwillingly. Three oxen (one for each, we suppose, unless the lion’s share was to be Hymir’s,) were ordered to be roasted. But Thor showed that he had more than a giant’s appetite; for, to the surprise of his host, he ate two of the animals himself. This made the latter observe, that the next evening the two visitors must eat what they could take in hunting or fishing for themselves. The next day, therefore, Thor proposed to fish, if the giant would give him bait. “Go amongst the cattle, and seize one,” was the reply. “I suspect, however,” Hymir added, “that thou wilt not easily catch such bait.” Without reply, Thor went into the wood, and seizing the horns of a large black bull, pulled off its head, and returned to the giant, who expressed some surprise at such a feat in one so little. They now went out into the sea, and the giant hauled two whales. But nobler was the prey of Thor: with the bull’s head he caught the great serpent Jormungandur, the head of which he drew out of the water, and which spewed venom upon him. The rocks trembled; the desert places howled, and the ancient earth rolled itself closer. He then struck the monster with his mallet, and it sank. Hymir rowed back, sullen and silent; and the strength which had been exhibited in bringing the two whales to his mountain home, gave him some reason for thought. When returned, the two gods were desired to try their strength in other things. A cup was put into the hands of Thor, and he was defied to break it. In vain did he dash it against several pillars in succession: he split _them_, but _it_ remained unbroken. The wife now whispered him to throw it against the giant’s head, which was much harder than the rock. He did so; the head was uninjured; but the cup was broken, and the owner lamented its loss. The next trial of strength was to carry the great cauldron out of the house. Tyr tried twice; but could not so much as move it. But Thor placed it upon his head; and though the edges descended to his heels, he walked away with it. He was now pursued by a great number of giants whom he slew with his mallet.—From that time the sea-god was able to treat the Aser men to their satisfaction.

Of this mythos the physical meaning is dark; and this darkness is probably owing to the fondness with which the northern scalds added extraneous circumstances for the sake of embellishment. Nothing, indeed, is more hopeless than the attempt to restore these ancient pieces to the original fragmentary state in which they were left by the priests of Thor and of Odin. The scald has, by embellishing, concealed the priest; the fabulist concealed the philosophic theologian. All that we can safely assert is, that there is here a physical contest between heat and cold, between evaporation and congelation; that the sun (Thor), having drunk up all the streams of the earth, now invades the dominions of frost and snow. The bursting of the vessels under the glance of Hymir, is a notion universally diffused in the northern latitudes. Thus, the two magicians the suitors of Gunhilda, could destroy every thing by their glance.[75] The meaning doubtless is, that excessive frost makes every thing brittle, and may therefore be said to split every thing.

If the scalds took such liberties with the ancient or poetic Edda, as often to bury the sun, they were more licentious still in regard to the younger or prose Edda. This work was evidently compiled to explain the former. With _it_ a licence still more dangerous has been taken; so that, in many instances, it bears little conformity with the preceding work. We may add, that by modernising, paraphrasing, and embellishing the prose Edda, Ohlenschlager has done no service to the ancient mythology of his country: he cannot be followed by any one that would form a correct notion of the subject. In the same manner as the compilers of the second Edda deviated from the spirit of the first, so has the celebrated Danish poet deviated from _them_.[76] For the sake of illustrating this divergence, let us advert for a moment to the same adventure in the prose Edda and in the version of Ohlenschlager: it will be found to have lost its mythical character in proportion to the improvement of its fable.

When Thor reflected on the gross impositions which Utgardelok had practised on him, he was apprehensive, and not without reason, that gods and men would take him for a fool. To vindicate his merits, he ventured again to visit Utgard, and without Loke, whose honour he justly suspected. This time he would, like them, change his form, and he obtained from Odin, in the shape of ointment, power that would enable him to do so. Leaving behind his car and his goats—

O’er Dovre’s ridge[77] he strode,
For cliff nor torrent slack’d;
The tall pines, where he trode,
Like field of stubble crack’d.

Sneehattan’s peak of snow,
And Jotunfieldt he past,
Then sought the plains below,
And the sea reach’d at last;
He mark’d in curling wreath
The dull wave roll away,
And saw where, far beneath,
The serpent, brooding, lay.

His heart with hope beat high,
His voice shook as he spake,
Turning to Heaven his eye,
“No more, accursed snake,”
Quoth he: “in giant bend
Earth prison’d shalt thou keep,
Nor struggling sea-man send
To fell Ran’s cavern deep.”

“But being now resolved to proceed with caution, he began by changing his form. Throwing his ponderous helmet on the ground, it became a rock covered with pines.

Next, from his cloven chin,
He tore the bushy beard;
Which, cast in the ravine,
A thorny copse appear’d.
A smooth-faced peasant boy
He stood, in wadmel[78] blue,
White Heimdall smiled for joy
The cunning wile to view.

Now straight to Hymir’s grot
He hies, a simple hind,
His flaxen ringlets float
Wild in the morning wind;
His belt, by magic cheat,
A woollen girdle seem’d,
Art with like art to meet,
No shame the Aser deem’d.

Miölner, as woodman’s axe,
Athwart his arm he bare,
His courage high ’gan wax
At thought of vengeance near.
In moss-lined cavern deep,
Lull’d by a torrent’s play,
Taking his morning sleep,
At length the giant lay.”

“The poet in describing Hymir’s residence gives a vivid picture of Norwegian scenery, black rugged rocks crowned with pines, a waterfall, a river white with foam dashing through thick brushwood down the ravine, and hard by a verdant dell filled with cattle. On hearing a stranger’s step, Hymir sprang up, and demanded of the stripling how he dared unbidden to venture into his wood. Thor replied that he felt no apprehension:

‘My pulse beats steadily,’
The youth replied: ‘for ne’er
Hath Nornies’ stern decree
Been changed, I trow, by fear.
One of a form so good,
Of generous soul should be;
My little drop of blood,
What would it profit thee?’”

“He finishes a long speech by saying, that his object was to obtain the giant’s permission to accompany him when he went out to fish.

The grisly giant grinn’d
So wide, that either ear
His mouth appear’d behind,
Ne’er yet was seen such leer;
The earth shook all around,
He laugh’d so heartily,
‘One with a heart so sound
I’ll never harm,’ quoth he.”

“He then granted the request, and invited Thor to take shelter in his cave from the keen morning wind, adding tauntingly,

‘When many a league from shore
The kraken’s snort we hear,
And whirling Maelström’s roar,
’Tis then we’ll talk of fear.’”

“Thor asked only to be put to the proof, and now begged to be allowed to take with him what he might want for his fishing. Hymir assented, telling him that for bait he would find a grub amongst the cows. Thor went into the field, and a wild bull rushing towards him, he seized it by the horns and brake off its head, and then throwing it over his shoulders leaped the enclosure, and hastened to Hymir, who was getting the boat ready.

When Hymir the bull’s head
On the youth’s shoulders saw,
He laugh’d, and own’d the deed
Was good for one so raw.

Then shoved the boat from shore,
Swift through the waves it flew.
Hymir plied well his oar,
And Thor row’d stoutly too.”