Chapter LVIII: Section I: Loke

We have now made an acquaintance with the lives and exploits or the good and propitious divinities, with the asas and vans. But what of the evil? Whence come they, and how have they been developed? Many a philosopher has puzzled his brain with this vexed question, and the wisest minds are still engaged in deep meditations in regard to it. It is and will remain an unsolved problem. But what did the old Goths, and particularly our Norse forefathers, think about the development of evil? What forms did it assume among them? How did it spring forth in nature, and how did it impress the minds and hearts of the people? These are questions now to be answered.

There are in the Norse mythology two individuals by the name of Loke. The one is _Utgard_-Loke, hideous in his whole being, and his character was sketched in the myth about Thor and Skrymer (see pp. 312-322); he represents physical and moral evil in all its naked loathsomeness. The other is _Asa_-Loke, of whom there also have been accounts given at various times in connection with the propitious gods; and it is of him solely we are now to speak, as the former belongs wholly to the race of giants. Asa-Loke, whom we shall hereafter call by his common name, Loke, is the same evil principle in all its various manifestations; but as he makes his appearance among the gods, he represents evil in the seductive and seemingly beautiful form in which it glides about through the world. We find him flowing in the veins of the human race and call him sin, or passion. In nature he is the corrupting element in air, fire and water. In the bowels of the earth he is the volcanic flame, in the sea he appears as a fierce serpent, and in the lower world we recognize him as pale death. Thus, like Odin, Loke pervades all nature. And in no divinity is it more clear than in this, that the idea proceeding from the visible workings of nature entered the human heart and mind and there found its moral or ethical reflection. Loke symbolises sin, shrewdness, deceitfulness, treachery, malice, etc. Loke is indeed in his development one of the profoundest myths. In the beginning he was intimately connected with Odin, then he became united with the air, and finally he impersonates the destructive fire. And in these changes he keeps growing worse and worse.

In the banquet of Æger he reminds Odin that they in the beginning of time had their blood mixed. Thus the Elder Edda:

LOKE:

Do thou mind, Odin,
That we in time’s morning
Mixed blood together!
Then thou pretendedst
That thou never wouldst ask a drink
Unless it was offered to both of us.

Sameness of blood symbolizes sameness of mind, and Loke is in the Younger Edda called Odin’s brother, the uncle of the gods. Under the name of Loder, or Lopter, Loke took part in the creation of man; he gave the senses, the sources of evil desires, the passions, the fire of the veins. Thus he is like the fire, which is beneficent and necessary for development, but also dangerous and destructive. With the giantess Angerboda (producing sorrow) he begat the wolf Fenrer, but the most disgusting monster is the woman Hel, who is a daughter of Loke. _Odin_ unites himself with the gigantic force in nature, but he does this to develop, ennoble and elevate it. _Loke_ unites himself with crude matter, but by this union he only still further develops the evil principle, which then expresses itself in all kinds of terrible phenomena: the sea tosses its waves against heaven itself, and rushes out upon the land; the air trembles; then comes snow and howling winds; the rain splashes down upon the earth, etc. Such is also his influence upon the human mind. He is the sly, treacherous father of lies. In appearance he is beautiful and fair, but in his mind he is evil, and in his inclinations he is inconstant. Notwithstanding his being ranked among the gods, he is the slanderer of the gods, the grand contriver of deceit and fraud, the reproach of gods and men. Nobody renders him divine honors. He surpasses all mortals in the arts of perfidy and craft.

There is some dispute about the real meaning of Loke’s name. Some derive it from the Icelandic _lúka_, to end, thus arguing that Loke is the end and consummation of divinity. Another definition is given, taken from the Icelandic _logi_ (Anglo-Saxon _lîg_), according to which the primary meaning would be fire, flame. He is also called Loder, or Lopter (the aërial; compare Norse _luft_, Anglo-Saxon _lyft_, air); and this would seem to corroborate the definition of Loke as fire. Loder (_lodern_, to blaze) would then designate him in the character of the blazing earthly fire, and Lopter as the heated and unsteady air. He is son of the giant Farbaute, that is, the one who strikes the ships, the wind. His mother is Laufey, or Nal, the former meaning leaf-isle, and the latter needle. Oak trees produce leaves and pines produce needles; both Laufey and Nal are therefore combustibles. His brothers are Byleist (dwelling destroyer, raging flame), and Helblinde, the latter being another name for Odin.

In the previous chapters it has frequently been seen how Loke time and again accompanied the gods, they making use of his strength and cunning; but it has also been shown how he acted in concert with the jotuns and exposed the gods to very great perils and then extricated them again by his artifices. By Loke’s advice the gods engage the artificer to build a dwelling so well fortified that they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the frost-giants. For this the artificer is to receive Freyja, providing he completes his work within a stipulated time; but Loke prevented him from completing his task by the birth of Sleipner. When the dwarfs forge the precious things for the gods, it is he who brings about that the work lacks perfection, and even the handle of Thor’s mallet, Mjolner, becomes too short; for evil is everywhere present and makes the best things defective. He cuts the hair of the goddess Sif, and by this he makes way for the forging of the precious articles; thus evil often in spite of itself produces good results. Examples of this abound in the history of the world. Loke gives Thjasse an opportunity to rob Idun, but brings her back again and thus causes Thjasse’s death. He hungers at Geirrod’s, and causes Thor to undertake his dangerous journey; but he also looks after Thor’s hammer, and accompanies him as maid-servant to get it back. He steals Freyja’s Brisingamen, and quarrels with Heimdal about it. But his worst deed is Balder’s death. For these reasons Loke is in Old Norse poetry called: son of Farbaute, son of Laufey, son of Nal, brother of Byleist, brother of Helblinde, father of the Fenris-wolf, father of the Midgard-serpent, father of Hel, uncle of Odin, visitor and chest-goods of Geirrod, thief of Brisingamen and of Idun’s apples, defender of Sigyn (his wife), Sif’s hair destroyer, adviser of Balder’s bane, etc.

Odin, Hœner and Loke are often together. It is related that they once set out to explore the whole world. They came to a stream, and followed it until they came to a force (cascade) where there sat an otter near the force. It had caught a salmon in the force and sat half sleeping eating it. Then Loke picked up a stone and threw it at the otter, struck it in the head and then boasted of his deed, for he had killed or captured both the otter and salmon with one stone. They then took the salmon and otter with them and came to a gard (farm), where they entered the house. The bonde,[75] who lived there, hight Hreidmar, an able fellow well skilled in necromancy. The gods asked for night lodgings, but added that they were supplied with provisions whereupon they showed what they had caught. But when Hreidmar saw the otter he called to him his sons Fafner and Regin, and told them that their brother Odder (otter) Wad been slain, and who had done it. Father and sons then attack the gods, overpower and bind them, and then inform them that the otter was Hreidmar’s son. The gods offered a ransom for their lives, as large as Hreidmar himself would determine it; they made a treaty accordingly, confirming it with oaths. When the otter then had been flayed, Hreidmar took the skin and demanded that they should fill it with shining gold and then perfectly cover it with the same. These were the terms of agreement. Then Odin sent Loke to the home of the swarthy elves (Svartalf-heim), where he met the dwarf Andvare (wary, cautious spirit), who lived as a fish, in the water. Loke borrowed Ran’s net and caught him, and demanded of him, as a ransom for his life, all the gold he had in the rock, where he dwelt. And when they came into the rock the dwarf produced all the gold which he possessed, which was a considerable amount; but Loke observed that the dwarf concealed under his arm a gold ring, and ordered him to give it up. The dwarf prayed Loke by all means to let him keep it; for when he kept this ring, he said, he could produce for himself more of the metal from it. But Loke said that he should not keep so much as a penny, and took the ring from him, and went out. Then said the dwarf, that that ring should be the bane of the person who possessed it. Loke had no objection to this, and said that, in order that this purpose should be kept, he should bring these words to the knowledge of him who should possess it. Then Loke returned to Hreidmar, and showed Odin the gold; but when the latter saw the ring he thought it was pretty; he therefore, taking it, gave Hreidmar the rest of the gold. Hreidmar then filled the otter-skin as well as he could, and set it down when it was full. Then Odin went to cover the bag with gold, and afterwards bade Hreidmar whether the bag was perfectly covered; but Hreidmar examined, and looked carefully in every place, and found an uncovered hair near the mouth, which Odin would have to cover, or the agreement would be broken. Then Odin produced the ring and covered the hair with it, and said that they now had paid the otter-ransom. But when Odin had taken his spear, and Loke his shoes, so that they had nothing more to fear, Loke said that the curse of the dwarf Andvare should be fulfilled, and that this gold and this ring should be the bane of him who possessed it. From this myth it is that gold is poetically called otter-ransom.

And the curse was fulfilled. This curse of ill-gotten gold became the root of a series of mortal calamities, which are related in the latter part of the Elder Edda, in the songs about Sigurd Fafner’s bane, or the Slayer of Fafner; about Brynhild, about Gudrun’s sorrow, Gudrun’s revenge, in the song about Atle, etc. The curse on the gold, pronounced upon it by Andvare, the dwarf, is the grand moral in these wonderful songs, and never was moral worked out more terribly. Even Shakespeare has no tragedy equal to it. When Odin and Loke had gone away, Fafner and Regin demanded from their father, Hreidmar, a share of the ransom in the name of their brother Odder; but Hreidmar refused, so Fafner pierced his father with a sword while he slept. Thus Hreidmar died, but Fafner took all the gold. Then Regin demanded his paternal inheritance, but Fafner refused to give it, and disappeared. Another prominent character in the Edda is Sigurd, who frequently visited Regin and told him that Fafner, having assumed the shape of a monstrous dragon, lay on Gnita Heath, and had Æger’s helmet, the helmet of terror, before which all living trembled. Regin made a sword for Sigurd, which was called Gram; it was so sharp that when it stood in the river and a tuft of wool floated on the current, the sword would cut the wool as easily as the water. With this sword Sigurd cut Regin’s anvil in twain. Regin excites Sigurd to kill Fafner, and accordingly Sigurd and Regin proceeded on their way to Gnita Heath, and discovered Fafner’s path, whereupon the latter (Fafner) crept into the water. In the way Sigurd dug a large grave and went down into it. When Fafner now crept away from the gold he spit poison, but this flew over Sigurd’s head, and as Fafner passed over the grave Sigurd pierced him with his sword to the heart. Fafner trembled convulsively, and fiercely shook his head and tail. Sigurd sprang out of the grave when they saw each other. Then a conversation takes place between them, in which Fafner heaps curses upon Sigurd until the former expires. Regin had gone away while Sigurd killed Fafner, but came back while Sigurd was wiping the blood off the sword.

REGIN:

Hail to thee now, Sigurd!
Now thou best victory won
And Fafner slain.
Among all men who tread the earth
Most fearless
I proclaim thee to be born.

SIGURD:

Uncertain it is to know,
When we all come together,
Sons of victorious gods,
Who was born most fearless;
Many a man is brave
Who still does not thrust the blade
Into another man’s breast.

REGIN:

Glad art thou now, Sigurd,
Glad of thy victory.
As thou wipest Gram on the grass.
Thou hast my
Brother wounded,
Let myself have some share therein.

SIGURD:

It was thou who caused
That I should ride
Hither over frosty mountains;
His wealth and life
Would the spotted snake still possess,
Hadst thou not excited me to fight.

Then went Regin to Fafner and cut the heart out of him with the sword called Ridel, and afterwards drank the blood from the wound. He said:

Sit down now, Sigurd!
I will go to sleep:
Hold Fafner’s heart by the fire.
Such a repast
Will I partake of
After this drink of blood.

SIGURD:

Thou didst absent thyself
When I in Fafner’s blood
My sharp blade stained.
I set my strength
Against the power of the dragon
While thou didst lie in the heath

REGIN:

Long wouldst thou
Have let the old
Troll lie in the heath,
Hadst thou not used
The sword which I made,
Thy sharpened blade.

SIGURD:

Courage is better
Than sword-strength
Where angry men must fight;
For the brave man
I always see win
Victory with a dull blade.
It it better for the brave man
Than for the coward
To join in the battle,
It is better for the glad
Than for the sorrowing
In all circumstances.

Sigurd took Fafner’s heart, put it on a spit and roasted it; but when he thought it must be roasted enough, and when the juice oozed out of the heart, he felt of it with his fingers to see whether it was well done. He burned himself, and put his finger into his mouth, but when the blood of Fafner’s heart touched his tongue he understood the song of birds. He heard birds singing in the bushes, and seven birds sang a strophe each, talking about how Regin might avenge his brother, kill Sigurd, and possess the treasure alone, when Sigurd finally says:

Not so violent
Will fate be, that Regin
Shall announce my death;
For soon shall both
Brothers go
Hence to Hel.

And he cut the head off Regin, ate afterwards Fafner’s heart, and drank both his and Regin’s blood. Then Sigurd heard the birds sing:

Sigurd! gather
Golden rings;
It is not royal
To be smothered by fear.
I know a maid
Fairer than all
Endowed with gold,
If thou couldst but get her.
To Gjuke lie
Green paths,
Fortune beckons
The wanderers forward;
There a famous king
Has fostered a daughter,—
Her thou, Sigurd, must win.

Sigurd followed the track of the dragon to his nest and found it open. Its doors and door-frames, and all the beams and posts of the place, were of iron, but the treasure was buried in the ground. There Sigurd found a large heap of gold, with which he filled two chests. Then he took the helmet of terror (Æger’s helmet), a gold cuirass, the sword Hrotte, and many treasures, which he put on the back of the horse Grane, but the horse would not proceed before Sigurd mounted it also.

This is but the beginning of this terrible tragedy, but our space does not allow us here to enter upon all the fatal results of the curse of Andvare. In the fate, first of Sigurd and Brynhild, and afterwards of Sigurd and Gudrun, is depicted passion, tenderness and sorrow with a vivid power which nowhere has a superior. The men are princely warriors and the women are not only fair, but godlike, in their beauty and vigor. The noblest sentiments and most heroic actions are crossed by the foulest crimes and the most terrific tragedies. In this train of events, produced by the curse of Andvare alone, there is material for a score of dramas of the most absorbing character. In the story of Sigurd and Brynhild, as we find it in the latter part of the Elder Edda, there are themes for tragic and heroic composition that would become as immortal as Dante’s _Inferno_ or Shakespeare’s _Macbeth_, for they are based on our profoundest sympathies, and appeal most forcibly to our ideas of the beautiful and the true.

The ring Andvarenant (Andvare’s gift), as it is called, here as elsewhere, symbolizes wealth, which increases in the hands of the wary, careful Andvare (_and-vari_, wary). But for avarice, that never gets enough, it becomes a destructive curse. It is perfectly in harmony with Loke’s character to be satisfied and pleased with the curse attached to the ring.[76]