Chapter XII: Heathendom (3)

NICOR.—To the class of elemental gods must originally have been reckoned the Nicor, or water-spirit, whose name has not only been retained in the _Water Nixes_ of our own country, and in the _Neck_ of Germany, but in our own common name for the devil, _Old Nick_. According to the account given in Beówulf, these were supernatural, elvish creatures haunting the lakes, rivers and seas, ever on the watch to injure the wayfarer, and apparently endowed with the power of creating tempests. In this semi-Christian view they were fiendish and savage enemies of the sailor, whom they pursued with horns and tusks, dragged to the bottom of the waves and then no doubt devoured[721]. Probably, like other supernatural beings dreaded by our forefathers, they were included in the family of ogres and monsters descended from the first homicide. Yet it may be doubted whether this, was the original and heathen sense of the word Nicor. As late as the thirteenth century I find in an old German glossary Neckar translated by _Neptunus_, the god of the sea; and it is notorious that one of the names borne by Oþinn, whenever he appears as a sea-god is Hnikuþr and Nikuz. Hence it is not unlikely that in their ancient creed, the pagan Saxons recognized Nicor as Wóden. The name Hwala which occurs in the genealogies, and like Geát may be assumed to be only another name of Wóden, confirms this view. Hwala is formed from Hwæl, _cetus_, just as Scyldwa is from Scyld, _clypeus_, and was probably only a name of Wóden as a sea-god. The danger attending the whale or walrus fishery[722] made the first at least of these animals an object of superstitious dread to the Anglosaxon sailor; perhaps, as in the case of the bear, natural peculiarities which are striking enough even to our more scientific eyes, helped to give an exceptional character to the monarch of the Northern seas. Be this as it may, it is not without importance that Hwala should appear in the genealogies among names many of which are indisputably Wóden’s, that in Scandinavia and Germany Nikuz or Necker should be names of the sea-god, and that till a very late period,—when the heathen gods had everywhere assumed the garb of fiends and devils,—the Nicor should appear as the monster of the deep _par excellence_. The miraculous power attributed to the Nicor,—in Beówulf he is called “wundorlíc wǽgbora,” a supernatural bringer of the waves,—is in itself evidence of earlier godhead; and in this sense I am disposed to identify him with the _demon marinus_ whom St. Gall defeated by his constant watchfulness. In his altered and degraded form we may also recognize the demon of the lines lately cited, who stabs the horse with his horns while crossing the water. The beautiful Nix or Nixie who allures the young fisher or hunter to seek her embraces in the wave which brings his death, the Neck who seizes upon and drowns the maidens who sport upon his banks, the river-spirit who still yearly in some parts of Germany demands tribute of human life, are all forms of the ancient Nicor; but more genuine perhaps,—certainly more pleasing,—is the Swedish Stromkarl, who from the jewelled bed of his river, watches with delight the children gambol in the adjoining meadows, and singing sweetly to them in the evening, detaches from his hoary hair the sweet blossoms of the water-lily, which he wafts over the surface to their hands.

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Footnote 721:

Beówulf, _passim_.

Footnote 722:

The fisherman in Ælfric’s dialogue disclaims any intention of
whale-fishing, on account of its dangers. Thorpe, Anal. p. 24.

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HEL.—Among the fearful beings whose power was dreaded even by the gods, was Hel, mistress of the cold and joyless under-world. Called, through the fate of battle, to the glories of Wælheal, the Teutonic or Norse hero trembled at a peaceful death which would consign him to a dwelling more desolate and wretched than even that which awaited the fallen warriors of heroic Greece[723], and many a legend tells of those whose own hand saved them from a futurity so abhorred[724]. But Hel was not herself the agent of _death_; she only received those who had not earned their seat in Oþinn’s hall by a heroic fall, and the Wælcyrian or Shieldmays were the choosers of the slain. The realm of Hel was all that Wælheal was not,—cold, cheerless, shadowy; no simulated war was _there_, from which the combatants desisted with renovated strength and glory; no capacious quaighs of mead, or cups of the life-giving wine; no feast continually enjoyed and miraculously reproduced; no songs nor narratives of noble deeds; no expectation of the last great battle where the _einherjar_ were to accompany Allfather to meet his gigantic antagonists; no flashing Shieldmays animating the brave with their discourse, and lightening the hall with their splendour: but chill and ice, frost and darkness; shadowy realms without a sun, without song or wine or feast, or the soul-inspiring company of heroes, glorying in the great deeds of their worldly life.

-----

Footnote 723:

Odyssey, book xi.

Footnote 724:

This is so completely familiar to the student of antiquity, that I
shall not multiply examples: they may be found in Bartholinus. But one
instance I may be excused for citing, inasmuch as it proves how long
the heathen spirit survived despite the peaceful hope and promise of
Christianity. Henry of Huntingdon, in the sixth book of his history,
relates of Sigeweard the great duke of Northumberland, that hearing of
the loss of his son in battle, he exclaimed, “Recepitne vulnus lethale
in anteriori vel posteriori corporis parte? Dixerunt nuntii: In
anteriori. At ille: Gaudeo plane, non enim alio me, vel filium meum
digner funere.” In 1055 however, oppressed with sickness, he found
that his desire was not to be fulfilled. “Siwardus, consul
rigidissimus, profluvio ventris ductus, mortem sensit imminere,
dixitque: Quantus pudor me tot in bellis mori non potuisse, ut
vaccarum morti cum dedecore reservarer! Induite me saltem lorica mea
impenetrabili, praecingite gladio, sublimate galea: scutum in laeva,
securim auratam mihi ponite in dextra, ut militum fortissimus modo
militis moriar. Dixerat, et, ut dixerat, armatus honorifice spiritum
exhalavit.” Through every word of this passage breathes the old
heathen spirit of Haralldr Hilditavn, and one feels that to
Christianity alone it was owing, that Sigeweard did not prevent an
inglorious by a voluntary violent death.

-----

For the perjurer and the secret murderer Nástrond existed, a place of torment and punishment—the strand of the dead—filled with foulness, peopled with poisonous serpents, dark, cold, and gloomy: the kingdom of Hel was _Hades_, the invisible, the world of shadows[725]: Nástrond was what we call _Hell_. Christianity however admitted no goddess of death, and when it was thought necessary to express the idea of a place of punishment after death, the Anglosaxon united the realm of Hel with Nástrond to complete a hideous prison for the guilty: the prevailing idea in the infernal regions of the Teuton is cold and gloom[726]; the poisonous snakes, which waking or sleeping seem ever to have haunted the Anglosaxon, formed a convenient point of junction between his own traditional hell and that which he heard of from the pulpit, in quotations from the works of the Fathers; and to these and their influence alone can it be attributed when we find flames and sulphur, and all the hideous apparatus of Judaic tradition, adopted by him. In this fact seems to me to lie a very important mark of ancient heathendom, and one which the clergy themselves admitted, a belief in which they shared, and which they did not scruple to impress upon their flocks, even in spite of the contrary tendency of their authorities: it will be sufficient to refer to the description given of hell in the poetic Salomon and Saturn, a composition redolent of heathendom: on the defeat of the rebel angels, it is said, God

him helle gescóp, for them he made hell,
wælcealde wíc, a dwelling deadly cold,
wintre beðeahte: with winter covered:
wæter insende water he sent in
and wyrmgeardas, and snake-dwellings,
atol deór monig many a foul beast
írenum hornum; with horns of iron;
blódige earnas bloody eagles
and bláce nædran; and pale adders;
þirst and hungor thirst and hunger
and þearle gewin, and fierce conflict,
eácne egesan, mighty terror,
unrótnisse. joylessness[727].

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Footnote 725:

So the Greeks:

Πῶς ἔτλης Ἄϊδόσδε κατελθέμεν, ἔνθα τε νεκροὶ
Ἀφραδέες ναίουσι, βροτῶν εἴδωλα καμόντων;
Odyss. xi. 473.

Footnote 726:

Fire was too cheerful in the North to be sufficiently an object of
terror: it appeared otherwise in the East, where coolness is the
greatest of luxuries.

Footnote 727:

Sal. Sat. p. 173.

-----

Even in their more orthodox descriptions, ecclesiastical poets, though naturally adopting the Judaic notions, cannot always shake off the old, habitual tradition of their forefathers, but recur to the frost, gloom and serpents of Nástrond, and the realm of Hel; of which a passage already quoted from Beda is ample evidence.

As far as we can judge from the descriptions which survive, the Anglosaxons represented Hell to themselves as a close and covered dwelling, a prison duly secured as earthly prisons are by locks, bolts and bars[728]. But the popular fancy had probably even then adopted the notion of a monstrous beast whose _mouth_ was the entrance to the place of torment: this appears not only from the illustrations to Cædmon[729], but from the common expression, so long current, of Hell-mouth. From this peculiar feature however we may believe that a remembrance still lurked among our forefathers of the gigantic or Titanic character of the ancient goddess, who, in Norse mythology, was Loki’s daughter. In nearly every case, the word Hel in Anglosaxon, and especially Anglosaxon prose, has merely the abstract sense we now give it; but here and there a passage may be found in which we discover traces of the personal meaning: thus perhaps in Beówulf where we find these lines,

siððan dreámaleás when reft of joy in fenfreoðo in his fen-refuge feorh álegde, he his life laid down, hǽðene sáwle, his heathen soul, ðǽr him Hel onfeng. there Hel received him[730].

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Footnote 728:

Beda himself speaks of “inferni claustra” (H. E. v. 13), and for this
there was supposed to be sufficient authority in the figurative
expression, Matt. xvi. 18.

Footnote 729:

Published by the Society of Antiquaries.

Footnote 730:

Beów. l. 1698: and perhaps similarly l. 357, “Helle gemundon.” they
worshipped Hel.

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However as a death in battle did not consign the warrior to Hel, it is usually Hild or Wig who is represented as ravishing away the doomed hero. Hel was no desired object, to be introduced into the epic as the portion of chieftains and kings.

FATES.—The Northern creed, and, as it now seems established, the German also, admitted the intervention between man and the gods, of subordinate deities or Fates. I call them subordinate from their peculiar position in the fragmentary portions of mythology that survive; in their nature we must believe them to be of a higher order than the gods, who themselves are doomed one day to perish, and who can probably as little avoid their doom as men, the frailer creatures of their power. It may be that in this, different views prevailed among different classes of men; the warlike princes and their followers, who exulted in tales of battle and feasting, may have been willing to see in Oþinn the supreme disposer of events, while a deeper wisdom lurked in the sacerdotal songs that told how Urðr, Werðandi and Skuld (the Norns of the Past, the Present and the Future) bore inevitable sway over the inhabitants of heaven and earth, and slowly waited for the period which was to confound gods, man and nature in one vast destruction[731]. The Norse view admits however of more than three Norns, though it names those only who have been mentioned; and from the extraordinary relation of those three, it can hardly be doubted that the others are of a different order; moreover it attributes human passions to them which are hardly consistent with the functions of the venerable Fates; in this case it is possible that the Valkyriur, a race of beings whose functions might in some respects be confounded with those of the Nornir, have been so mixed up with them. Man, dealing with the daily affairs of troubled life, thinks more of the past than of the future: to him the present is the child of the past, the past the excuse for or cause of all he does and suffers; his intellect comprehends the events that are completed or in course of completion, but not the indefinite, illimitable probabilities of the undiscovered _to be_; hence perhaps Urðr is considered the oldest and most powerful of the Fates; her work is done, the others are doing or yet to do. Through this progress of opinion it became possible for the conception of the older Fate to include and finally supersede those of the others, as soon as the living belief in their personal agency became weakened. I do not know that any certain trace of these Fates can be found in the High-german countries[732], but in the Low-german the eldest Norn still survives long after the introduction of Christianity, in a sense little removed at times from that of Necessity itself. That this should still have been coupled with a lively feeling of personality only proves how deeply rooted the old Heathen creed had been. In the following instances from the Oldsaxon Héljand[733], Wurth might almost in every case be replaced by dód, _mors_: “Thiu Wurth is at handun, dód is at hendi;”—the _wierd_[734], or death, is at hand, i. e. so near that she might lay hold of the doomed. “Thiu _Wurth_ nahida thuo,”—the _weird_ drew nigh. “_Wurth_ ina benam,” _Wierd_, i. e. the goddess of death, ravished him away; as in Anglosaxon we have Swylt benam, Deáð benam, and similar expressions.

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Footnote 731:

The Greek Fates are also three, and stand in a very similar position
towards the Gods. Zeus himself is not exempt from their power.
Prometheus, it is true, will not distinctly assert Zeus to be _weaker_
than the Fates, but he answers very decisively that even Zeus cannot
escape his Fate.

Χο. Τίς οὖν ἀνάγκης ἐστὶν οἰακοστρόφος;
Πρ. Μοῖραι τρίμορφαι, μνήμονές τ' Ἐριννύες.
Χο. Τούτων ἄρα Ζεύς ἐστιν ἀσθενέστερος;
Πρ. Οὔκουν ἂν ἐκφύγοι γε τὴν πεπρωμένην.
ÆSCH. Prom. Vin. 517-520.

The Μοῖραι here are only ministers of a deeper necessity, yet they
seem to wield it themselves, and that it is inseparable from justice
seems to follow from the venerable goddesses being joined in the task.
Plato however distinctly names three Μοῖραι, the daughters of Αναγκη,
who _spin_ the life of man: what is more to our purpose is that to
each of the three, the past, the present and the future are severally
distributed, as to Urðr, Werðandi and Skuld. He says, ἄλλας δὲ
καθημένας πέριξ δι’ ἴσου τρεῖς, ἐν θρόνῳ ἑκάστην, θυγατέρας τῆς
Ἀνάγκης, Μοίρας, λευχειμονούσας, στέμματα ἐπὶ τῶν κεφαλῶν ἐχούσας,
Λάχεσίν τε καὶ Κλωθὼ καὶ Ἄτροπον, ὑμνεῖν πρὸς τὴν τῶν Σειρήνων
ἁρμονίαν, Λάχεσιν μὲν τὰ γεγονότα, Κλωθὼ δὲ τὰ ὄντα, Ἄτροπον δὲ τὰ
μέλλοντα. The spindle however lies and revolves upon the knees of
Ἀνάγκη. De Repub. lib. x. ad fin. The white garments, garlands and
throne, as well as the singing, are wanting to our Norns, but the
resemblance in other respects is very striking. It deserves notice
also that the _Weird sisters_ in Macbeth are three; and even the
Odyssey may intend that number,

ἔνθα δ’ ἔπειτα
πείσεται, ἅσσα οἱ αἶσα, κατακλῶθές τε βαρεῖαι.
γεινομένῳ νήσαντο λίνῳ, ὅτε μιν τέκε μήτηρ.
Odyss. vii. 196-198.

It is well known what controversy has arisen as to the real number of
Εριννυες intended by Æschylus in his Eumenides.

Footnote 732:

Grimm, Mythol. p. 377, does not seem to lay much stress upon the _two_
instances which he gives, one of which is extremely doubtful, and the
other of no certain authority.

Footnote 733:

Héljand. Poema Saxonicum Saeculi Noni. Ed. A. Schmeller. Munich. pp.
146, 2; 92, 2; 163, 16; 66, 18; 111, 4.

Footnote 734:

We are fortunate in being able to use not a translation of Wurth, but
the word itself; I am not aware of its continuing to exist in any
other German dialect.

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The Anglosaxon equivalent is _Wyrd_, an expression of the very commonest and most frequent occurrence. It should however be borne in mind that there are two separate uses of this word, one a more abstract one, in which it is capable of being used in the plural, and which may generally be rendered _eventus_[735], another more personal, similar to the Oldsaxon _Wurth_, and in which it never occurs but in the singular[736]. In the following most remarkable passage the heathen and Christian thoughts are strangely mingled, Wierd being placed in actual apposition with God,

swá he hyra má wólde
nefne him witig God,
Wyrd forstóde,
⁊ ðæs mannes mód[737].

“As he would more of them had not wise God, Wierd forstood him, and the man’s courage.” How very heathen the whole would be, were we only to conceive the word _God_ an interpolation, which is highly probable; nefne him witig—Wyrd forstóde[738]! The following examples will show the use of Wyrd:—“hine Wyrd fornam,”—him _Wierd_ ravished away[739]: just as in other passages we have guð fornam[740], Wíg ealle fornam[741], swylt fornam[742], deað fornam[743]. “Wyrd ungemete neáh[744],”— _Wierd_ was immeasurably near him; as in the Oldsaxon passages above cited, and as Deað ungemete neáh[745]. “Ac unc sceal weorðan æt wealle, swá unc Wyrd geteóð, métod manna gehwǽs[746],”—it shall befal us as _Wierd_ decideth, the lord of every man. “Swá him Wyrd ne gescráf[747],”—_Wierd_ did not appoint. “Ealle Wyrd forsweóp[748],”—_Wierd_ has swept away. “Ús seó wyrd scýðeð, heard and hetegrim[749],”—us doth _Wierd_ pursue, hard and grim in hate.

-----

Footnote 735:

Ne wæs wyrd ðágen
ðæt he má móste
manna cynnes
þicgean ofer ða niht. (Beów. l. 1462.)
wyrd ne cúðon. (Ibid. l. 2467.)

Footnote 736:

One exception to be hereafter noticed seems more apparent than real.
If however it be taken in its fullest and ordinary grammatical sense,
it will show that all three or more sisters were in contemplation, and
that the name of the eldest had become a general expression for them
all.

Footnote 737:

Beów. l. 2104.

Footnote 738:

Ibid. l. 2411.

Footnote 739:

Ibid. l. 2240.

Footnote 740:

Ibid. l. 2154.

Footnote 741:

Ibid. l. 2872.

Footnote 742:

Ibid. l. 4234, 4468.

Footnote 743:

Ibid. l. 4836.

Footnote 744:

Ibid. l. 5453.

Footnote 745:

Ibid. l. 5048.

Footnote 746:

This is a most remarkable passage, for Wyrd is distinctly called
Metod, a word generally appropriated to God; but I am disposed to
think that Metten, another word for Fate, was uppermost in the poet’s
mind,—perhaps found in some heathen copy of the poem. “Ða gráman
mettena,” _saevae parcae_. Boet. p. 161. (Rawl.)

Footnote 747:

Beów. l. 5145.

Footnote 748:

Beów. l. 5624.

Footnote 749:

Cod. Vercel. Anal. l. 3121.

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These examples will suffice to show how thoroughly personal the conception of _Wierd_ remained; and in this respect there is no difference whatever between the practice in Beówulf and in the more professedly Christian poems of the Exeter and Vercelli codices, or Cædmon. But one peculiarity remains to be noticed, which connects our _Wierd_ in the most striking manner with the heathen goddesses generally, and the Scandinavian Nornir particularly. We have seen that _Wierd_ opposes, that she stands close to the doomed warrior, that she ravishes him away, that she sweeps away the power of men, that she decides or appoints the event, that she is hard and cruel and pursues her victims. But she also _weaves_, weaves the web of destiny, as we can say even to this day without violence. It is necessary to give examples of this expression: “Me ðæt wyrd gewæf[750],”—_Wierd_ wove that for me; similar to which is, “Ac him dryhten forgeaf wígspéda gewiofu[751],”—but the Lord gave him the weft of victory; where undoubtedly an earlier weaving Wyrd was thought of. “Ðonne seó þrag cymeð, wefen wyrd-stafum[752],”—when the time cometh, woven with _wierd_-staves, or letters, probably _runes_. There is a remarkable passage in the same collection[753], “Wyrmas mec ne áwǽfon, Wyrda cræftum, ða ðe geolo godwebb geatwum frætwað,”—Worms wove me not, with the skill of _Wierds_, those namely which the yellow silk for garments beautifully form. Here weaving is especially put forward as that in which _Wierd_ excels, her own peculiar craft and business[754].

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Footnote 750:

Cod. Exon. p. 355.

Footnote 751:

Beów. l. 1386.

Footnote 752:

Cod. Exon. p. 183.

Footnote 753:

Ibid. p. 417.

Footnote 754:

I am almost inclined to think the words searorúna gespon, _the web of
various runes_, merely a periphrasis for wyrd, taken in the abstract
sense of _event_. Cod. Ex. p. 347.

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Spinning and weaving are the constant occupation of Teutonic goddesses and heroines: Holda and Bertha spin[755], and so do all the representatives of these goddesses in popular tradition even down to the fairies. But the Valkyriur or Shieldmays also weave, and in this function, as well as their immediate action in the battle-field, as choosers of the slain[756], they have some points of contact with the Norns and Wyrd[757]. Gray has transferred to our language from the Nials Saga a fine poem[758] which throws some light upon the weaving of the Valkyriur, the wígspéda gewiofu. The Anglosaxon belief in the Shieldmaidens comes to us indeed in a darkened form, yet we can hardly doubt that it survived. The word Wælcyrge occurs in glossaries to explain _Bellona_, the goddess of war, and one gloss calls eyes Wælcyrigean, _gorgonei_, terrible as those of Gorgo; the flashing of the eyes was very probably one mark of a Wælcyrge in the old belief[759], as she floated or rode above the closing ranks of battle. In the superstitions of a later period however we find a clear allusion to these supernatural maidens. A spell preserved in a Harleian manuscript[760] contains the following passages:

Hlúde wǽon hí lá hlúde, ðá hý
ofer ðone hlǽw ridon;
wǽron anmóde, ðá hý
ofer land ridon.

“Loud, lo! loud were they, as they rode over the hill: bold were they, as they rode over the land.”

Stód under linde
under leóhtum scylde
ðǽr ða mihtigan wíf
hyra mægen berǽddon,
and hý gyllende
gáras sendon.

“I stood beneath my linden shield, beneath my light shield, where the mighty women exercised their power, and sent the yelling javelins!” Another spell from a MS. in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, appears to name them more distinctly:

Sitte ge, sígewíf,
sígað tó eorðan,
næfre ge wilde
tó wuda fleógan;
beó ge swá gemindige
mínes gódes,
swá bið manna gehwilc
metes and éðeles.

-----

Footnote 755:

“As tems ou Berte filait,” i. e. in a period anterior to the memory of
man: in the days of heathendom, of the _goddess_ Bertha, not the
queen.

Footnote 756:

Wælcyrige is derived from Wæl _the slain_ and ceósan _to choose_.

Footnote 757:

I do not know whether the expression Hine Wyrd gecéas, can be found in
Saxon poetry; but ceósan is a very common word in phrases denoting
death, though by Christian poets transferred to the doomed hero, from
the god or goddess: ǽr ðon forðcure, wintrum wæl reste. Cædm. p. 99.
“Priusquam annis [i. e. vita] praetulerit mortiferam quietem.”

Footnote 758:

The Fatal sisters. See vol. i. p. 70, Mitford’s edition.

Footnote 759:

When Ðorr visits Ðrymr under the disguise of Freya, the giant is
suspicious of the flashing eyes which he sees under the veil. Loki
explains them by the sleeplessness arising from Freya’s desire for the
giant’s embraces.

Laut und línu
lysti at kyssa;
en hann útan stökk
endlangan sal:
“Hwí eru öndótt
augu Freyju?
þikki mér or augum
eldr of brenna!”

Sat in alsnotra
ambótt fyrir,
er orð um fann
við jötuns máli:
“Svaf vætr Freyja
átta nóttum,
svá var hon óðfús
í jötunheima.”

Hamarsheimt. xxvii. xxviii.

Footnote 760:

MS. Harl. 585, fol. 186.

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“Sit, ye victorious women (or women of victory) descend to earth, never fly ye wildly to the wood: be ye as mindful of good to me, as every man is of food and landed possession.” Grimm has remarked with great justice[761] that the sígewíf here recalls the names of Wælcyrian, Sigrdrífa, Sigrún and Sigrlinn. I certainly see in Sigewíf, _women who give victory_; and the allusion to the _wild_ flight and the _wood_ are both essentially characteristic of the Wælcyrian, whom Saxo Grammaticus calls _feminae_ and _nymphae sylvestres_. For many examples of this peculiar character, it is sufficient to refer to the Deutsche Mythologie[762].

-----

Footnote 761:

D. Myth. p. 402. He cites this spell, but proposes on grammatical
grounds to read _wille_ for _wilde_. If any change is necessary I
should prefer _fleógen_.

Footnote 762:

Deut. Myth. p. 401, _seq._

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CREATION AND DESTRUCTION.—The cosmogony of the Pentateuch was necessarily adopted by the Saxon converts; yet not so entirely as to exclude all the traditions of heathendom. In the mythology of the Northern nations, the creation of the world occupied an important place: its details are recorded in some of the most striking lays of the earlier Edda; and several of them appear unconsciously to have acted upon the minds of our Christian poets. The genius of the Anglosaxons does not indeed seem to have led them to the adoption of those energetic and truly imaginative forms of thought which the Scandinavians probably derived from the sterner natural features that surrounded them: the rude rocks and lakes of Norway and Sweden, the volcanoes, hot springs, ice plains and snow-covered mountains of Iceland, readily moulded the Northmen to a different train of thought from that which satisfied the dwellers in the marshlands of the Elbe and the fat plains of Britain. But as in the main it cannot be doubted that the heathendom of both races was the same, so even in many modes of expression we meet with a resemblance which can hardly be accidental. Like almost every other people, the Northmen considered a gigantic chaos to have preceded the world of order. While the giant Ymer lived, the earth was “without form and void.” Listen to the words of the Vaulu Spá, or Prophetess’s Song:

Ár var alda When Ymer dwelt here,
þar er Ýmir bygði: 'twas the dawn of time:
vara sandr né sær cool streams were not,
né svalar unnir: neither sands, nor seas:
jörð fannsk æva earth was not
né uppkiminn, nor o’er it heaven,
gap var ginnunga, yawned the gap,
en gras hvergi[763]. and grass was nowhere.

The sons of Bur however, Oþinn, Vile and Ve, created the vast Midgard, or realm of earth:

Sól skein sunnan The sun shone southward
á salar steina on the stone halls,
þá var grand gróin then was earth grown
grœnum lauki[764]. with green produce.

The constellations however as yet had no appointed course:

Sól þat ne vissi But the sun knew not
hvar hon sali átti, where her seat should be,
máni þat ne vissi and the moon knew not
hvat hann megins átti, what his might should be,
stjörnur þat ne vissu planets knew not
hvar þær staði áttu[765]. where their place should be.

So the holy Gods went to council, and divided the seasons, giving names to night and noon and morning, to _undern_ and evening, that the years might be reckoned[766].

-----

Footnote 763:

Vaulu Spá, st. 3.

Footnote 764:

Ibid. st. 4.

Footnote 765:

Ibid. st. 5.

Footnote 766:

Ibid. st. 6.

-----

The construction of the world out of the fragments of Ymer’s body, the doctrine of the ash Yggdrasil, and of wondrous wells beneath its roots, could of course find no echo here, after the conversion. But it is very remarkable how nearly the description of creation given in Cædmon sometimes coincides with the old remains of heathendom:

Ne wæs hér ðágiet There had not here as yet
nymðe heólstersceado save cavern shade
wiht geworden, aught existed,
ac ðes wída grund but this wide abyss
stód deóp and dim, stood deep and dim,
drihtne fremde, strange to its lord,
ídel and unnyt; idle and useless;
on ðone eágnm wlát on which looked with his eyes
stíðfrihð cining, the king firm of mood
and ða stowe beheóld and beheld the place
dreáma leáse. devoid of joys.
Geseah deorc gesweorc He saw the dark cloud
sémian sinnihte, lour in endless night,
sweart under roderum, swart under heaven,
wonn and wéste ... dusky and desert ...
folde wæs ðágyt the earth was yet
græs ungréne; not green with grass;
gársecg þeahte but ocean covered
sweart synnihte dark in endless night
wíde and síde far and wide
wonne wægas[767]. the dusky ways.

-----

Footnote 767:

Cædm. p. 7, l. 8 _seq._

-----

Then follows the creation of light, the separation of evening and morning, and the production of organic life, as in the first chapter of Genesis. The Wída grund, or _vast abyss_, is the Ginnunga gap, _yawning gulf_, of the Edda, and a very remarkable parallel lies in the assertion that there was no _grass_ anywhere to make green the earth.

The world was created out of the portions of Ymer’s body; but it seems to be a remnant of ancient heathendom when we find in later times a tradition that Man was created out of the great natural portions of the world itself. An ancient Frisic manuscript quoted by Grimm in Haupt’s Altdeutsche Blätter[768] says, “God scóp thene éresta meneska, thet was Adam, fon achta wendem; thet bénete fon tha sténe, thet flásk fon there erthe, thet blód fon tha wetere, tha herta fon tha winde, thene thochta fon tha wolken, thene suét fon tha dáwe, tha lokkar fon tha gerse, tha ágene fon there sunna, and tha blérem on thene helga óm.” That is,—God created him of eight things: his bones from stone, his flesh from earth, his blood from water, his heart from wind, his thought from cloud, his sweat from dew, his hair from the grass, his eyes from the sun, and then breathed into him the breath of life. In the prose Salomon and Saturn we are also told that Adam was created of eight pounds by weight: a pound of earth from whence his flesh; a pound of fire, whence his red and hot blood; a pound of wind, whence his breathing; a pound of cloud, whence his unsteadiness of mood; a pound of grace, whence his stature and growth; a pound of blossoms, whence the variety of his eyes; a pound of dew, whence his sweat; and a pound of salt, whence his salt tears[769].

-----

Footnote 768:

Vol. i. Part i. p. 1.

Footnote 769:

See the Authors edition, p. 181, and the notes at p. 194.

-----

But a much more striking proof of heathendom lies in the Anglosaxon belief that after the destruction of this creation a more beautiful one would arise; not only a metaphysical kingdom of heaven, but a concrete world like our own, on a more imposing and glorious scale. It was the belief of the Northmen that in the closing evening of the ages, the Ragna-rauk, or twilight of the Gods, the old Titanic powers would burst their fetters; Loki, the Northern Satan, would be released from his bondage; Midgard’s orm, the serpent that surrounds the world, would rise in his giant fury; the wolf Fenrir would snap his chain and move against the gods; the ship Naglfar, made of the nails of the dead, and steered by Loki, would convey the sons of Muspelheim to Vigrid, the plain on which this heathen Armageddon was to be fought: at their head the terrible Surtr, the black, the destroyer of the gods, beneath whose sword of fire the whole world should perish.

Kjóll ferr austan, Eastward the ship
koma munu Muspells shall shape its journey,
um laug lýðir, Muspell’s sons
en Loki stýrir[770]. the sea shall travel,
o’er the lakes shall
Loki steer her.

-----

Footnote 770:

Vaulu Spá, st. 50.

-----

Oþinn, Thórr, and the other gods shall perish, but not unrevenged: the wolf and the serpent will fall, one by the hands of Viðarr, Oþinn’s son, the other under the terrible battle-maul of Thórr. The sun and moon and earth will be destroyed, and the ash Yggrdasil wither under the flames of Surtr.

Sól tekr sortna, Black wanes the sun,
sígr fold í mar, in waves the earth shall sink,
hverfa af himni from heaven shall fall
heiðar stjörnur; the friendly stars;
geisar eimr round the tree
við aldrnára, red fire shall rustle,
leikr hár hiti high heat play
við himin sjálfan[771] against the heaven.

But the Gods will be found again in Iðavelli; the earth will arise again from the ocean; the sun that perished will have left a yet more beauteous daughter to perform her task; the deities will remember their ancient power, and the secrets of the great god; the golden tablets will be found in the grass; Baldr, the slain god, will arise from the tomb; Havdr, that unconsciously slew him, will return with him from the realms of Hel, the goddess of the dead. Viðarr and Vale, sons, or rather new births of Oþinn; Mode and Magne, sons of Thórr, will survive the universal destruction; Allfather’s glorious kingdom will be renewed, and the power of death and evil vanish for ever.

Sér hon uppkoma Then sees she rise
öðru sinni, a second time
jörð or œgi the world from ocean
iðjagrœna[772]. wondrous green.

Eína dóttur One bright child shall
berr Álfröðull bear Álfröðull,
áðr hana Fenrir fari; ere her form doth
sú skal ríða, Fenrir ruin;
þá er regin deyja, thus shall go,
móður brautir mær[773]. when gods have perished,
the maiden on
her mother’s journey.

Finnask Æsir Æsir meet
á Iðavelli, in Iðavelli,
ok um moldþinur doom with power
mátkan dœma, the great disasters,
ok minnask þar there remember
á megindóma, mighty judgements,
ok á fimbultýs and Fimbultýrs
fornar rúnar. former secrets.

Þar munu eptir After, shall be
undrsamligar all together
gullnar töflur found in the grass
í grasi finnask, the golden tablets,
þærs í árdaga which in time past
áttar höfðu possessed among them
fólkvaldr goða gods that ruled
ok Fjölnis kind. the race of Odin.

Munu ósánír Then unsown
akrar vaxa, the swath shall flourish
böls mun alls batna, all bale mend, and
Baldr mun koma; back come Baldr:
búa þeir Höðr ok Baldr with him Höðr dwell
Hropts sigtóptir in Hropter’s palace,
vel valtivar[774]. shrines of gods
the great and holy.

Sal sér hon standa There sees she stand
sólu fegra, than sunlight fairer,
gulli þakðan Gimli’s hall
á Gimli: with gold all covered:
þar skolu dyggvar there the just shall
dróttir byggja, joy for ever,
ok um aldrdaga and in pleasure
ynðis njóta[775]. pass the ages.

-----

Footnote 771:

Vaulu Spá, st. 56.

Footnote 772:

Ibid. st. 57.

Footnote 773:

Wafþrudnis Mál, st. 47. Álfröðul is a name of the Sun, and is said to
denote _divine splendour_. Edd. Lex. Myth. in voc.

Footnote 774:

Vaulu Spá, st. 57, 58, 59, 60.

-----

The conviction that the virtuous would rejoice with God in a world of happiness was of course not derived by our forefathers merely from their heathendom; but to this we may unhesitatingly refer their belief, that after doomsday the sun and moon would be restored with greater splendour. The Saxon Menology[776] says very distinctly:

“At doomsday, when our Lord shall renew all creatures, and all the race of men shall rise again, and never more commit sin, then will the sun shine seven times brighter than she now doth, and she will never set; and the moon will shine as the sun now doth, and never will wane or wax, but stand for ever on his course[777].” That this belief was not unknown in Germany may be argued from an expression of Freidank,

Got himel und erde lát zergán,
unt wil dernách ein schoenerz hán[778].

Dim and fragmentary as these rays of light may be which straggle to us through the veils of bygone ages, it is impossible not to recognize in them traces of that primæval faith which teaches the responsibility of man, the rule of just and holy beings superior to himself, and a future existence of joy and sorrow, the ultimate consequence of human actions. With what amount of distinctness this great truth may have been placed before their eyes, we cannot tell, but it is enough that we see it admitted in one of the most thoroughly heathen poems of the Edda, and confirmed by an Anglosaxon tradition totally independent of Christianity. Weak as it is while unsupported by the doctrine of a gracious Redeemer, it is not wholly inoperative upon the moral being of men; and its reception among the nations of the North must have tended to prepare them for the doctrine which in the fulness of time was to supersede their vague and powerless desires by the revelation of the crucified Saviour.

-----

Footnote 775:

Vaulu Spá, st. 62.

Footnote 776:

MS. Corp. Christi, No. 179.

Footnote 777:

See Salomon and Saturn, p. 177. It may be observed here that the
feminine gender of the sun, and masculine of the moon, have their
origin in our heathen mythology.

Footnote 778:

Freydanck, Beschied. p. 8.

-----

HEROES.—It now remains that we should bestow a few words upon the heroic names which figure in the Epopœa of the North, and which probably in many cases belong to the legends and the worship of gods now forgotten, or which at least represent those gods in their heroic form and character; even as the Iliad in Achilles may celebrate only one form of the Dorian Apollo, and the legends of Cadmus and Theseus may be echoes from an earlier cult of Jupiter and Neptune.

The hero Scyld or Sceldwa[779] has been mentioned as the godlike progenitor of the Scyldingas, the royal race of Denmark; but he also appears among the mythical ancestors of Wóden, in the genealogy of Wessex. It is a singular fact that the Anglosaxons alone possess the fine mythus of this hero; the opening division or canto of Beówulf relates of him that he was exposed as a child in a ship upon the ocean; a costly treasure accompanied the sleeping infant as he floated to the shores of the Gardanes, whose king he became; after reigning gloriously and founding a race of kings, he died, and was again sent forth in his ship, surrounded with treasures, to go into the unknown world, from which he came; he came to found a royal race[780], and having done so, he departs and nothing more is known of him. That this mythus was deeply felt in England appears from its being referred to even by the later chroniclers: Æðelweard[781] and William of Malmesbury[782] mention it at length, and a desire to engraft a national upon a biblical tradition not only causes Sceaf to be called by some authors the son of Shem, but leads to the assertion of the Saxon chronicle that Sceaf was the son of Noah, born in the ark[783], in obvious allusion to the miraculous exposure on the waters. The mention of Scani by Æðelweard may be taken in connection with a Norse tradition that Skjold was Skanunga goþ, a god of the Scanings. An Anglosaxon riddle in the Codex Exoniensis[784], and of which the answer seems to me to be only _a shield_, concludes with the very remarkable words,

nama mín is mǽre, mighty is my name, hæleðum gifre, rapacious among men, and hálig sylf. and itself holy.

The second line seems to exclude the supposition of there being any reference to Almighty God, though Scyld, like Helm, is one of his names, examples of which are numerous in all Anglosaxon poetry. There are one or two places in England which bear the name of this god or hero: these are Scyldes treów[785], Scyldmere[786], and Scyldes heáfda[787]; but except in the genealogy of Wessex and the tradition recorded by Æðelweard and William of Malmesbury, there is no record of Sceaf.

Footnote 779:

From which form we must conclude for the reading Scyldu (as Wudu,
Duru).

Footnote 780:

ðone God sende whom God sent
folce tó frófre, to the people for their comfort,
fyrenþearfe ongeat the evil need he understood
ða híe ǽr drugon which they before had suffered
aldorleáse. while without a king.

Beów. l. 26.

Footnote 781:

Æðelw. lib. iii. He attributes the legend to Sceaf, Scyld’s father;
his words are: “Ipse Scef cum uno dromone advectus est in insula
oceani quae dicitur Scani, armis circumdatus, eratque valde recens
puer, et ab incolis illius terrae ignotus; attamen ab eis suscipitur,
et ut familiarem diligenti animo eum custodierunt, et post in regem
eligunt: de cuius prosapia ordinem trahit Athulf rex.”

Footnote 782:

William of Malmesbury (G. R. ii. 116) adds another peculiarity to the
legend, which however he gives to Sceaf, Scyld’s father; he says,
“Iste, ut ferunt, in quandam insulam Germaniae Scandzam, de qua
Jordanes historiographus Gothorum loquitur, appulsus, navi sine
remige, puerulus, posito ad caput frumenti manipulo, dormiens, ideoque
Sceaf nuncupatus, ab hominibus regionis illius pro miraculo exceptus,
et sedulo nutritus, adulta aetate regnavit in oppido quod tunc
Slasvic, nunc vero Haithebi appellatur. Est autem regio illa Anglia
Vetus dicta, unde Angli venerunt in Britanniam, inter Saxones et
Gothos constituta.” Wendover (Flor. Hist.) copies Malmesbury, with the
explanation of the name Sceafa, from Sceaf a sheaf of corn; others
derived it from scúfan, _trudere_, “quia fortunae commissus.” Die
Stammtafel der Westsachsen, p. 33.

Footnote 783:

“Se wæs geboren in ðǽre earce Noes.” Chron. Sax. 855.

Footnote 784:

Cod. Exon. p. 407.

Footnote 785:

Cod. Dipl. No. 436.

Footnote 786:

Ibid. Nos. 356, 762.

Footnote 787:

Ibid. No. 721.

-----

As in the poem of Beówulf, Scyld is said to have a son called Beówulf from whom the kings of Sleswig are descended, so in the genealogy of Wessex, Scyld is followed by Beaw: there is some uncertainty in the form of the name, but upon comparison of all the different versions given by various chroniclers, we may conclude that it was Beówa or Beów, a word equivalent to Beówulf. The original divinity of this person is admitted by Grimm, but he suffers himself to be misled by some over-skilful German lexicographer who has added _Beewolf_ to the list of English names for the woodpecker, and would render Beówulf as a sort of Latin Picus. I am not aware that any bird in England was ever called the _beewolf_, or that there are any superstitions connected with the woodpecker in England, as there are in Germany; the cuckoo and the magpie are our birds of augury. When Grimm then declares himself disposed not to give up the termination -_wulf_ in the name, he has only the authority of the poem on his side, in defence of his theory: against which must be placed every other list or genealogy; and it seems to me that these are strongly confirmed by the occurrence of a place called, not Beówulfes hám, but Beówan hám[788], in immediate connection with another named Grendles mere[789]: Whatever the name, this hero was looked upon as the eponymus of various royal races, and this, though the names which have survived are obviously erroneous[790], is distinctive of his real character.

-----

Footnote 788:

Cod. Dipl. No. 353.

Footnote 789:

Ibid.

Footnote 790:

Stammtafel der Westsachsen, p. 18 _seq._

-----

There are various other heroes mentioned in the poem of Beówulf and in the Traveller’s Song, some remembrance of which is still preserved in local names in various parts of England. A few words may not be misplaced respecting them. In the first-named poem, the hero’s lord and suzerain is invariably named Hygelác; after whose death Beówulf himself becomes king of the Geátas. As Hygelác is said to have perished in fight against the Franks, and as history records the fall of a Danish king Chochilachus in a predatory excursion into the Frankish territory about the beginning of the seventh century[791], Outzen, Leo and others have identified the two in fact as well as name, and drawn conclusions as to the mythical hero, from the historical prince. The coincidence is not conclusive: if Hygelác’s name were already mythical in the seventh century, it may easily have been given to any leader who ventured a plundering expedition into the Frankish territory, especially as the warlike records of an earlier Hygelác would be certain to contain some account of Frankish forays: nor was Hygelác, in Danish Hugleikr[792], by any means an uncommon name. On the other hand, if we admit the historical allusion, we must assign a date to, at any rate, that episode of the poem which is hardly consistent with its general character. I am therefore inclined to think that in this instance, as in so many others, an accidental resemblance has been too much relied upon: it is in fact quite as likely (or even more likely) that the historian should have been indebted to the legend, than that the poet should have derived his matter from history. It does seem probable that Hygelác enjoyed a mythical character among the Germans: in the “Altdeutsche Blätter” of Moriz Haupt[793], we find the following statement, taken from a MS. of the tenth century. “De Getarum rege Huiglauco mirae magnitudinis.—Et sunt mirae magnitudinis, ut rex Huiglaucus, qui imperavit Getis et a Francis occisus est, quem equus a duodecimo anno portare non potuit, cuius ossa in Rheni fluminis insula, ubi in oceanum prorumpit, reservata sunt et de longinquo venientibus pro miraculo ostenduntur.”

-----

Footnote 791:

Leo, in his Beowulf, p. 5, cites Gregor. Turon. iii. 3, and the Gest.
Reg. Francorum, cap. 19, for the details of Chochilach’s invasion and
death.

Footnote 792:

The name Huhlék, given in Langebeke, and by Geijer, from the Ynglinga
Saga, as Hugleck. Hist. Swed. p. 378, tab. ii.

Footnote 793:

Book v. part i. p. 10.

-----

But Hygelác is not known in Germany only: even in England we have traces of him in local names: thus Hygeláces geát[794], which, as the name was never borne by an Anglosaxon,—so far at least as we know,—speaks strongly for his mythical character. That the fortunes, under similar circumstances, of a historical prince, of the same name or not of the same name, should have become mixed up with an earlier legend, is by no means unusual or surprising.

-----

Footnote 794:

Cod. Dipl. No. 566.

-----

Another hero of the Beówulf cycle is Hnæf the Hócing, whose fate is described in a fine episode[795], and is connected with the poem called “The battle of Finnesburh[796].” Of him too England has something to tell: I find a place was called Hnæfes scylf[797], and further that there was a Hóces byrgels[798], obviously not a Christian burial-place, a Hóces ham[799], and a Hócing mǽd[800]. But unless resemblances greatly deceive us, we must admit that this hero was not entirely unknown to the Franks also; Charlemagne’s wife Hiltikart, a lady of most noble blood among the Swæfas or Sueves (“nobilissimi generis Suavorum puella”) was a near relation of Kotofrit, duke of the Alamanni[801]: in her genealogy occur the names Huocingus and Nebi in immediate succession, and it seems difficult not to see in these Hócing and Hnæf. If, as has been suggested, the Hócings were Chauci or Frisians, their connexion with the Sueves must be of an antiquity almost transcending the limits of history, and date from those periods when the Frisians were neighbours of the Swæfas upon the Elbe, and long before these occupied the highlands of Germany, long in fact before the appearance of the Franks in Gaul, under Chlodio.

-----

Footnote 795:

Beów. l. 2130 _seq._

Footnote 796:

Printed in the first volume of the author’s edition of Beówulf, p.
238.

Footnote 797:

Cod. Dipl. No. 595.

Footnote 798:

Ibid. No. 1267.

Footnote 799:

Ibid. No. 1142.

Footnote 800:

Ibid. No. 1091.

Footnote 801:

Thegan. vit. Hludov. Pertz, Monum. ii. 590, 591. Eginhart, § 18.
Pertz, Mon. ii. 452, 453.

-----

Among the heroes of heathen tradition are Wada, Weland and Eigil. All three, so celebrated in the mythus and epos of Scandinavia and Germany, have left traces in England. Of Wada the Traveller’s Song declares that he ruled the Helsings[802]; and even later times had to tell of Wade’s _boat_[803], in which the exact allusion is unknown to us: the Scandinavian story makes him wade across the Groenasund, carrying his son upon his shoulder; perhaps our tradition gave a different version of this perilous journey. The names of places which record his name are not numerous, but still such are found, thus Wadanbeorgas[804], Wadanhlǽw[805]. It is otherwise, however, with his still more celebrated son, Weland, the Wieland of German, Völundr of Norse and Galand of French tradition. Weland is the most famous of smiths, and all good swords are his work. In Beówulf, the hero when about to engage in a perilous adventure, requests that if he falls his coat-of-mail may be sent home, _Welandes geweorc_, either literally the work of Weland, or a work so admirable that Weland might have made it.[806] Ælfred in his Boetius[807] translates _fidelis ossa Fabricii_ by “ðæs wísan goldsmiðes bán Welondes,” where, as Grimm[808] observes, the word Fabricius (_faber_) may have led him to think of the most celebrated of smiths, Weland. The use made by Sir W. Scott of Weland’s name must be familiar to all readers of Kenilworth: from what has been said it will appear how mistaken in many respects his view was. The place in Berkshire which even yet in popular tradition preserves the name of _Wayland smith_, is nevertheless erroneously called; the boundary of a Saxon charter names it much more accurately Welandes smiððe, i. e. _Weland’s smithy_, his workshop[809]. The legend of Weland, identical in many respects with that of the Wilkina Saga and other Northern versions, is mentioned in the Cod. Exon. p. 377. Here we find notice taken of his mutilation by Niðaudr, the violence done by him to Bödhildr, and other acts of his revenge[810], all in fact that is most important in this part of his history. Grimm reminds me[811] that the Wilkina Saga makes Weland the constructor of a wondrous boat, and that the act of the son may thus have been transferred to the father, Weland’s boat to Wade.

-----

Footnote 802:

Line 44. See also Cod. Exon. pp. 320, 514. Ettmüller, Scópes wídsíð.

Footnote 803:

Chaucer once or twice refers to this in such a way as to show that the
expression was used in an obscene sense. Old women, he says, “connen
so moche craft in _Wades bote_.” Again of Pandarus:

“He song, he plaied, he told a _tale of Wade_.”
Troil. Cressid.

In this there seems to lie some allusion to what anatomists have
termed _fossa navicularis_, though what immediate connection there
could be with the mythical Wada, now escapes us. It is sufficiently
remarkable that the Greeks made a similar application of σκάφος.

ω παγκατάπυγον θἠμέτερον ἅπαν γένος·
οὐκ ἐτὸς ἀφ’ ἡμῶν εἰσὶν αἱ τραγῳδίαι.
οὐδὲν γὰρ ἐσμὲν πλὴν ποσειδῶν καὶ σκάφη.
Aristoph. Lysistr. 137.

Footnote 804:

Cod. Dipl. No. 55.

Footnote 805:

Ibid. No. 18.

Footnote 806:

Beów. l. 901

Footnote 807:

Boet. de Cons. ii.

Footnote 808:

D. Myth. p. 351.

Footnote 809:

Cod. Dipl. No. 1172.

Footnote 810:

Weland him be wurman
wræces cunnade
. . . . . . . . . .
siððan hine Niðhad on
néde legde
swoncre seonobande,
onsyllan mon.
. . . . . . . . . .
Beadohilde ne wæs
hyre bróðra deáð
on sefan swá sár
swá hyre sylfra þing,
ðæt heó gearolíce
ongieten hæfde
ðæt heó eácen wæs, etc.

Footnote 811:

D. Myth. p. 351.

-----

In the Northern tradition appears a brother of Weland, named Eigil or Egil, who is celebrated as an archer, and to whom belongs the wide-spread tale which has almost past into accredited history in the case of William Tell; this tale given by Saxo Grammaticus to Toko, by the Jomsvíkínga Saga to Palnatoki, and by other authorities to other heroes from the twelfth till the very end of the fifteenth century, but most likely of the very highest antiquity in every part of Europe, was beyond doubt an English one also, and is repeated in the ballad of William of Cloudesley: it is therefore probable that it belongs to a much older cycle, and was as well known as the legends of Wada and Weland, with which it is so nearly connected. Eigil would among the Anglosaxons have borne the form of Ægel, and accordingly we find places compounded with this name,—thus Æglesbyrig, now Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire; Æglesford, now Aylsford in Kent; Ægleslona, in Worcester[812]; Ægleswurð, now Aylsworth in Northamptonshire[813]; also Ægleswyl; and lastly Aylestone in Leicestershire.

-----

Footnote 812:

Cod. Dipl. No. 549.

Footnote 813:

Ibid. Nos. 591, 423.

-----