CELTIC MYTHOLOGY

INTRODUCTION
The mythology of the Celts which has been preserved in written form since the early Middle Ages contains evidence of their beliefs in pre-Christian times. During the period of Rome's expansion into north-west Europe references to Celtic beliefs were made in the writings of classical authors. Similarly, in those parts of the Empire which had been predominantly Celtic in the time of their independence native deities continued to be worshipped alongside the gods of the Roman pantheon. A considerable body of evidence exists in the form of inscriptions to Celtic deities in France, southern Britain and, to a lesser extent, in Spain and other parts of the Roman Empire in which Celtic influence had existed. It might be assumed that it would be possible to correlate closely the literary and epi-graphic evidence of the pre-Roman and Roman period with the myths themselves but, with few exceptions, this is not possible. This apparent dichotomy, however, may be resolved after an examination of both the mythology proper and the evidence, literary and archaeological. From a study of any of the main sources alone it would be possible to be misled as to the nature of Celtic Mythology. By considering evidence other than the purely mythological the chance of error is minimised, although complete certainty of interpretation is not possible in the study of any mythology remote in time.
THE CELTIC TRADITION
The Celtic tradition is preserved in a large number of texts both of prose and of poetry, the earliest of which in its present form dates to the eighth century A.D., although most belong to the centuries following. Most important and valuable are those from Ireland, for example the Books of Eeinster, of the Dun Cow, of Ballymote, and the Yellow Book of Eecan. Of less value in the present context, although important in its own right, is the literature of the Welsh tradition, for example the Mabinogion preserved in the White Book of Rhydderch and the Red Book of Hergest dating from the fourteenth century A.D. It may be seen that their compilation dates to the Christian period but much of their contents. Irish and Welsh alike, dates from internal evidence to a much earlier period. In using this Celtic literature as a source for mythology it has always to be remembered that even the earliest extant texts date to the Christian period and that in all probability they were written by monks. For this reason one must expect Christian accretions and the possibility that certain important evidence may have been suppressed so as to conform with the Christian ethic. Any such suppressions have, of course, been irretrievably lost and could never be reconstructed. In the Irish literature the native gods are hardly, if at all, disguised and are therefore immediately recognisable. The Welsh literature tends to disguise deities as kings or knights, or even clerics, but they are, nevertheless, of some value when used in conjunction with Irish evidence.
THE MYTHOLOGICAL CYCLE IN IRELAND
Modern scholars have classified much of the mythology of the Celts into Cycles. The Mythological Cycle is important in that it gives something of the early history of Ireland in the form of myths or, as has been said with some justification, it treats some of the native myths as history, even fixing definite dates to what must
surely have been mythical events. The Lcbor Gabala, the 'Book of Conquests', tells of successive invaders of Ireland, an account slightly modified by suitable obeisances to orthodox Christianity but retaining much of the flavour of pre-Christian times. The first race which inhabited Ireland perished in the biblical Flood. It was followed two-hundred and sixty-eight years later, on the first of May, by a group of twenty-four males and twenty-four females led by Partholon. At that time there were in Ireland only one treeless and grassless plain, three lakes and nine rivers, but during Partholon's time four plains were cleared and seven new lakes were formed. Before his time there had been no tilling of the soil. After three centuries the population had grown to five thousand but on the tercentenary of Partholon's landing his people were wiped out by an epidemic, gathering together to die on the original plain in Ireland. Although there were no survivors the knowledge brought and augmented by Partholon's people did not perish, the knowledge and working of gold, the first brewing of beer, the first cauldron and the introduction of domesticated cattle. To this period are also attributed some of the less tangible assets of civilisation, law-giving and ritual practices. As did their successors, so did the people of Partholon fight against and defeat the Fomorians. These latter were a race of demons, generally monstrous and hideous, who fought against Partholon with supernatural powers.
After an interval of thirty years the people of Nemed came into Ireland and in their time the face of the countryside was again changed by the clearance of twelve new plains and the formation of four new lakes. Decimated by the same epidemic which had annihilated Partholon they were unable to defend themselves adequately against the Fomorians and became their vassals. Part of their tribute was the delivery on the first of November of two-thirds of the children born to them each year, two-thirds of their corn and their milk. After a battle with the Fomorians in which Conann and many Fomorian followers were killed, the remnants of the people of Nemed fled from the country.
Next followed on the first of August the Fir Bolg together with the Fir Gaileoin and Fir Domnann. The similarity of these names to those of the Belgae, the Dumnonii and Gauls, has suggested
that this 'invasion' refers to the arrival of certain tribes of the proto-historic period. Whether or not these are to be in any way connected with the Celtic people is uncertain, but their mythical contribution to the cumulative wealth of the country lies in the warlike sphere of their armament and the aristocratic notion of monarchy. Their rule did not remain undisputed for long although they were not attacked by the Fomorians, but they were soon dispossessed by the Tuatha De Danann, the People of the Goddess Danu.
The Tuatha £><?' Danann landed on the first of May and after some unsuccessful negotiations with the Fir Bolg battle was joined at Mag Tuireadh. The Tuaiha were victorious and allowed the conquered to retain the Province of Connacht while they took possession of the remainder of the island, building their capital at Tara. Still unconquered the Fomorians disputed the ownership of the land of Ireland but the Tuaiha, perhaps recognising the strength of their ancient powers, attempted an alliance. During the battle of Mag Tuireadh Nuada, king of the Tuaiha, had lost his right hand and, as a king had to be without physical blemish, he was obliged to abdicate. In his place Bres, the son of a Fomorian father and a mother from the Tuatha De Danann, was elected and the alliance further strengthered by dynastic marriages including that of Bres to Brigit, the daughter of the Dagda, one of the chieftains of the Tuatha. Despite these precautions the alliance was uneasy, aggravated by the lack in Bres of the generosity demanded of a king of the Tuatha and his imposition of excessive taxes. Eventually Bres in his turn lost his eligibility for the kingship having been satirised so successfully by Cairbre, the principal bard of the Tuatha, that boils appeared on his face. His enforced abdication resulted in formal war between the Tuatha and the Fomorians, a war fought after seven years of preparation with the help of magical weapons. The Fomorians were defeated at the second battle of Mag Tuireadh, or Moytura the Northern,
used to distinguish it from the earlier battle of the same name.
The Tuatha themselves, however, were destined in turn to be dispossessed by the last race to take possession of Ireland, the Sons of Mil, the Milesians. The latter's arrival on May the first and the subsequent battle for supremacy of the island was attended by formal and ritual observances, similar to those noticed in the conflict between the Tualha and the Fomorians. Similarly, magical powers were used by both sides but in two successive battles the Tuatha were defeated and, according to popular tradition, made terms with their conquerors. The Lebor Gabdla states that they were expelled from the island but this is in contradiction to the remainder of Irish tradition. The Tuatha became the gods of the Celts and the majority retired to the side, the prehistoric burial mounds of the country.
This, then, is the mythological history of Ireland and a somewhat similar history may be found in the Welsh literature for the island of Britain although this is far less clearly denned than that of the neighbouring island. It is obvious that this sequence of invasions cannot be accepted as an entirely factual account of the arrival of successive peoples into Ireland. The reference to the Fir Bolg, however, may suggest that the later invasions refer to the arrival of peoples who are historically attested. The arrival of the Sons of Mil may have been added in Christian times to provide the ruling families with a genealogy respectable in the eyes of the Church. It would have been inappropriate for them to have claimed descent from the superhuman Tuatha De Danann. There seems little doubt that the Tuatha were the gods of the Celts in pre-Christian Ireland and the myth of their dispossession refers to the eventual conversion of the human Milesians to Christianity. Of the other invasions it may be suggested that these refer to the struggles of successive colonists to give their cult-practices pre-eminence over those of the previous inhabitants. It would be unwise to attempt a correlation of such events with known prehistoric migrations, but the internal evidence of some of the myths suggests that they may refer to a period as early as the Bronze Age. The complete annihilation of Partholon and his followers may refer to the complete eclipse of one cult by its successor, whereas the attempts at a modus vivendi discernible in the relations between the Fir Bolg and the Tualha
suggest a form of compromise. Within the Tuatha itself the functions of the Dagda and Lug appear to overlap to considerable extent and this may refer to some such compromise. The Fomorians whose presence underlies so much of the mythological history are best interpreted as a reference to some of the ritual practices of very early inhabitants who had not accepted either the culture or the cults of newcomers. Material evidence of such people exists in the archaeological record in Ireland.
THE DEITIES OF CELTIC MYTHOLOGY
Outstanding in the invasion myths are superhuman figures who are thinly disguised deities. Of the invasions prior to that of the Tuatha De Danann it is not possible to be certain of much more than the names of their leaders. Partholon may symbolise the whole group of his people, all of whom may have possessed superhuman attributes. Among their several functions appears to have been, as one would expect at any early date, some concern with the fertility of the soil, the role of a vegetation god. Among the Fir Bolg their king Eochaid mac Eire appears to represent some form of benevolent father-figure. In his time the country witnessed an extended period of happiness and wealth, probably as a result of his marriage with Tailtiu who was evidently an earth goddess.
IRISH GODS
It is among the Tuatha De Danann, however, that the gods of Celtic Mythology may be recognised. As a group they watched over the whole of human activity but as individuals some had their special functions. The most important deities were skilled in many spheres and attempts made by scholars to equate them with the specialised gods of other pantheons have been unsuccessful. Foremost were the Dagda and Lug.
The Dagda. By his epithet, Eochaid Ollathair, 'father of all', and RUM/ Ro-fhessci, "lord of perfect knowledge', the Dagda may be recognised as one of the omnicompetent deities of the Celts. He is
father of all, neither in the sense that he was the progenitor of all the gods nor that he was given special honours, but that he was omni-competent, a true father-figure. In appearance he was pictured as gross and ugly, pot-bellied and coarse, and wearing the short tunic and hood of the peasant with rawhide sandals. Among his attributes was a club so large that it would have needed eight men to carry it and was therefore mounted on wheels. When dragged along the ground it left a furrow like a frontier dyke. Under the club the bones of his people's enemies were like hailstones under horses' hooves. With one end he could kill nine men at a time and with the other restore them to life. He was therefore lord of life and death. His other great possession was his cauldron which could never be emptied and from which no one ever went away unsatisfied. This symbolises his role of nourisher of his people, perhaps that of a fertility god, and this interpretation is strengthened by the myths of his union with the Morrigan by the River Unius in Connacht on the first of November and with the Boann, the goddess of the River Boyne, also on the first of November. During the time of the domination of the Tualha by the Fomorians the Dagda was able to display his skill as a builder in constructing fortresses. It was at this time, too, that he appears to have undergone a ritual ordeal on the first of November when he was obliged to eat a gargantuan meal of porridge, which was produced from out of a huge hole in the ground. After this feast he had intercourse with one of the daughters of the Fomorians.
The whole episode is redolent of the ritual acts imposed on the chiefs of primitive tribes at specific times of the year in order to increase the fertility of the land and the well-being of the people. Although gross in essence it was a necessary ritual act and the myth may be referring to the actual ordeals imposed on Celtic chieftains at the most important feast of the year. If the Dagda is to be regarded as a personification of the ideal leader of a people this interpretation is quite apposite. Certainly the practice of ritual offerings in pits in the ground is well known in European prehistory.
Not all the attributes of the Dagda were so fundamentally gross. As a harpist he was able to call into existence the seasons of the Celtic year, again, perhaps, indicative of his guardianship of the fertility of the earth.
Lug. Similar in function to the Dagda was Lug, known as Ldmfhada, 'of the long arm', and Samilddnach, 'many skilled'. The myth of his arrival to join the Tualha under Nuada underlies his omnicom-petence. When asked by the guard at the gate of the royal palace of Tara to state his craft he replied that he was a carpenter. On being told that the Tualha already had a carpenter Lug retorted that he was a smith, and learning further that there was also a smith went on to state that he was also a warrior, a harper, a poet, a historian, hero, sorcerer and so forth. All these posts were filled but Lug demanded that Nuada should be asked whether or not he had in his court any single person who was master of all these skills. There was not and Lug was admitted to membership of the Tuatha De Danann.
Despite this overlap of function with the Dagda, Lug in his person and in his attributes was in complete contrast. In place of the crude club Lug was armed with spear and sling, weapons more highly specialised and which were capable of accurate aim beyond the immediate reach of a man's arm. With his sling Lug killed Balor, the champion of the Fomorians at the battle of Mag Tuireadh (Moytura the Northern) by hurling a slingstone into his one enormous eye. This was the final defeat of the Fomorians and Lug was cast as the hero of the Tuatha.
It has been suggested that this myth tells of the replacement of one form of solar worship, as represented by the single eye of Balor, by the radiant Lug. If Lug was a solar deity, which has been doubted, it was but one of his functions and his appearance as a young and handsome man with his superior weapons is more in keeping with the Celtic ideal of an all-efficient deity. He appears to have replaced the Dagda but without any of the violence attendant on the dispossession of the gods of earlier people. Perhaps the Celts prior to their arrival in Ireland had retained one of the older deities of their continental homeland, or even adopted some older deity en mule and granted him admission to the ranks of the Tuatha. for the grossness of the Dagda is not in keeping with the more refined arts of the remainder of the Tuatha. There is nothing to suggest that their number had always been limited as the arrival of Lug shows.
Other Gods. The remaining male deities of the Tuatha are less easily understood. The functions of some of them appear to have duplicated those of Dagda and Lug whereas others were clearly the gods of specialised skills. Nuada, the king of the Tualha, had attributes which place him in a category similar to that of the Dagda and Lug, a type of chieftain-god. He is a shadowy figure, known as Nuada Argatlam, Nuada of the Silver Hand, after the first battle of Moytura in which he lost a hand subsequently replaced by one of silver by Dian Cecht, the leech of the Tuatha. In his keeping was one of the treasures of the Tuatha, the sword of Nuada which, when unsheathed, was so powerful that no enemy could escape it. He was killed in the second battle of Moytura after which the territory allotted to them by the victors, the Milesians, was apportioned by the Dagda. The other leading figures among the Tuatha De Danann were deities with somewhat more particular functions, Ogma the champion, Gobniu the smith and brewer of beer, and Dian Cecht the leech. These, together with the Dagda, Lug and Nuada, did not comprise the whole of the people of the Goddess Danu, but the Celts visualised their gods living in a society similar to their own, aristocratic and warlike, in which they were served by their inferiors, craftsman and peasant. The gods referred to in this section were the chieftain-gods and it is important to understand that the ideal of the Celts was not to be found in the simple agrarian deities of earlier times but it was appropriate to the advanced and more secure economy of the Celtic Iron Age. This interpretation is supported by the available archaeological evidence. The chieftain-gods of the Tuatha were expected through the agency of the supernatural powers which they possessed and with the aid of their four magical treasures, the cauldron of the Dagda, the spear of Lug, the sword of Nuada and the Stone of Fal which cried out aloud when stepped on by the lawful king of Ireland, to secure the general well-being of their people and increase their prosperity.
The position of the Tuatha DC Danann has been emphasised not because they were the sole deities of the Celts even in Ireland, but because from the literature it is possible to make some attempt at a reconstruction of their meaning as deities. There also existed other gods, sometimes more localised deities such as the chieftain-gods Midir of Bri Leith Bodb of Sid ar Femen, or minor deities, frequently
the offspring of the major chieftain-gods, such as Angus Og, the son of the Dagda and Boanna. The heroes of the Celts such as Cu Chulainn and Finn, although of divine ancestry, are in a different category and are discussed separately. Finally, the sea-gods of the Celts in Ireland although, in the case of Manannan mac Lir, included among the chieftain-gods of the Tuatha should be considered apart from their terrestrial counterparts. Manannan was lord of the sea beyond and under which lay Tir na nOc, the Celtic otherworld. One of the most colourful of the Tuatha in his invulnerable mail, a helmet which shone like the sun and armed with his sword which never failed to kill, he sailed in his boat which needed neither sail nor oars but went wherever he willed it. His pigs were important for the well-being of the Tuatha. Killed and eaten daily, they returned to life the following day and provided the Tuatha with some of their supernatural food. Manannan in fact appears to have been a fertility deity, sharing at least some of the functions of the mother-goddess, but, as in the case of the preceding sea-gods whom he supplanted, it is extremely difficult to fit him into any exact classification.
IRISH GODDESSES
The gods of the Celts emerge from mythology as little occupied specifically with the fertility of the earth. In this they differed from, and perhaps complemented, the functions of the goddesses who. in their turn, appear to have retained the concept of the Mother-Goddess which had evolved in much earlier times and which persisted through and beyond the Celtic period. Whereas the Celtic-gods were specifically Celtic in that they could have existed only in the climate engendered by the warrior-aristocratic society of their period, the goddesses were restatements of an age-old theme.
Danu: Anu and Brigit. The gods of the Celts in Ireland are frequently called the People of the Goddess Danu, but this does not mean that she actually gave birth to all of them. The Dagda, for example, was sometimes referred to as her father. The only direct descendants of Danu who appear in mythology are Brian, luchar and lucharba, probably an example of the triple concept of one deity which is common in Celtic iconography. With Danu was confused Anu or Ana after whom were called the hills, the Paps of Anu in Co. Kerry.
Similarly confused was Brigit who again was frequently regarded as a triple goddess. Her worship appears to have been more widespread than that of either Danu or Anu and she survives in Christianity as Saint Brigid (or Bride). It seems probable that all these deities are different concepts of the same mother-goddess figure. All were goddesses of plenty and should find their place in the concept of fertility-cults. Brigit, however, had additional functions as a tutelary deity of learning, culture and skills.
Macha. Macha, the eponymous deity of the capital of Ulster, Emain Macha, was a more complex deity. The mythology suggests that she was perhaps a survival of a mother-goddess worshipped in parts of Ireland prior to the arrival of the Celts. Her earlier functions are obscure but appear to have been appropriate to those of a fertility goddess. She was, for example, the wife of Nemed, a leader in one of the earlier invasion myths. In the Ulster Cycle she was the wife of Crunnchu, a peasant farmer, and this close association with the soil is in contrast with the more exalted role of the male deities. Against her will and although pregnant she was forced to race against the horses of Conchobor at Emain Macha. She was successful but died giving birth to twins. In dying she put a curse on the warriors of Ulster which subjected them for nine generations to the pangs of childbirth for five days and four nights in the hour of their greatest need. It has been thought that this myth refers to some
collective ritual practised at one of the feasts of Ulster in honour of Macha, the mother-goddess, and in times of national distress. Macha is here again a fertility deity, concerned not only with the fertility of the earth but also man's fertility.
In another myth Macha appears as a warrior-queen in her own right, forcing the sons of her enemies to build the fortifications of her capital, Emain Macha. Here she had acquired a more warlike role which is paralleled in the myths of other goddesses. It might be expected that tutelary deities, male or female, would have been expected to fight for their devotees and, as in Celtic society in the pre-Christian period it was not unusual for women to fight in battle, there is no need to feel that the Celts were being unethical in casting their goddesses in warlike roles. The historic queens. Boudicca and Cartimandua, are evidence of this and the mythical queen, Medb of Connacht. is in the same tradition. Macha was sometimes associated with the Morrigan and the Badb to form a triad of warrior goddesses who presided over battle. As such they did not fight with mortal weapons but used their supernatural powers, for example the Morrigan in fighting against Cii Chulainn. They frequently resorted to shape-shifting and it is evident that many Celtic goddesses undertook personal transformations at different times.
The other female deities that are discernible in Celtic mythology are variations on the theme of the Mother-Goddess who not only
saw to the fertility of the earth, animals and men, but who would have aided with supernatural powers their devotees in their distress. There were many local deities fulfilling much the same functions as those more fully documented in the literature, and some had local festivals dedicated in their honour similar in intent, if not in size, to that of Tailtiu. That Tailtiu had been the daughter of one of the Fir Bolg but subsequently married the Tuatha De Danann is another instance of the continuity of the mother-goddess figure.
BRITISH DEITIES
Due to the nature of Welsh mythology and the stronger influences of Christianity imposed on it before the production of the earliest extant manuscripts it is more difficult to reconstruct the main features of the gods and goddesses of Britain. In the Four Branches of the Mabinogi it is possible to trace a mythological history of Britain, similar to that of Ireland in that there is the dispossession of gods by those of newcomers. It is, however, by no means as complete as the Irish Mythological Cycle but this lacuna may be filled by reference to other parts of the Welsh literature.
The Children of Don. Some of the Irish deities reappear in Wales in the native tradition but this may have been the result of Irish immigration into Britain in the late Roman period. Parallel to the Tuatha De Danann, although by no means identical in every respect, are the Children of Don. Among them was Govannan, the smith and brewer, who was the British equivalent of Gobniu. Ludd or Nudd was the analogue of Nuada, both being credited in
their respective myths with silver hands. I.law Hrcint, 'silver hand', being the epithet of Ludd, and both having been rulers.
Perhaps the greatest of the Children of Don was Gwydion who was more of an omnipotent god such as the Dagda and Lug. He was skilled in the arts of war and peace and underwent trials at the hands of hostile powers, much in the way that the Dagda suffered ordeals when subject to the Komorians. In this case, as with the Dagda. this myth probably represents a ritual ordeal imposed on the Celtic chieftains. He possessed magical powers and was skilled in poetry and eloquence. Despite his strongly defined attributes in the literature his worship was apparently restricted to north-west of Wales.
Among the Children of Don was Arianrod. a goddess, after whom the Corona Borcalis was sometimes named. She was the mother of Llew. again a somewhat indistinct figure who has been compared not very satisfactorily with the Irish Lug. Llew was known as Z,/nr A/mi (Vi//('s. 'Llew of the strong hand', perhaps similar in intent to the A«m/7;«(/« of Lug. Like Lug he had a spear and u sling after which the rainbow was called. He appears to have been another manifestation ofthc chieftain-god idea. It is interesting to note that many of the Children of Don gave their names to constellations, such as Cassiopeia Llys Don ('the Court of Don'), the Milky Way - Ca;r Gwydion. Corona Borealis C;cr Arianrod. However, this does not imply they were necccssarily part of a sky myth.
The Children of Llyr. As in Irish literature Manannan was more renowned than his father, Lir, so in the Welsh is Manawyddan more clearly denned than was his father, Llyr. The attributes of
Manawyddan ah Llyr were less clearly defined than his counterpart, and sometimes even contradictor), hut he appears to have been a god of fertility and craftsmanship. The m\th of his fortress in Gower, built from human hones, may hide some reference to sacrifice.
His brother Bran the Blessed. M'/fr/r^c/? gnm. is more clearly defined. Of enormous siy.c and commensurate strength he possessed those supernatural powers attributed to their deities by the Celts in Ireland. He had a cauldron which would restore to life the dead but without the power of speech. This cauldron had originally come from Ireland and was returned there as a gilt to Matholwch. king of Ireland. Bran was later forced to fight Matholwch and in the episode of this war his superhuman powers were emphasised. He waded across the Irish Sea. his body like a mountain, his two eyes lakes on either side of a ridge which was his nose. When he laid himself down across a river a whole army could march across his back. In addition he was a skilled harpist and poet. At the final battle with Matholwch Bran was wounded in the foot with a poisoned arrow. Realising he was dying he ordered his head to be cut off and he taken to the White Hill in London facing the continent as a protection against invaders. Thus Bran appears as yet another omnipotent god who watched over his people, fighting for them, and ultimately sacrificing himself for them.
It has been suggested that the Children of Llyr were deities of the underworld as opposed to the Children of Don who were sky deities. This is disputable, hut the two groups appear to have represented successive groups of gods worshipped in Britain. As in the case of the 7'H«//i« Dt' D«»»;i« and the Fomorians in Ireland there was intermarriage suggesting some form of rapprochement
232 —  CELTIC MYTHOLOGY
between contending groups. British archaeological evidence shows that in the highland /one where most of the myths were preserved the remains of earlier cultures lingered and prospered long after the newer cultures had become dominant in the lowland zone. It would not be surprising if remnants of pre-Celtic beliefs had become incorporated into the purely Celtic tradition. The interpretation of the Welsh tradition is complicated by many factors including the Irish influences which must have been strong in parts of Wales in the sub-Roman period, the possibility of still later Scandinavian influences, and the late date of the extant British literary sources. The Christian Church appears to have been less generous to its pagan forerunners in Britain and the Celtic gods in Welsh mythology were much more mutilated than their Irish counterparts.
Other British Deities. Deities who did not strictly belong to either the Children of Don or of Llyr included a counterpart in Welsh myth of the Irish Morrigan, a goddess appearing in battle in changing horrid guises. Pwyll appears in the first branch of the Mabinogi to have become the lord of the underworld in a myth which tells of how he changed places for a year and a day with Arawn, prince of Annwn. the British Hades. Henceforth he was known as Pwyll Pen Annwn, Head of Annwn. He married Rhiannon who was an earlier fertility-goddess and they produced Pryderi. a later lord of the underworld and around whose exploits the myths enshrined in the four branches of the Mabinogi were woven. The large number of supernatural beings who appear in Welsh mythology remain indistinct but the central theme which recurs frequently is that of strife, all of which should point to a struggle between beliefs in conflicting deities, but centred mainly on that between the Children of Llyr and the Children of Don and their various allies.
Arthur. Some considerable difficulty impedes a completely satisfactory interpretation of Arthur. As the legends surrounding him took shape in the literature of the Middle Ages writers borrowed material from different sources and confused what they did not understand in an attempt to produce a coherent narrative. There seems little reason to doubt that a historic Arthur existed in the person of Ambrosius Aurelianus who lived in the turbulent century following the collapse of Roman rule in Britain. He appears to have been a Romanised Briton who successfully commanded a mobile force of cavalry against Saxon invaders. It is not improbable that the accounts of his exploits would have been cherished and magnified by the Celtic population.
Behind the historic Arthur was a mythical person who has been variously interpreted as a god. Artor, the ploughman, and a bear god, neither of whom are entirely convincing. By the time the Welsh myths were written down the mythical Arthur had become as indistinct as the majority of other Welsh deities. In the story of Culhwch and Olwen Arthur appears most strongly in his mythological aspect, surrounded by other mythical persons. He appears to have been yet another chieftain-god with his consort, Gwcnhwyfar, perhaps originally a fertility goddess. To the early relatively simple conception of Arthur had been attracted myths belonging to other deities and the exaggerated exploits of the historic Arthur. Despite the strong influence of Christianity in the later versions it is possible to detect the Celtic myth in which the Grail is the thinly disguised cauldron of plenty and the opponents of Arthur and his Knights are the last echoes of various long-displaced deities.
THE CELTIC HERO-FIGURE
Distinct from the full-scale gods who were divine were the heroes of the Celts who, although basically human, possessed superhuman powers which they used for the benefit of their people. Foremost in the extant literature is the life and death of Cu Chulainn whose exploits figure so largely and in great detail in the Ulster Cycle. Cu Chulainn is the epitome of the Celtic hero who was the defender of his tribe, a mortal endowed with superhuman faculties which he exercised solely for the good of his people. From his birth to his early death the epics centred on Cu Chulainn are probably representative of similar stories woven around the heroes of lesser tribes and which have been lost. In the story of Culhwch and Olwen some of Culhwch's exploits resemble Cu Chulainn's and the former suggests the existence of similar hero-figures among the British Celts.
In the story of Cu Chulainn's birth there is an clement of myster; and doubt. In one version it appears that he was the son of at leas one divine being. Lug, and in another version that he was bon three times, a further instance of Celtic triplication. His origina name was Setanta and this is connected with the British tribe, tin Selanti, whose tribal hero he may originally have been. His name Cu Chulainn, 'the Hound of Culann', was given him at the age o seven after he had been forced to kill the watch-dog of Culann, thi smith. In recompense Cu Chulainn undertook to guard the king dom of Ulster and thus became the champion of his people. In hi: childhood he is pictured as bearing typically human attributes ant was brought up in circumstances appropriate to those of the sor of any high-born Celt. Following custom he was sent away to foster parents, although his education from Sencha, Fergus and Cathbac who taught him wisdom, warfare and magic, in addition to thi more normal fosterage given by Amairgin the poet, was to fit hiir for his special role in society. He later received further tuition fron: the sorceress, Scathach, who taught him much of the art of magic This over-emphasis of human attributes and needs was typical ol all things surrounding the person of the hero but essential humanity was never obscured. Similarly, Cu Chulainn came to full manhood at an earlier age than his contemporaries and won his position by force. Violence to gain his objective is typical of the hero. Cu Chulainn's entry into the court of Conchobor was violent and his disturbance of the king's chessboard was as ill-mannered as the Welsh hero Culhwch's entry on horseback into Arthur's court. Later on he was similarly required to win his bride by force after undergoing violent and dangerous ordeals in foreign lands.
After undergoing his ritual ordeals, one of which was to fight the hound of Culann, Cu Chulainn received his warrior's armour, again by a form of trickery. Now he was a full warrior but before
he could become the full protector of his people he had to prove himself in further exploits. Once completed he was able to take his place at courts as the full champion of his people, fully equipped and skilled in the arts of war and culture. He was the exaggerated ideal of Celtic nobility, proud, brave and skilled in magic and the arts. The Celtic warrior was no uncouth soldier but was able to converse on equal terms with poets and druids.
In his normal state Cu Chulainn is pictured as a young man with well-defined physical attributes, lie had seven pupils in each eye, seven fingers on each hand and seven toes on each foot. His cheeks were multi-coloured, yellow, blue, green and red. His long dark hair was of three tints, dark close to the roots, red in the middle and lighter in colour towards the tips, suggestive of the practice of the Celts of smearing their hair with a thick wash of lime. Rich and gorgeous jewellery adorned him, a hundred strings of jewels on his head, a hundred golden breast ornaments. Far different was Cu Chulainn in his battle-frenzy when his body was seized by contortions. He turned round in his skin so that his feet and knees were to the rear and his calves and buttocks to the front. His long hair stood on end and on the tip of each hair was a spot of blood or a spark of fire. From his open mouth spurted fire and from the top of his head a jet of black blood rose mast high. One eye receded far back into his skull while the other protruded onto his cheek. Finally, on his forehead appeared the 'hero's moon', a strange inexplicable sign. When in this state Cu Chulainn's fury was uncontrollable and he needed to be plunged into three vats of cold water before he could be pacified.
Thus endowed he was well-nigh invincible in battle and was able to defend Ulster single-handed against the four provinces of Ireland during the time when the men of Ulster were laid prostrate with the curse of Macha. This is the great central action in the story of Cu Chulainn, the Cattle Raid of Cualnge, which in itself is full of significance. Although invincible he was not invulnerable and his body was sorely wounded on a number of occasions. To the Celts their hero had to suffer as a mortal else he would have been lessened
in their eyes. Similarly, he had to die without descendants yet die unconquered, and this was brought about by supernatural means against which he was powerless.
During his life-time Cu Chulainn had made enemies who, if he spared them, plotted for revenge. Among them was Queen Medb who had intitiated the Cattle Raid of Cualnge in her attempt to steal the brown bull of Cualnge. She had trained sorcerers from childhood as part of her plan to bring about Cu Chulainn's downfall. Again Ulster was invaded by the four provinces and again Cu Chulainn hastened to its defence. This time he realised that he was fighting against supernatural powers which had been carefully organised against him. In Irish mythology there is the frequent occurrence of the geis which was a ritual injunction to avoid certain actions in some circumstances and to perform others in the appropriate circumstances. Cu Chulainn was burdened with several gcasci and in his last battle, the 'Great Carnage of Mag Muirthemne'. he realised that he had been 'overtaken' by his gcasa.
Before the actual battle Cu Chulainn was thus overtaken by his gea.ia. Three of the sorceresses of Medb were roasting a dog at a hearth as he passed. It was one of his geasa not to pass a hearth without tasting the food being prepared but it was also another geis for him to eat dog. By taking the dog's shoulder offered to him his powers were diminished. Another series of demands were made on him by a poet who threatened to satirise him if he refused. This succeeded in disarming and mortally wounding him. Washing himself in a lake he killed an otter which came to drink the bloodstained water. He realised that his end was near as it had been foretold that his first and last exploits would be the killing of a dog - the first was the Hound of Culann and the last a water-dog, the otter. In his death agony he bound himself to a pillar-stone and defied his enemies until the end. And so he died with his honour unimpaired.
All the features which distinguish the Celtic hero are discernible in the C'ii Chulainn story and all tribal heroes must have followed this pattern to a greater or lesser extent. Cu Chulainn, however.
was a hero within the tribe, fighting for his people. Beyond the minutely ordered social life of the tribe existed another hero-figure best typified by Finn. Finn shared the more important of the personal qualities of Cii Chulainn but he and his peers were conceived of as extra-tribal heroes. The exact meaning of the myths centred on the fiana, the bands of young warriors in the Ossianic Cycle, has brought forth a number of interpretations. The background of this cycle differs in externals from that of the Ulster Cycle in that it clearly relates to a later period. It would be a mistake to regard the fiana as groups of deities, for Finn and his band were not gods but heroes, mortal yet endowed with superhuman attributes. They were frequently in close contact with the otherworld. The fiana of mythology, such as that of Finn mac Cumal and his band, apparently had purely human prototypes in Celtic society. They were groups of young warriors who, for a variety of reasons, were unable to fit comfortably within the precisely defined pattern of tribal life. As such they were free of the normal obligations due to their respective tribes. A great part of their activities was devoted to hunting and mercenary warfare. They were, in fact, a form of mobile army whose allegiance could be granted temporarily to any ruler who had immediate need of their services. In this way they have sometimes been conceived of as defenders of Ireland against Norse attacks, but this is clearly a later interpolation. The human fiana may very well have taken part in the historically attested Irish raids on Roman Britain.
As the hero of the tribe was basically human but was a magnified ideal so were the mythological fiana bands of human warriors whose exploits were similarly magnified. Many of their hunting and fighting expeditions were set in magical environments. Frequently they ventured into the Celtic otherworld, into the sid of one of the gods and across the sea to the Isles of the Blessed. They fought on the side of the gods, particularly as allies of the Tuatha De Danann, against their enemies. Their genealogy often included ancestors among the gods, Finn, for example, having ancestors among both the Tuatha De Danann and the Fir Bolg. In their persons they possessed the attributes expected of the tribal hero, bravery and loyalty, skill in fighting and the more cultured arts, particularly poetry. Ossian, the son of Finn, after whom the Ossianic Cycle is named, was perhaps the greatest poet of them all.
The hero, therefore, was human. He had superhuman powers but not enough to prevent his being wounded in his encounters with enemies. Being mortal the hero had to die although, as in the case of Finn who lived to be two hundred and thirty, his life-span was sometimes superhuman. In sum, the hero was the magnified ideal of the Celtic warrior aristocracy.
THE CELTIC OTHERWORLD
After their defeat the Tuatha De Danann in popular tradition left the land of Ireland. Some of the survivors went underground
to take possession of the side, natural mounds and tumuli of prehistoric Ireland. Within a sid a whole supernatural world could be encompassed. Other gods went under the sea where lay Tlr jo Thuinn. The Land under the Waves'. Others voyaged westwards over the sea to Tir na nOc, the 'Land of Youth', or Mag Mell, the 'Field of Happiness', imaginary islands towards the setting sun.
However it was conceived, the otherworld of the Celts was a place of supreme happiness. All the yearning of the Celtic soul for a Golden Age seems to have inspired the poets in their descriptions of Tir na nOc, or the side. Time ceased to have terrestrial meaning, a minute in a sid might be the equivalent of several mortal years, a period of days in a sid might be only as long as a minute in the human world. As soon as one of Bran's companions, in returning to look at their homeland after a sojourn in the otherworld, set foot on land he turned to ashes. To them it seemed that they had been away for only a year, yet it had really been centuries.
In the otherworld the Celtic vision1 of mortal perfection is idealised. The land was rich in food and the delights of nature. No unpleasantness existed, neither in nature nor in man. Music, feasting, love-making and, proper to the ideal of a warrior-aristocracy, even fighting were unlimited and devoid of any sense of satiety. All were immortal and if wounds and death resulted from battle, on the following day the wounds were healed and the dead restored to life. And so it continued into eternity.
This was a land of magic, ruled over by the dispossessed gods
and inhabited by supernatural beings. In the myths, however, man is sometimes pictured as entering this world either on the invitation of a god or goddess or by force. In particular, the Celtic heroes were invited to help perhaps the ruler of a sid against an enemy in return for the love of a divine woman. Again, there are stories of men forcing their way into the side to steal the treasures of the gods for the benefit of man. There several such stories woven around the theft of a magic cauldron of plenty or of magic cattle. As in many Celtic myths the ideal is magnified and this is clearly .the significance of the idealised picture of the Celtic otherworld.
In contrast with the delights of Tir na nOc, there was also an otherworld in which' fear rather than bliss was predominant. The domain of giants, such as that of Ysbaddaden in the tale of Culhwch and Olwen, or the kingdom of Scathach surrounded by phantoms and horrors in the Cii Chulainn epic may be cited. It is difficult to reconcile these two apparently contradictory concepts of the other-world but a simple explanation is possible. If a Celtic hero was pictured as proving his valour against supernatural forces the myth would tend to exaggerate the horror in his difficulties. If he was invited into the world of the Tuatha De Danann as a guest or as an ally the supernatural delights of that world would also be emphasised. Clearly a hero could not have proved his valour in a land of plenty peopled by divine and gracious beings, but he could have done so in a land of demons.
The Feasts of the Celtic Year. There were lour main feasts in the Celtic year. The year began on what is now the first of November with the least of Samhain. Three months later on the first of February was Imbolc followed by the (east of Beltain or Cetshamain on the lirst of May. The fourth least was that of Lughnassah on the first of August. Of these four Samhain and Beltain were the more important and in the myths many important events took place on those days.
The beginning of the Celtic New Year was a particularly important event and the mythological cycle contains in its many references to Samain evidence of ritual acts which took place at this time. On the eve of the least, time appeared to belong neither to the old year nor to the new. There was a feeling that this lack of distinction in time was matched by a similar indistinct boundary between the world of man and that of his gods. Although man had taken possession of the land after their defeat the Tuatha de Dannan were still powerful and could affect man's welfare. Whereas the mythical heroes of the Celts could venture bravely into sidhe to meet their gods either as allies or enemies, the ordinary people felt less sanguine about the possibility that on the eve of Samhain the people of the sidhe left their domain and wandered in the world of man. Furthermore the beginning of the year was a solemn event, coming as it did at the beginning of winter, to a people whose agricultural economy was still liable to failure.
The origins of the feast may remount in time to the pre-Celtic period. In the Mythological Cycle the people of Nemed were forced to render to the Fomorians on this day two-thirds of their milk, their corn and children. Allowing for exaggeration this seems to refer to a distant memory of a considerable offering of agricultural produce and perhaps of human sacrifice too. Similarly, there is an echo in the Dindshenchas the mythological geography of Ireland, of human sacrifices to Crom Cruaich and hideous and terrifying ritual at Samhain in Celtic times. There are references, too. to ordeals by fire and water, which are probably myths of human sacrifice. Filtering the darkness and insecurity of winter the Celts, in common with other primitive peoples, felt at this time of the year their insecurity in the face of the supernatural. The stories of attacks by hostile supernatural powers and of sacrifices arc indicative of this insecurity and the need for propitiation.
There is less fear in those myths of .Samhain centered on the union of male deities with a mother-goddess figure. Such is the myth of the Dagda's union with the Morrigan by the River Unius and with Boann. the goddess of the River Boyne. Possibly at this feast, too. there were rites performed to ensure the fertility of the land during the coming year.
The feast of Beltain, possibly dedicated to the god Belenus. was
a happier festival. On the first of May both the races of Partholon and the Tuatha de Dannan landed in Ireland. On this day fires were lit and the cattle were driven between them for ritual protection. The people danced, probably in a sunwise direction and carried burning torches around the fields, a form of sympathetic magic to aid the sun in his all-important role in an agricultural economy. At this time of renewed hope and delight at the end of the winter there were also fertility rites, possibly in honour of the Mother-Goddess.
The feasts of Imbolc and Lughnassah are less easy to interpret, Imbolc, on the first of February, has been connected with the lactation of ewes, and. although the sheep appears to have had little significance in Celtic mythology, its place in the economy of the Celts is well attested. It would have been appropriate to celebrate a feast at a point half-way though the Celtic winter. In later times this became the feast of Saint Brigid, a Christianised retention of a Celtic goddess of fertility. Brigit. Lughnassah on the first of August, appears to have been connected with the god Lug. but it was also in some way connected with fertility as shown by the association of mother-goddesses, such as Macha, in the celebrations held on this day.
That the feasts of Samhain and Beltain were of considerable antiquity is suggested by the strongly pastoral basis of the Celtic economy. Although the sun appears to have been invoked at Beltain, the Celtic year had no solar orientation. There is nothing here of the solstice or equinox and one is reminded of Caesar's comment that the Celts measured time by nights instead of days. The feast of.Lughnassah with its more agrarian bias should, on this supposition, be later in its inception. Its association with Lug. who. in turn, appears to have been introduced at a later date than, for example, the Dagda, supports this hypothesis. It is possible that Lugnasad replaced an earlier feast, possibly more simply a fertility festival. Although crop-raising figures little in the myths of a predominantly pastoral society, it has to be remembered that primitive corn-growing had been practised in Ireland as early as the Neolithic period. Perhaps the ordinary peasant farmer was disregarded in the cult-practices which were primarily devoted to the well-being of a warrior aristocracy.  (brenna note: Boy this person knows little or nothing about the festivals)

THE GREEK AND ROMAN VIEW OF CELTIC RELIGION
Celtic Mythology contains invaluable evidence as to the beliefs of the Celts in the pre-Christian period. At its greatest extent Celtic influence covered much of Western Europe and penetrated as far as Asia Minor, but the mythology is strictly relevant only to the
Celts of the British Isles. There was an undoubted basis of common belief shared by all Celtic peoples, and to obtain any evidence as to the beliefs of the continental Celts it is necessary to consider both the opinions of Greek and Roman writers and the archaeological record. The evidence of the classical writers is particularly valuable because, although fragmentary, it is a contemporary record. Set against this, however, was their inability to view beliefs of other peoples against anything but a classical background. They constantly sought parallels within the framework of their own religious experience. Allowing for this their evidence is valuable, if at times apparently in conflict with that derived from mythology.
Caesar spent ten years in Gaul at a time when that part of Europe was being brought fully into the Empire. Before his time Greek and Roman influences had been entering the country and the attitudes of the Celts, particularly among the aristocracy, may well have been modified as much by classical belief as by the material imports. Caesar's evidence is, nevertheless, of considerable value. He said that the whole people were devoted to their beliefs and stated that Mercury was worshipped more than any of their other gods. This is supported by the archaeological evidence from Roman Gaul whence over four hundred inscriptions and more than three hundred statues survive. After Mercury, Apollo, Mars, Jupiter and Minerva were worshipped and the Celts held beliefs similar to those of other people; Apollo was a healing god, Minerva a goddess of craftsmanship, Jupiter a heavenly ruler and Mars a war-god. Mercury emerges as a chieftain-type god, the inventor of all (hearts, the presiding deity of commerce and guardian of travellers. Caesar also referred to Celtic belief in descent from Dis Pater.
It would be easy to dismiss Caesar's evidence as inaccurate, but remembering his long stay in Gaul and the accuracy of so much of his Gallic War it is obvious that his opinions are not so obviously incorrect. In the first place he did not concern himself with the native name for Celtic deities but equated them as closely as possible with his own gods. It is unlikely that Mercury and the other Roman gods were worshipped by name in pre-Roman Gaul and Britain and it would appear that reference was being made to Celtic deities. It is unnecessary to attempt a complete identification of Roman with Celtic gods. Irish mythology shows that the male gods were regarded as omnicompetent, father-figures, warriors and poets. It would have been easy for a Roman to have interpreted any of these individual functions in terms of a single god of his own pantheon. It is possible that different tribes would have emphasised some particular attribute of their tribal gods at different times according to their ritual needs. Caesar could have equally misinterpreted the function of the Celtic goddess, although it is inexplicable how he could have completely overlooked the cult centre-d on Celtic fertility-goddesses whose existence is so well attested in epigraphy. Perhaps Caesar was drawing his evidence from those tribes who had received the greatest classical influence. What might have been true in the time of the C'elts in southern Gaul in the first century BC would not necessarily have been applicable to the insular Celts.
Lucan in his Phursalia refers to three deities. Telltales, Esus and Taranis to whom sacrifice respectively was offered by drowning, hanging and burning. Attempts have been made to equate these deities with Mercury, Mars, Jupiter and Dis Pater. It has also been suggested that in prc-Roman Gaul the C'elts worshipped a single omnicompetent god who, after contact with classical influences, was conceived of as a number of specialised deities. This appears to oversimplify the problem. In Roman Gaul, Spain and Britain the equations belween Celtic and Roman gods was not always consistent. A Celtic Cocidius might be equated with both Mars and Silvanus at the same Roman fort and does not suggest the existence of specialised Celtic divinities. In discussing the Celtic gods in the insular mythology it has been shown thai, with few exceptions, Celtic gods were omnicompetent deities with little of the specialist in their make-up. It is probable also that wilh a few specific exceptions such as Lug. worship of individual deities was confined to restricted areas, probably coterminous with some tribal or other area. Archaeological evidence shows that Esus was worshipped in northeastern Gaul and although similar evidence for the worship of the Gallo-Rornan Telltales and Taranis is not great it is more widespread. Undue prominence has sometimes 
been given to Lucan's reference and it is now obvious that the triad, Esus, Taranis, and Teutates were either manifestations of a tribal deity or simply a local triad. The name Taranis means 'thunder' and Teutates is cognate with Tuatha, 'people', epithets which might have applied to almost any tribal god. In another passage Lucan describes the Gaulish Ogmios from whom may have been derived Ogma, the champion of Irish mythology.
The setting for worship is sometimes referred to in Greek and Roman writers. During the Roman period worship was formally organised in properly constructed temples and although there is evidence to suggest that some form of built 'temple' may have been used in the period of Celtic independence the main ritual activity of the Celts was conducted in the open air, in woodland clearings or by lakes, rivers, streams and springs. A writer in the fourth century B.C. refers to the existence in Britain of a magnificent circular temple dedicated to Apollo. It is difficult to understand this reference. Perhaps Stonehenge or Avebury is intended but the original use of these sites dates to the Early Bronze Age, at least one thousand years earlier, and the allusion to the sky-god is obscure. The barbarism of certain Celtic rites is brought out in their writings by Caesar, Tacitus, Lucan and others. Caesar states that human sacrifices were made by burning, the victims placed in huge images, and other writers frequently refer to blood-stained altars and the like. Allowing for literary licence there seems to be no doubt that the Celts practised human sacrifice, perhaps not as a frequent part of their ceremonial, but certainly in times of trouble and possibly, in the earlier period at least, at certain annual ritual gatherings. This helps in the interpretation of various myths involving death by fire or burning. Similarly, there are many references to the offering of human heads to the gods, and both the archaeological and mythological evidence provide comparable evidence. The head of Bran and Cu Chulainn's juggling with human heads may be cited. More frequent were the
animal sacrifices, some of which were substitutes for earlier human sacrifices.
It is from Latin writers, particularly from Caesar, that most of present-day knowledge of Druids is derived. The Druids were the holy men of the Celts. In them was vested the responsibility for the ritual welfare of their people. As the dividing line between ritual and secular was finely drawn and sometimes indefinably drawn, the Druids held considerable power in most spheres of Celtic life. In addition to their priestly duties they were also judges and teachers. As judges they were able to enforce their decisions by excommunication of the guilty and the resultant deprivation of tribal protection. As teachers their influence was strong among the aristocracy whom they educated.
Powerful in their organisation, their secular influence was immense but in the present context reference to their ritual functions is more apt. All ceremonial observances were naturally under their control. In them, too, rested the ritual lore of the Celts. This was not written down but had to be learned by rote during the long training of the Druid. In Ireland, at least, it appears that regular colleges of Druids existed. They were so well organised and the training given extensive enough to include non-ritual accomplishments that it was possible in the early days of Christianity for their conversion to Christian monastic establishments. In them the traditional love of learning continued and aided the preservation of Celtic Mythology which was ultimately committed to writing.
In the discussion of the mythology of the insular Celts an attempt has been made to indicate the nature of belief in the deities worshipped. Some amplification of the full nature of Celtic belief may be obtained from a study of Greek and Latin writers. According to Caesar the Druids taught that their souls did not die but passed at death into other bodies. Their belief in personal immortality was so strong that the Celts had no fear of death in battle. But this
Druidical teaching of the after-life led some classical writers to connect it with the Pythagorean doctrine of metempsychosis, Diodorus Siculus writing, 'the Pythagorean doctrine prevails among them, teaching that the souls of men are immortal and live again for a fixed number of years inhabited in another body'. The imputation of such a sophisticated concept to the Celts is one which cannot stand careful study. It is likely that the Romans could easily have confused true metempsychosis with Druidic teaching. Lucan recognised the profound differences of belief between Romans and Celts, but neither he nor any other ancient writer mentioned the basis of metempsychosis common to Pythagoreanism and other beliefs, the expiation of sin in other bodies after death until complete perfection is attained. Indeed there seems to be no evidence for a Celtic belief in retributive justice in the next world, no Hell, only an indeterminate land of the blessed. These remarks by Diodorus Siculus and others cannot be completely rejected and, although imperfectly understood today, some belief, no matter how vaguely it resembled true metempsychosis, may have been held. Some such similar belief may be hidden in the myths which tell of shape-shifting, such as those centred on Badb Catha, the Raven of Battle. Finally, there are frequent allusions to the Celts' use of representations of their deities. It is shown below that very few Celtic anthropomorphic representations are known prior to the assimilation of classical influences. Caesar speaks of images to Mercury and other writers mention crude figures, generally of wood. References of this type date to as early as the third century B.C.

THE EVIDENCE OF ARCHAEOLOGY
In this section an attempt is made to interpret the archaeological evidence derived from Celtic Europe in prehistoric and Roman times in terms of Celtic mythology.

Pre-Roman Evidence 
Although in pre-Roman times the Celts, with the exception of those subject to strong classical influences, appear to have worshipped in sacred places as opposed to formal buildings there are a number of sites dating from the Celtic Iron Age both on the continent and in the British Isles. In Britain a wooden-built 'temple', similar in plan to the later stone-built Romano-Celtic temples was discovered at Heathrow in Middlesex and is believed to date from the third century B.C. Under the Romano-Celtic temple at Frilford in Berkshire a small Iron Age shrine appears to have had affinities with earlier British Bronze Age ritual sites and cannot, on present evidence, be accepted as typical of Celtic practice. Continental sites have also revealed wooden-built structures, such as the first century B.C. circular roofed building at St. Margarethen-am-Silberberg. An open-air ritual site surrounded by an earthwork in the Kobener Wald contained at the centre a very tall wooden post set at the centre of a raised area. This site, known as the Coloring, appears to date from the sixth century B.C. and would have served as a ritual centre in which a large congregation could have been accommodated with room for such activities as ritual games and the like. It has been suggested that some of the sites at Tara and elsewhere in Ireland may have resembled the Coloring in function as well as in physical appearance. In this connection the reference to a circular temple in Britain to Apollo by a writer of the fourth century B.C. is apposite.
Zoomorphic Representation 
In the art of the Celts in pre-Roman times there is frequent reference to animal motives and much of this can only have been ritual in intent. Among the animals which are well represented in the metal-work of Iron Age Britain is the boar, as for example on the Witham shield, the boar's head from Banffshire and the helmet crests and numerous small votive boars. On the continent large stone sculptures of boars are known from Iberia and generally associated with hill-forts of the Celtic period. The bull figures in similar environments and the fine sacrificial bull on the base plate of the Gundestrup bowl may be cited as examples of the use of this animal in Celtic inconography. The importance of the bull in the predominantly pastoral economy of pre-Roman times is immediately obvious and the participation of cattle in the ceremonies of Beltine, at the election of a king at Tara and in their sacrifice at Bron Trograin, the August festival, links the archaeological with the mythological evidence. More obviously ritual are the three-horned bulls such as that from Maiden Castle. Dorset,
and the Tarvos Trigaranus of Roman Gaul, paralleled by the three-horned Gaulish boar.
The White Horse at Uffington in Berkshire, cut into the chalk of the hillside and probably dating to the Iron Age, is perhaps the most dramatic representation of the horse in Celtic times. This animal is closely connected with the cult of Epona, a horse-goddess, shown in some Gaulish statuary as seated on a horse. In time there may have been some confusion between the goddess and her horse and the deity equated with the animal. Inscriptions in the Roman period show that the cult of Epona was widespread and stretched from Spain to Eastern Europe and Northern Italy to Britain. A similar goddess may be identified in some aspects of Irish goddesses such as Macha of Ulster and Medb of Connacht and Rhiannon of the Welsh tradition. In Ulster there is evidence of a symbolic union of a new king with a mare representing the fertility of earth. The horse-goddess emerges as another manifestation of the mother-goddess, a protectress of the dead no less than the living as is suggested by the embossed horses on the Aylesford funerary bucket in the archaeological record and in the three red horsemen from the kingdom of Donn, lord of the dead in Irish Mythology.
Anthropomorphic Representation 
It has been sometimes suggested that the Celts were incapable of satisfactory anthropomorphic representation and this has been held to account for the apparent lack of human figures in pre-Roman iconography. The literary evidence tells of images, such as Caesar's reference to the many images of Mercury. The transitional period between the Late Bronze Age and the Iron Age in the British Isles and Northern Europe has revealed a number of cult-figures, some quite small but others more than life-size. That wooden figures were perhaps frequently used in Celtic times is possible as the literary evidence suggests and as is shown sparingly in the archaeological evidence. The pre-Roman sculptures of Gaul and Ireland, the coin evidence and a limited corpus of bronzes, proves that the Celts were able to portray the human - or divine - figure. Any apparent paucity of such representation in pre-Roman times might possibly be attributed to a reluctance to portray any deity in the same way that gods were rarely mentioned by name in swearing oaths.
Much of the sculpture from Gaul was influenced by foreign traditions, Greek and Etruscan. In the Rhineland anthropomorphic figures are pictured on pillars and wearing 'leaf-crowns', similar in some respects to the head-dress on the head of the Aylesford bucket. Cruder figurines are also known such as the stone figure from Stackach, Wiirttcmberg, and a small clay figurine from Co. Antrim. Iberia and Ireland have both produced small bronze figurines wearing crescentic head-dresses. The three-faced head of stone from Corleck, Co. Cavan, has parallels in Roman Gaul and is another example of the Celtic devotion to its triads.
It is difficult to equate the majority of the anthropomorphic figures of the pre-Roman period with individual deities. The hillside figure of a naked man wielding a club at Cerne Abbas in Dorset may represent a deity, perhaps the Dagda himself. An important exception is Cernunnos, the horned god, who is pictured with other deities on the Gundestrup bowl. Squatting in a pose known from south Gaulish sculpture, he is pictured holding a tore in his right hand and grasps a ram-headed serpent in his left. He wears breeches and a tunic and a tore around his neck. His horns are identical to those of a deer standing close by him. Perhaps the ritual significance here is connected in some way with the cycle of fertility symbolised by the shedding of antlers. Whatever the significance of this deity his cult was widespread in tune, from a fourth-century B.C. rock-engraving in Northern Italy to Romano-Celtic sculptures such as the serpent-legged Cernunnos in Cirencester Museum and elsewhere. In Ireland this horned god appears carved on a sandstone block at Tara.
The other deities pictured on the Gundestrup bowl include the god with the wheel who may perhaps be equated with Taranis. In Roman times his cult was wide-spread in Gaul and appeared in Britain. Also represented on the bowl are scenes in which sacrifices are being made and ritual processions are taking place. There is a contrast to be drawn between the large, tore-wearing busts of the deities and the smaller human figures and animals, some of which can be interpreted as sacrificial. The whole bowl, although Celtic, was found in Jutland and had been dismantled
and deposited in a bog as an offering, and presumably was itself an important cult-object.
Other Artifacts 
In addition to human and animal sacrifice the Celts are known to have made other offerings to their deities. Throughout the area of Celtic influence in Europe there is ample evidence of the deposition in streams, rivers and lakes of valuable objects. The Gundestrup bowl has been mentioned as a single offering but at Llyn Cerrig Bach in Anglesey deposits of valuable metal objects were made over a period of time. The close connection of the Druids with Mona is significant. It is known from contemporary sources that the Celts on the continent dedicated to their
gods the spoils of war and evidence similar to that of Llyn Cerrig Bach is known from La Tene and elsewhere.
The tore appears on the Gundestrup cauldron and on several Romano-Celtic sculptures as well as being mentioned in Irish mythology. There exist many splendid tores of bronze and gold, including the beautiful examples from Broighter, Co. Derry and Snettisham, Norfolk. They appear to have been some form of amulet, perhaps serving a purpose similar to that of the votive wheels of Britain and Gaul.
Objects accompanying burials are proof that the Celts believed in some form of personal immortality. Grave furniture was provided according to the status of the deceased and varied between
the elaborate chariot burials of the Marne and Yorkshire to the simple peasant burials with their frugal joints of pork. In between, the members of an intermediate class were provided with the armament and finery appropriate to their rank. The strong Celtic belief in a future life as shown in contemporary literature is supported by the ample evidence of Iron Age burial rites.
Romano-Celtic Evidence 
Archaeological evidence dating from the period of Roman occupation of Celtic areas must be used sparingly to amplify that of mythology and pre-Roman archaeology. It is immediately obvious that Roman influence would have been strong and, although the basic beliefs of the Celts in their deities may not have changed significantly, there is no doubt that they
would have been modified to a degree commensurate with the degree of Romanisation absorbed. This can be seen in the proliferation of Romano-Celtic altars, inscriptions and sculptures and of Romano-Celtic temples. The change is well epitomised in the replacement by the Gallo-Roman 'Jupiter-Column' of the simpler wooden ritual posts which once stood at the Coloring.
The epigraphic evidence is valuable even though the bulk of it might appear to be negative. It is seldom possible to equate the dedications with the figures of mythology. An exception is Mabon who is the Maponus of dedications and classical reference. Among the large numbers of inscriptions there is a high proportion of single dedications and of very small groups of dedications restricted to one place. Many of the inscriptions and altars must have been
dedicated to very minor deities, genii loci, rather than to full-scale tribal gods or mother-goddesses. The dedications to Coventina in Northern Britain, spirit of a sacred well, and to similar presiding deities of streams, rivers, mountains and other natural features in Britain and the continent do not so much offer proof of a pre-Roman deification of such natural features as the adoption in Roman times of the Roman trappings of a popular cult. It is not necessary to assume that such popular cults were so highly organised before the adoption of such elaborate aids to devotion, although the basic elements of reverence must have existed hitherto in a vaguer form. On the other hand the distribution of Romano-Celtic inscriptions within a limited area, such as those to Belatucadrus or Cocidius in Northern Britain, is suggestive of the cult of a tribal god. In an area of military occupation, however, the existence of troops from other parts of the Empire complicates to a degree not so evident in the more civilised provinces the interpretation of the epigraphic evidence. On the whole a study of the inscriptions supports the
belief that the Celts worshipped their local tribal gods. Local goddesses were also worshipped but it has been shown that Epona enjoyed a more widespread devotion. More apparent is the large corpus of inscriptions dedicated to the Matres, the triad of fertility-goddesses whose cult embraced most of Gaul and Britain.
A further complication in the interpretation of the Romano-Celtic evidence is apparent when the inscriptions include dedications to Celtic linked with Roman gods. This interpretatio romana is seldom consistent as a single Celtic god appears to have been identified with several Roman, even in the same place. The bulk of epi-graphic evidence is to be found in the Romanised parts of the Celtic areas, either in civilised Gaul and Spain or in the military areas of Northern Britain and the Rhineland where dedications to Celtic gods were made by soldiers, the majority of whom were not natives of the region in which they served. In making their dedications they may well have misunderstood the local deities whom they wished to honor. The Celts of Gaul, too, were obviously influenced by Roman cult-practices as may be seen in the sculptures of their gods who, although bearing Celtic names, frequently assume the trappings of a Mercury or a Mars.
The rapid spread and use of the Romano-Celtic temple was another symptom of Romanisation applied to the ceremonial of native cults. It is not known whether or not this was a result of Roman policy for, although native cults were allowed to continue provided that they were not in conflict with Roman law, the Druids were suppressed in Britain as being a potential political menace. Instead of being permitted to practise their ritual observances in secret woodland groves the Celts may well have been encouraged to build a Romano-Celtic temple in a town or the open countryside. This, together with the novelty of Roman trappings, could have accounted for their spread. Although substantially built of stone and decorated in the Roman manner these temples, with their central cella, either square, circular or polygonal in plan, with surrounding portico, were not based on the classical temple. They sometimes attracted to themselves the classical additions of a theatre and baths. At Lydney in Gloucestershire the temple-complex dedicated to Nodens included a temple of basilica plan, together with baths, an inn and a long building in which sick devotees slept in the hope of a nocturnal visit by the god. Dating to the first century A.D. it exhibits the interesting amalgam of classical and Celtic ideas, more particularly as it was probably the zeal of Irish immigrants into the region which made it possible. Nodens himself may be equated with Nuada of Irish mythology and Nudd of the Welsh. The archaeological evidence from this last phase of Roman influence in Britain is particularly valuable for, in addition to the strong possibility of an identification of Nodens with Nuada and Nudd, there is ample evidence that the devotees of Nodens accepted him as an omnicompetent god. He was a healing god, a protector of fishermen on the River Severn and was associated with a fertility deity. In his temple was a triple shrine, perhaps another instance of the triplication of a deity.
CONCLUSION 
There is little doubt that Celtic mythology, particularly that of Ireland, tells of the gods of the Celts. The myths themselves speak of Celtic belief in their deities and, although it is impossible to be certain how strong was Christian belief at the time they were written down, it is possible that a good proportion of this mythology is directly derived from the sacred lore of the Druids. In no way do either the references to Celtic beliefs by Greek and Roman writers or the archaeological evidence conflict with modern interpretations of the mythology. Provided that too rigid a rapprochement is avoided all three sources may be made to provide material for the study of the beliefs of the Celts. All the evidence points to the existence of comparatively localised cults and it is rare to find deities worshipped over wide areas. The cult of Lug is exceptional. Place and tribal names hint at his cult in Spain, Switzerland and Gaul as well as in Ireland. The restricted distribution of Romano-Celtic inscriptions and the existence of eponymous tribal deities suggest local tribal interpretations of chieftain-gods and mother-goddesses, although the latter frequently enjoyed a wider distribution than those of male gods. The mythology itself cannot be taken as evidence that there was a widespread belief in specific gods. This is not to say that similar gods were not worshipped under different names among different tribal groups.
The strongly marked aristocratic nature of Celtic society in the days of independence suggests that the mythology relates to the gods of the aristocracy and it is not certain either how far the ordinary peasant shared in these beliefs, or how far he was allowed to participate in ritual observances. The sorceress, Mongfhinn, to whom 'the women and common people addressed their prayers' is the only figure in mythology who appears to have been definitely worshipped by the ordinary people. The large number of single inscriptions from Romano-Celtic times may refer to similar popular cults centred on very localised genii loci who were frequently associated with a more primitive worship of minor natural features. Among the common people, too, there were many of pre-Celtic descent to whom the cult-practices of earlier times may have proved adequate. To such people the aristocratic gods of the Tuatha De Danann may have been too unapproachable, even if access had been allowed them. It seems likely that the secret lore of the Druids would have been denied to such people. Even the Celtic aristocracy seems to have been impressed by the burial places of earlier inhabitants, so much so that they were brought into their myths. To the peasantry in close contact with the soil such relics of earlier cults, in which their ancestors perhaps participated, may have seemed more potent than the gods of their newly arrived overlords.
As part of the earliest European literature after Greek and Latin, Celtic mythology has a value over, and above that of a source for ancient beliefs. In it is a rich store of priceless evidence for the way of life of the Celtic aristocracy, their hopes and fears. It is an important part of the record of a people who have made no small contribution to the European heritage, in no way diminished by its lack of general recognition.
TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY

INTRODUCTION
Three or four centuries before the Christian era the Teutons were established in the south of the Scandinavian peninsula, in the islands of the Baltic sea, and on the great Hat plain of north Germany between the Rhine and the Vistula. They formed a fairly populous group of tribes who were not politically united and indeed frequently fought each other, but they nevertheless spoke the same language, had a certain community of culture, and very probably shared the same religious beliefs. Some of these beliefs were inherited from their Indo-European ancestors; for the language and cultural structure of the Teutons was derived, some thousand years earlier, from the great Indo-European complex, and their distant kinship with the Latins. Celts, Greeks, Slavs and certain other peoples may explain the similarity of some of their general conceptions, and even of certain of their legends, with those of Greece, Rome and the Orient. The Teutons, however, had lived so long separated from other Indo-European peoples that in the end they had devised an original religion.
Lacking monumental illustrations and written documents, we shall never know the exact nature of this religion in the days when it was still more or less the same for all the German peoples. We only know it in the relatively developed form it had taken towards the beginning of the Christian era, and in the course of the ensuing centuries among the brunches of the ancient Teutonic nation.
In the historical epoch the Teutons were divided into three great groups: those of the East, or Goths, who. at first establishing themselves between the Oder and the Vistula, left this region towards the end of the second century A.I), and emigrated in great numbers towards the Black Sea: then the Teutons of the North, who occupied the Scandinavian countries: and finally the West Germans, ancestors of the present Germans and the Anglo-Saxons, who were at first confined to North Germany and little by little spread towards the Rhine and the Danube where they were soon to clash with the Romans. Meanwhile certain of their tribes prepared to cross the sea and establish themselves in Britain. This dispersion of the Germanic peoples was not without influence on their culture and. consequently, on their religious conceptions.
On their contact with Byzantine civilisation great numbers of the Goths were in the fourth century converted to Christianity. The only examples of their language which have survived are translations of the Bible and commentaries on sacred texts. The rare ancient historians who speak of the Goths tell us practically nothing of their pagan traditions. We must therefore abstain from speaking of the religion of the Eastern Germans. Teutonic mythology is known to us only through the literary products of the North and West Germans, as well as through certain works in Latin or Greek. Now at the period when historians of classical antiquity and authors who wrote in German, Anglo-Saxon or Norse began to note the religious traditions of the various Germanic tribes their mythology was very far from everywhere presenting the same features. The cult of certain divinities was very developed on one shore of the Baltic while it was neglected or even unknown on the opposite shore. The same gods did not enjoy equal prestige among neighbouring tribes. Also. Christian influences were already beginning to be felt.
The Anglo-Saxons of Britain were converted to Christianity from the commencement of the seventh century. Anglo-Saxon mission-aries soon began the evangelisation of Germany. CharJemagne completed by force the work which they had undertaken peaceably. The Scandinavian countries in their turn adopted the new faith between the ninth and the eleventh centuries. With the exception of certain Greek and Latin historians and a few Scandinavian poets, the writers from whom we derive our information about German mythology were themselves Christians. They arc apt to give a Christian tone to the old pagan myths. They lived, moreover, at quite different epochs and the traditions they collected at a remove of several centuries do not often agree very satisfactorily.
For the Germanic tribes of the West, the ancestors of the Germans and the Anglo-Saxons, documentary sources of information are sparse. Latin historians like Caesar and Tacitus had at their disposal only second-hand information and they attempted to explain Teutonic religion in terms of Roman religion. For instance. Donar. the thunder-god, became for them Jupiter tonans. Woden received the name Mercury and Tiw was called Mars. The missionaries, monks and clerks who. from the eighth century, pursued their work of conversion and were at the same time the first to write the German language could, had they wished to, have given us a complete picture of German mythology in the early centuries. But their chief concern was to save souls. Hence they scarcely alluded to pagan myths except to condemn them. We should know practically nothing of the old German beliefs if'popular' tales and epics had not preserved much that pertains to secondary divinities, demons, giants and spirits of all sorts.
The Scandinavians alone had the heart to save and perpetuate the memory of ancient beliefs. Their poets and scholars, even when they belonged to the Christian church, piously noted down the legends of the pagan gods. The old collection of anonymous poems known as the Eddas, one section of which dates from before the introduction of Christianity into Scandinavia - the songs of the skalds, the sages, the manuals of poetry, the works of history and erudition which medieval Iceland. Norway, Denmark and Sweden have left us, bring to life with much vigour and colour the ancient gods of the Teutonic pantheon and their cohorts of innumerable secondary divinities. It is almost entirely through the literature of Scandinavia that we know the legends of the great gods like Woden-Odin and Donar-Thor. It is. then, these legends especially which will be quoted in the following sections. But it does not therefore follow that these gods were exclusively Scandinavian. On the contrary they were, under various names, revered by the majority of the Teutons. Almost without exception the legends which were told among the ancestors of the Germans and the Anglo-Saxons have not been handed down to us. Hence in any account of Teutonic mythology the Scandinavian traditions must of necessity form a major part.

THE BIRTH OF THE WORLD, OF THE GODS, AND OF MEN
At the dawn of time, say the old bards and poets of Iceland, there was neither sand nor icy waves. The earth did not exist, nor the sky which to-day covers it. Nowhere did grass grow. Only a yawning abyss stretched through space. But. long before the sea was created, Niflheim, a world of clouds and shadows, formed in the regions to the North of the abyss. In the midst of Niflheim surged the fountain Hvergelmir, from which spread the glacial waters of twelve rivers. To the South lay the land of fire, Muspell-shcim. From there poured rivers whose waters contained a bitter poison which little by little set and became^ solid. On contact with the ice coming from the North this first deposit became covered with thick coatings of hoar-frost which partly filled up the abyss. But warm air blowing from the South began to make the ice melt; and from the tepid drops which thus formed was bom a giant in human form. Ymir - the first of all living beings.
Ymir was the lather of all the giants. Once while he was asleep it happened that he became completely bathed in sweat: under his left arm were then born a man and a woman, both giants like him. At the same time the ice, continuing to melt gave forth a cow. Audumla, the wet-nurse of the giants. Ymir quenched his thirst at her udders from which flowed four streams of milk. The cow herself licked the blocks of ice and was nourished by the salt which
they contained. Now. in thus licking the ice which melted under her warm tongue, she brought to light first the hair, then the head, and finally the entire body of a living being whose name was Buri. Burl had a son Bor, who married one of the giant's daughters. Bestla. With her he fathered the three gods Odin. Vili and Ve.
These three sons of the Giants' race at once began a struggle against the Giants which ceased only with their annihilation. At first they killed the aged Ymir. So much blood flowed from his body that the yawning abyss was filled with it, and in it all the Giants were drowned with the sole exception of Bergclmir who had launched a small boat on the stormy waves and with his wife succeeded in escaping. It was from this couple that the new race of giants issued.
Meanwhile the sons of Bor raised the inert body of Ymir from the sea and with it formed the earth which was given the name Midgard. or the 'middle abode', for it was situated halfway between Nifheim and Muspellsheim. The flesh of Ymir became the land and his blood the resounding sea. From his bones the gods made mountains and from his hair the trees. Then they took his skull and placing it on four raised pillars they made it into the vault of the heavens. In the vault they placed the haphazard sparks which escaped from the kingdom of fire. Muspellsheim. Thus they created the sun. the moon and the countless stars. The gods regulated their course and determined the succession of days and nights, as well as the duration of the year. The sun. travelling across the southern sky, threw its light and warmth over the vast stretches of the earth. And soon there appeared the first blades of green grass.
Other gods, during this time, had come to join the sons of Bor. Where they came from and whether they too were sons of giants the old Scandinavian authors do not say. In association with Odin these new gods worked to build their celestial dwelling-place. In this vast abode which, was called Asgard. 'the abode of the Aesir'. each of them had his own mansion. The North Germans thought that these divine palaces were exactly like the great farms of their petty nobility: the chief part was a large room, the hall, where one received visitors and gave banquets.
Between their place of residence and that of mankind the gods built a vast bridge to which they gave the name Bifrost, which was the rainbow.
Then they assembled and deliberated on the manner in which the earth might best be peopled. In the rotting corpse of the giant
Ymir whom Odin and his brothers had killed grubs were beginning to form. From these grubs the gods made dwarfs to whom they gave human form and whom they endowed with reason. Because the d,warfs were born of the flesh of Ymir, the gods decided that they should continue to live in what had formerly been this flesh and since become earth and stone. For this reason the dwarfs led a subterranean existence. There were no women among them and hence they had no children. But. as and when they disappeared, two princes whom the gods had given them replaced them by other dwarfs, moulded from their natal earth. Thus the race of dwarfs endlessly continued.
As for men, they sprang directly from the vegetable world. Such at least was the general tradition among the North Teutons. Three gods. Odin, Hoenir and Lodur. one day were travelling together on the still deserted earth. On the way they came across two trees with inert and lifeless trunks. The gods resolved to make mortals of them. Odin gave them breath. Hoenir a soul and reasoning faculties. Lodur gave them warmth and the fresh colours of life. The man was called Ask ('Ash') and his wife was Embla ('Vine'?). From them proceeded the entire race of man.
Tacitus in his Germanic attributes to the West Germans the ancestors of the Germans of to-day - a different tradition. The first man, according to these tribes, was called Mannus. and his lather was a god or a giant, bom of the earth, whose name was Tuisto. Mannus had three sons each of whom later lathered one of the three principal groups of the German tribes. This relationship was perhaps invented by some kind of primitive philosopher: for the names Tuisto and Mannus arc probably not without significance. The first seems to mean 'the two-sexcd being', and the second apparently means Man as a creature endowed with thought and will.
In the imagination of the North Teutons the earth on which man lived had the shape of a vast circumference, surrounded everywhere by water. In the circular ocean which thus bordered the inhabited world, and was itself only limited by the primitive abyss, there lived an immense reptile, the Serpent of Midgard, whose countless coils encircled the earth.
Beneath Midgard there was a third world, which was not without similarities to the infernal regions imagined by the Greeks and other peoples in antiquity. It was the abode of the dead and the Scandinavians gave it the name of Nifheim ('Mist-world') or Neifhel. This underworld was represented as a sombre, damp and
glacial place. In it lived giants and dwarfs whom the poets sometimes described as being covered with snow and hoar-frost. This subterranean kingdom was the domain of the goddess Hel. Its entrance was guarded by a monstrous dog named Garm who saw that no living person penetrated into the world of the dead.
This division of the universe into three super-imposed worlds does not correspond to the very oldest north Teutonic conceptions. We have already seen that their poets, explaining the origin of the world, placed Niflheim to the north of the immense abyss from which the world was soon to emerge. It is not impossible that in remote times the Teutons had conceived the universe merely as a kind of vast plane: in the centre stretched the earth and beyond the ocean and the original abyss lay vague countries inhabited by giants. Doubtless it was only later, and perhaps under the influence of Greek or Oriental cosmogonies, that they began to represent the world of the gods, the world of men and the world of the dead as situated one on top of the other.
Thus there is some uncertainty and even contradiction in the tales which have come down to us. There is still another tradition which ill-accords with those just given, but which is nevertheless familiar to all Norse poets: namely, the tradition that depicts the entire world as a tree of prodigious dimensions. This tree whose foliage was always green was the ash tree Yggdrasil. One of its roots reached down into the depths of the subterranean kingdom and its mighty boughs rose to the heights of the sky. In the poetic language of the skalds Yggdrasil signified the 'Steed of the Redoubtable' (Odin) and the gigantic tree received its name because, they said, Odin's charger was in the habit of browsing in its foliage. Near the root which plunged into Niflhel, the underworld, gushed forth the fountain Hvergelmir, the bubbling source of the primitive rivers. Beside the second root, which penetrated the land of giants, covered with frost and ice, flowed the fountain of Mimir, in which all wisdom dwelt and from which Odin himself desired to drink even though the price demanded for a few draughts was the loss of an eye. Finally under the third root of Yggdrasil - which according
to one tradition was in the very heavens - was the fountain of the wisest of the Norns, Urd. Every day the Norns drew water from the well with which they sprinkled the ash tree so that it should not wither and rot away.
In the highest branches of the tree was perched a golden cock which surveyed the horizon and warned the gods whenever their ancient enemies, the Giants, prepared to attack them. Under the ash tree the horn of the god Heimdall was hidden. One day this trumpet would sound to announce the final battle of the Aesir against all those who wished to cause their downfall. Near the vigorous trunk of the tree there was a consecrated space, a place of peace where the gods met daily to render justice. In its branches the goat Heidrun browsed; she gave Odin's warriors the milk with which they were nourished.
Malevolent demons continually schemed to destroy the ash Yggdrasil. A cunning monster, the serpent Nidhogg, lurked under the third root and gnawed at it ceaselessly. Four stags wandered among its foliage and nibbled off all the young buds. Thanks however to the care and attention of the Norns the tree continued to put forth green shoots and rear its indestructible trunk in the centre of the earth.
The Germans also, it seems, believed that the universe was supported by a gigantic tree. Doubtless the architecture of their own dwellings suggested this idea: it was their habit to support the framework of their houses by a huge tree trunk. Some German tribes set up pillars made of a single tree-trunk on hilltops. These apparently represented the tree of the universe and such monuments were called Irmensul, which means 'giant column". In 772 during an expedition against the Saxons, Charlemagne, in what is now Westphalia, had one of these pillars, which was an object of great veneration, destroyed.
This world was not eternal. In the end it would perish, and in its ruin the gods themselves would be involved. A day would come when the Giants and the demons of evil who lived in remote or subterranean regions of the universe would attempt to overthrow
the order established and maintained by the gods. Nor would their uprising be in vain; it would be the Twilight of the Gods and the collapse of the universe. But before relating the death of the gods we must describe what they had been, what their functions were, their powers and their personality.

THE GREAT TEUTONIC GODS
The Teutonic pantheon never contained a strictly defined number of divinities. The number varied, growing or diminishing according to tribes and epochs. Certain divinities who for a time were powerful gradually in the course of centuries lost the prestige they had once enjoyed. Others, on the contrary, grew in power and dignity. For the Germanic gods were never thought of as more than men of superior essence; and like men they were mortal and subject to the vicissitudes of fortune.
Three of them seem to have been the object of a cult which extended throughout the lands inhabited by the Teutons. These were Woden, whom the Northern Teutons called Odin; Donar, whose Scandinavian name was Thor; and Tiw - or as the Southern Germans said, Ziu - and who in Scandinavia was named Tyr. These three gods and a few others who will be discussed later belonged to the race of the Aesir. Besides the Aesir the Teutons - or at least the Scandinavians - considered that there was a second race of gods, the Vanir. The most important and best known of the Vanir was Frey. Between the Aesir and the Vanir a terrible struggle once took place which ended in a compromise; and Frey became, like Odin and Thor, an inhabitant of Asgard. When the great rising of the Giants took place the Aesir and the Vanir went into battle side by side, and side by side succumbed. Conceived by a warlike people, the Teutonic gods were nearly all distinguished for their warlike virtues. Even the goddesses, though few in number, reveal themselves on the occasion to be fearful in battle.
The basic structure of the Teutonic pantheon is a concept shared by all the Indo-European peoples, who are to be distinguished from all other cultural groups by a certain close correspondence between their social and religious structure. A comparison between the religions of the most conservative of the Indo-European groups, notably the Germans, Romans and Indo-Aryans, reveals a tripar-tition of their society, reflected in a tripartition of their religion. This history of the Indian caste system reveals three original groupings: a royal and priestly caste, a warrior caste, and a caste of agricultural workers. To these correspond three types of gods: those connected with the government of the world, both in its regular and its mysterious aspect; those connected with force and physical strength, largely but not entirely warlike; those connected with fecundity and all related concepts, such as peace.
health, pleasure, and the well-being of the 'plebs'. Early religious writers had seen the correspondence between this triple division and the division of the universe into heaven, atmosphere and earth. In India, we have the grouping of Mitra and Varuna for the first function, Indra for the second, and the Asvin twins for the third; at Rome, there is the ancient trinity of the ftamines ma/ores, Jupiter, Mars and Quirinus. Among the Germanic peoples, the Indo-European inheritance is represented by Woden and Tiw in the first position, Donar in the second, and the Vanir in the third. The representation of the first function by two divinities is a feature which the Teutons share with the Indian peoples, and which derives from the double aspect of the sovereignty as conceived by primitive peoples; firstly, there is the ruler who is the priest king, who works by the incalculable and terrifying means of magic, and secondly, the king who reflects the order of the world and of society, the constitutional monarch, as it were, who incarnates Law. The Indian Varuna and the Germanic Woden represent the first type, Mitra and Tiw the other. Similarly, the representation of the third function, that of fecundity, has, by the very nature of the concept, a tendency to split up into plurality, and among the various Indo-European peoples may be expressed, not only by a single divinity, but by twins, by a pair of gods reinforced by a goddess or by any other large grouping. It is, therefore, only with special reservations that we can refer to Indo-European gods as 'sky-gods' or 'storm-gods' or the like. To take one simple example: the name of the Indian god Varuna has been identified etymologically with that of the Graeco-Roman god Uranus (Greek, Ouranos), also a common noun for 'heaven'. This does not mean that Varuna's - or Uranus' -original function was the personification of the sky; for the name comes from some conception like 'master of the bond', a reference to the magical activities of the terrible master of the world whose powers are likened to those of a bond which renders his opponents powerless rather than to those resulting from physical force.
Woden-Odin. Woden is supposed to be the principal god of the Teutonic peoples and has been regarded as such for centuries, especially among the ancestors of the Germans. At the time when Tacitus described the customs of the Germans, that is to say towards the beginning of the second century A.D., the cult of Woden prevailed over all others. When in the fifth century the Angles and the Saxons invaded Great Britain they invoked Woden before setting out; and Woden was regarded by them as the ancestor of their kings. The fourth day of the week still bears his name, Wednesday, which is a direct transposition of the Eatin Mercurii dies, which in Erench became Mercredi.
For some time, scholars have regarded Woden as a 'jumped-up' god; originally a minor demon, he has managed to oust the more
important divinities such as Donar. 'storm-god' or Tiw, 'sky-god'. Recent researches have shown that this is not the case, that Woden is a prolongation of an Indo-European type. The old theory ran as follows: In all Germanic lands the belief was widespread that on certain stormy nights the tumultuous gallop of a mysterious troop of riders could be heard in the sky. They were believed to be the phantoms of dead warriors. This was the 'furious army' or the 'savage hunt'. This raging army had a leader whose name was derived from the very word which in all Germanic languages expresses frenzy and fury (in modern German wuten,'to rage); his name was Wode. The name was transformed as the divinity assumed more definite character in the imagination of believers; among the ancestors of the Germans it became Woden or Wotan, among the ancestors of the Scandinavians Odin. In the beginning this
god of nocturnal storms was represented as a horseman who, in a flowing mantle, a wide-brimmed hat and mounted on a horse, sometimes black, sometimes white, would range the sky in pursuit of fantastic game. But as he rose in dignity he ceased to be a divinity of the night. He became the god who granted heroism and victory and who, from on high, decided man's fate. Furthermore he was regarded as the god of spiritual life which is doubtless why the Latins compared him to Mercury. There is no evidence to suggest that leading the wild hunt was Woden's original function; on the other hand, these activities concord well with Woden's position as the magician-god of the Other World. There is no evidence, either, to suggest that the name Wode precedes Woden', both may be synchronous, Woden signifying 'master of the Wode, or fury', the fury which is the sign of the unchaining of all the brute forces of
this side of the stone represent, in cipher, the name of the god Thor.
the world, as distinct from its organised forces. Like Varuna, Woden rules principally by magic and notably takes an interest in the wider universe, not only in the world of living men, but also in the 'Other World'. Germanic mythology, and this is but a reflection of social conditions, has been noticeably militarised, and if Woden seems to take an undue interest in battle and warriors it is because the old 'royal' caste was more interested in war than anything else. But his shamanic origin is more than once stressed: in spite of his patronage of battles, he does not fight in them, but intervenes magically, making use of his Herjjoturr, his army-fetter, a paralysing panic. The fury over which he presides, like other magician-gods, has been turned towards war; consequently he has in a certain way become the god of war, but only by being the sovereign god and the master of the most powerful weapon, magic.
The ancient Germans certainly provided this god - who for them surpassed all others - with legends. But for lack of literary works in their language, none of these legends is known to us. We only know - thanks to an old magic formula which has come down to us - that they appealed to Woden to cure cases of sprains and dislocations. We also know that warriors invoked him in battle and prayed to him to give them victory. But only in Scandinavian countries have legends about his person and adventures survived.
In the North Woden was called Odin. He was the god of war and of intelligence. He was handsome. He spoke with such ease
and eloquence that all he said seemed true to those who heard him. He liked to express himself in verse, cadenced according to the rules laid down by the skalds. He had the power to change himself instantly into whatever shape he wished; he would in turn become a fish or a bull, a bird, a snake or a monster. When he advanced in battle his very approach would suddenly strike his enemies deaf, blind and impotent.
It was Odin who ordained the laws which ruled human society. It was on his command that dead warriors were burned with all that belonged to them on funeral pyres. For by thus taking with him all his worldly possessions the dead warrior would find them again when he reached Valhalla.
Odin was armed with a shining breastplate and a golden helmet. In his hand he grasped the spear Gungnir which had been forged by the dwarfs and which nothing could deflect from its mark. His horse, Sleipnir, was the best and swiftest of all stallions. It had eight hooves and no obstacle existed which it could not overcome.
One day Odin was riding in the land of the Giants. One of the inhabitants of the country, a certain Hrungnir, admired this horseman in the golden helmet who cleaved the air and waters so effortlessly, and began to praise the qualities of his steed. 'But,' he added. 'I myself have a stallion which is even stronger and swifter.' Odin challenged him. Both raced across the vast plain. Hrungnir dug his spurs into his horse, but in vain. In his wild race whenever he reached
the crest of a hill he saw Odin in front of him flying on Sleipnir towards the next crest. On another occasion Odin wished to rescue one of his proteges, Hadding, from the pitiless enemies who were chasing him. He took up Hadding, wrapped him in the folds of a broad cloak and placed him on the saddle before him. Then he took him home. Now while the horse galloped the astonished young man became curious and glanced out through a hole in the cloak. Stupefied, he saw Sleipnir's hooves pound the waves of the sea as though the road had been paved with stone.
Odin held court in a vast hall glittering with gold which was called Valhalla. Here he summoned to his presence the heroes whom it pleased him to distinguish among those warriors who had fallen on the field of battle. The framework of the huge chamber was formed by spears. The roof was covered not by tiles but by gleaming shields. Breastplates lay on the benches. In the evening this immense hall was lighted by the flash of swords which reflected the huge fires burning in the midst of the festive tables. There were five hundred and forty doors, each wide enough to admit eight hundred soldiers abreast.
In this palace dead heroes passed their time in warlike games and feasts. Odin presided at their libations. On his shoulders perched two crows who whispered in his ear all that they had heard said and all that they had seen with their eyes. Their names were Hugin and Munin (that is, 'thought' and 'memory'). Every morning Odin sent them far and wide; they ranged all the inhabited world, questioned the living and the dead, and returned before breakfast to bring to their master news of the great world.
With Odin in Valhalla lived supernatural women called Valkyries. They acted as both guardians and servants. They brought to Odin's guests beer and mead and attended to the plates and drinking vessels needed during feasts. But their role was not only domestic;
they had more martial duties. When there was a battle on earth Odin sent them to mingle with the combatants; it was their task to determine which warriors should fall, and they awarded victory to the side or to the chieftain who gained their favour. They rushed ceaselessly through space on their fiery chargers. Their appearance even was that of warriors; they wore breastplates, helmets and shields and brandished in their hands spears of gleaming steel. They were invisible except to those heroes who were fated to die. To him whom they had chosen to become a companion of Odin they would appear suddenly and make his imminent fate known. Then they would return to Valhalla and announce to Odin the impending arrival of those warriors who were about to join the countless band of his followers.
Odin often mingled in the affairs of men, though he rarely appeared to them in the splendour of his divinity. More often he assumed the disguise of a simple traveller. Among men he had his favourites and to them he always awarded victory. His favour, however, was inconstant and sometimes it happened that he himself would cause the death of a hero whom he had long protected. But even this could be a form of benevolence since such a dead warrior was immediately admitted to the joys of Valhalla.
There was one family to which Odin had been especially prodigal of his favours; the Volsungs. It was said that the founder of this family, one Sigi, was one of his sons. Thanks to the protection of his omnipotent father Sigi had been able to escape all dangers and to conquer a kingdom. He had a son, Rerir. Rerir himself for long remained without posterity. He addressed urgent prayers to Odin who heard him and sent his wife an apple. Rerir's wife ate the apple, and in due course gave birth to Volsung, who became a mighty warrior. Volsung's son was Sigmund. Now one evening when Sigmund and other warriors were seated around the great fires in a vast hall, whose centre was supported by a huge tree-trunk, an unknown man entered. He was tall, already old, and blind in one eye. His head was covered with a broad-brimmed hat, his body was wrapped in a wide cloak. In his hand he carried a naked sword which he thrust up to the hilt into the tree-trunk. The sword, he declared, should belong to him who proved strong enough to draw it out again. Then he vanished.
Every man present attempted to wrench the sword from the tree-trunk. Only the last to try succeeded. This was Sigmund himself, who from then on won many a victory with the aid of the divine sword. But the day came when Sigmund grewjald. He was struggling with an adversary when suddenly he saw before him a one-eyed man, wearing a broad-brimmed hat and wrapped in a wide cloak. The unknown man did not speak. He simply pointed with his lance in Sigmund's direction. Sigmund's sword broke in two pieces on the wooden shaft of the lance. The unknown man was Odin himself who had decided that his favourite should die, and thus disarmed him after having furnished him with the weapon of his former triumphs. Sigmund fell dying beneath his opponent's blows. When Hjordis, his wife, heard, she hastened to the battlefield to tend his wounds and, if possible, to save his life. But Sigmund refused all assistance: Odin desired his death and he insisted on submitting to the god's will. He made only one dying wish: he asked that the two fragments of his broken sword be kept so that one day they should be welded together again. The reforged sword was, in the hands of Sigmund's son, to accomplish further glorious exploits. This son was Sigurd - the legendary Siegfried of German tradition, the hero whom Wagner's operas have made celebrated.
Odin was the hero of many an amorous adventure. Although he was the husband of the most revered of the goddesses, Frigg - in German, Frija - he was no more faithful to her than she was to him. We often find him seeking the favours of mortal women, of female giants, or of supernatural beings.
He was not only a warlike and an amorous god, but also a god of wisdom and poetry. Many poems recount the wise counsels he offered men and the rules of conduct which he taught them. He was helpful and benevolent. He knew the magic formulas which cured illness, those which rendered the weapons of the enemy powerless, those which would break a prisoner's chains, rouse or calm the waves, make the dead speak, or gain women's love. He was naturally the lord of the runes, since runes - those characters carved on stones or wood - always had a magic meaning and power.
Odin had not been born with this science. He had acquired it little by little, by questioning everybody he met in the wide world,
giants, elves, water-sprites and wood-sprites. The wisest counsellor whom he consulted was his maternal uncle Mimir whose fountain was situated near one of the roots of the ash tree Yggdrasil. Mimir - 'he who thinks' - was a water demon known and revered by all the Teutons. In the fountain which bore his name all wisdom and knowledge were hidden. Odin, with his thirst to know everything, desired to drink from this fountain, but Mimir only permitted him to do so after he had handed over an eye as a pledge. Mimir perished during the war between the Aesir and the Vanir. But Odin embalmed his head and pronounced magic formulas over it so that it retained the power to answer him and tell him of things which were hidden from others.
If Odin was the god of poetry this was because he had had the skill and cunning to steal the 'mead of the poets', the hydromel, from the giants who had it. This hydromel was of divine origin. When, after their prolonged struggle, the Aesir and the Vanir finally concluded peace they met and spat in turn into the same vase. From their mingled saliva they formed a man, Kvasir, who surpassed all other men in wisdom. But two dwarfs secretly killed Kvasir and mixed his blood with honey. They kept this mixture in two pitchers and in the cauldron Odrerir. This was how the famous hydromel was made. It, too, received the name of Odrerir. Whoever drank of it became both a poet and a sage.
Now, as it happened, the same two dwarfs killed the father of the giant Suttung, and Suttung avenged himself by forcing them to give to him the precious draught. He hid it in a huge underground chamber closed by heavy rocks and set his daughter Gunn-lod to guard it. Odin resolved to get hold of the hydromel by stratagem. Having won the friendship of Suttung's brother, the giant Baugi, whom he had served for a time in the capacity of valet. Odin persuaded him to pierce a hole through the rocks which concealed Suttung's underground dwelling. He then changed himself into a snake and glided through the hole and into the great hall. There he reassumed his divine form and introduced himself to Suttung and Gunnlod under a false name. His conversation was so skilful and persuasive that he succeeded in winning the father's confidence and the daughter's love. He passed three nights at Gunnlod's side and the enamoured giantess each night let him drink a few mouthfuls of hydromel. In three goes Odin emptied the two pitchers and the cauldron Odrerir. Then he changed himself into an eagle and flew swiftly away. Suttung also changed himself into an eagle and attempted to catch him in flight, but perished in the attempt. When Odin regained Asgard he spat out the hydromel he had swallowed into large vases, and thus jt was that he got possession of the magic beverage which, later, he dispensed to the poets whom it pleased him to favour. A few drops which he had let escape during his flight fell to earth; with this inferior residue bad poets had to content themselves.
One of the most extraordinary episodes in the life of Odin is the one which concerns his voluntary self-sacrifice and resurrection. 'For nine nights,' he says in an old poem, 'wounded by my own spear, consecrated to Odin, myself consecrated to myself. I remained hanging from the tree shaken by the wind, from the mighty tree whose roots men know not.' The tree was the ash Yggdrasil. By wounding and hanging himself from the branches of the world tree Odin was accomplishing a magic rite, the purpose of which was his own rejuvenation. For the gods themselves, like men, were doomed to decrepitude. During the nine days and nine nights that this voluntary sacrifice lasted Odin waited in vain for someone to bring him food and drink. But, attentively observing what lay beneath him, he perceived some runes. With an effort which made him groan aloud with pain he managed to lift the runes, and was immediately set free by their magic power. He dropped to the ground and discovered that he was filled with new vigour and youth. Mimir gave him a few sips of hydromel and again Odin became wise in word and fruitful in deed. Thus was his resurrection accomplished.
This myth of Odin's voluntary self-sacrifice has sometimes been compared to the death of Christ on the Cross. Since legends about Germanic gods were, generally speaking, formed during the course of the first centuries of our era one cannot automatically rule out the possibility of Christian influence. This influence, however, was slight and the myth of Odin's resurrection appears in strictly pagan form. Later we shall see, moreover, that Odin was never considered to be an immortal god. The time would come when he was to perish
and disappear tor ever. This myth of Odin's self-sacrifice has very strict parallels in certain shamanic practices from Central Asia, where initiations have as their usual scenario apparent forms of death, including fasting, cataleptic immobility or feigned executions.
Donar-Thor. The god of thunder, whose name in old German was Donar, had been revered by all the Teutonic tribes. Some of them even considered him as the first and most powerful of all the gods, and Roman authors often identified him with Jupiter. Moreover, in imitation of the Romans who dedicated one of the days of the week to Jupiter - Thursday, Jovis dies, 'jeudi' in French - the Germans in all the lands where they became established have named Thursday after Donar (or Thor, which is only another form of the same name). Thus the Germans still say Donnerstag and the English Thursday.
We know, however, very little of the characteristics and attributes which the Germans of the first centuries ascribed to this god. The very limited information which is furnished by the historians of antiquity, the clerks of the Middle Ages, and by certain Latin inscriptions carved on votive monuments by German soldiers in the service of Rome, scarcely permit us more than a glimpse of the rites of the cult rendered to Donar. His appearance, adventures and functions remain obscure. He was a much feared divinity. When the thunder rolled people believed they heard the wheels of Donar's chariot on the vault of heaven. When the thunderbolt struck they said the god had cast his fiery weapon from on high. This weapon was represented, it would seem, as a missile axe, or perhaps simply as a stone hammer made to be thrown at an enemy's head. It was a form of defence and attack which the Teutons had used from remote times, and in Northern lands this hammer was regarded as Thor's habitual attribute.
Donar was not only the god of thunder. He was to a certain extent the god of war, since - according to Tacitus - the Germans invoked him and chanted his glory when marching into battle.
In Germany, it seems, Donar did not enjoy a prestige equal to that ot Woden. But in certain Northern countries, and particularly in Norway, Thor - the German Donar - finally prevailed over all the other gods. In temples it was to Thor that the most richly ornamented altars were consecrated. Temples were even erected to his exclusive cult and many Norwegian peasants gave their children the name Thor in order to place them under his protection.
This distinction is understandable if we take into account the two kinds of societies. Germany, especially at the times of the migrations, still reflected a primitive society of the religious-monarchic type; Scandinavia of the Eddie and saga time, in particular Norway and to an even greater extent its colony Iceland, shows the resistance of a great number of chieftains against the establishment of a unified monarchy of the 'Odinic' type. While kingly society looked to Woden as its principal god, a society composed of independent warriors, relying more on physical force than on cunning or birth, looked to Donar.
Norse poets have drawn Thor very vividly. In him they saw the very apotheosis of the warrior, rude, simple and noble, always ready to face combat and danger, a tireless adversary of giants and demons, a hero without fear, who disdained repose. In one of the poems of the Edda he confronts Odin, and the poet not without humour shows Thor's gaucherie and, in spite of the nobility of his character, something of his brutality.
In the course of his travels across the world Thor one day reached the shore of a sea inlet which he could not cross. He hailed the ferryman on the opposite bank. Now this ferryman, who had disguised himself and taken the name Harbard, or 'Grey Beard', was none other than Odin himself. 'Take me to the other side,' Thor shouted to him, 'and I'll give you a share of the good things in my sack, my oatmeal porridge and my herrings.' 'Peasant!' replied Odin. 'You are only a penniless vagabond, a barefooted beggar, a brigand and a horse-thief. My ferry is not made for the likes of you.' Thor then explained who he was and enumerated some of his mighty deeds. 'It was I,' he said, 'who killed Hrungnir, the giant with a head like a rock. And what, pray, were you up to at that time?' 'Me?' the false Harbard answered mockingly, 'I, for five years running, helped a king to fight his enemies and I took advantage of the occasion to win the love and favours of his daughter. Isn't that an exploit quite as glorious as yours?' 'I have also vanquished women,' said Thor, 'and I have exterminated malevolent giants. A
thing very necessary to do, for otherwise the race of giants would increase too fast,' 'Quite,' said Odin, 'but you also once hid yourself in terror in the glove of the giant Skrymir!' Odin was alluding to an adventure (which will be related shortly) in which Thor had cut a rather ridiculous figure. Less skilled than the ferryman in finding words and in marshalling his arguments, Thor decided not to defend his reputation; instead he continued to recount the victories he had gained against the giants of the East. 'And I, too,' Odin interrupted banteringly, 'I have been in these Eastern parts. There I met a beautiful maiden, clad in white linen and adorned with golden jewels. She responded to my caresses and yielded to me.' In vain Thor attempted to boast of past triumphs; Odin continued to mock him and, refusing to take him in the ferry, sent him away. On this occasion Thor appeared awkward and oafish. This poem reflects a distinctly Odinic attitude, and defines clearly, though with satirical exaggeration, the distinction between the two divine functions. 'Odin has the nobles who fall in battle, while Thor has the race of peasants.'
He was none the less the favourite god of many tribes. He was the fearless and invincible warrior of imposing stature whose protection one hoped to obtain. His face was adorned with a long red beard. His powerful voice rose above the tumult of battle and filled the enemy with terror. Following his example, the Teutons would go into battle hoping to frighten their opponents with shouts and protracted bellows. Thor's normal weapon was the stone hammer already mentioned, which the Latins compared with the club of Hercules.
In origin this hammer was doubtless a meteorite which, they imagined, had fallen with a thunderbolt during a storm. Afterwards a legend sprang up and it was said that this hammer was the work of a dwarf, skilled in iron work. Never did this dreaded weapon -which was thrown - miss its mark. Afterwards it would return of its own accord to Thor's hand and, when necessary, become so small that he could easily hide it under his garments. It had a name.
Mjolnir, which meant The Destroyer'. A magic object, the hammer Mjolnir not only served to fight the enemy but also to give solemn consecration to public or private treaties, and more especially to marriage contracts. Hence Thor was for long considered in Norway as the patron of nuptials and the protector of married couples.
In addition to this miraculous hammer Thor possessed two other talismans. One was a girdle which doubled the strength of his limbs as soon as he belted it around his waist; and the other a pair of iron gloves which he needed in order to grasp and hold the shaft of his hammer.
Like the other gods Thor had his own dwelling in Asgard; it was called the palace of Bilskirnir and was situated in the region named Thrudvang, 'the field of Strength'. Bilskirnir had no fewer than five hundred and forty rooms; it was the largest palace anyone had ever heard of. When he left it Thor loved to roam the world in a vehicle drawn by two he-goats. This singular means of transport on occasion took him as far as the kingdom of the dead. If, in the course of his travels, Thor was overtaken by hunger he would kill and cook the goats. The following day he had merely to place his sacred hammer on the hide of the dead beasts for them to leap to their feet again, alive and ready for the road.
A certain tradition makes Thor Odin's son. But this story was only believed in those regions where Odin was regarded as the supreme lord of all the gods. His mother, they said, was the goddess Jord, that is to say 'the Earth'. Thor had a wife, Sif, who was the personification of conjugal fidelity. He was the father of several children who were, like himself, distinguished for prodigious bodily strength. His two sons Magni (Strength) and Modi (Anger) would one day inherit his hammer and in a new-made world replace him.
As the idealised image of the Germanic warrior Thor was an immensely popular god and the hero of numerous legends. The old bards usually took pleasure in telling how he got the better of evil giants. It sometimes happened that Thor, who was a little lacking in finesse, would let himself be hoodwinked by demons more subtle than himself; but as soon as it came to blows there was no one capable of withstanding him.
One morning Thor woke up to find that his hammer was missing. Worried and not knowing what to do, he went to ask the advice of Loki, whose wits were sharp and who was full of wile. 'The precious hammer,' said Loki, 'has no doubt been stolen by some giant." And he offered to go himself in search of the talisman. From the goddess Freyja he borrowed the magic robe of feathers which enabled its wearer to fly through the air, and swiftly he reached the abode of the giants. There he soon ran into the giant Thrym, questioned him and discovered that he was the thief. The hammer had been hidden underground at a depth of eight fathoms. Thrym consented to return it only if he were given the goddess Freyja as a wife. When this reply was brought back the Aesir were thrown into a state of consternation. They assembled and deliberated but could find no way of avoiding Thrym's demand. Then they resigned themselves to asking Freyja to accept the proposed bargain. But Freyja refused in indignation. Her fury was so great that the veins in her neck swelled until they burst her golden necklace which rolled to the ground. Embarrassed, the Aesir then resolved on a stratagem. They would dress up Thor himself in women's clothes, cover him with a bridal veil and adorn his neck with Freyja's necklace.
At first hesitating, Thor finally agreed to the scheme. Dressed as a woman he went to the land of Thrym. Loki, disguised as a servant, accompanied him. The two Aesir were given a magnificent welcome in the giant's palace, and Thrym immediately gave orders for the wedding banquet to be prepared. The alleged bride ate with an appetite which astonished one and all. 'She' devoured everything which had been reserved for the women of the palace, namely: one entire ox, eight large salmon and numerous side-dishes. In addition 'she' drank three barrels of mead. The giant marvelled at such voracity. The wily Loki was quick to offer an explanation. For eight days running, he said, Freyja had refused all food and drink, so eager had she been to come to the land of the giants.
Thrym was reassured and more smitten with love than ever. Lecherously he eyed his fiancee and raised her veil to snatch a kiss. But when he saw the goddess's ruddy face and the lightning which flashed from her eyes he leapt away as though he had been stung. Loki again reassured him. For the last eight nights, he explained, Freyja had been unable to sleep, so excited was she, and so feverish with longing to depart for the land of the giants. That was why her
eyes flashed fire. Thrym by now was impatient to make his union with Freyja legal and to give it ritual consecration. He therefore sent for the hammer Mjolnir and ordered that it be placed, according to the custom, on the bride's knees. Thor's heart laughed in his bosom. His hand closed firmly on the weapon. Then throwing off his veil he brandished Mjolnir joyfully, struck down Thrym and all Thrym's band of giants. Then contentedly he returned to the other Aesir.
Thor loved to fight not only giants but also monsters. In youth he had resolved to slay the great serpent of Midgard whose innumerable coils caused such violent tempests in the ocean which surrounded the earth. He travelled to distant lands where one day he asked shelter from a giant named Hymir. The next morning Hymir was preparing to go fishing when Thor begged to come along and help. The giant was contemptuous of the suggestion: what possible aid could be expected from a man so young and puny? Thor was annoyed by these insulting words and with difficulty restrained himself from letting Hymir feel the weight of his hammer then and there. But he put off his vengeance for later. 'What sort of bait?' he asked the giant, 'ought one to take along?' 'If you don't know,' Hymir answered rudely, 'it's none of my business to tell you.' Calmly Thor grabbed hold of one of the giant's bulls, wrenched off its head and tossed it into the boat. Then he took the oars and began to row. Hymir who at first had regarded him sarcastically was soon forced to admit that his guest was a first-class seaman. Some time later they reached the spot where it was the giant's habit to fish. He had never, he said, dared row out any farther, and he ordered Thor to ship the oars. But Thor ignored him and continued to row towards the region where he supposed the great serpent of Midgard to be.
Then he prepared his tackle, fixed the bull's head to his hook and cast it into the sea. The serpent immediately plunged for the bait and swallowed it greedily. It had scarcely felt the prick of the hook before it began to thrash about wildly. It tugged on the line with such violence that Thor's two fists were dragged and banged against the gunwales. Thor stiffened and propped his knees against the inner boards of the boat. The boards gave way and he suddenly found himself standing on the bottom of the sea. Thanks to this firm foothold he succeeded in lifting the serpent and half-hoisting it into the boat. One cannot, says the old Icelandic bard, imagine a spectacle more terrifying than Thor fixing the monster with eyes which flashed like lightning while, from the bottom of the boat, the monster stared back at him, spitting venom. Hymir was seized with fright. Taking advantage of a moment when Thor reached out for his hammer he approached, knife in hand, and cut the line. The serpent wriggled free and fell back into the water. In haste Thor threw his hammer, but he was too late: the monster had already vanished into the depths of the sea.
A long time was to elapse before the two adversaries again found themselves face to face. Only at the moment of the great struggle between the gods and the coalition of all their enemies did the serpent of Midgard finally perish beneath Thor's blows. As for the giant whose cowardice had permitted the serpent to escape, Thor struck him so roughly on the head that the blow sent him rolling into the ocean waves where he was drowned. Then Thor peacefully regained the shore by walking across the bottom of the sea.
It happened only once that Thor believed himself vanquished by a giant. But this was merely an illusion; an adroit magician had succeeded in hoodwinking him. One day, accompanied by Loki and two young peasants, Thor crossed the sea and landed in the country of the giants. The four travellers soon arrived in a forest so vast that even after marching all day they had not reached the end of it. When evening fell they looked for shelter and were delighted to see in the midst of the forest a large empty house. True, it was a rather odd construction and they noted with astonishment that the front door was as wide as the house itself. But they were travel-weary and did not pause to examine it further. They entered, made themselves comfortable and fell asleep.
At midnight there was a sudden and violent earthquake. The floor pitched like a ship tossed by the waves. Our travellers woke with a start, fled from the house and took refuge in a small adjoining shed. Thor took up a position before the door, hammer in hand, prepared to repel all enemies. All night long they heard dull sounds and rumblings in the surrounding darkness. No one, however, made an appearance.
At dawn Thor ventured out into the forest. Soon he came upon a man of vast stature stretched on the ground and snoring loudly. He now understood the origin of the nocturnal rumblings. In anger he was on the point of striking the noisy sleeper with his hammer when the fellow woke up. He jumped to his feet and introduced himself. He was a giant and his name was Skrymir. 'As for you,' said Skrymir to the silent god, 'there's no need to ask your name. You are Thor, the As. But tell me, where have you dragged my glove?' Stupefied, Thor then realised that he and his three companions had spent the night in the giant's glove which they had mistaken for a house. The small shed in which they had afterwards taken refuge was the thumb of the glove.
Skrymir joined Thor's little group and even politely offered to carry the sack in which they kept their food on his own back. All day the five companions continued the journey together and when night came they halted beneath an oak. Skrymir, saying he was exhausted, stretched out on the ground and immediately fell asleep.
Meanwhile Thor, Loki and the two young peasants, who were dying of hunger, began to loosen the knots of the sack which contained the food they had brought; but discovered that they could not. The giant had tightened the knots in such a fashion that all efforts to untie them failed. Thor was seized with rage. He grasped his hammer and brought it down smartly on Skrymir's head. The giant half woke up. 'It seemed to me', he yawned, 'that a leaf fluttered down on my head.' Then he dropped off to sleep again.
Some hours later Thor, whose irritation had only increased, again struck the giant. This time he put such strength behind the blow that the head of the hammer sank deep into the giant's skull. 'It felt,' murmured the giant, waking up, 'almost as though an acorn dropped on my head.' And he closed his eyes again.
By daybreak Thor was unable to control himself and he landed Skrymir such a blow on the temple that the hammer disappeared up to the shaft. The giant sat up and rubbed his cheek. 'Birds,' he said, 'probably perched up there in the tree. Some of their droppings
seem to have fallen on me.'Then, turning towards Thor, he inquired: 'Are you awake? It's time to be off. You're not far from Utgard where you're going. There you'll find fellows much stronger than I.' And buckling up his sack he disappeared into the forest.
Thor, Loki and their two companions continued the journey alone and towards midday arrived in front of a great fortified castle. Its walls were so high that the travellers had to throw back their heads to see the battlements. The entrance was barred by a heavy grille. In vain the gods attempted to open it. In the end they had to slide through the bars. They then walked forward and entered a huge hall where numerous giants were assembled. King Utgardaloki, lord of the castle, scarcely bothered to return their salute. He shrugged contemptuously and ironically inquired if it could be true that the puny weakling he beheld was the celebrated god Thor. He added that no one was authorised to enter the castle without first proving by some noble deed that he was worthy to approach those who lived there. It would thus be necessary that each of the newcomers measure his prowess, in the art he best understood, with one of the giants here present.
Loki first stepped forward. He boasted of his prowess in eating, much and quickly. The king gave him the giant Logi for an opponent. The two contestants were served with vast quarters of meat on plates as big as vats. In a brief space of time Loki had eaten all his meat, leaving behind nothing but the bones. But his adversary had, in the meantime, gulped down both meat and bones, and the plate as well.
Then came the turn of the young peasant Thjalfi. He claimed to be able to outrun any man or any giant. For an opponent he was given Hugi. Thjalfi ran as quickly as lightning itself, but in vain: Hugi left him far behind.
At last it was Thor's turn to show his skill. No one, he declared with complete assurance, could drink as much or as quickly as he. Utgardaloki then sent for the horn which the warriors of his establishment were accustomed to empty in one, or at the most, two
draughts. Thor seized the drinking horn and once, twice, thrice took long, deep draughts. But, when he put it down again, the level of the liquid was scarcely lower than when he had begun.
Thor was covered with confusion and, in order to regain the company's esteem, willingly accepted a second test of his valour. They invited him to lift a certain cat from the ground where he was sitting. Thor bent down and seized the animal. With all his might he struggled to lift it, but the cat was immovable. At most one of its paws rose an inch or two from the ground. 'Would you,' Utgardaloki then suggested, 'care to wrestle with Elli, my nurse? She is only a poor old woman.' Thor accepted the challenge, but the more he struggled the more unshakable his adversary appeared to become. In the end it was Thor himself who fell on one knee.
Bitterly humiliated, the Aesir next morning prepared to take their departure. But before they left their host, Utgardaloki, suddenly decided to explain what had actually occurred the day before.
'Never,' he told Thor, 'would I have dared admit you to my castle had I known that your strength was so terrifying. It was 1 myself whom you met in the forest. I called myself Skrymir. The blows of your hammer would infallibly have killed me had I not protected my head with solid mountains.' And he showed Thor the chain of mountains nearby and pointed out the deep valleys which Thor's hammer had dug.
Then he explained why the gods had been vanquished in the tests he had proposed. If Loki had been unable to equal his opponent, it was because that opponent had been fire itself - for such is the meaning of the word Logi. If Thjalfi had been outrun by Hugi, it was because Hugi was none other than 'thought'. Finally Thor had been unable to empty the drinking-horn because the end of the horn was plunged into the inexhaustible sea. Thor had, however, actually succeeded in slightly lowering the sea-level and had thus produced the first ocean tides. The beast whom he thought was a cat, was in reality the serpent of Midgard whose coils surrounded the earth itself and when he lifted its paw earthquakes had shaken the world. As for the old woman with whom Thor had wrestled in vain, she was Elli, old age itself, which no one could ever conquer.
When he learned how he had been made a fool of Thor seized up his hammer to kill Utgardaloki, but the enchanter had already vanished and with him the castle. Around him Thor saw only the great deserted plain and the grass which grew there.
Thus, even though Thor sometimes appeared rather simple and even a little slow-witted, he never failed to win the Teutons' admiration for the might of his arm and his physical courage. He is found again in many a legend; for in the end he took part in the career of practically every other god.
Tiw-Tyr. This god, in spite of many scholars who have claimed him as the original great god of the Germanic peoples, belongs to the same stratum as Donar and Woden. The South Germans gave him the name Ziu, the North Germans Tiuz. The Scandinavians called him Tyr, the Anglo-Saxons Tiw. It is generally admitted that all these Germanic appellations correspond to the Sanskrit dyaus, the Greek Zeus and the Latin Deux. If this is the case, then the Germanic names for the god must derive from a common Indo-European name which began by simply signifying 'divinity'. Later the name in many countries designated the sky god. Originally Tiw had been a god corresponding to the Indian Mitra, who was patron of the legal side of government, but with the gradual militarisation of Germanic society, he had gradually been restricted to the field of rules governing battle, at which time the Romans identified him with their Mars, and the Latin Marl/s dies (French Mardi) by transposition became the day of Tiw, or Tuesday; and finally he was relegated to a position of very minor importance. In German the same god had a second name which was Things, and from which the German Tuesday, Dienslag, is derived.
Perhaps it is Tiw who is alluded to in a curious Latin inscription on a Roman altar discovered at Housesteads in Northumberland, near to Hadrian's Wall. This altar dates from the third century and was erected by German soldiers serving with the Roman legions. It bears this Latin inscription: 'Deo Marti Thincso el duabus Alaisiagis Bede el Fimmiline el numini Augusti Germani cives Tuihanti v. s. 1. m. (volum solverunl libenler memo).' That is: To the god Mars Thincsus and to the two goddesses Alaisiages Beda and Fimmilina and to the majesty of the divine Augustus the German citizens ofTwenthe address this merited homage. (The province
of Twenthe was north of the Rhine on the present frontiers of Holland and Germany.)
The epithet Thincsus shows that Tiw was seen as a Mars, who presided over the thing, the assembly where discussions of the community are regulated according to law. It has been pointed out that Tiw's spear is less a weapon than a sign of juridical power.
The two goddesses Beda and Fimmilina are quite unknown. The interpretation of their names and also of the term Alaisiages which applies to them both presents the greatest difficulties. But it is agreed that they were probably Teutonic goddesses.
Since Donar very early pushed Tiw into the background, Tiw occupies a very small place in German legend. Traditions about him are scarcely more abundant in the North. The name Tyr, however, occurs fairly often in Norse poetry. The skalds attempted to bring Tyr into the great family of Teutonic divinities. Some made him son of the giant Hymir, others said that he was the son of Odin. He was supposed to be extremely brave and enterprising. It was often he who awarded victory to one of the sides engaged in combat. Thus it was prudent to invoke him when going into battle.
In one legend the poets give him the leading role, a tale which bears witness to the energy of his character. An oracle had warned the gods that the giant wolf Fenrir was one of their most dangerous enemies whom it would be wise to reduce to a state in which it could do no harm. They decided not to kill it - for that would be to soil consecrated ground - but instead to chain it up. Twice they had chains forged, but the wolf Fenrir had only to stretch himself in order to break them. Then they begged the dwarfs to fashion a chain which nothing could break.
Soon the dwarfs brought them a wonderous chain composed of six ingredients: the miaul of a cat, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the tendons of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird. This chain was supple and soft as a silk ribbon and yet of a solidity which passed every test. The gods, now confident that they could bind Fenrir, threw him a challenge. Each of them, they said, had tried to break the chain and none had succeeded. They proposed that the wolf should have a try in order to show his strength.
But Fenrir was full of suspicion, fearing a trap. He did not wish to appear a coward, however, and consented to make the attempt, but on one condition: one of the gods must, he insisted, place a hand in his jaws. In case of trickery the hand would be bitten off. The Aesir exchanged glances. Knowing full well the trickery which had been planned, none was prepared to sacrifice a hand.
Tyr then calmly extended his right hand and placed it between the wolf's jaws. The other gods bound Fenrir who then attempted to break the chain. But the more he struggled the tighter the bonds became. When they saw that his efforts were vain the gods began to laugh. Only Tyre refrained from laughter; for he knew what was coming. And indeed the wolf, understanding that he had been outwitted, bit off the god's right hand at the wrist. Thenceforth Tyr was one-handed. It is significant that Tiw's most important appearance in mythology is in a matter of legal contract. With Woden, he forms a couple which is found elsewhere among the Indo-European peoples, the one-handed and the one-eyed, the man of law and the man of magical fury.
Loki. Loki is not one of the oldest gods in the Germanic pantheon, but in Scandinavian legend his name appears as often, if not more often, than those of Odin or Thor. It seems certain that he was at first regarded as a benevolent divinity; but little by little they preferred to represent Loki as a kind of superior demon, almost always occupied with making mischief. Among the gods he was a sort of enfant terrible. He shared their lives and on many occasions zealously served them, and yet he almost never ceased working to undermine their power. It was he in the end who brought about their downfall. Thus we should know something about him as a prelude to an account of the 'Twilight of the Gods'. He was, however, a creation of Scandinavian imagination only. He belonged in no way to the communal tradition of the whole Germanic peoples. It is above all the skalds of the ninth and tenth centuries whose poems have preserved the story of his adventures.
Loki was first conceived as a fire demon. His name is related to a Germanic root which signifies 'flame'. His father was Farbauti, 'who by striking gave birth to fire'. His mother was Laufey, 'the wooded isle', who furnished material for lighting the fire. Popular
locutions still current in Scandinavian countries frequently associate his name with phenomena in which fire plays a part. In Norway, for example, when a fire is heard crackling on the hearth they say that Loki is thrashing his children.
This former demon slowly grew in dignity. In the legends in which he plays a part he always appears as one of the Aesir. At the beginning of time Loki and Odin exchanged vows of friendship which, consecrated by ritual practices honoured among the Germans, made the two gods 'blood brothers'. Loki was handsome, attractive and very attentive to the goddesses who rarely resisted him. There was something of the diabolic about him; and as the legends concerning him are of rather late invention it is not impossible that he was attributed with certain traits borrowed from the medieval Christian conception of the Devil.	v
We have already seen how Loki helped Thor to recapture the hammer which the giant Thrym had stolen. Loki was not always so helpful. When his own interests were at stake he did not hesitate to betray this same Thor. One day he borrowed from the goddess Freyja her falcon-plumed robe, put it on and flew through the air. Soon he reached the house of the giant Geirrod and landed on the roof. The giant perceived this singular bird, caught it and put it into a cage. For three months Loki thus remained a prisoner. Geirrod, not content with depriving him of his liberty, also refused to feed him. At the end of the three months Geirrod had the captive bird brought before him, and only then did Loki decide to explain who he was. He begged the giant to release him.
Geirrod consented to do so only on condition that Loki undertook to deliver to him the most powerful and redoubtable of all the Aesir: Thor himself. He also insisted that Thor should be turned over to him without the attributes which rendered him invincible; that is, without his hammer, his iron gloves and the girdle which lent him supernatural strength. Loki accepted all these conditions and seemed to find it quite natural to betray one of the Aesir in order to get himself out of a scrape. He was then set at liberty and returned to Asgard where by means of specious arguments and illusory promises he persuaded Thor to depart for Geirrod's abode, leaving behind his girdle, gloves and hammer. Thor would have been irretrievably lost had he not on the road met the giantess Grid who was devoted to him and who had borne him a child, the As Vidar. Grid put him on his guard against the wily Geirrod and lent him her own gloves, girdle and magic wand. Thanks to these talismans Thor succeeded in avoiding Geirrod's cunningly laid traps and, indeed, in killing the giant and all his followers. But it was not Loki's fault that Thor did not fall into the power of one of the enemies of the gods.
On another occasion it was a goddess whom Loki was ready to sacrifice. He was wandering the earth one day with Odin and Hoenir. The three gods were famished and they had stopped to roast an ox. But an eagle, perched in a tree above them, cast a spell which prevented the meat from cooking - unless the gods promised to accept him as their table-mate. After the gods had acceded to this demand, the eagle claimed the best cuts of the roast. Annoyed by this Loki grabbed a rod and struck the intruder. The eagle flew away, carrying with it the rod which remained fixed to its body, together with Loki himself who was unable to let go. Dragged across the ground, bruised and bleeding, Loki begged for mercy.
Now the eagle was a giant named Thjazi. Delighted to have captured a god, Thjazi immediately imposed conditions. Loki should recover his liberty only if he swore a solemn oath to deliver to Thjazi the goddess Idun and the apples she possessed, miraculous apples which had the power of preserving youth. Idun was one of the inhabitants of Asgard and it was thanks to her magic apples that the gods never grew old. Ignoring the harm he would cause the Aesir, Loki at once agreed to Thjazi's demands. He lured Idun into the forest on the pretext of showing apples to her that were even more beautiful than those she normally offered to the gods. Thjazi, arriving as arranged, seized the goddess and dragged her off to his abode.
The Aesir were not long in noticing the absence of Idun. Deprived of the apples to which they owed their imperishable vigour they began to grow old. They turned on Loki with such threats that he had no alternative but to promise to bring Idun back again. He assumed the form of a hawk and flew towards the kingdom of the giants. He found Idun, changed her into a nut and carried her back towards Asgard. But Thjazi at once realised what had occurred and,
changing himself into an eagle, sped through the air after Loki. He might have overtaken him had the gods not hastily built a huge bonfire in which the eagle, as it reached Asgard, burned its wings, fell and was consumed.
Thor's wife, Sif, also suffered from Loki's malice. One day he craftily cut off her lovely tresses. When Thor discovered this he seized Loki in his powerful grip and began industriously to break his bones. Loki cried for mercy and swore an oath that he would persuade the dwarfs to fashion for Sif tresses of pure gold which would grow of their own accord like natural hair. Thor calmed down and Loki visited the forges of the dwarfs, sons of Ivaldir. They promised to make not only the golden tresses but a ship, Skidbladnir, which as soon as its sails were hoisted would speed straight towards the desired destination, and also a spear, Gungnir, which would never stop in flight. The two latter talismans were intended for Odin.
Next the imprudent Loki bet a dwarf named Brokk that his brother Sindri, in spite of the great reputation of his skill, would not be able to make such marvels as those which the sons of Ivaldir made. Brokk and Sindri at once set to work. Fearing that they might win the bet - in which his own head was at stake - Loki assumed the form of a gadfly and began to sting and harass them in order to distract them from their work and thus prevent them from finishing it. The two brothers nevertheless succeeded in fashioning the ring Draupnir, which had the virtue of making its owner constantly richer; the golden boar which later belonged to the god Frey, and Thor's famous hammer.
The Aesir were chosen to arbitrate. They declared that Thor's hammer surpassed anything that any dwarf had yet made and that such a treasure would for ever be Asgard's chief protection. The dwarfs Brokk and Sindri had thus won the wager - and Loki's head therefore belonged to them. Loki at first tried to arrange a compromise. Brokk refused it. 'I am yours, then,' said Loki, 'take me.' But as the dwarf was about to seize him Loki vanished. Loki, as it happened, was the owner of shoes which could, at will, immediately carry him beyond the earth and the sea.
The dwarf then went to Thor and complained. Thor lost no time in recapturing the fugitive and handing him over to Brokk. Brokk assured of his rights, announced his intention of cutting Loki's head off. But Loki's resources were not yet exhausted and he began to discuss the matter with vivacity. It was, he admitted, quite true that Brokk had a right to his head, but in the wager nothing had been said about his neck. The dwarf must not, then, remove the slightest part of his neck. Brokk, whose mind was less fertile in such quibbles, did not know what to reply to this fine point. In his embarrassment he resolved at the very least to sew the deceiver's lips together so that he could no longer take advantage of people. He pierced Loki's lips with an awl, and threading stout cord through the holes, knotted it firmly. The precaution was in vain. Loki succeeded in tearing the cord away and thus lightly escaped from a dangerous adventure.
In the end Loki's treachery and love of intrigue got him into trouble with all the other gods. A curious scene in one of the poems of the Eddas shows him insulting all the gods of Asgard one after another. A giant, Aegir, lord of the seas, had invited all the gods and
all the goddesses to a great feast. Only Thor, who was then travelling in Eastern lands, was absent. A good time was had by all and Aegir's guests were enjoying the simple pleasures of the banquet when suddenly Loki forced open the door of the hall.
Loki had not been invited to the feast, for there was no one against whom he had not played some shabby trick. At the sight of him everyone fell silent. But this frigid welcome did not alter Loki's plans. He began modestly, almost with humility. He was, he explained, only a thirsty traveller. Surely the gods would not refuse him the cup which was given, unasked for, to all passers-by, even strangers. No one answered him. He continued, with affected moderation: let them at least offer him a chair, according to the laws of hospitality; or else let them at least say in so many words that they refused to welcome him.
The gods discussed the matter among themselves and, wishing to respect custom, were inclined to make a place for him among them. Only Bragi, the god of poetry, whose duty it was to welcome the newly arrived, insisted on refusing Loki the seat which he desired. Loki, without yet abandoning his courteous manners, turned towards Odin and reminded him how in the old days they had sworn to be blood brothers. Odin was touched by the memory and ordered Vidar to give up his seat to Loki. A cup was brought and filled according to usage.
Loki began by drinking the health of all the gods present. He added, however, that his good wishes did not extend to Bragi. Bragi, wti, wished to restore peace, apologised for the wounding words he had spoken. He did even more: he offered a horse, a sword and some rings as a mark of reconciliation. But Loki, far from accepting the apology, assumed a haughty tone. Bragi, he said, was a coward; he fled from combat and, while the others exposed themselves to danger, lolled shamelessly on the benches. Bragi, indignant, was about to reply, but his wife Idun begged him not to answer such calculated calumnies.
The contempt which Idun's words betrayed merely fanned Loki's anger. He then attacked all the gods in the hall. In pitiless detail he reminded each of them of the most scandalous episodes in his past life. Nor did he spare the goddesses. There was not one whom he did not accuse of being unfaithful to her husband; he boasted that he himself had enjoyed the favours of many of them. And he named them. With savage delight he confessed to the gods the crimes of which he was voluntarily guilty against each of them. In vain Aegir's guests attempted to return insult for insult. Not one of them could stand up to Loki. Even Odin, who was always praised for his presence of mind and eloquent tongue, was disconcerted by the flood of mockery and abuse which flowed from Loki's lips. Sif approached him and held out a cup of mead, begging him to put an end to the dispute. Loki's response was a further string of insults. He boasted that he had held her in his arms, happy and consenting. she, the wife of the great Thor.
But scarcely had the name of the storm-god been pronounced when in the distance a long rumbling was heard in the mountains. It was Thor who rode in his chariot in the midst of the sounding tempest. He entered the hall, majestic and terrible, commanding
silence. In a final outbreak of vituperation, Loki risked reminding the most powerful of all the gods of the humiliating role he had once played in the castle of the enchanter Utgardaloki. Thor brandished his hammer and looked as though he were about to smash in the insulter's skull. Loki was for the first time intimidated: he retreated, but before he left the hall he issued a final threat. Never again, he said to the giant Aegir, would he be able to give a feast like tonight's; for very soon his palace and all that he possessed would be destroyed by flame.
In these words the vindictive Loki announced not only the fate of Aegir's palace, but the burning of the entire world. We shall see later what grim events followed Loki's menacing words.
Heimdall. Among the great Aesir must be counted Heimdall. But of this god who certainly held an important place in Germanic mythology almost nothing is known. He is familiar to us only through the allusions which the poets make to his person, role and power.
He was a god of light. His name probably signifies 'he who casts bright rays'. He may in particular represent the morning light, the dawn of day. He may also personify the rainbow.
In the Indo-European perspective, he occupies a particularly important position, corresponding to that of the Indian Vayu and the Roman Janus. He is the god who presides over the ambiguous beginnings of things, over the prima as distinct from the summa. Like the guardian Janus, he is guardian of the gods, installed on the threshold of the world of the gods, born in the most ancient times and ancestor of gods and men, considered in their social classes. In the divine assembly, it is he who speaks first, and eschatologically it is he who opens the final phase of the world at the Twilight of the Gods.
The Scandinavians, who are the only Teutons by whom he is mentioned, depict him as tall and handsome. His teeth are of pure gold. He was armed with a sword and mounted on a charger with a glittering mane. He was normally to be found near the great bridge Bifrost (the rainbow) which led from the dwelling-place of men to that of the gods. He was the guardian of this road, the divine sentinel, who warned the Aesir of the approach of their enemies. He required less sleep than a bird. He could see at night as easily as during the day. He could hear the grass growing on earth and the wool on the backs of sheep. He owned a trumpet the sound of which could be heard throughout the world.
He was the sworn enemy of Loki. Loki had only contemptuous laughter for the monotonous sentinel-duty which Heimdall performed, and for the long periods during which he was obliged to remain at the gates of Asgard. Since the beginning of time, as Loki ironically remarked, Heimdall had had to sit, getting his back wet, at his post. But this modest and noble god was able, on occasion, to chastise the diabolical Loki. One day Loki happened to steal the goddess Freyja's necklace. He went to hide it under a reef situated in the far-off Western sea. But Heimdall in the guise of a seal also slipped under this reef and after a fierce struggle with Loki - who had also turned himself into a seal - succeeded in taking possession of the necklace and restoring it to Freyja.
In the final struggle in which the gods fought for their very existence it was, as we shall later see, Heimdall who struck Loki the fatal blow. But he, too, fell beneath his adversary's blows.
Balder. Balder, like Heimdall, was a god of the light. He was the son of Odin and the goddess Frigg. He was so beautiful that he shed radiance around him. None of the Aesir was his equal in wisdom. It was enough to see or hear him to love him. He was the favourite of the gods.
Balder was not only revered in Scandinavia. He was equally popular in Germany. One celebrated magic formula in old German shows him riding with the god Woden. While trotting, his horse sprains a foot, but with a few words filled with esoteric virtue Woden cures it. It is only, however, in the Northern lands that legends of Balder have been preserved. These legends are mainly connected with the history of his death, which was brought about by Loki's malice.
Balder's life had for long been filled with harmony and happiness. But a time came when he was troubled by dreams and presentiments of evil. He explained his disquietude to the other Aesir. Since they were all immensely fond of him they made an effort to forestall the
obscure dangers which seemed to threaten. The goddess Frigg begged every being and thing on earth - fire, metal, water, stones and minerals, plants and trees, illnesses, beasts, birds and venomous creatures - to swear an oath never to harm Balder. All undertook this solemn engagement. Balder from then on was invulnerable and the Aesir, as a game, submitted him to various tests. They placed him in the midst of their assembly and shot arrows at him, threw stones or struck him with their weapons. But no projectile, no blow caused him the slightest damage. He remained unwounded and unhurt, to the hilarious mirth of the company.
Loki watched the spectacle and in secret his heart was full of loathing. He assumed the appearance of an old woman and went to see Frigg in her palace. Feigning ignorance, he asked why the gods were so amused. She told him what she had done and how everything on earth had promised to spare Balder. 'Everything? Really everything?' said Loki. 'Have you forgotten nothing?' 'I only overlooked one small plant,' said Frigg. 'It grows to the west of Valhalla and is called Misteltein (mistletoe). It seemed too young to ask it to take an oath.'
Without further inquiries Loki left Frigg and, reassuming his normal shape, hastened to gather the mistletoe from the place indicated. Then he returned to the great field where the gods continued to hurl inoffensive objects at Balder. He turned to one of them, Hod, who held back from the sport because he was blind. 'Why are you not taking part in the game?' Loki asked. 'Why do you not throw something at Balder?' 'It is because I cannot see,' Hod said. 'Besides, I have no weapon.' 'In that case,' said Loki, 'try this wand. Throw it. I will direct you.' Hod took the branch of mistletoe and flung it towards Balder. It pierced him and Balder fell dead. The Aesir, aghast, wept bitterly at the loss of their fair companion. Willingly would they have punished Loki's crime then and there, but the place where they were assembled was consecrated to peace. There it'was forbidden to spill blood and no one dared infringe the law.
When they had recovered from their first shock of grief they began to deliberate. Frigg asked if there was not among them one who was prepared to descend into the kingdom of Hel (that is, the kingdom of the dead) to rescue Balder. To him who dared, no matter who he was, she promised her favours in advance. One of Odin's sons, Hermod, at once leapt astride Sleipnir, his father's famous charger, and set forth.
Meanwhile the gods bore the body of Balder to the sea and built the funeral pyre on the boat which had once belonged to him. On it they placed the dead god. Thor, raising his hammer solemnly in the air, gave the pyre its ritual consecration, and then it was set on fire. Balder's horse, fully accoutred, was led to the pyre and the flame consumed him at the same time that it consumed the body of his master. Almost all the gods attended the funeral and even many giants were present, come from their lands of ice and mountains.
While Balder was paid this final tribute Hermod continued his journey through deep and shadowy valleys. For nine days he never left the saddle. He finally reached the river Gjoll at the edge of the underworld. It was crossed by a bridge covered with gold. From the guard he learned that Balder had travelled this way last night with five hundred men. Hermod pursued his way and at last reached the barred gates of the Kingdom of Hel.
There for an instant he dismounted, tightened his saddle-girth, then remounting dug spurs into his steed which leapt the gates at a bound, without even brushing them with its hooves. He penetrated Hel's palace and in the great hall, occupying the seat of honour, he saw the object of his search, his brother Balder. As it was already late he let the night pass before approaching Hel. But early the next morning he explained to the goddess of the infernal regions why the Aesir had sent him here. He beseeched her to allow Balder to return with him to Asgard. Hel was not without pity. If, she said, it was truly the desire of every being and thing in the world that Balder should return to Asgard, then she would willingly set him free. If, on the other hand, there was a single being in the universe who refused to weep for Balder, then she would be obliged to keep him with her.
Hermod returned with this reply to the Aesir. The Aesir then sent forth messengers throughout the world, begging everyone and everything to display his or its grief. At the gods' request the entire world, men and beasts, earth and stones, wood and metal, began to weep for Balder. But when the messengers, delighted with the
success of their mission, were returning to Asgard they perceived in a mountain cavern a certain giantess named Thokk who, in spite of their supplications, refused to shed a single tear. 'Neither during his life nor after his death,' she said, 'has Balder rendered me the slightest service. Let Hel keep what is hers.'
Now this elderly giantess was Loki himself who, thus disguised, had found a means of making sure that Balder never returned.
The Vanir: Njord and Frey. The Aesir were not the only Teutonic gods. In Scandinavia, and especially in Sweden, they also believed in the existence of another race of gods, the Vanir. While the Aesir were above all regarded as warrior gods, the Vanir were pacific and benevolent. They provided the fields and pastures and forests with sunlight and life-giving rain. Plants, animals and men themselves multiplied under their guardianship. It was in Spring and Summer that men enjoyed the abundance of their gifts. From them came the harvests, game, and all kinds of riches in general. The Vanir were also the protectors of commerce and navigation.
One Nordic tradition reports that war broke out one day between the belligerent Aesir and the peace-loving Vanir. For some time, scholars imagined that this is a symbolic and poetic account of a conflict which took place in the Scandinavian area between the worshippers of Odin and those of Frey, based on the assumption that the cult of Odin was not introduced into Northern lands until that of Frey was already widespread. But recent investigation has shown that this is not the case, and the war of the Aesir and the Vanir is the continuation of an Indo-European myth represented in India by the struggle of the Nasatya to enter divine society, and at Rome in the mythical history of the war of the Romans and the Sabines. The Vanir have, in fact, no existence apart from those who were sent to Asgard in order to complete the divine society in its triple function of sovereignty, force and fecundity.
However this may be, the following is what the Scandinavian poets and scholars told:
One day the Vanir sent to the Aesir - on a mission which is not explained - a goddess by the name of Gullveig. This goddess was highly skilled in all the practices of sorcery and by her art had acquired much gold. When, alone, she reached the Aesir they were, it is supposed, tempted by her riches. They seized her and submitted her to savage torture. The Vanir demanded satisfaction. They insisted that either a large sum in money should be paid in reparation, or else that their rank should be recognised as equal to that of the Aesir so that they henceforward would receive an equal right to the sacrifices made by the faithful. After taking counsel the Aesir decided to settle the question by fighting. But in the long and cruel war which followed they were very often defeated by their adversaries. They therefore came to an understanding and resigned themselves to treating the Vanir as their equals. On both sides hostages were exchanged. The Aesir turned over the robust Hoenir and the wise Mimir. The Vanir sent their former enemies the mighty Njord and his son Frey who, from then on, lived in Asgard and were often confused with the Aesir.
The relationship between the three Vanir, Njord, Frey and Freyja, is a complex one. Tacitus mentions a female deity Nerthus who personified the maternal earth, but says nothing about a male consort. In historical times, the Scandinavian Njord is a male divinity accompanied by a son and a daughter. Three theories have been put forward to account for the difference in sex between Nerthus and Njord: the first, which is the stranger but the more widely accepted is that a change in grammatical gender in nouns brought about the change in sex in the divinity; the second, which follows on from the first, is that this grammatical change was aided by the fact that Nerthus was, in fact, a bisexual deity; the third suggests a mistake on the part of Tacitus, who assumed that the major fertility deity of the Teutons would be an earth mother, as in Mediterranean lands. However this may be, the whole of the representation of the fertility function among the Scandinavians has been rearranged; it should be noted that Frey and Freyja are not properly speaking names, but epithets meaning Lord and Lady, and could perhaps have displaced some earlier proper names like Nerthus-Njord.
Tradition does not ascribe to this father and son functions which are noticeably different. Both are dispensers of wealth, the guarantors of oaths and the protectors of navigation.
Njord's favourite place of residence was at Noatun, on the shores
of the sea. He almost always remained there whereas his wife, Skadi, preferred the mountains. Skadi was the daughter of the giant Thjazi. We have already seen how Thjazi with Loki's complicity, succeeded in getting possession of the goddess Idun and how he perished as an eagle in the flames when he attempted to recapture her. His daughter Skadi undertook to avenge him and armed herself to attack the Aesir. But the gods did not care to fight with a woman and in reparation offered her the choice of one of themselves for a husband. They all stood behind a curtain, leaving only their bare feet visible. Skadi studied the god's feet at length, trying to guess by their shape and instep to whom they belonged. She was burning with desire to obtain Balder for a husband: he was the noblest, most handsome and desirable of all the Aesir. Finally she made her choice: the god she pointed out was so well made that surely he could be none other than Balder. But it was Njord.
Faithful to the arrangement she had made with the gods Skadi married him. But she wanted to continue living where her ancestors had dwelt, which was among the high rocky uplands. After passing several days with her in these rude surroundings Njord returned to a more smiling land, explaining: 'The song of the swan seems sweeter to me than the howling of wolves.' To this Skadi replied: 'Here at the seashore the sharp cry of the birds disturbs my sleep. Every morning I am wakened by gulls.' And she returned to the mountains of her birth. She was an indefatigable huntress who on her snow-shoes constantly roved the icy slopes and who always came home laden with game.
Frey was the son of this ill-assorted couple. He was the only Van who in some regions achieved a popularity equal to that of the Aesir, Odin and Thor. In Sweden especially, at Uppsala, his cult was practised. The largest and most splendid of all his temples was erected there. Animals were sacrificed to him and sometimes human beings. His festivals were marked by great rejoicing, dances and games.
Like Odin and Thor he possessed valued servants and wonderworking talismans. He had a horse which crossed mountains and torrents in spate like wind and did not draw back even when faced with flame. He owned a sword which flashed through the air of its own accord: unhappily he gave away this sword and he had sore need of it during the great struggle between the gods and their enemies the giants and demons. If Thor had two he-goats to draw his chariot, Frey had a golden boar, armed with redoubtable tusks. This boar had been forged by the dwarfs Brokk and Sindri. It sped through the air or across the earth more quickly than a galloping horse. As soon as it appeared the night would be illuminated. Other dwarfs built for Frey the ship Skidbladnir which no other boat was capable of following at sea. As soon as its sails were hoisted it made straight for the desired port of destination. This ship was large enough to take all the Aesir, together with their weapons and equipment. On the other hand, when it was not in use at sea Frey could easily fold it up and carry it in one of his pockets.
Prey's wife, like his mother, belonged to the race of giants. He was drawn to her by irresistible love. One day while sitting on Odin's throne he amused himself by contemplating from on high that which was taking place on earth. In the kingdom of the giants he suddenly observed a maiden of incomparable beauty coming out of her father's house. She was Gerda, daughter of the giant Gymir. The gleam of her white arms filled the sky and the broad sea with light. Prey's heart was at once inflamed with vehement love; never had man felt such violent passion for a girl. But profound melancholy began to weigh on Prey's soul; for he knew not how to win his beloved. When his parents, old Njord and the beautiful Skadi, saw the change that had come over him they hastened to send Skirnir to him. Skirnir was both friend and servant, and they asked him to discover the secret of Prey's unhappiness.
Skirnir did not take long to find out what the trouble was, and he offered to go to the young maiden on his friend's behalf and ask for her hand. He only begged of Frey to lend him the famous sword which moved through the air of its own accord and the horse which was not frightened of the red flames stirred up by the enchanters. Through the sombre night, past rocks shining in the mountain torrents, Skirnir rode until he reached the land of the giants. At the door of Gymir's dwelling ferocious dogs were chained. On a nearby hill a herdsman sat and kept watch on the roads. Great flames surrounded the giant's palace with their fiery tongues. But Skirnir did not let himself be frightened. He passed the foaming jowls of
the dogs, he ignored the shout of the guard who tried to stop him. He spurred his horse which bounded through the magic flames, and penetrated the palace walls.
Attracted by the noise, Gerda approached. Skirnir gave her the message he had come to deliver. At the same time he offered her eleven apples made of pure gold and the ring Draupnir, which had belonged to Odin. But Gerda refused to listen to him. Then Skirnir brandished the thin gleaming blade of his sword and looked as though he would kill Gerda and her father too. The threat was in vain; Gerda remained unimpressed. Despairing of success, Skirnir had recourse to spells and conjurations; he had found, he told her, a magic wand in the forest. He threatened to carve the most terrifying runes on it unless she accepted the gifts in token of agreement to the proposed marriage. He would bring it about, by means of these runes, that she should lead a solitary existence, far from men, at the opposite end of the world where in the icy depths she would dry up like a thistle.
This time Gerda was indeed terrified and no longer resisted. In sign of conciliation she offered Skirnir the cup of welcome, filled with mead. Skirnir pressed her to make a rendezvous with Frey then and there, for Frey was consumed with impatience. This Gerda refused to do, but she promised to meet the god, after nine nights had elapsed, in a sacred grove which she named.
Frey meanwhile waited in agony for news. When Skirnir brought him Gerda's reply his heart was again filled with joy. Only the delay imposed by her caused him pain. 'A night is long, but how much longer are two nights! How can I be patient for three nights! A month has often seemed shorter to me than half a night of this waiting.'
This love story, retold in a beautiful Norse poem of the beginning of the tenth century, was doubtless completed by other legends which have not come down to us. Probably Frey was only able finally to win Gerda after a desperate fight with the giants. In the course of the battle he must have lost his precious sword. For, when the great war between the gods and the giants - the prelude to the end of the world - began, Frey was to find himself without the weapon which rendered him invincible and succumbed to the blows of his adversary.
The great Germanic gods are known to us above all through the prose tales of the Eddas and through the Eddie poems. These documents are relatively late, being roughly of the tenth to the thirteenth centuries. But by a lucky chance excavations in Denmark and Sweden have yielded objects on which many of these gods are represented with the features given to them by certain Teutons of the first centuries of our era. In the seventeenth century at Gallehus in the island of Seeland a golden horn was found on which could be distinguished personages and animals in curious attitudes. A hundred years later in the same place a second golden horn was discovered which was, perhaps, the work of the same artist, or at least was closely related to it in style. These two horns were of the fifth century approximately. They were not properly cared for and were stolen by thieves who melted them down. We therefore know them only through eighteenth-century drawings made of them. The figures depicted have long seemed enigmatic and have been interpreted in various ways. The most satisfactory explan ,'ion has been given by the eminent Danish scholar Axel Olrik and is here relied on.
The personage who can be seen in the middle of the upper band of the shorter of the two horns is the god Odin. He holds a spear in his right hand and in his left a circle and a staff, which is perhaps a sceptre. He wears a helmet surmounted by two horns. The stag and the two wolves on his left are animals which are often associated with Odin's adventures. The god on the extreme right of this band and who, like Odin, wears a head-dress with two horns, holds in his left hand a sceptre and in his right a sickle: he is Frey, god of fertility. Thor, the third of the great Germanic gods, is represented on the second band as a personage with three heads. In his right hand he holds an axe and in his left a rope attached to a goat. The other figures represent lesser divinities, who are impossible to identify. The two warriors on the left of the upper band seem to be twin gods: they may be the same as the two warriors, similarly dressed and armed, which are represented on one of the very ancient bronze plaques found on Swedish territory, in the Isle of Oland. A personage, on the lower band, who is armed with two daggers may be the god who is seen, on one of the bronze plaques from Oland, occupied in a struggle with two savage beasts.
The Secondary Gods: Hoenir, Bragi, Vidar, Vali, Ull. Around the great Aesir revolved gods whose roles were much more limited, and whose cult was doubtless far from being practised by all the Germanic peoples. These gods, moreover, only appear in Scandinavian legends. Nothing leads us to believe that they were known or revered by the Germans of the South.
The name Hoenir has already occurred in more than one legend. He was one of the usual companions of Odin and Loki during their journeys across the world. In the dawn of time Hoenir played a part in the creation of men, since it was he who breathed a soul into the first couple. But it was not normally his qualities of spirit which distinguished him. He was strong and handsome, in warfare he was intrepid, but his intelligence was considered rather limited. When the Aesir delivered him as a hostage to the Vanir - after the great war between the two races of gods - they were careful to give him the wise Mimir for a companion.
Generally Hoenir occupies a minor role in the legends of which Odin and Loki are the principal actors. The following tale is another example of this.
One day a giant forced a peasant to play a game of draughts with him; the loser was to lose his own life as well. It was the peasant who won. To save his head the giant immediately proposed a bargain: he undertook in a single night to build for the peasant a magnificent house, filled with provisions of all kinds. At this price he should recover his liberty. The following day the peasant did, in fact, find himself the owner of a truly seigniorial estate and with his wife and children happily moved in.
His new life of opulence, however, did not last. The giant found means of making him play another game of draughts, and this time the giant won. Now, according to the agreement between the two players, the peasant would have to turn over his son to the giant, at least unless he could somehow manage to conceal him from the eyes of his subtle enemy. But by what sorcery could he hoodwink the giant? In his distress the peasant first appealed to the king of the Aesir, Odin. During the night Odin caused a field of barley to spring up and he changed the child into a single grain of barley concealed in one of the ripened ears. But the giant scythed the entire field and in order to find the child struck each ear of barley with his sharp sword. The grain he was looking for, however, slipped from his hand and Odin was able to return the child to its parents. But he confessed his inability to do more.
The peasant then appealed to Hoenir. He hastened with the child to the edge of the sea. At that moment seven swans happened to swim past; two of them came ashore. Hoenir at once commanded the child to become one of the feathers which grew on the head of one of the swans. But the giant suddenly appeared, seized the bird and wrung its neck. He did not, however, notice that the feather he was looking for had floated away. Hoenir, restoring the child to its natural form, was able to return him to his parents safe and sound.
The peasant finally called on Loki to help him. Loki turned the boy into one of the eggs contained in the roe of a turbot. The giant fished for the turbot and succeeded in catching it. Then he began to count its eggs one by one; the one he sought, however, slipped between his fingers. The boy reassumed his normal form and fled across the sand of the beach. The giant clumsily pursued him and stupidly blundered into the trap which Loki had prepared. There he died and the child was saved.
Here, too, Hoenir plays only a secondary role - which is his normal fate. Other gods appear in the legends even less frequently than he. Such is the case with Bragi, god of poetry, who was in fact a late creation of Scandinavian imagination. In the ninth century there lived a skald of great renown; his name was Bragi Boddason and he was the inventor of a celebrated type of strophe. It seems probable that after his death he was deified and made one of the Aesir. Until then Odin himself was attributed with the honour of having taught men the art of song and learned rhyme. During the final two centuries of paganism it was Bragi who became the master of the skalds. He was distinguished for wisdom and the noble ease of his speech. It was said that runes were engraved on his tongue -which is a poetic manner of saying that his skill in composing poems was unrivalled.
He married the goddess Idun. The poets imagined him as an old man with a long beard. He was Odin's skald. In Valhalla it was his duty to offer newcomers the cup of welcome and to receive them with words of courtesy. During feasts he would relate fascinating
stories to Odin's guests, tales of limes long past, the origin of the bardic art, or the adventures of the gods in love and war.
There were two divine personages to whom the poets tried to give a certain significance, but who nevertheless remain somewhat vague: Vidar and Vali.
Vidar was a son of Odin's. He was called the 'Silent As' because he rarely spoke in the assembly of the gods. He was even called a little slow-witted. He was one of tnose heroes whose great simplicity or even stupidity does not prevent them from succeeding where more subtle heroes fail. The greatest exploit in his life was, as we shall see later, when he surpassed Odin himself in courage and killed the wolf Fenrir. He was, indeed, to survive the merciless war between the gods and the giants, and to be one of the gods of a regenerated world.
Vali, like Vidar, was a god of secondary importance. He is scarcely known except for the part he played in the struggle which preceded the 'Twilight of the Gods'. He too was a son of Odin's. He was scarcely one day old when he undertook to avenge Balder's death on Hod. The wish to kill and with his own hands to place the murderer of the favourite of the gods on the funeral pyre was so ardent in his heart that he did not even pause to wash his hands or comb his hair. The day of his birth was also that of his most valiant exploit.
Neither Vali nor Vidar are very ancient gods. They were invented in order to serve the greater gods as avengers or replacements. They were not genuinely popular, but simply creations of the poets. It is not certain that they were objects of an actual cult.
Ull, on the other hand, was long worshipped in some parts of Scandinavia. It even seems that in the eyes of some of the faithful he was counted among the most important gods of the North. But he must, at an early period, have been put in the background by younger divinities. Without doubt he was already hdlf forgotten in the days of the skalds, and in their poems he occupies a very minor position.
He was, they said, the son of Sif - Thor's wife - and consequently Thor's stepson. His name meant the 'Magnificent'. Ull was a handsome huntsman, skilled in crossing vast frozen stretches on snowshoes and winging game with his arrows. There was so much nobility and majesty about him that the Aesir, it was said, once chose him for a while to replace Odin. Odin had been accused of employing unworthy methods in overcoming the resistance of a maiden he coveted and had been banished from the skies by the other gods. In his absence it was Ull, with the consent of all, who took over the command of the Aesir. But at the end of ten years Odin reappeared and drove Ull away. Ull took refuge in Sweden where he acquired the reputation of a powerful enchanter. He owned a bone on which he had engraved magic formulas which were so powerful that he could use it as a ship to cross the seas.
The Goddesses. Scandinavian bards, story-tellers and learned men have spoken less of the goddesses than of the gods. This is perhaps because Teutonic literature was made more for men than for women. It was above all at the end of banquets, when warriors reposed after battle or distant campaigns, that the bards recited their poems filled with mythological allusions. The wives of the gods remain practically always in the background. The number of goddesses seems to have been great enough, but of many of them we know scarcely more than the name. Their cult, moreover, was rarely practised by the majority of the Germanic peoples. Only one seems to have been revered by all the tribes: she who in old German was called Frija, in Anglo-Saxon Frig, and in old Norse Frigg.
Indeed the very name Frija is only a former adjective, raised little by little to the dignity of a proper name. It meant the 'well-beloved', or 'spouse'. This meaning was undoubtedly known to the Romans since they identified Frija with Venus. And the Roman interpretation was accepted without difficulty by the Germans themselves who translated the name Veneris dies (Friday, in French Vendredi) by Frija's day (in modern German: Freitag). But we know nothing of the character or role which the ancestors of the Germans ascribed to this goddess. It is extremely probable that she was regarded as Woden's wife. But we have no genuinely German legend about her.
On the contrary the Scandinavians show Frija-Frigg taking part in various adventures. The wife of Odin, she shared his wisdom and foresight. It would seem that she did not always agree in all matters with her husband. Sometimes she protected warriors whom
Odin tried to harm; and in the resulting quarrels it was not always she who got the worst of it. Her stratagems often succeeded in defeating Odin's will.
She protected men's marriage and made them fruitful. But she personally did not always remain faithful to her own marriage vows, and from time to time, through coquetry or self-interest, she bestowed her favours on various gods, not to mention personages of inferior rank.
Frigg is often confused with Freyja whose origin is, however, different, in spite of the similarity of their names. Originally Freyja did not belong to the race of the Aesir but to that of their rivals, the Vanir. She was the sister of the god Frey and certain Norwegian and Icelandic writers have taken great care to distinguish her from Frigg. But in many cases she was completely confused with Frigg and like her is described as Odin's wife. In the sky she had a rich dwelling, called Folkvang. There she received deceased heroes and assigned them seats in her great banqueting hall. For every time she accompanied Odin to a field of battle she had the right to bring back to her palace half the warriors who had fallen, weapon in hand. She was, in fact, the first of the Valkyries and their supreme commander. Sometimes it even happened that in Valhalla she would pour out the beer and the mead for Odin's warriors, like an ordinary Valkyrie.
Like Frigg, Freyja loved ornaments and jewellery. Not far from her palace, in a grotto which served as their workshop, lived four dwarfs, celebrated for their skill in working metal. One day when she was visiting them she noticed on their table a marvellous golden necklace which they were on the point of finishing. She was seized with an irresistible desire to possess it and offered the dwarfs gold, silver and other precious objects. But the dwarfs, lords of all metals buried in the earth, merely laughed at her offer. To obtain the trinket, they said, she must pay a quite different price: in brief, she must pass one night with each of them. The goddess did not hesitate and did as the dwarfs desired. The necklace then belonged to her.
But the treacherous Loki lost no time in reporting to Odin what had occurred. Odin ordered him to steal the necklace so ill-acquired. Loki then proceeded towards Freyja's bed-chamber, but the door was locked. He turned himself into a fly and buzzed around for some time seeking a crack through which he could slip. Finally in the roof he perceived a hole, the size of the eye of a needle. By this hole he entered the bed-chamber. Freyja, wearing the necklace, was asleep, but she was lying in such a position that it was impossible to reach the clasp. Loki changed himself from a fly into a flea and bit the goddess on the cheek. Freyja stirred in her sleep and turned over so that Loki was finally able to steal the necklace. He then unlatched the door and walked calmly away. When she woke up Freyja discovered the theft and easily guessed who had committed it. She went to Odin and demanded that he return her property. Odin reproached her bitterly for the manner in which she had obtained it and only consented to give her back the necklace on strict conditions.
To obtain his pardon Odin insisted that Freyja should provoke a war between two kings, each of whom commanded twenty kings less powerful than himself. At nightfall all the heroes who had fallen in the battle must be resuscitated in order to renew the struggle on the following day. At this point of the Norse narrative is inserted a passage evidently of Christian inspiration which can only be considered an interpolation. This war should not end until a Christian came in his turn to fight and vanquish all these pagans. Then only should the dead earn repose. Freyja gave her promise to arrange this and ;egained possession of her necklace.
Freyja was so lovely that often the giants tried to obtain her favours freely or by for,e. We have already seen how the giant Thrym demanded her from Loki as the price of returning Thor's hammer. The following story was also told: a giant promised to build the gods a magnificent palace in the course of a single winter. The only condition he imposed was that they give him Freyja for a wife and, into the bargain, present him with the sun and the moon. The gods agreed. He would have finished the palace just in time had not Loki intervened. Loki turned himself into a mare and in this guise lured away the stallion on which the giant relied for the transport of his building materials. Freyja was thus narrowly saved from the humiliating fate which awaited her.
It is sometimes difficult to tell the Germanic goddesses apart.
Freyja, who is often confused with Frigg, is also frequently identified with Gefjon, 'the Giver'. Gefjon was a fertility giddess who was particularly honoured in the island of Seeland. A legend explains the origin of the cult which she enjoyed on this island. In olden days there reigned over the land which to-day is called Sweden a king named Gylfi. An unknown woman who wandered about the country gave the king such pleasure by magic arts of which she knew the secrets that he offered to give her as much land as she could mark out in the space of a day and a night with a plough drawn by four bullocks. Now this unknown woman was the goddess Gefjon and she had learned her magic from the Vanir. The four bullocks with which she harnessed the plough were in reality her four sons whom she had by a giant who lived far off in the icy regions of the North. Drawn by these giant bullocks the ploughshare dug so deeply into the ground that it tore away the entire crust of the earth. The bullocks dragged the immense amount of earth thus detached from its native habitat as far as the sea, where, filling in the sea-bottom, it became the island of Seeland. In the place where Gefjon's bullocks had torn away the soil there remained a vast stretch of water, to-day known in Sweden as Lake Malar.
The Scandinavian poets often cite the names of the wives of the great gods, but they rarely make them the chief characters in their poems. They have already been mentioned in the preceding pages and here it will be sufficient to recall their names. These are - apart from Freyja- Sif, the wife of Thor; Idun, the wife of Bragi; Skadi, the wife cf Njord; Gerda, the wife of Frey.
The ancestors of the Germans revered, in addition to Frija, the goddess Nerthus of whom Tacitus gives a few details in Chapter XL of his Germania. She was perhaps the personified Earth or a fertility goddess. Her festival was celebrated in the spring. On an island in the Ocean a grove was sacred to her: here was preserved her chariot which only the priest could approach. By mysterious signs the priest could recognise the moment when the goddess was present in her sanctuary. Oxen were then hitched tc her chariot and, with solemn ritual, the invisible goddess was carried around the whole island. When Nerthus was in this way present in the midst of her people all swords remained in their scabbards and no one dared to break the peace. It continued thus until the moment when the priest, advised that the goddess no longer cared to sojourn among men, reconducted her to her sanctuary. The chariot, the
veils which adorned it and the goddess herself were then plunged into sea water to purify them. Immediately afterwards the slaves who had taken part in the ceremony of purification were drowned; for no living person, the priest excepted, must be able to boast that he had penetrated the mysteries of the sanctuary.
Now Nerthus, who among the Germans was of the feminine sex, became among the Scandinavians a masculine divinity; namely, Njord, of whom we have already spoken. It is possible that the deity who preceded both Nerthus and Njord was considered among the primitive Germanic tribes as possessing both sexes. This ancient divinity, whom we can only glimpse, probably personified fecundity. As well as the goddesses who inhabited the luminous regions of the sky, there was the goddess of the underworld. Like the Greeks and the Romans the Germanic peoples believed in the existence of a subterranean world where the souls of the dead dwelt after separation from their bodies. They called it by a word which corresponds to the modern German Nolle and to which they early gave the sense of the 'infernal regions'. The Teutons, however, at least before their conversion to Christianity, did not consider this underworld to be a place of punishment; it was simply the residence of those who had ceased to live.
We do not know whether the Germans personified the underworld in the form of a god or goddess. But we do know that the Scandinavians accomplished the personification. Their word Hel, which at first merely meant the place where the dead went, finally became the name of a goddess who was considered to be the sovereign of the underworld.
Legends about the goddess Hel are few. They date from a time when the Northern countries were already converted and bear the evident imprint of Christianity. As Lucifer, for the Christians, was inseparable from Hell and Loki was often identified with Lucifer, it was said that Hel was the daughter of Loki. The tendency was. to make her the companion of fearful monsters. She was said to have been brought up in the land of the giants with the wolf Fenrir and the great serpent of Midgard. She was even made the sister of these evil demons. It was told that in her subterranean kingdom she offered asylum to the monster Nidhogg who night and day gnawed at the roots of the ash tree Yggdrasil. She was not supposed to be, however, a divinity of perverse or malevolent character. It was Odin himself who had assigned her to Niflheim; he gave her power over nine different worlds so that she could fix in each the place of her abode. About her appearance there was something strange and even terrifying. Her head hung forward. Half of her face was like that of a human being, but the other half was totally blank. In the depths of Niflheim she possessed a vast palace where she received, each according to his rank, the heroes and even the gods who descended into her kingdom. There life was not very different from that led in the great houses of the Scandinavian chieftains. It was a sort of underground replica of Odin's celestial palace, Valhalla. When the god Balder, after being killed by Hod, appeared before the goddess of the underworld the great reception hall was resplendent with gold, and servants hastened to put cups of bright mead on the tables for Balder and his retinue.
Hel herself had scarcely any other role except to preside at these receptions. She was much more the creation of erudite poets than the object of a genuine popular cult. She never took part in the lives of the other gods and, queen of the shadows, remained herself a vague and shadowy figure.
THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS:
THE END OF THE WORLD AND ITS REBIRTH
The Teutons did not believe that the world would endure for ever nor even that the gods were immortal. Like men the gods had ceaselessly to struggle against enemies who were full of envy and deceit. To maintain their pre-eminence over these demons they had incessantly to remain on the alert. We have already seen how one of them, Heimdall, was appointed to stand guard night and day before the bridge, Bifrost, which gave access to Asgard. But in spite of the precautions taken and in spite of their warlike virtues the Aesir were to finish by succumbing to their enemies. And the world which they had sustained and protected was to crumble in ruins with them.
To this grandiose catastrophe - which is recounted with power and brevity in the Voluspa, one of the best poems in the Eddas -
the name Gotterdammerung or the 'Twilight of the Gods' has been given. This name, which Wagner's opera has made universally familiar, in point of fact arises from a misunderstanding and even a contradiction. The Icelandic term employed by the oldest bards was ragna rok, which simply means 'the fatal destiny, the end of the gods'. But from the twelfth or thirteenth century Norse writers substituted for this expression the words ragna rokkr which roughly amounted to the same thing and doubtless had in their opinion the advantage of containing a more striking metaphor: rokkr meaning, in effect, 'obscurity, shadows, twilight'. From then on the phrase 'twilight of the gods' became habitual.
In the dawn of time the gods in their palaces in Asgard had led a peaceful and industrious life. They had taken pleasure in building temples, erecting altars, working in gold and forging tools with hammer and anvil, or in playing draughts together. Had they only been able to dominate their passions this golden age of peace would never have come to an end. But the gods brought down the blows of destiny on their own heads. That day in Valhalla when they tortured Gullveig, the envoy from the Vanir, in order to extract her gold, they committed a crime from which the first wars resulted. Later they broke their word to a giant who had reconstructed their celestial dwelling. As the price of his labour they had promised him the goddess Freyja, the sun and the moon. But when the time came to pay they permitted Loki to deceive the giant by a dishonest trick. From that moment all the oaths, all treaties concluded in the world began to lose their force and validity. A new era opened, characterised by perjury, violence and warfare. Men, giants and gods were swayed by hatred and anger. The Valkyries ranged the world continually, flying from one battle to another. Evil dreams began to trouble the sleep of the Aesir. Odin uneasily watched the sinister portents accumulate. He understood that the supreme struggle was being prepared. Calmly and resolutely he made ready to face it.
It was the murder of Balder which marked the beginning of the great ordeal. Before his body the Aesir swore an oath to avenge him bitterly. They were not unaware that it was Loki who had armed and guided the hand of the blind murderer. They seized him at once and put him in irons. This ignominious treatment only served further to envenom the wicked god. He broke his chains and joined the Aesir's irreconcilable enemies, the demons and the giants, and with them fought against his former companions.
Meanwhile the baleful omens redoubled. In a distant forest in the East an aged giantess brought into the world a whole brood of young wolves whose father was Fenrir. One of these monsters chased the sun to take possession of it. The chase was for long in vain, but each season the wolf grew in strength, and at last he reached the sun. Its bright rays were one by one extinguished. It took on a blood red hue, then entirely disappeared. For the space of several years the world was enveloped in hideous winter. Snowstorms descended from all points of the horizon. War broke out all over the earth. Brother slew brother, children no longer respected the ties of blood. It was a time when men were no better than wolves, eager to destroy each other. Soon the world was going to sink into the abyss of nothingness.
Everywhere people armed themselves and spied on the enemy. At the frontier of the kingdom of the giants a watchman, Eggther, a redoubtable warrior and a fine harpist, sat on an eminence and kept watch on the kingdoms of men and gods alike. Near the river which bordered the underworld, Garm, the terrible dog, howled furiously, calling all who were confined to his guardianship to battle. In the South, where the land of the fire giants began, Surt, the lord of those countries, had already raised his flaming sword.
On the edge of the sky Heimdall, watchman of the gods, was posted. No one in the world had an eye more piercing or an ear more acute than Heimdall, and yet he allowed his sword to be stolen by Loki and only began to sound his horn when the giants were already on the march. The wolf Fenrir, whom the gods had so carefully chained up, broke his bonds and escaped. As he shook them from him he made the whole earth tremble. The aged ash tree Yggdrasil was shaken from its roots to its topmost branches. Mountains crumbled or split from top to bottom, and the dwarfs who had their subterranean dwellings in them sought desperately and in vain for entrances so long familiar but now disappeared.
From the West, in a ship manned by a phantom crew, approached the giant Hrym. He held himself proudly erect, ready for battle;
in his left hand he raised his shield, in his right he grasped the tiller. His ship rode forward on the giant waves which the serpent Midgard stirred up as it swam. In its unbridled rage the monster thrashed the waters with its enormous tail and advanced at a furious pace.
Another ship came from the North. Its sails bellied in the wind and it carried the inhabitants of the underworld: Loki sat at the helm. The wolf Fenrir accompanied him. Fire spurted from the beast's eyes and nostrils; from his gaping jaws dripped blood. His upper jaw touched the heavens and his lower jaw brushed the earth.
From the South appeared Surt, followed by innumerable fire giants. Lightning flashed from his sword and all around him flames sprang from the cracking earth. As he drew near rocks crumbled away and men collapsed lifeless. The vault of the heavens was shaken by the tumult of this army in march and, scorched by the breathing furnace beneath, suddenly cracked in two. And when the sons of the fire giants drove their steeds across the rainbow bridge stretched between earth and Asgard, it burst into flames and caved in.
Following the ancient Germanic custom the opposing armies had by agreement fixed the field for their encounter. This was the field of Vigrid, which stretched before Valhalla and was a square which measured a thousand leagues on each side. Here gods and giants, together with warriors whose numbers were countless, pitilessly butchered each other.
Odin wore a golden helmet, plumed with vast eagles' wings. In his hand he grasped the good spear Gungnir. Like a hurricane he flew in the forefront of his warriors who swarmed endlessly from the gates of Valhalla. Around him, like a winged host, flew the Valkyries on their dazzling chargers. Odin caught sight of the wolf Fenrir and, sword raised, fell upon him. But the monster's gaping jowls were so vast that they swallowed up the father of the gods then and there. Thus Odin perished, the first casualty of this titanic battle. At the sight Frigg, his wife, was on the point of fainting with grief.
But vengeance was near. Vidar, the son of Odin, advanced fearlessly towards Fenrir. He placed one foot on the monster's lower jaw and kept it thus fixed to the ground. His shoe was made of indestructible leather which the wolfs sharp teeth could not penetrate. Vidar's right hand raised the beast's upper jaw towards the sky and into the yawning gullet he thrust his sword - so deep that it pierced Fenrir's very heart.
Meanwhile Frey, the dazzling Van, and Surt, chief of the fire giants, found themselves face to face. Frey would have made short work of his adversary if he had still possessed the wondrous sword which the dwarfs had forged for him. But he had lost it while seeking the hand of his wife Gerda. Now this weapon which none could resist was in the hands of the giant Surt - and it was the god who succumbed.
Thor saw before him the monster which once long before he had attempted to kill: the great serpent of Midgard. Since that day when the god had almost torn him from the water the serpent had kept itself hidden in the bottom of the sea. To-day it had emerged for the first time and it crawled towards the thunder-god, spitting out so much venom that sea and air alike were poisoned. With his terrible hammer Thor crushed the monster's skull and it fell back, dying. But Thor himself had breathed in so much poison that his strength failed. He tried to stagger away; but at the ninth step he fell to the ground, dead.
Loki in the old days had already found in Heimdall an adversary to be feared; Heimdall had o(*ce forced him to restore the necklace he had maliciously stolen from Freyja. Hatred had filled Loki's heart ever since. He now sought out Heimdall, found him and killed him; but lost his own life in doing so.
Only one of the great Aesir was still alive: Tyr. With vast strides Tyr ranged the battlefield, hoping to find and slay the wolf Fenrir who had once bitten off his right hand. He was too late, for Vidar had already killed Fenrir. Suddenly, however, Tyr heard a fearful howling; it was Garm, the dog of the infernal regions. Tyr flung himself on the creature and with his left hand sank his sword deep into its heart. But he himself was so badly mauled that in his turn he, too, died.
All the great gods were dead. And now that Thor, protector of mankind, had disappeared, men were abandoned. They were driven from their hearths and the human race was swept from the surface of the earth. The earth itself was beginning to lose its shape. Already the stars were coming adrift from the sky and falling into the gaping void. They were like swallows, weary from too long a voyage, who drop and sink into the waves. The giant Surt set the entire earth on fire; the universe was no longer more than an immense furnace. Flames spurted from fissures in the rocks; everywhere there was the hissing of steam. All living things, all plant life, were blotted out. Only the naked soil remained, but like the sky itself the earth was no more than cracks and crevasses.
And now all the rivers, all the seas rose and overflowed. From every side waves lashed against waves. They swelled and boiled and slowly covered all things. The earth sank beneath the sea, and the vast field of battle where the lords of the universe had faced each other was no longer visible.
All was finished.
And now all was about to begin again. From the wreckage of the ancient world a new world was born. Slowly the earth emerged from the waves. Mountains rose anew and from them sprang cataracts of singing waters. Above the torrent the eagle again began to hover, ready to swoop suddenly down on the fish which played in the waters. As of old the fields became covered with verdure. Ears of corn grew where no human hand had scattered seed. A new sun - the son of that which a wolf had once devoured - shone serenely in the sky.
And a new generation of gods appeared. On the field of peace where formerly the Aesir had assembled the new gods gathered in their turn. Who were these new gods? Had they no connection with the gods of olden days? None at all. They had already been in existence, but having never shared the passions, or quarrels, of the former gods, having committed neither perjury nor crime, they had not perished. To them it was reserved to renew the world.
There was even one resurrection: Balder, the fairest and most beloved of the gods of former days, was reborn; and, accompanied by his brother, Hod, he occupied the great festival hall where Odin had once sat. Odin himself would never return, but two of his sons,
Vidar and Vali, and two of his brothers' sons, Vili and Ve, now lived in the sky. Hoenir, who was Odin's faithful companion, survived. Hoenir now studied the runes engraved on magic wands and, thus penetrating the secrets of the future, was able to tell the new race what happiness awaited them. Two sons of Thor, Magni and Modi, completed the new Teutonic pantheon.
Men also reappeared. For all of them had not perished in the great catastrophe. Enclosed in the wood itself of the ash tree Yggdrasil -which the devouring flames of the universal conflagration had been unable to consume - the ancestors of a future race of men had escaped death. In the asylum they had found, their only nourishment had been the morning dew.
SPIRITS, DEMONS, ELVES AND GIANTS
In the belief of the Teutons the earth was peopled by countless creatures of superhuman nature. Here we shall enumerate only the principal categories of these mysterious beings.
Spirits. Everywhere in Germanic lands the souls of the dead were held in fear and reverence. It was believed that they were able to exercise magic powers. Hence the Teutons sometimes buried their dead under the actual threshold of the house. They thought that the soul of the deceased always remained near its place of burial and could act as a protective spirit to the house of the survivors. They believed that souls on occasion even assumed bodily form and appeared either as they had been during their lifetime or in the guise of an animal. Sometimes it happened, they said, that these souls made the living expiate an ancient crime. For instance everyone knew the legend of the wicked bishop Hatto who, in punishment for his misdeeds, was pursued by an army of mice. He took refuge in a tower built on an islet in the middle of the Rhine, but the mice swam across the river and devoured the bishop alive. These mice were the souls of the poor folk whom the bishop had had burned to death.
In certain lands they believed, on the contrary, that the souls of the dead gathered together in places far removed from human habitation. This was how the idea of the 'Savage Hunt' originated. Thousands of phantoms - who were the souls of the dead - on aerial mounts would in a wild chase follow their leader, the demon Wode, a degenerate form of the god Woden. It was their furious ride which could sometimes be perceived among storm clouds.
In Scandinavia the souls of dead warriors were generally assigned to Valhalla or to the other palaces of the gods. In Germany it was sometimes thought that the abode of souls was in the West, towards the place where the sun sank into the sea. Certain German tribes even specifically named Great Britain as the final refuge of the dead. The historian Procopius recounts that on the coast facing Great Britain there were many villages whose inhabitants, though submitted to Prankish authority, paid no tribute because it had always been their painful duty to carry the souls of the dead across the Channel. Towards midnight an invisible being would knock on their doors and summon them to work. They would rise at once and, as though moved by some strange compulsion, go down to the shore. There they would find mysterious ships waiting, ready to sail. The ships belonged to no one in the village and appeared to be empty. As soon as they embarked and grasped the oars, however, they would realise that the boats were so heavily laden that they sank into the water nearly to the gunwales. It took them only an hour to reach the opposite shore whereas in an ordinary boat the crossing required a day and a night. Scarcely would they touch the far shore when the boat would suddenly seem to empty and ride high in the water.'Neither during the voyage nor at the moment of unloading could the sailors see whom they had ferried, but they would hear a voice distinctly proclaim the name, condition and place of origin of each new arrival.
Even the souls of the living were supposed to be able to leave the body and lead a semi-independent existence. The distinction which the Germans made between soul and body did not altogether correspond to the Christian conception of these two elements in human nature. While, for Christians, the soul was entirely immaterial and impalpable, the second 'ego' which the Germans believed all men to possess could exercise bodily functions, speak, move, act, even appear in the'form of a human being or of an animal.
The Scandinavians called this half-material 'ego', the fylgja,
which means roughly 'the follower, the second'. The following story was told of the Prankish king Gontran, ^on of Clotaire. One day when he returned from hunting he was overwhelmed with fatigue. He sat down under a tree and, propping his head on the knees of a faithful servant who was with him, closed his eyes and fell asleep. Suddenly the servant saw a little creature emerge from the king's mouth. It resembled a snake and crawled until it reached a neighbouring stream where it stopped, as though embarrassed by this unexpected obstacle. The servant drew his sword from its scabbard and laid it across the water; and on this improvised bridge the mysterious creature crossed the stream. It then reached a mountain nearby and disappeared into a hole in the ground. At the end of a few hours it reappeared, again crossed the stream by means of the naked sword and re-entered the king's mouth. Gontran at once woke up and said to his companion: 'I have had a strange dream which I should like to tell you. Before me stretched a great river which I crossed on an iron bridge. I soon reached a cavern situated under a high mountain. In this cavern I beheld a prodigious treasure in gold and silver coinsT collected there by our forefathers.' The servant then related to the king what had occurred during his sleep and both were astonished by a dream which so resembled reality. Excavations were made in the mountain, where an immense treasure was discovered which had lain there for many long years.
Although the fylgja could leave the body it nevertheless shared the body's fate. Any damage sustained by one of these parts of the individual was immediately felt by the other. If one were killed the other also died. This belief persisted even, after the end of paganism. In the Middle Ages they would tell how witches could, without their bodies leaving the house, wander abroad in the guise of an animal; but if someone happened to wound or kill this animal the witch would be found in her house bleeding or dead.
Belief in the existence in every man of a spirit capable of leaving the body to take on a non-human shape gave rise among the Teutons, as among many other peoples, to the conviction that certain men could at will change themselves into animals. All Teutons have believed in the existence of the werewolf; that is of a man who has the power to turn himself into a wolf, in order either to attack other men or to ravish their flocks. It was also admitted that in certain cases the metamorphosis was involuntary and resulted from a spell cast by an enemy skilled in the practice of sorcery.
A Norse story relates that Sigmund and Sinfjoth, wandering through a forest, once found two men in a cabin sound asleep. Above them hung the hides of two wolves. The two unknown men had formerly been turned into wolves by the malevolence of a sorcerer; but he had granted them permission to leave their wolfskins every ten days and for a period of twenty-four hours to resume their human form. It was during one of these periods that they were sleeping in the cabin. Sigmund and Sinfjoth decided to slip into the empty skins, but the moment they did so they found it impossible to take them off again. It was now they who were, victims of the enchantment. They at once began to howl like wolves. They sprang on the sleeping men and even bit each other. When they went home they waited for the tenth day. The wolfskins then automatically fell from their shoulders and the two warriors reassumed their normal appearance. They hastened to burn the skins and the spell was broken.
Little by little the Teutons came to consider the fylgja as an independent being, as a demon that had no connection with any specific individual. Ultimately it was supposed to be able to incarnate the soul of ancestors or even the soul of a religion. In appearance it was an armed woman, a sort of goddess riding through the air. Though originally protective spirits, the fylgjur (plural of fylgja) began, with the introduction of Christianity, to be feared as noxious demons. In a saga about some of the chieftains who converted Scandinavia it was told how a certain Thidrandi, an Icelander by birth, one clear night heard a knock on the door of his house. Although he had been warned never in such a case to go out he had the imprudence to cross the threshold, sword in hand, ready to face the enemies whom he expected to find outside. He saw nine women dressed in black, mounted on dark steeds, naked swords in their hands, riding towards him from the North. Turning, he beheld in the South nine other women on white steeds and dressed in white also bearing down on him. In haste he tried to regain his house, but it was too late. The women in black had fallen upon him and mortally wounded him. They found him next day
lying on the ground. He had only time enough to relate what had happened and then he died. His contemporaries explained this strange occurrence in the following way: the women were all protective spirits, fylgjur of the race. The black fylgjur were those who had remained faithful to paganism. The white were those who were already inclined to accept Christianity. But before being converted the pagan fylgjur had demanded a last sacrifice and the unfortunate Thidrandi had been the victim.
NORNS AND VALKYRIES
Other spirits frequently intervened in the life of men and could alter their destiny. They were often women known for their great wisdom. In Scandinavia these female spirits, mistresses of fate, were called Norns. This was the name under which they were universally known; for it was not only the Scandinavians but all the Germanic peoples who believed in their existence. They were thought of as spinners who held the threads of destiny in their hands. They were learned in the old customs, the ancient precepts of right and wrong, and could judge the fate each man merited. They even pronounced the fate of the gods, for the Aesir could no more escape their destiny than could men.
It is possible that at one time they believed in only one dispenser of fate. The word which designated fate (ward in Low German, wyrd in Anglo-Saxon, urdr in Old Norse) was little by little transformed into a proper name, which was that of a kind of goddess who was both just and inexorable. But this first Norn was soon provided with sisters. It was eventually considered that some of them exerted themselves in the cause of man's happiness while others did everything in their malignant power to render him disservice. It is without doubt from these ancient deities of destiny that the fairies were derived, the fairies which in story appeared at the child's cradle to offer him magic gifts or, on the contrary, to utter maledictions which would shadow him the whole of his life.
The Scandinavian legend of Nornagest relates that at the hero's birth women endowed with the gift of prophecy appeared at his cradle. Beside the baby two candles were burning. The first two women bestowed on the newly born child virtues of all kinds and announced that he would be the happiest man of all his race. But the third woman rose up in fury, because the people crowding around the cradle had elbowed her and even pushed her to the floor. She decided to punish the infant for this affront to her dignity and cried out: 'I foretell that he will cease to live on the day that candle beside him ceases to burn!' Immediately the oldest of the three women seized the candle, extinguished it and warned the mother never to light it again until her son's last day had arrived. That was why the child was baptised Nornagest, 'the guest, the protected of the Norns'.
In Scandinavian countries the Norns became - though it is
difficult to say exactly when - three in number. The first among them was the aged Urd (that is to say, Destiny). There was a fountain which bore her name near one of the roots of the ash tree Yggdrasil. It was here that the three Norns could usually be found. Every day they sprinkled the giant tree with water from the fountain so that it should not wither. Urd's two companions were in some documents called Verdandi and Skuld, names which medieval Icelandic scholars interpreted as signifying the Present and the Future; from which it followed that Urd was the Norn of the Past. But this interpretation was only the late invention of the erudite. Even the fact that the Norns were reduced to three in number betrays a classical influence: they wished to have three Norns just as there had been three Fates.
The Valkyries were also dispensers of destiny. But their power extended to only one class of men, namely warriors. It was they who, on the field of battle, gave victory to one or Jie other side, decided which heroes must perish, and chose which among them should be admitted to Valhalla to drink beer and mead at Odin's feasts. They themselves took part in the fighting. Belief in these warrior goddesses was common to all Germanic people. But the name by which they were designated varied among different tribes. The Germans in general called them idisi. The name which has become customary is the Norse valkyrja (in Anglo-Saxon waelcyrie). Its meaning is clear: the Valkyrie is 'she who chooses warriors destined to die in battle'.
The poets normally described the Valkyries as helmeted goddesses, grasping spears crowned with flame, and mounted on flying steeds from whose manes the dew falls in the valleys or hail descends on the forests. But they were also sometimes depicted as maidens in swans' plumage who could fly through the air. Every swan-maiden was not necessarily a Valkyrie; but a Valkyrie always had the power to turn herself into a swan-maiden. These strange and gracious creatures delighted in haunting the lakes and pools of lonely forests. They could, when it pleased them to do so, cast their plumage aside and appear in human form. But if a man succeeded in stealing their plumage they could never escape from him and were forced to obey his will.
The great medieval German epic, the Nibelungenlied, gives us a characteristic example. The fierce Hagen, seeking for a place to cross the Danube, suddenly heard a slight plash of water in a nearby pool. He crept silently through the shaded woods to the water's edge and there he saw two maidens who had slipped out of their swans' plumage and were bathing in the limpid water. He immediately seized their plumage and refused to restore it until he had learned from their lips what fate the future held for the army of the Burgundians who were marching towards the land of the Huns.
It was because she had allowed herself to be surprised by a man that the Valkyrie Brynhild - heroine of Wagner's musical drama -incurred the wrath of Odin. One day she and eight of her sisters
were flying far from Valhalla. They landed on earth and removed their plumage. King Agnar approached, seized the discarded apparel and hid it under an oak. From then on the nine Valkyries were in his power. He demanded that Brynhild should help him in the war which he was waging against his old adversary Hjalm-gunnar, and that she should make sure that Hjalmgunnar perished. She had no alternative but to agree. Now Hjalmgunnar was Odin's protege and Odin had decided to give him the victory. Angered at having his will thwarted Odin pricked Brynhild with a magic thorn which had the quality of plunging all whom it touched into profound slumber. Then he enclosed her in a dwelling encircled by a wall of flame. Thenceforward Brynhild would return no more to Valhalla; she had ceased to be a Valkyrie; she was stripped of her divine privileges and condemned to lead a terrestrial life. The only man who could marry her would be the fearless hero who dared ride his horse through the flames which separated her from the world. This hero was to be Sigurd - the German Siegfried.
Valkyries and swan-maidens could become the mistresses and wives of men. In Iceland they told the touching history of Helgi who was united by an ardent and faithful love to the Valkyrie Kara. She would accompany him to war, dressed in her swan's plumage; flying above the battlefield she would sing a song of such charm and sweetness that the enemy would lose all ambition to defend himself. One day while she was hovering above Helgi he raised his sword to strike his adversary, but instead struck Kara in flight and fatally wounded her. It was the end of Helgi's happiness.
Elves and Dwarfs. In the world of nature there was not a spot which was not inhabited by some spirit. Some of these sprites were small, or at least no larger than men. They may be called by the general term of elves. The others, who played an important part in mythology, were giants.
To-day the word 'elf in all Germanic languages- and consequently in other languages which have borrowed the word - has a more restricted meaning than it formerly had. It once served to designate all spirits or demons associated with nature, who were supposed to inhabit the waters, the woods or the mountains. Elves were sometimes helpful, but at other times they were full of malice. In English poetry of the Middle Ages they were above all celebrated as aerial and luminous beings, full of benevolence and kindness, and that is how they are normally thought of to-day. But the ancient Teutons felt a certain fear of them.
Ordinarily the elves were thought of as beings handsomer and better made than men, although smaller. They were organised in societies in the manner of men with kings whom they faithfully served. They loved games and dancing. Often they passed the entire night tirelessly dancing, interrupted only by the crowing of the first cock; for they feared the sunlight and avoided the eyes of men. If, while they danced by moonlight, a man chanced to pass the clearing where they frolicked he would be unable to tear his eyes from the faces of the young female elves. He would be bewitched by their beauty. If he allowed himself to take part in their dance he was lost: either he would never be seen again, or only his body would be found. Usually their dancing was without witnesses, but in the morning traces of their feet could be discovered in the moist grass. They were wise and subtle creatures to whom the future was known.
Dwarfs may be considered as a special class of elves. They too were of small stature, lived in secret places, usually underground, and were endowed with supernatural intelligence and foresight. They were, however, very far from being beautiful. They were almost always deformed; they were hunchbacked or twisted, they had big heads, pale faces and long beards.
Although they were rather wild and shy they would sometimes come into men's dwellings. One night a troop of dwarfs gathered in the great hall of Eilenburg castle in Saxony to celebrate a wedding. The noise wakened the Count, lord of the castle, who rose and entered the hall. Immediately a dwarf herald stepped forward and invited him, in the most courteous terms, to take part in the festivities. The Count willingly accepted the invitation. When morning came the little folk vanished, but not without first warmly thanking the Count for his hospitality, as politeness required.
Miners, they said, frequently met dwarfs in the galleries they dug in the flanks of mountains. It was said that these dwarfs were themselves often dressed as miners and wore leather aprons, carried lanterns, picks and hammers. More ingenious and learned than
men they only frequented places where useful and precious metals abounded; hence to come across them forehadowed the discovery of rich booty. They were considered to be the rightful owners of buried treasure. One of these treasures is celebrated in German epic poetry: the treasure which belonged to the king Nibelung, of which the dwarf Alberich was the guardian. Siegfried, the hero of the Nibelungenlied, appropriated it after he had vanquished the dwarf Alberich and demanded an oath of fidelity from him. And it was to gain possession of the fabulous treasure for his master King Gunther that Hagen later treacherously slew the noble Siegfried.
This form of the famous legend of the Nibelungen is, however, peculiar to the German epic. In Norse poetry the matter occurred in another fashion. There, too, it concerned a hidden treasure, but the treasure belonged to a dwarf, one Andvari, who had the power to change himself into a fish and live in the water. One day Loki succeeded in capturing him with the aid of a magic net and only consented to set him free in exchange for the treasure. The dwarf was forced to agree and turned over all the gold he possessed to his enemy. He attempted, meanwhile, to conceal in the hollow of his hand a certain magic ring which had the property of creating further treasure and making it accumulate indefinitely. But Loki saw him and, deaf to the dwarfs piteous appeals, made him hand over the ring. Andvari thereupon laid a solemn curse upon the gold and the ring which had been extorted from him: they should cause the death of all who successively possessed them. Andvari's prophecy was fulfilled. Later the giant Fafnir, who had gained possession of the treasure by murdering his own father, changed himself into a dragon to guard it; but he fell beneath the blows of Sigurd, who himself perished not long afterwards.
Proprietors of the gold and precious stones buried in the ground, the dwarfs were cunning goldsmiths and incomparable blacksmiths. The weapons of the gods and the jewellery of the goddesses were their work. To them Odin owed his spear Gungnir whose flight nothing could arrest, and the ring Draupnir which, like the ring of Andvari, had the power of indefinitely augmenting the riches of its possessor. It was from the dwarfs that Thor acquired his hammer, Frey his golden boar and magic boat, Sif her golden locks and Freyja her beautiful necklace.
Others, not dwarfs in the strict sense of the word, were elves of a particular sort who peopled springs and rivers. In the eyes of the German peoples water-sprites usually took on human appearance. The best known of these were called 'nixies'. Though commonly supposed to be feminine the early German Nix, the undine, the water-sprite, could be masculine and was also called Wassermann, waterman. The water-sprites were apt to appear to men, though frequently to men's undoing. The nixie women were supposed to be dazzlingly beautiful. They loved to sit in the sun on the river bank and comb their long golden hair. They sometimes fell in love with handsome young men whom they dragged down to the bottom of the water and who were never seen again. Some who had seen them, or heard their melodious songs, lost their wits. They were, by and large, cruel spirits who delighted in doing harm to men.
There were, on the other hand, others who installed themselves in people's houses and became familiar spirits. They were then called 'kobolds'. They were in appearance not unlike men; of aged aspect, their faces were all wrinkles, and they wore pointed hoods on their heads. Normally they frequented the barns and stables and cellars; and they liked to make themselves useful about the house. They would go and fetch water, chop wood, feed the cattle, currycomb the horses, remove the manure. A kobold brought good luck to the house which sheltered him. He demanded very little for the services he rendered: a little milk and what was left over from the dinner table. But the servant must take good care not to forget his share. Otherwise the little creature could be vindictive and see that she scalded her fingers in the hot water, broke a pot or upset the dishes. When such mishaps occurred she would hear in a corner the malicious chuckle of the kobold.
Finally, the fields and forests were inhabited by innumerable spirits. The appearance of those who dwelt among the trees -'men and women of the woods' - recalled the environment in which they lived: their bodies were hairy and seemed to be covered with moss; their faces were as wrinkled and gnarled as the bark of the trees. Hunters and woodcutters sometimes saw them in thickets. They were as a rule not unhelpful. They knew the secret virtues
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of herbs which they made use of in stopping outbreaks of disease. They were, however, sometimes accused of assuming the form of insects, moths and worms, in order to spread illness among men.
The spirits of the fields were generally believed to have animal forms. The ruffling of a field of ripe wheat by the wind was attributed to the passage of an invisible animal, the 'corn-wolf or the 'rye-dog'. The grain itself was sometimes thought of as the body of this invisible spirit, just as the tree was the body of the tree-sprite. During the harvest the corn-wolf would, they said, try to escape from the harvesters. He would take refuge in that part of the field where the grain still stood; but they would take him prisoner with the final sheaf. When that happened they would make the gesture of killing him with scythe or flail, or - in other parts of the country - take him respectfully home in the sheaf knotted like a scarecrow and piled on top of the other sheaves.
Giants. In many ways the power and the role ascribed to the giants resembled those exercised by various kinds of elves or dwarfs. Often the only difference between them was their size. Like the dwarfs the giants were sometimes hostile, sometimes benevolent. On the whole, however, they inspired fear; and the surly, not to say evil character which the Teutons were apt to attribute to them was explained by their origin. They were, indeed, simply the personification of great natural phenomena, such as hurricanes, winter, volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and so on.
We have already seen that of all living creatures the giants were supposed to be the first to appear on the earth. They ante-dated even the gods. They retained in their appearance and vast bodies something of the rudeness and brutality of those days when the earth first emerged from the icy void. The names by which they were known varied with the country. One name has been adopted in other languages: the Scandinavian troll.
Like the dwarfs they were scattered throughout nature. It was thought that they could be glimpsed in the black clouds driven before the storm winds. They were accused of causing hail to fall on the harvest. It was believed that their voices could be heard when thunder rolled through the valley or echoed in the mountains. It was said, when clouds whipped by the wind sped by, that such and such a giant was chasing a pretty girl whom he hoped to seize by force. In this respect the giant resembled Woden.
These giants, so close to the gods, did not hesitate to defy them. We remember the audacity with which Thrym stole Thor's hammer. Another giant, Geirrod, having succeeded in luring Thor to his castle, challenged the god to a singular sort of duel, hoping to reduce him to his mercy. From one of the gigantic fires which burned in the middle of the great hall Geirrod drew forth a lump of incandescent iron by means of vast tongs. The two adversaries were to hurl it at each other in turn. The giant began. Without flinching or dodging the blow Thor caught the molten mass in flight in his iron gloves. The giant, who had expected to kill Thor outright, now only thought of his own skin. With a bound he-hid behind an iron column. But Thor flung the glowing missile with such force that the entire edifice was shaken. The monstrous object first pierced the iron column, then the giant's body and the castle wall before plunging into the ground. The symbolism is obvious: demon and god in turn hurled the thunderbolt at each other; but despite his power the giant cannot overthrow the thunder-god.
Other giants lived in the mountains. In Germany the Nibelung-enlied preserved the memory of twelve giants who lived in the midst of wild mountains and took their orders from the kings Nigelung and Schilbung. The grumbling which can sometimes be heard in the depths of gorges, the crumbling of cliffs and the sudden overflowing of torrents were produced by angered giants.
Finally in the sea there were giants, just as there were nixies in the rivers. Scandinavian legend made a special place for the giant Aegir, lord of the sea. His rank was not quite that of a god but his relations with the Aesir were friendly. He was readily welcomed to their feasts and in his turn received them in his marine palace. He had no need for fire to illuminate his great hall; the gold which adorned it spread a brilliant light. The Teutons doubtless imagined that treasures swallowed up by the sea during shipwrecks were piled high in Aegir's palace.
Aegir had a wife whose name was Ran, that is, 'the ravisher'. She owned a vast net in which she tried to capture and draw to her side every man who ventured on the sea. It was she who stirred
up the waves and caused them to lash violently together in the hope of imperilling ships. The terror which she inspired was so great that in the end she rose in popular imagination from the rank of a simple demon to that of a veritable goddess. Moreover she welcomed the drowned magnificently in her great hall and served them with the delicate flesh of fish. Nine daughters were born of her marriage to Aegir. The names which the skalds gave them show that they were merely personifications of the waves. They were temptresses who reached out seductive arms to young men and, if they responded, dragged them to the bottom of the sea.
The wise Mimir, who so often appears in Scandinavian legends and whom Odin willingly consulted, was himself a water giant. But his domain was limited to springs, to pools and inland lakes; it did not extend to the sea. Mimir moreover lived in such close communion with the gods that he was often considered one of them.
The belief in dwarfs, giants and demons of all kinds persisted in Germanic lands for many centuries after the introduction of Christianity, as is witnessed by certain twelfth and thirteenth century epics, tales and countless popular locutions. Some superstitions have persisted even to our days. There was a period - roughly between the ninth and thirteenth centuries - when pagan legends were sometimes amalgamated with Christian legends. It was told, for instance, that Olaf Tryggvason, one of the most energetic converters of Norway, forced a troll - in other words a giant - to build a church. This legend belongs to a well-known type of story in which the role of the hoaxed demon is often played by the devil: the giant - or the devil - offers to erect a building in a given time. He demands, as the price of his labour, either the sacrifice of a human being or else the possession of his soul. At the last minute the endangered man's partner always finds a way of outwitting the demon: the edifice remains while the demon retires in vexation.
There were also cases cited of demons who desired to be accepted into the bosom of the Church. Two children were playing one day on the banks of a river which flowed past their father's house. A water-sprite suddenly rose to the surface of the river and, taking his harp, began to play in wondrous fashion. One of the children interrupted him. 'What good does it do you to play like that?' the child asked. 'You will never attain eternal salvation.' At these words the water-sprite began to weep bitterly; then, tossing his harp away, he plunged back into the waters. When the two children returned to the house they told their father, who was a pastor, what had taken place. He censured them harshly for having filled an inoffensive being with such despair, and sent them back to the river-bank with orders to promise the 'man of the waters' the remission of his sins and his eternal salvation. When they reached the bank the two children saw the water-sprite sitting on the surface of the water. He was still weeping. They said to him: 'Water-sprite, do not grieve like that. Our father says that for you, too, the Saviour came to earth.' Immediately the water-sprite dried his tears, took up his harp again and again broke into sweet melody.
The mingling of Christian and pagan elements, which is not rare, can be easily explained: more than one Germanic tribe had accepted Christianity without thereby rejecting traditional beliefs. Among the Vikings who in the ninth century settled in Great Britain and Ireland there were many who spontaneously adopted the religion of the country they had colonised, but felt no obligation to stop believing in their own Germanic gods. They simply super-imposed one religion on the other, and were, perhaps, not enthusiastically attached to either. More or less the same thing happened with the first colonists in Iceland. In Norway, pious and energetic chieftains had, towards the year One Thousand, forced the whole population to adopt Christianity. But more than one petty prince only acceptsd the situation for political reasons. Actually it took paganism many centuries to die out, nor can one even say that it is totally dead to-day. The great gods have doubtless been without devotees for many years. The same is not, however, true of the familiar demons by whom the people still have a tendency to believe themselves surrounded. There are spirits in country districts who have not lost all credit, spirits to whom the peasants, either by invoking their aid, attempting to allay their anger, or by associating their name with the practice of witchcraft, still render, without realising it, a certain sort of cult.
INTRODUCTION
We have very few precise data on the Slavonic world in the days of paganism. A few scraps of information provided by Roman historians and Greek 'chroniclers', some vague observations on the part of Arab geographers, and, above all, the frequently erroneous details appearing in the chronicles of Orthodox monks: these are all the material documents which we have available to reconstruct the history of the pagan Slavs and of their religious beliefs.
As, however, the material and spiritual evolution of the Slavs was much later and slower than that of the Latin and Germanic peoples of Western Europe we sometimes find in the more recent history of the Slavonic races vestiges and memories of bygone periods, a fact which allows us to utilise the present in order to reconstruct the past.
The mythological background can still be discovered in folklore -in legends, tales, songs, proverbs and, above all, in exorcisms. For in certain Slavonic countries exorcism of pagan origin is still currently practised.
It was only in the sixth century A.D. that the Slavonic world began to emerge distinctly from the varied and mobile ethnographic mass which peopled the Balkans, Central and Eastern Europe. Very probably it was from the Carpathians that the Slavonic tribes dispersed in various directions to form the three great groups which still exist, namely the Southern Slavs, the Western Slavs and those of the East.
The countries which the Slavs penetrated and colonised were almost everywhere characterised by immense spaces covered with forests and cut up by marshes, lakes and rivers. They lived by fishing and hunting, tended cattle in forest clearings and natural meadows, and planted a little corn in the ground they cleared. The forest provided wood for the construction of their crude houses.
Living in small groups of families, they would feel isolated and defenceless before the powerful forces of nature, before the mystery of day and night, the change of the seasons, the storms and tempests, the flooding rivers, and the irregular succession of good and bad crops.
To rid themselves of perpetual fear before the mysterious manifestations of nature the ancient Slavs needed to find explanations. This imperious necessity to explain natural phenomena found expression in their mythology which constituted their cosmogony and all their science in general.
The ancient Slav was physically incapable of fighting the forces of nature and could only aspire to moderating the evil for which they were responsible. It was therefore necessary for him to find out whom to address himself to. Compelled to submit himself to the domination of these mysterious forces of nature, he submitted them, too, to the domination of other powers which were personified by the numerous divinities with whom he peopled the clouds and the earth, the forests and the rivers, his own field of corn, the stable where his cattle slept, and the house which sheltered his family.
Thus little by little a mythology common to all the Slavonic tribes was formed, an extremely rustic mythology, but perfectly adapted to the general conditions of primitive life. It was only in the outposts of the Slavonic world - where they encountered other peoples - that more complex beliefs were created and a less rustic mythology developed. Only at Kiev and on the littoral of the Baltic Sea (in the island of Rugen) do we find among the Slavs traces of a more or less fixed hierarchy of superior divinities, with a few crude idols, priests and rites.
In general, however, Slavonic mythology found no material expression definite enough to present its divinities in precise form. It remained vague and amorphous like the landscape of most of the countries inhabited by the Slavonic race.
THE BIRTH OF THE GODS:
Byelobog and Chernobog. (The White God and the Black God.) At the basis of Slavonic mythology we find a primitive dualism which had its source in the opposition between light, the creative force, and darkness, the destructive force. This elemental opposition gave birth to two divine images which are found among the peoples of the Western branch of the Slavonic world: Byelobog and Chernobog.
The composition of their names reveals their character. Byelobog is made up of the adjective 'byely' which means 'white', and the noun 'bog' which means 'god'. The adjective 'cherny' on the other hand means 'black'. Thus there is a white god, god of light and day, and a black god, god of the shadows and of night: a god of good and a god of evil, opposed one to the other.
The volkhvy, half priests, half sorcerers, of the pagan Slavs would say, according to certain written testimony: 'There are two gods, one above and the other below.'
The Ukrainians still say: 'May the black god exterminate you!'
In White Russia they believed in the existence of Byelun (derived from 'byely' - 'white'). In popular legends this divinity appeared as an old man with a white beard, dressed in white. He only showed himself during the daytime. His actions were always benevolent:
he saved from harm those who had lost their way and helped unfortunate peasants with their work in the fields.
The simple opposition of Byelobog and Chernobog being insufficient to explain the great variety of natural phenomena, other visions began to take shape against the black-white background of primitive mythology.
THE WORSHIP OF NATURE: RUSTIC GODS: THE SKY AND ITS CHILDREN
When the pagan Slav addressed his prayer to the sky and said: 'Sky, thou seest me! Sky, thou hearest me!' he was not using a metaphorical expression. He thought of the sky as a god, as a supreme being.
Later, when anthropomorphic elements had penetrated the primitive religion of the pagan Slavs, they personified the sky as the god Svarog. The root of this name (svar means bright, clear) is related to the Sanskrit.
The sky (Svarog) gave birth to two children: the Sun, called Dazhbog, and Fire, which was called Svarogich, meaning 'son of Svarog'.
John Malala, a Byzantine chronicler, sums up the mythological cosmogony of the pagan Slavs in these terms:
'After Svarog reigned his son, named Sun who was also called Dazhbog... The Sun is the king and son of Svarog; he is named Dazhbog, for he was a mighty lord.'
The other son of Svarog, IFire (or ogon which can be compared to the Sanskrit agni) is mentioned in the work of a very ancient author called 'Unknown Admirer of Christ' who said of the pagan Slavs:
'They also address prayers to Fire, calling him Svarogich.'
Svarog (the Sky) is thus the father of all other gods.
According to an old Slavonic myth Svarog, after reigning over the universe, transmitted his creative sovereign power to his children.
In many Slavonic countries rural folk still retain a mystic respect for fire, which has always had a sacred character. The old forbade the young to swear or shout at the moment when the fire was being lighted in the house.
Legends and folk stories still retain poetic traces of the ancient myths when they speak of the 'Fire Serpent', a winged monster who breathed flames from his mouth.
The Russian savant Afanasiev says of Svarog's other son, Dazhbog, the sun:
'Svarog, as a personification of the sky, sometimes lighted by the sun's rays, sometimes covered with clouds and brilliant with lightning, was considered to be the father of the Sun and of Fire. In the shadows of the clouds he would kindle the lightning's flame and thus he appeared as the creator of celestial fire. As for terrestrial fire, it was a divine gift brought to earth in the form of lightning. Hence it will be understood why the Slav worshipped Fire as a son of Svarog. Afterwards, splitting the clouds with flashing arrows, Svarog would cause the sun to appear, or, in the metaphorical language of antiquity, he would light the torch of the sun which had been extinguished by demons of the shadows. This noetic
conception was also applied to the morning sun emerging from the veils of night. With the sunrise and the renewal of its flame the idea of its rebirth was connected. Svarog was thus a divinity who gave life to the Sun and birth to Dazhbog.'
According to Slavonic myths and legends the Sun lived in the East, in a land of eternal summer and abundance. There he had his golden palace from which he emerged every morning in his luminous chariot, drawn by white horses who breathed fire, to cross the celestial vault.
In a popular Polish tale the sun rode in a two-wheeled diamond chariot harnessed to twelve white horses with golden manes.
In another legend the sun lived in a golden palace in the East. He made his journey in a car drawn by three horses, one silver, one golden and the third diamond.
Among the Serbs the Sun was a young and handsome king. He lived in a kingdom of light and sat on a throne of gold and purple. At his side stood two beautiful virgins, Aurora of the Morning and Aurora of the Evening, seven judges (the planets) and seven 'messengers' who flew across the universe in the guise of 'stars with tails' (comets). Also present was the Sun's 'bald uncle, old Myesyats' (or the moon).
In Russian folklore the Sun possessed twelve kingdoms - the twelve months or signs of the Zodiac. He lived in the solar disk and his children on the stars. They were served by the 'solar daughters' who bathed them, looked after them and sang to them.
The daily movement of the Sun across the celestial sphere was represented in certain Slavonic myths as a change in his age: the Sun was bom every morning, appeared as a handsome child, reached maturity towards midday and died in the evening as an old man. The annual movement of the Sun was explained in an analogous fashirvn
Certain Slavonic myths and legends give an anthropomorphic interpretation to the relationship between the Sun and the Moon. Though the name of the Moon - Myesyats - is masculine many legends represent Myesyats as a young beauty whom the Sun marries at the beginning of summer, abandons in winter, and returns to in spring.
The divine couple of the Sun and the Moon gave birth to the stars. When the pair were in a bad mood and not getting on well together an earthquake would result.
In other myths Myesyats is, on the contrary, the husband, and the Sun is his wife. A Ukrainian song speaks of the heavenly vault, 'the great palace whose lord is bright Myesyats with his wife the bright Sun and their children the bright Stars.'
Even to-day certain Slavonic exorcisms are addressed to 'pretty little moon' and beseech her to cure illness etc. The hero of a Ukrainian song-legend speaks to 'little Sun: God, help me, man!'
The Sun-god Dazhbog, great divinity of day and the light of day, conqueror of the shadows, of cold and of misery became synonymous with happiness. Men's destiny depended on him. He was just. He punished the wicked and rewarded the virtuous.
The Slav of Galicia still says, when he wishes ill to a person: 'May the Sun make you perish!' And the Croatian peasant says: 'May the Sun avenge me on you!'
We have referred above to a legend according to which the two 'solar daughters', the Auroras, stood at the Sun's side. The dawn -in Slavonic Zorya or Zarya - was also believed to be a divinity. Aurora of the Morning (Zorya Utrennyaya - utro meaning 'morning') opened the gates of the celestial palace when the Sun set forth on his daily journey across the heavens. Aurora of the Evening (Zorya Vechernyaya - vecher meaning 'evening') closed them again when the Sun came home.
A myth of a later period attributes a special mission to the Zorya. 'There are in the sky,' it says, 'three little sisters, three little Zorya: she of the Evening, she of Midnight, and she of Morning. Their duty is to guard a dog which is tied by an iron chain to the constellation of the Little Bear. When the chain breaks it will be the end of the world.'
The three little Zorya are thus the great protectresses of the entire universe.
In some myths the two sister Auroras (Zorya) are accompanied by two sister Stars, the morning star Zvezda Dennitsa and the evening star Vechernyaya Zvezda. They share the work of the Zorya and tend the Sun's white horses.
One of them, Dennitsa, in some legends replaces the Sun as wife of Myesyats (the male Moon). In a Serbian song-legend Myesyats reproaches Dennitsa: 'Where hast thou been, star Dennitsa, where hast thou been? Where hast thou wasted thy days? Where hast thou wasted thy days, three bright days?'
In an old Russian exorcism Dennitsa appears as a divinity almost equal to the greatest of the gods. 'In the morning let us arise and pray to God and Dennitsa,' says this exorcism.
In another exorcism the Evening Star is addressed: 'My mother, Vechernyaya Zvezda, to Thee I complain of twelve daughters, twelve wicked girls.' i.e. fevers.
Pagan Slavs also believed in the god or the gods of the winds. A trace of this belief survives in a curious exorcism: 'On the sea, the ocean, on the isle of Buyan, live three brothers, the Winds: one is of the North, the second of the East, the third of the West. Blow, ye Winds, blow unbearable sadness to ... (such and such a girl) so that she cannot live a single day, a single hour without thinking of me!'
The West Wind, soft and caressing, was named Dogoda.
In certain legends there were as many as seven Winds.
Among several Slavonic tribes we find the worship of a god of the Winds named Stribog. They also spoke of a Wind-god named Varpulis who formed part of the retinue of the god Perun and caused the noise of the storm. Erisvorsh was the god of the holy tempest. But the sound of these last names suggests a Lithuanian or Teutonic origin.
MATI-SYRA-ZEMLYA
The pagan Slavs worshipped the Earth as a special divinity, but we have little information about either her appearance or her cult. We only know that among the Russians she was called Mati-Syra-Zemlya which means 'Moist Mother Earth'.
Mythological and ritual memories of belief in the Moist-Mother-Earth can be found in various customs and practices of the Slav peasants.
In certain regions in the month of August the peasants arrive in the fields at dawn with jars filled with hemp oil. Turning towards the east they say: 'Moist Mother Earth, subdue every evil and unclean being so that he may not cast a spell on us nor do us any harm.' While they pronounce this prayer they pour the oil on the ground. Then they turn towards the west and say: 'Moist Mother Earth, engulf the unclean power in thy boiling pits, in thy burning fires.' Turning to the south they pronounce these words: 'Moist Mother Earth, calm the Winds coming from the South and all bad weather. Calm the moving sands and whirlwinds.' And finally turning towards the north they say: 'Moist Mother Earth, calm the North Winds and the clouds, subdue the snowstorms and the cold.' After each invocation oil is poured out and finally the jar which contained it is thrown to the ground.
The Earth was a supreme being, sentient and just. She could predict the future if one knew how to understand her mysterious language. In certain parts of Russia the peasant would dig in the earth with a stock or simply with his fingers, apply his ear to the hole and listen to what the Earth said. If he heard a sound which reminded him of the sound made by a well-filled sleigh gliding over the snow his crop would be good. If, on the contrary, the sound was that of an empty sleigh his crop would be bad.
The Earth was just and one must not deceive her. For centuries Slav peasants settled legal disputes relating to landed property by calling on the Earth as a witness. If someone swore an oath while placing a clod of earth on his head the oath was considered binding and incontestable.
Traces of the ancient worship of the Earth could still be found in Russia on the eve of the first world war in an odd rite to which the peasants had recourse when they wished to preserve their village against an epidemic of plague or cholera. At midnight the old women would perambulate the village, secretly summoning the other women so that the men knew nothing about it. They would choose nine virgins and three widows who would be led out of the village. There they would all undress down to their shifts. The virgins would let down their hair, the widows would cover their heads with white shawls. They would then hitch one of the widows to a plough which was driven by another widow. The nine virgins would seize scythes while the other women grasped various objects of terrifying appearance including the skulls of animals. The procession would then march around the village, howling and shrieking, while they ploughed a furrow to permit the powerful spirits of the Earth to emerge, and so to annihilate the germs of evil. Any man who had the bad luck to meet the procession was felled without mercy.
LITTLE RUSTIC DIVINITIES
Christianity attacked pagan Slavonic mythology before it had completely bloomed. It was nipped, as it were, in the bud.
With the victory of Christianity the great divinities vanished. But the dii minores, the little divinities, were able to escape the massacre. The Slavs, though Christians, preserved many pagan beliefs well into the twentieth century and peopled their material and spiritual world with a countless crowd of little gods and goddesses, of spirits good and evil.
Domovoi. The Domovoi - derived from the word dom meaning 'house' - was the divinity or spirit of the-house. From superstition the Slav peasant avoided calling him by his official name: some designated him by the word 'grandfather' or 'master of the house' while others spoke of'him' or 'himself.
The outward aspect of the Domovoi was vague. Usually he was a being in human shape, but hairy; he was covered with silky fur even to the palms of his hands which, otherwise, resembled a man's. Sometimes he had horns and a tail. On occasion he had the aspect of a domestic animal or even of an ordinary bundle of hay.
It was difficult, not to say dangerous, for a person actually to see the Domovoi. His voice, however, was often heard and his groans and stifled sobs; his speech, while ordinarily soft and caressing, could also be abrupt or gloomy.
This is how they explained the origin of the Domovoi and certain other little divinities: when the supreme god created heaven and earth one party of the spirits who surrounded him revolted. He drove these rebellious spirits from the sky and cast them to earth. Some fell onto the roofs of people's houses or into their yards. Unlike others who fell into the water or forests and remained wicked, these, through their association with men, became benevolent.
The Domovoi would become so much at home in the house where he lived that he would be reluctant to leave it. When a Russian peasant built a new izba, his wife, before moving in, would cut a slice of bread and put it under the stove in order to attract the Domovoi to the new house. The Domovoi loved to live near the stove or under the threshold of the front door. As for his wife, called Do-mania or Domovikha, she preferred to live in the cellar.
The Domovoi forewarned the inhabitants of the house of the troubles which threatened them. Before the death of someone in the family he wept. He would pull the wife's hair to warn her that her husband was going to beat her.
The Domovoi appeared among the Slavs only after the family group became distinct from the tribal group. Previously there had been a spirit of the tribe itself, called Rod or Chur, terms which are impossible to translate but which signified ancestor or forefather.
OTHER DOMESTIC SPIRITS
In the neighbourhood of the Domovoi there were other spirits who may be considered as his near relations.
Such were, for example, the Dvorovoi (from the word dvor or yard) who was the spirit of the yard; the Bannik (from the word banya or bath) who was the spirit of the baths and who lived in the little outhouse situated beside the izba, where the peasants took their baths; the Ovinnik (from the word ovin or barn) who was the spirit of the barn.
A little farther removed from human company than the Domovoi, they were less friendly than he, without, however, being as fierce as the forest and water spirits.
The Dvorovoi particularly detested all animals with white fur, such as white cats, dogs or horses. Only white chickens had no fear of the Dvorovoi because they were protected by a special divinity, the god of the chickens who was represented by a round stone with a hole in it which is sometimes found in the fields.
To appease a Dvorovoi one could put a little sheep's wool in the stable, some small glittering objects and a slice of bread. When making this offering one had to say: 'Tsar Dvorovoi, master, friendly little neighbour, I offer thee this gift in sign of gratitude. Be kind to the cattle, look after them and feed them well.' If the Dvorovoi behaved too badly one could punish him by sticking a pitchfork into the wooden fence around the yard, or by beating the demon with a whip in which must be woven a thread drawn from a winding-sheet. The Dvorovoi also dreaded the dead body of a magpie hung up in the yard.
Sometimes the Dvorovoi would fall in love with a woman. One of them conceived a passion for a girl and lived with her for several years. He plaited her hair and forbade her to unplait it. When she was thirty-five years old she decided to marry a man and on the even of her wedding she combed out her hair. Next morning she was found dead; she had been strangled in her bed by the Dvorovoi.
The Bannik lived in the washhouse. He would permit three groups of bathers to enter, but the fourth turn was his. He would invite devils and forest-spirits to visit him. If he were disturbed
while he himself was washing he would pour boiling water over the intruder and sometimes even strangle him. When leaving the bath it was necessary to leave a little water behind for the Bannik.
The Bannik could be interrogated about the future. To do this you put your naked back through the half-open door of the wash-house and waited patiently. If the Bannik struck you with his claws it was a bad omen; if he caressed your back tenderly with the soft palm of his hand then the future was rosy.
The Ovinnik (spirit of the barns) lived habitually in a corner of the barn. He generally had the aspect of a large dishevelled black cat. He could bark like a dog and laugh his head off. His eyes shone like burning coals. He was so ill-behaved that he was capable of setting the barn on fire.
Only one domestic spirit was feminine. This was Kikimora who,
in some regions, passed for the Domovoi's wife. The numerous myths, tales and legends about the Kikimora give no precise picture of her. Sometimes her sole duty was to look after the poultry; sometimes she took part in all household tasks, though only if the mistress of the house was herself diligent and hardworking. If she was lazy, the Kikimora gave her much trouble and tickled the children during the night. The only way to make friends with the Kikimora again was to go into the forest, gather ferns and prepare a fern-tea with which all the pots and pans in the kitchen must then be washed.
The belief, still living, in all these domestic spirits is no more than a survival of the cult which the primitive Slavs rendered to divinities who protected their homes.
We shall limit ourselves to listing in addition: Peseias and Krukis who protected the domestic animals (Krukis was also the patron of blacksmiths); Ratainitsa who watched over the stables; Pri-girstitis whose hearing was so acute that he distinguished the faintest murmurs and loathed shouting; Giwoitis who could be recognised in the shape of a lizard and who was given milk to drink. Among feminine divinities there were: Matergabia who directed the housekeeping and to whom one offered the first piece of bread from the kneading trough; Dugnai who prevented the dough from spoiling; Krimba, a goddess of the house who was worshipped principally in Bohemia. These names again sound Lithuanian, Scandinavian and Germanic.
LESHY
The lands which the ancient Slavs colonised and peopled were densely wooded. The colonisers had to cut their way across enormous forests, filled with dangers and the unexpected. It was natural that they should have run into the Leshy. Leshy, whose name is derived from the word les, the forest, was the spirit of the forest.
Popular legends ascribed a human aspect to Leshy, but his cheeks were of a bluish hue because his blood was blue. His green eyes often popped out of their sockets, his eyebrows were tufted and he wore a long green beard. His hair was like a priest's. Sometimes popular imagination dressed him in a special costume: he wore a red sash and his left shoe on his right foot. He also buttoned his 'kaftan' the wrong way round. The Leshy threw no shadow. Even his stature was unstable; when he walked in the depths of the forest his head reached the tops of the tallest trees. When he walked on the forest's edge, through small bushes and grass, he turned into a tiny dwarf and could hide himself under a leaf.
He avoided trespassing on his neighbour's land, but he jealously guarded his own kingdom. When a solitary traveller crossed the forest, or a peasant came to gather mushrooms or berries, or a hunter ventured too deep into the woods, then the Leshy would not fail to lead him astray, to make him blunder in every direction through the undergrowth, only to bring him back to the same spot again.
He was, however, good-natured and almost always ended by releasing his victim, especially if the victim knew how to escape his spells. In order to do this, the wanderer must sit down under a tree-trunk, remove his clothes and put them on again backwards. Nor must he forget to put his left shoe on his right foot.
The Leshy was not mortal although, according to certain legends, he was the offspring of a demon and a mortal woman.
On the other hand 'Leshies' had at the beginning of every October to disappear or temporarily die - until the following spring. In spring they were wild and particularly dangerous. Full of anger and anguish - no doubt at the thought of their next disappearance -they would range the forest, whistling and shouting, imitating the strident laughter of over-excited women, sobbing in a human voice, and crying out like birds of prey and savage beasts.
Some legends say that the Leshy had family instincts and give him a wife, the Leshachikha, and children, the Leshonki. They lived in the depths of the woods and committed their misdeeds in common.
POLEVIK
If every forest was inhabited by a Leshy every field was ruled by a Polevoi or Polevik. Pole meant 'field'.
The outward appearance of the Polevik varied according to region. Sometimes he was simply someone 'dressed in white". Sometimes the Polevik had a body as black as earth and two eyes of different colours. Instead of hair, long green grass grew on his head. At times he would appear in the guise of a deformed dwarf who spoke a human language.
The Polevik liked to amuse himself in the same fashion as the Leshy by misguiding belated travellers. It could happen that he would strangle a drunkard who had gone to sleep in his field instead of working in it. When this occurred the Polevik was often helped by his children who would run along the furrows, catching birds, which they would give to their parents to eat.
To earn the good will of the Polevik one could make him an offering by placing in a ditch two eggs and an elderly cockerel who could no longer crow. But this must be done so that no one was present at the sacrifice.
In the north of Russia the Polevik was sometimes replaced by the Poludnitsa (Poluden or polden means noon.) She was a beautiful girl, tall in stature and dressed entirely in white. In summer, at harvest time, she would walk in the fields and if she found a man or a woman working at midday she would seize him by the hair and pull it mercilessly. She would lure little children into the fields of corn and lose them.
Other rustic divinities did not survive the victory of Christianity. We shall limit ourselves to mentioning only a few of them.
Among the Poles the prosperity of the fields was the business of the gods Datan, Tawals, Lawkapatim, who especially presided over tilling the soil, and of the goddess Marzanna who fostered the growth of fruit. Modeina and Siliniets were gods of the forest. Cattle were placed under the protection of Walgino. Kurwaichin was especially responsible for lambs and Kremara for pigs. He was offered beer, poured into the fireplace. Priparchis weaned sucking pigs from their mother.
Among other Slavs, divinities like Kricco were honoured. He protected the fruits of the field. Kirnis saw that the cherries ripened successfully. Mokosh was the god of small domestic animals and had an altar at Kiev. Zosim was the tutelary god of bees. Zuttibur was god of the forest. Sicksa was a forest sprite, a teasing, mischievous genie who could assume any form.
The Vodyanoi was a water sprite, as his name suggests; for it comes from the word voda which means water.
He was a malevolent and dangerous divinity who inhabited lakes, pools, streams and rivers. His favourite haunt was in the neighbourhood of mill-dams. Under the great mill-wheel many Vodyanoi would sometimes forgather.
In appearance the Vodyany-ye were extremely varied.
Some had a human face, but were furnished with outlandish big toes, paws instead of hands, long horns, a tail and eyes like burning coals.
Others resembled men of vast stature and were covered with grass and moss. They could be quite black with enormous red eyes and a nose as long as a fisherman's boot. Often the Vodyanoi had the aspect of an old man with green hair and beard, but the beard changed colour and became white when the moon was waning.
The Vodyanoi could also sometimes appear in the guise of a naked woman sitting in the water on the roots of a tree while she combed the streaming water from her hair.
The Vodyanoi was also seen in the aspect of a huge fish covered with moss and again as an ordinary tree-trunk furnished with little wings and flying along the surface of the water.
The Vodyanoi were immortal, but they grew younger or older with the phases of the moon.
The Vodyanoi did not like human beings and lay in wait for the imprudent in order to drag them into the water. The drowned who fell into their deep and watery kingdom became their slaves. They lived in a crystal palace, ornamented with gold and silver which came from boats which had sunk, and lighted by a magic stone which shone more brightly than the sun.
During the day a Vodyanoi would take his rest in the depths of his palace. In the evening he would come out and amuse himself by striking the water with his paws, making a noise which could be heard at a great distance. If he caught men or women bathing after sunset he would seize them.
Whenever he approached the dam of a mill he would try to destroy it in order to let the water flow freely. In Russia not many decades ago millers, hoping to win the good will of the Vodyanoi, went so far as to push a belated passer-by into the millrace.
In a lake in the region of Olonets in north Russia there lived a Vodyanoi who had a large family. To feed his many relations he required the corpses of animals and men, but the folk who lived around the lake were much too prudent to fetch water from it or bathe in it. The Vodyanoi at last fled to another lake by way of a river.
RUSALKA
When a maiden drowned - either by accident or on purpose -she became a Rusalka. This belief was common to all Slavonic
peoples. But the image of this water-divinity was not everywhere the same. One could say that she varied according to climate and the colour of the sky and the waters.
Among the Slavs of the 'blue' Danube the Rusalka - who in this case was called Vila - was a gracious being who retained some of her maidenly charm. Among the northern Russians the gracious, gay and charming Rusalki (plural of Rusalka) of the Danube and the Dnieper were transformed into wicked girls, of unattractive appearance, with uncombed and dishevelled hair. The facial pallor of the southern Rusalka resembled moonlight. Her northern sisters were wan and cadaverous, like the bodies of the drowned, and their eyes shone with an evil green fire. The Rusalki of the south often appeared in light robes of mist; those of the north were always crudely naked. The Rusalki of the Danube and the Dnieper sang delicious songs which were unknown to their sisters of the northern lakes and rivers. The southern Rusalki bewitched the passers-by with their beauty and their sweet voices. Those of the north thought only of brutally seizing the imprudent man or woman who late at night chanced to walk along the water's edge, to push him in and drown him. Death in the arms of a Rusalka from the land of sunshine and blue sky was almost agreeable, a kind of euthanasia. The Rusalki of the northern lands, on the contrary, submitted their victims to cruel and refined tortures.
Slavonic legends attribute to the Rusalki a double existence, aquatic and silvan. Until the beginning of summer - until, in fact, 'Rusalki Week' - they lived in the water. During Rusalki Week they emerged from the water and went into the forest. They would choose a weeping willow or a birch with long slim branches which leaned over the river and climb up into it. At night in the moonlight they would swing in the branches, call out to each other, slip down from the trees and dance in the clearings. The southern Slavs believed that where the Rusalki trod when dancing, there the grass grew thicker and the wheat more abundant.
But their behaviour could also be harmful. When they frolicked in the water they would climb onto the millwheel and stop it, they would break millstones, damage dikes and tear fishermen's nets. They could also send storms and torrential rains down on the fields, steal linen and thread from sleeping women. Luckily there was a sure method for thwarting the wickedness of the Rusalki: one need only hold in one's hand a leaf of absinth, 'the accursed herb'.
Myths concerning the Rusalki reflect the general beliefs of the Slavs on the subject of death and the dead. Green trees, according to these beliefs, were the abode of the dead. When the sun had not yet 'entered the road of summer' the Rusalki, souls of the dead, could remain in the dark and chilly waters. But when these waters were warmed by the rays of the life-giving sun the Rusalki could no longer stay there. And they returned to the trees, the abode of the dead.
CITY GODS AND WAR GODS
We have already seen that on the edges of the Slavonic world where the Slavs came in contact with other peoples, such as the Germans and the Scandinavians, their mythology lost its primitive and rustic character, found fresh inspiration and took on new and less naive forms.
Certain Russian scholars are even inclined to distinguish two mythologies - and almost two religions - among the pagan Slavs: the one that we have just described, which was common to the great masses composed of peasants, hunters, and fishermen and a second which was the mythology of the upper classes, of town dwellers and those who lived in fortified castles.
In any case it is certain that the Slavs of the Baltic coast and those of Kiev had a more highly developed mythology than that which was based on the mere worship of elemental forces and the phenomena of nature.
The Baltic Slavs - those of the Isle of Riigen, the mouth of the Elbe, etc. - worshipped a divinity named Svantovit. Some of the old chroniclers - Helmgolf, Saxo Grammaticus, etc. - have left us almost contemporary descriptions of Svantovit. In addition a statue of Svantovit was discovered in 1857 in Galicia on the banks of the river Zbruch. It was a crude and simplified copy of the statue which once occupied his principal temple at Arcona.
The statue of Svantovit at Arcona, placed in a richly ornamented temple, was of great size. It had four heads facing in four directions.
Svantovit held in his right hand a bull's horn filled with wine. Beside him hung an enormous sword, a saddle and bridle. In the temple there was a white horse.
Each year the high priest would solemnly examine the contents of the bull's horn which Svantovit held in his hand; if much wine remained in it, that was a good omen - the year would be fruitful and happy. But if the quantity of wine in the horn had considerably diminished a year of famine and trouble must be expected.
The white horse of Svantovit, maintained at the expense of the temple and venerated like its divine master, also served to reveal the future. The priests would fix in the ground several rows of spears and drive the horse of Svantovit through them. If it made the course smoothly without catching any of the spears with its hooves the future promised well.
A flag - a war banner - was kept in the temple. The priests would show it to Svantovit's worshippers before they went to war. Besides the priests, an armed detachment of three hundred men was assigned to the temple of Svantovit.
As well as Svantovit, the old chroniclers mention, among the peoples of the western branch of the Slavonic world, certain other divinities whose attributes were warlike: Rugievit, who was armed with eight swords, seven hanging from his girdle and the eighth in his right hand: Yarovit, who had a great golden shield which was venerated as a holy object. He also had his own banners, and the faithful would carry them and the shield when they went into battle.
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Then there was Radigast, who grasped in his hand a double-edged axe. On his chest he wore a bull's head and on his curly head a swan with outstretched wings. He was a sure counsellor, god of strength and honour.
It is difficult to say if these gods were identical with Svantovit or if they were distinct and individual divinities. All at least had traits in common from which arose their character of gods of warfare and the city.
According to the testimony of an old chronicler, Svantovit was considered to be the 'god of gods' and beside him all others were no more than demi-gods. Like Svarog he was the father of the sun and of fire. At the same time - as can be seen by his emblem, the bull's horn filled with wine - he was the god of plenty. Above all, however, he was a warrior and in war he always had his share of the booty.
At the opposite end of the Slavonic world we find a divinity analogous to Svantovit, namely the god Pyerun. The origin of this name goes back to remotest Aryan times. Among the Hindus the god Indra was surnamed Parjanya, a word which has the same root as Pyerun. The word Pyerun is known in many Slavonic languages: Pyerun in Russian, Piorun in Polish, Perun in Czech, Peron in Slovak. Among the Lithuanians we often find the name Perkaunas. In the Mater Verborum (1202) the name Pyerun is translated by the name Jupiter.
In the popular language of Poland we discover not only the semantic origin of the name Pyerun but also an explanation of his mythological character. For in Polish piorun means 'thunder'.
Neither history nor tradition has preserved anything exact on the subject of Pyerun's divine image. We only know that there was in Kiev until the end of the tenth century a wooden idol of Pyerun. He was incontestably the god of war. For not only was the thunderbolt considered by the pagan Slavs to be the most redoubtable divine weapon but old Russian chronicles explicitly state that there was a direct connection between war and Pyerun. When the first princes of Kiev brought a war with the Greeks to a conclusion by an honourable peace their troops pledged their word by their weapons and invoked the name of Pyerun.
We read in an old chronicle that Olga, one of the first sovereigns of Kiev, 'led her warriors into batlle; and according to the Russian law they swore by their arms and invoked Pyerun. Igor, prince of Kiev, climbed the hill where the image of Pyerun stood and there placed his arms, his shield and his god
In Procopius, the sixth century Greek historian, we find a curious detail about Slavonic religion; it probably refers to Pyerun and permits us to place his position among the other gods.
'He is the god who wields the thunderbolt and they, the Slavs, recognise him as the sole lord of the universe.'
This warlike mythology in which foreign elements were mingled -for we must not forget that the 'principality' of Kiev had been founded by Varyags, or Scandinavian warriors - was not without its influence on the rustic mythology from which originally it profoundly differed.
As an example of this influence the god Volos or Vyelyes may be cited. Volos, 'god of cattle', who was of rustic origin and character, was afterwards associated with Pyerun's warlike exploits. The monk Nestor, author of the celebrated Chronicle, relates how the warriors of the Princess Olga 'swore by their arms and invoked their god Pyerun and Volos, god of the beasts'. In a treaty concluded between the Greeks, and Prince Svyatoslav, the prince and his fighting men declared: 'Let us be bound by our oath before the god in whom we believe - Pyerun - and before Volos, god of the beasts.'
Another no less curious example is the transformation undergone by the image of the Zorya (Aurora) whom we have already mentioned. As long as she remained beside the Sun, god of light, she was only a simple guardian of the gates of his golden palace. But when she was found with Pyerun, god of war, the gentle Zorya assumed the aspect of a well-armed virgin warrior, patroness of warriors whom she protected with her long veil. When asking for her protection one repeated an exorcism which was still used in the nineteenth century:
'Unsheath, O Virgin, the sacred sword of thy father, take up the breastplate of thy ancestors, thy doughty helmet, bring out thy black horse. Fly to the open field. In the open field there is a mighty host with numberless weapons. Cover me, O Virgin, with thy veil and protect me against the power of the enemy, against blunderbuss
and arrow, against all adversaries and all arms, against weapons of wood, of bone, of iron, of steel, of copper.'
In the same way the winds - 'grandchildren of Stribog, god of winds' - took on a warlike character and 'from the direction of the sea let arrows fly'.
The Slavs of certain countries such as Lusatia, Bohemia and Poland - in other words the Slavs who were in contact with Teutonic races - did not confine themselves to peopling their forests with Leshye and Rusalki. They created a goddess of the hunt. Young and fair, mounted on a swift steed and accompanied by a pack of hounds, she galloped through the forests of the Elbe and the Carpathians, weapon in hand. Even her name - Diiwica among the Serbians of Lusatia, Devana among the Czechs, Dziewona among the Poles - connects her with Diana.
It may be pointed out that although Svantovit had a temple and priests at Arcona the Slavs of other lands knew neither temples nor a priestly caste. At Kiev the idol of Pyerun was erected on a hill, under the open sky, and the functions of the priest were performed by the Kniaz, or prince, military chieftain of the 'city'. And it sufficed that the prince changed his religion for all his officials and soldiers, and all the ruling class of the city, to feel obliged to imitate his example. When in 988 Prince Vladimir of Kiev decided to become converted to Byzantine Orthodoxy he ordered all his soldiers to be baptised. Pyerun's idol was torn down and thrown into the Dnieper and history has retained not so much as a hint of any kind of effort on the part of Pyerun's worshippers to defend their god. This can have only one explanation: the divinity and his cult formed no part of popular belief, but only that of the dominant military group. When this group renounced its faith there was no one left to defend it.
In the rare cases when the rural population retained a vague memory of the warrior and city dweller's mythology it was touched up to suit peasant taste. The White Russians left Pyerun his weapon, the bow, but instead of a war chariot they gave him a simple millstone on which he roamed the sky.
As for Volos, 'god of the beasts', when he left Kiev, now under triumphant Christian occupation, he returned to his rural habitat, stripped of his military functions and attributes. And even when Christianity invaded the Slavonic countryside Volos was able to retain the sympathy of the peasantry. In the nineteenth century Russian peasants still kept the custom of 'curling Volos' hair'. During the harvest they would leave one sheaf of corn in the field and 'curl' its ears - undoubtedly the survival of a pagan sacrifice.
Little by little, deprived of his warlike accessories, Volos again became a simple shepherd, who watched faithfully over the flocks. And if Pyerun himself was remembered by the Slavs long after the days of the Principality of Kiev he was venerated as a divine and mighty labourer tracing furrows in a copper sky with his miraculous plough.
GODS OF JOY
In addition to the divinities already described, Slavonic mythology offers a pair of extremely interesting and picturesque gods who might be called gods of joy. Their names were Yarilo and Kupala.
The origin of the name Yarilo, transcribed as Erilo, may - it has been suggested - be found in the Greek Eros. If this explanation were plausible it would considerably simplify mythological research; for Yarilo was a god of carnal love. But Yarilo probably derives from the adjective yary, which means 'ardent, passionate, uncontrolled'. On the other hand the word yarovoi is used in speaking of corn sown in springtime as against ozimoi which signifies that which is sown in the autumn.
Thus in the name Yarilo we find linked the idea of spring regeneration and that of sexual passion.
The cult of Yarilo was so widespread and deeply rooted among certain Slavonic peoples that even as late as the eighteenth century the orthodox bishop of Voronezh had to take very strict measures against the people of his diocese who were given to it. From his sermons we learn that the pagan Slavs venerated an ancient idol, Yarilo; and in his honour they organised festivities and 'satanic games' which went on for days.
Popular legends from White Russia have preserved a curious description of the outward appearance of the god Yarilo. He was
young and fair. He rode a white horse and was dressed in a white cloak. On his head he wore a crown of wild flowers. In his left hand he held a bunch of wheat ears. His feet were bare.
Two elements entered into the pagan rites consecrated to Yarilo, and also into the popular festivals which were in Christian times celebrated in his honour. As a god of springtime and fecundity he was honoured in certain Slavonic countries in spring, during the days of the first sowing. In White Russia in the nineteenth century the village maidens would get together and elect the most beautiful of their number who would be dressed in the white garments of Yarilo, crowned with flowers and mounted on a white horse. Around her gathered a khorovod (a curious Slavonic derivative of the antique Greek 'chorus'). This was a long circle of dancing girls crowned with freshly gathered flowers. The festival was celebrated on the newly sown fields in the presence of the old men and women of the village. The khorovod would chant a song which glorified the blessings of the god.
'Where he sets his foot, The corn grows in mountains; Wherever he glances, The grain flourishes.'
In summer they celebrated the 'funeral' rites of Yarilo. This solemnity was very widespread among Slavs of the east and west alike and for centuries resisted all assaults by Christian preachers -above all in Russia.
During these festivals the men, women and girls would gather together to eat, drink and dance. At sunset a straw idol of Yarilo would be brought to the place where the festival was being held. It was the image of the dead god. The women, intoxicated with drink and dancing, would approach the idol and sob: 'He's dead, he's dead!' The men would come running and seize the idol. Shaking it they would cry: 'Yes, the women do not lie. They know him well, they know that he is sweeter than honey.' Lamentations
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and prayers would continue, after which the idol, accompanied by the women, would be carried to his place of burial. They would then all begin to eat, drink and dance again.
Like Yarilo Kupala was also a divinity of joy.
The name Kupala has the same root as the verb kupati which means to bathe. This is explained by the fact that during the festivals of Kupala, which were celebrated in June, they bathed in the rivers and washed themselves with the 'dew of Kupala', dew which was gathered during the night of the festival. The worship of water and the belief in its mystic powers were one of the elements which composed the cult of Kupala.
This belief was very general among pagan Slavs. Their folk tales often speak of 'dead water' and 'live water', each of which had its miraculous power. When a legendary hero perished by the sword of his enemy and his body lay stretched on the ground, cut to pieces, the fairy sprinkled it with 'dead water' which allowed the severed members to come together again. Then she sprinkled it with 'live water' and the hero was resuscitated.
The ancient Slavs venerated sacred springs, near which were often found places of prayer and sacrifice. Some countries retained until the end of the nineteenth century the odd custom of 'begging the water's pardon'. In order to cure sickness the person begging the water's pardon would throw a piece of bread into the water, greet the water and three times pronounce this ancient exorcism:
'I come to thee, little water-mother, with head bowed and repentant. Forgive me, pardon me - and ye, too, ancestors and forefathers of the water.'
We may remark in passing that the great rivers which watered Slavonic lands - the Danube, the Dnieper, the Don, the Volga -were glorified, personified and almost deified in the Russian byliny (or epic poems) under the aspect of legendary heroes, half men, half gods.
The veneration of water was closely connected with the cult of Kupala: bathing, ablutions, and throwing floral crowns into the water, constituted an important part of the ritual.
No less important was the part played by the worship of fire. The holy fires of the holy night of Kupala possessed a purificatory virtue. Kupala's worshippers formed khorovods around these fires and jumped over them.
After the official end of paganism we still find the straw idol of Kupala, dressed in a woman's gown, adorned with ribbons, women's necklaces, etc. In places the straw idol was supplied with wooden arms from which hung floral garlands and various feminine ornaments.
At sunset the idol was carried in procession to the river where it was drowned, or else to the holy fire where it was burned. Among the pagan Serbs the idol was not drowned, but only bathed in the water.
An essential element in the cult of Kupala was the worship of trees, herbs and flowers.
During the festival the idol was placed under a tree which had been cut and fixed in the ground. Among the Baltic Slavs the sacred tree was the birch. Women, harnessed to a wagon, would go in procession into the forest and choose a birch which would be transported solemnly to the festive place. The tree was stripped of all but the upper branches which formed a kind of crown around the top. With equal solemnity it was then fixed into the ground and hung with garlands of flowers. All these operations were performed exclusively by women. Men must not touch the sacred tree.
Before this sacred tree sacrifices were made and a cock's throat was cut.
But the more picturesque and mysterious side of the cult of Kupala was undoubtedly the search made for sacred and magic herbs and flowers.
At dawn on the morning of the festival one had to find the plakune-trava, that is 'the tear-weed' (purple loose-strife). Its root had the power to tame impure demons. The sorcerer who possessed it had only to recite this exorcism:
'Tear-weed, tear-weed, thou hast wept much and for a long time, but thou hast gained little. May thy tears not flow in the open field, and thy sobs not sound over the blue sea. Frighten wicked demons, demi-demons and old witches. If they do not submit to thee then drown them in thy tears. If they flee from thy glance engulf them in precipices and pits. May my speech be firm and strong for centuries and centuries!'
The razryv-trava or 'herb which breaks' (saxifrage) must be gathered during the daytime. It possessed the virtue of breaking iron, gold, silver and copper into tiny crumbs, simply by its touch. When the scythe encountered this herb it broke. In this case one had to take all that had been mown down and throw it into the water; that which floated on the surface was 'the herb that breaks'.
Another herb, which was 'nameless', had an even more mysterious power; the man who carried it on his person could read the thoughts of every other man.
But the chief sacred herb of Kupala was the fern: for, according to popular belief, it only flowered - and produced, moreover, a single flower - once a year, during Kupala's night. This flower possessed unlimited power. It dominated demons. It knew where treasure was buried. It gave one access to everything, to riches, to the most beautiful women. Before him who had the luck to have gathered this flower kings and potentates bowed their heads.
But the 'fire-flower' of the fern, the flower of Kupala, was jealously guarded by demons. To gather it one had to go into the forest before midnight, the hour when the magic flower appeared. The flower bud would climb up the length of the plant like a living thing; it ripened and, exactly at midnight, it exploded with a bang, forming a bloom of fire so luminous and bright that the eye could not support its brilliance. The brave man who wished to seize the flower must trace a magic circle around it. He must keep within this circle and not look at the monsters, whose guise the demons assumed in order to terrify him, nor must he reply to the voices which addressed him. If he did he was lost.
During Kupala's night trees had the power to leave the ground, to move about and speak among themselves in a mysterious tongue. Only the fortunate possessor of the fire-flower of Kupala could understand their language.
PAGAN MYTHOLOGY AMONG THE SLAVS IN CHRISTIAN TIMES
In the course of our study we have many times noted powerful survivals and pagan memories among the Christianised Slavs. Pagan mythology though vanquished by Christianity in its principal stronghold - the domain of the city and war gods - was deeply and very widely embedded in the hearts of the vast rural population. A sort of symbiosis, a co-existence of paganism and Christianity, took place, especially among Orthodox Slavs and, more especially, in Russia where the country clergy itself was not unwilling to tolerate this religious symbiosis, the 'double-belief.
A rich source for the study of these curious pagan survivals among Christian Slavs is supplied by the celebrated byliny (plural ofbylina, derived from the word byl, which means 'that which has been'), the epic and heroic poems of the Russian people.
The byliny are divided into two cycles: one concerned with the bogatyri or 'elder valiant champions', and the other with the younger heroes. The first cycle is the older in origin and is full of mythological elements.
The poem about the bogatyr Svyatogor describes him as being so strong that he supported his own strength 'like a heavy burden'. In his pride he declared that if he could find the place where all the weight of the earth was concentrated he would lift up the earth itself. On the steppe he found a small bag. He touched it with his staff; it did not budge. He touched it with his finger; it did not move. Without getting off his horse he seized the bag in his hand; he could not lift it.
'Many years have I travelled the world (he says) But never yet have I met with a miracle like this. A little bag Which will not stir or move or be lifted.'
Svyatogor descended from his good steed. He seized the bag in both hands and raised it as high as his knees. But he himself had sunk knee-deep into the earth! It was not tears which rolled down his face, but blood. He was unable to raise himself from the hole into which he had sunk. And such was the end of Svyatogor.
The mysterious and divine power of the Moist-Mother-Earth is well depicted in this poem. In another we meet a miraculous labourer, the bogatyr Mikula, whose 'little wooden plough' was so heavy that a whole troop of bogatyri could not lift it, whereas
Mikula lifted it with one hand. Mikula's little horse was swifter than the finest chargers, because 'Mikula was loved by the Moist-Mother-Earth'.
The poem of the bogatyr Volkh or Volga depicts him as a mythical being, able to turn himself into a bright falcon, a grey wolf, a white bull with golden horns and into a tiny ant. This by Una is remarkable for the name of its hero: Volkh is certainly a deformation of the word Volkhv which among pagan Slavs signified 'priest" and 'sorcerer'.
All these figures are obviously mythical in character, but pagan mythology is mingled with Christian ingredients.
'Svyatogor', the bylina concludes, 'had indeed found the weight of the earth, but God punished him for his pride'.
Mikula, the miraculous labourer, himself says 'that he needs God's aid to till the soil and accomplish his peasant's work'.
And even Volkh, who has all the traits of a werewolf and can 'make sorcery', employs his mysterious gifts to defend Kiev, the orthodox city, against the perfidious 'Indian Tsar' who wishes to 'send up the churches of God in smoke'.
This mixture of pagan and Christian elements is no less striking in the poems about the younger bogatyri. Among these the most popular was Ilya-Muromyets, the 'peasant's son'. The numerous byliny which are devoted to him portray him with features which give him a resemblance to the god of lightning, Pyerun.
Ilya-Muromyets' horse did not run over the earth, but flew through the air, 'above the motionless forest and a little below the clouds scudding across the sky'. The arrow which Ilya-Muromyets shot from his miraculous bow resembled that which flew from the divine bow of Pyerun: it brought down church cupolas and split robust oaks into thin slivers.
The origin of Ilya's strength was mythical. He was sickly when born and for thirty-three years 'he remained sitting' unable to rise. One day two passing vagabond minstrels gave him a 'honey draught' to drink, and in him he felt the upsurge of mighty strength.
But the bogatyr was a good Christian. His exploits of prowess were only accomplished after he had been blessed by his elderly parents. He defended the faith of Christ against the infidels. And when the time came for him to die he built a cathedral at Kiev. After this final act Ilya died and turned to stone and his body 'has remained intact until now'.
In the poem of the bogatyr Potok-Mikhailo-Ivanovich we find vestiges of pagan funeral rites. According to certain evidence the wife of a pagan Slav would voluntarily follow her husband to death. The poem relates that when the bogatyr Potok-Mikhailo-Ivanovich was married he and his bride took an oath that whichever survived the other should voluntarily commit suicide. Now Potok's young wife died a year and a half after the wedding. Potok had a grave dug, 'deep and big', summoned 'priests with their deacons' and, having buried his wife, descended himself into the tomb, fully armed and on horseback. 'Overhead had been built a ceiling in oak and yellow sand; room had been left only for a rope which was attached to the cathedral bell.' Above, a wooden cross was placed. The bogatyr Potok- remained in the tomb with his brave steed from noon to midnight and, 'to give himself courage he lighted wax candles'. At midnight all the monster reptiles gathered round him and then came the great Serpent who burned with a flame of fire. With his 'sharp sabre' Potok killed the Serpent, cut off his head and 'with this Serpent's head he anointed the body of his wife' - who immediately came to life again. Then Potok pulled the rope and set the cathedral bell ringing. They were freed, he and his wife. The priests sprinkled them with holy water 'and ordered them to live as formerly'. Potok lived to a great age but died before his wife who 'was buried alive with him in the dank earth'.
In other poems dealing with the younger bogatyri we find personifications - under the aspect of legendary heroes - of the great Slavonic rivers, the Danube, Dnieper and Don.
The epics we have mentioned speak of the bogatyri of Kiev. Those which concern the heroes of Novgorod also contain many pagan and mythological elements mingled with Christian ideas. Such are the byliny about the bogatyr Sadko, the Rich Merchant. Sadko, with his ships, was sailing the blue sea.
Suddenly his ship stopped in the middle of the sea and refused to advance. Sadko remembered that he had sailed the blue sea for twelve years, but never paid tribute to the Tsar of the Sea. He filled a great cup with pure silver, another with red gold and a third with
rare pearls. He placed the cups on a small plank and cast the plank into the blue sea. But the small plank did not sink and floated like a duck. Sadko interpreted this as meaning that the Tsar of the Sea did not want money, but that he demanded the head of a man. They drew lots and it was Sadko who had to descend to the sea lord's abode. With him he took an icon of Saint Nicholas and his gusli - a stringed musical instrument. Then he climbed out of his ship and on to the small plank. There he fell asleep to wake up again in a white stone palace. He played his gusli before the Tsar of the Sea and the Tsar began to dance. He danced so furiously that he caused a tempest and innocent sailors perished on the sea. In order to stop the dancing - and the attendant hurricane - Sadko broke the strings of his gusli.
After his fortunate and miraculous return to land Sadko sailed a further twelve years on the river Volga. When he wished to return to Novgorod he cut a huge slice of bread, put salt on it and put it on the waves of the Volga. To thank him for his kindness the Volga spoke to him in human language and asked him to go and give his regards to his brother, the Lake of Ilmen. In recompense the Lake told Sadko to cast into its waters three great nets which were at once filled with fish. When the fish were taken to Sadko's warehouses they were miraculously transformed into silver.
The end of the heroes was also mystical. It is recounted in a bylina entitled: Why there are no more bogatyri in Holy Russia.
After a successful battle, one of the bogatyri had in his pride the imprudence to say: 'If we were to face an army from "over yonder" we would beat it, too!' Immediately two unknown warriors appeared and challenged the bogatyri to combat. A bogatyr struck them with his sword and sliced each of them in two. But instead of two unknown opponents there were now four! When attacked, the four became eight, all very much alive. Then sixteen and so on, without end. 'For three days, three hours and three brief minutes' the bogatyri fought against the army from 'over yonder' whose numbers kept doubling. The mighty bogatyri were seized with fear. They fled to the stony mountains and took refuge in dark caves. And there every one of them was turned to stone. 'And since that time there have been no more bogatyri in Holy Russia.'
We have already said that many of the traits of Pyerun, the god of lightning, were handed down to the bogatyr Ilya-Muromyets. But among the Orthodox Slavs it was above all the prophet Elijah (Saint Ilya) who inherited Pyerun's attributes. When a Slav peasant hears thunder he says that it is the Prophet Elijah rolling across the sky in his fiery chariot.
As for Volos, god of the beasts, he has transferred his function and attributes to Saint Vlas (or Vlassy: Blaise). The day of Saint Vlas, the eleventh of March, 'the cow begins to rewarm her flanks' in the sunshine. A prayer is addressed to Saint Vlas which strangely resembles an ancient exorcism: 'Saint Vlas, give us good luck, so that our heifers shall be sleek and our oxen fat.'
In Russia, during outbreaks of disease among cattle, an icon of Saint Vlas was carried - without the priest's assistance - to the sick animal. A ewe, a sheep, a horse and a cow would be tied together by the tail and pushed into a ravine and there stoned to death -in memory, says Maximov, of pagan rites. During this sacrifice they would chant: 'We kill thee with stones, we bury thee in the ground, O death of cows, we push thee into the depths. Thou shall not come again to our village.' Finally they would cover the bodies of the sacrificed animals with straw and wood and burn them completely.
It is interesting to note that churches dedicated to Saint Vlas are always situated on the edge of former pasture lands.
Many pagan customs have become an integral part of the religious ceremonial of Christian Slavs. For example, after an interment, the friends of the deceased are invited to a funeral repast in the cemetery itself during which they eat and drink copiously. It is a vestige of the former trizna, a feast dedicated to the spirit of the dead man, which was customary among pagan Slavs.
In Easter week, in many Slavonic countries, orthodox families go to the cemetery to eat and drink on the graves of their kinsmen and forefathers. What remains of the drink is poured over the grave.
Often pagan superstitions penetrate even the church itself. For example, the exorcism recited by the fortunate possessor of the 'tear-weed', picked on Kupala's Day, had to be recited inside a church before the icons.
Similar examples are countless. It is characteristic that the date of the festival of Kupala, preserved with the majority of its pagan details, was after the introduction of Christianity altered to the twenty-first of June, the summer solstice, not far from the feast of Saint John the Baptist. Now John, in many Slavonic languages, is Ivan; and, quite naturally, the festival of the pagan god Kupala . became in many Slav countries that of Ivan-Kupala. This extraordinary association of the mythical name of a pagan divinity with that of a great Christian saint is a perfect example of the naive and simple manner in which paganism survived into Christian times, and of how the two religions managed to co-exist among the masses of the Slavonic world.