ODIN.
[Sidenote: Odin’s personal appearance.]
Odin, Wuotan, or Woden was the highest and holiest god of the
Northern races. He was the all-pervading spirit of the universe, the
personification of the air, the god of universal wisdom and victory,
and the leader and protector of princes and heroes. As all the gods
were supposed to be descended from him, he was surnamed Allfather, and
as eldest and chief among them he occupied Asgard, the highest seat.
Known by the name of Hlidskialf, this chair was not only an exalted
throne, but also a mighty watch tower, from whence he could overlook
the whole world and see at a glance all that was happening among gods,
giants, elves, dwarfs, and men.
“From the hall of Heaven he rode away
To Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne,
The mount, from whence his eye surveys the world.
And far from Heaven he turn’d his shining orbs
To look on Midgard, and the earth and men.”
BALDER DEAD (Matthew Arnold).
None but Odin and his wife and queen Frigga had the privilege of using
this seat, and when they occupied it they generally gazed towards
the south and west, the goal of all the hopes and excursions of the
Northern nations. Odin was generally represented as a tall, vigorous
man, about fifty years of age, either with dark curling hair or with a
long gray beard and bald head. He was clad in a suit of gray, with a
blue hood, and his muscular body was enveloped in a wide blue mantle
all flecked with gray--an emblem of the sky with its fleecy clouds. In
his hand Odin generally carried the infallible spear Gungnir, which was
so sacred that an oath sworn upon its point could never be broken, and
on his finger or arm he wore the marvelous ring Draupnir, the emblem of
fruitfulness, precious beyond compare. When seated upon his throne or
armed for the fray, in which he often took an active part, Odin wore
his eagle helmet; but when he wandered about the earth in human guise,
to see what men were doing, he generally donned a broad-brimmed hat,
drawn down low over his forehead to conceal the fact of his having but
one eye.
“Then into the Volsungs’ dwelling a mighty man there strode,
One-eyed and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage glowed;
Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleaming-gray
As the latter morning sun dog when the storm is on the way:
A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam
Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended silver’s
gleam.”
SIGURD THE VOLSUNG (William Morris).
Two ravens, Hugin (thought) and Munin (memory), perched upon his
shoulders as he sat upon his throne, and these he sent out into the
wide world every morning, anxiously watching for their return at
nightfall, when they whispered into his ears news of all they had
seen and heard, keeping him well informed about everything that was
happening on earth.
“Hugin and Munin
Fly each day
Over the spacious earth.
I fear for Hugin
That he come not back,
Yet more anxious am I for Munin.”
NORSE MYTHOLOGY (R. B. Anderson).
[Illustration: VALHALLA--Hoffmann.]
At his feet crouched two wolves or hunting hounds, Geri and Freki,
which animals were therefore considered sacred to him, and of good
omen if met by the way. Odin always fed these wolves with his own
hands from the meat set before him, for he required no food at all, and
seldom tasted anything except the sacred mead.
“Geri and Freki
The war-wont sates,
The triumphant sire of hosts;
But on wine only
The famed in arms
Odin, ever lives.”
LAY OF GRIMNIR (Thorpe’s tr.).
When seated in state upon his throne, Odin rested his feet upon a
footstool of gold, the work of the gods, whose furniture and utensils
were all fashioned either of that precious metal or of silver.
Besides the magnificent hall Glads-heim, where stood the twelve seats
occupied by the gods when they met in council, and Valaskialf, where
his throne, Hlidskialf, was placed, Odin had a third palace in Asgard,
situated in the midst of the marvelous grove Glasir, whose leaves were
all of shimmering red gold.
[Sidenote: Valhalla.]
This palace, called Valhalla (the hall of the chosen slain), had five
hundred and forty doors, wide enough to allow the passage of eight
hundred warriors abreast, and above the principal gate were a boar’s
head and an eagle whose piercing glance looked all over the world.
The walls of this marvelous building were fashioned of glittering
spears, so highly polished that they illuminated all the hall. The
roof was of golden shields, and the benches were decorated with fine
armor, the god’s gifts to his guests. Here long tables afforded ample
accommodations for the warriors fallen in battle, who were called
Einheriar, and were considered Odin’s favorite guests.
“Easily to be known is,
By those who to Odin come,
The mansion by its aspect.
Its roof with spears is laid,
Its hall with shields is decked,
With corselets are its benches strewed.”
LAY OF GRIMNIR (Thorpe’s tr.).
The ancient Northern nations, who deemed warfare the most honorable
of occupations, and considered courage the greatest virtue, worshiped
Odin principally as god of battle and victory, and believed that
whenever a fight was about to occur he sent out his special attendants,
the shield, battle, or wish maidens, called Valkyrs (choosers of the
slain). They selected one half the dead warriors, and bore them on
their fleet steeds over the quivering rainbow bridge Bifröst, into his
hall, where many honors awaited them. Welcomed by Odin’s sons, Hermod
and Bragi, the heroes were then conducted to the foot of Odin’s throne,
where they received the praises due their valor. When some special
favorite of the god was thus brought into Asgard, Valfather (father
of the slain), as Odin was called when he presided over the warriors,
sometimes rose from his throne to meet him at the door and himself bid
him welcome.
[Sidenote: The feast of the heroes.]
Besides the hope of the glory of such a distinction, and the promise
of dwelling in Odin’s beloved presence day after day, other more
material pleasures awaited the warriors in Valhalla. They were seated
around the board, where the beautiful white-armed virgins, the Valkyrs,
having laid aside their armor and clad themselves in pure white robes,
constantly waited upon them. These maidens, nine in number, according
to some mythologists, brought the heroes great horns full of delicious
mead, and set before them huge portions of boars’ flesh, upon which
they feasted most heartily. The usual Northern drink was beer or ale,
but our ancestors fancied this beverage too coarse for the heavenly
sphere. They therefore imagined that Valfather kept his table liberally
supplied with mead or hydromel, which was daily furnished in great
abundance by his she-goat Heidrun, continually browsing on the tender
leaves and twigs on Yggdrasil’s topmost branch, Lerad.
“Rash war and perilous battle, their delight;
And immature, and red with glorious wounds,
Unpeaceful death their choice: deriving thence
A right to feast and drain immortal bowls,
In Odin’s hall; whose blazing roof resounds
The genial uproar of those shades who fall
In desperate fight, or by some brave attempt.”
LIBERTY (James Thomson).
The meat upon which the Einheriar feasted was the flesh of the divine
boar Sæhrimnir, a marvelous beast, daily slain by the cook Andhrimnir,
and boiled in the great caldron Eldhrimnir; but although Odin’s guests
had true Northern appetites and fairly gorged themselves, there was
always plenty of meat for all.
“Andhrimnir cooks
In Eldhrimnir
Sæhrimnir;
’Tis the best of flesh;
But few know
What the einherjes eat.”
LAY OF GRIMNIR (Anderson’s version).
Moreover the supply was exhaustless, for the boar always came to life
again before the time for the next meal, when he was again slain and
devoured. This miraculous renewal of supplies in the larder was not the
only wonderful occurrence in Valhalla, for it is also related that the
warriors, after having eaten and drunk to satiety, always called for
their weapons, armed themselves, and rode out into the great courtyard,
where they fought against one another, repeating the feats of arms
achieved while on earth, and recklessly dealing terrible wounds, which
were miraculously and completely healed as soon as the dinner horn
sounded.
“All the chosen guests of Odin
Daily ply the trade of war;
From the fields of festal fight
Swift they ride in gleaming arms,
And gaily, at the board of gods,
Quaff the cup of sparkling ale
And eat Sæhrimni’s vaunted flesh.”
VAFTHRUDNI’S-MAL (W. Taylor’s tr.).
Whole and happy once more,--for they bore one another no grudge for
the cruel thrusts given and received, and lived in perfect amity
together,--the Einheriar then rode gaily back to Valhalla to renew
their feasts in Odin’s beloved presence, while the white-armed Valkyrs,
with flying hair, glided gracefully about, constantly filling their
horns or their favorite drinking vessels, the skulls of their enemies,
while the scalds sang of war and stirring Viking expeditions.
“And all day long they there are hack’d and hewn
’Mid dust, and groans, and limbs lopp’d off, and blood;
But all at night return to Odin’s hall
Woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in Heaven.”
BALDER DEAD (Matthew Arnold).
Thus fighting and feasting, the heroes were said to spend day after
day in perfect bliss, while Odin delighted in their strength and
number, which, however, he foresaw would not long avail to ward off his
downfall when the day of the last battle had dawned.
As such pleasures were the highest a Northern warrior’s fancy could
paint, it was very natural that all fighting men should love Odin, and
early in life should dedicate themselves to his service. They vowed to
die arms in hand, if possible, and even wounded themselves with their
own spears when death drew near, if they had been unfortunate enough to
escape death on the battlefield and were threatened with “straw death,”
as they called decease from old age or sickness.
“To Odin then true-fast
Carves he fair runics,--
Death-runes cut deep on his arm and his breast.”
VIKING TALES OF THE NORTH (R. B. Anderson).
In reward for this devotion Odin watched with special care over his
favorites, giving them a magic sword, spear, or horse, and making them
invincible until their last hour had come, when he himself appeared to
claim or destroy the gift he had bestowed, and the Valkyrs bore them
off to Valhalla.
“He gave to Hermod
A helm and corselet,
And from him Sigmund
A sword received.”
LAY OF HYNDLA (Thorpe’s tr.).
[Sidenote: Sleipnir.]
Whenever Odin took an active part in war, he generally rode his
eight-footed gray steed, Sleipnir, brandished his white shield, and
flung his glittering spear over the heads of the combatants, who only
awaited this signal to fall upon one another, while the god dashed into
their midst shouting his warcry: “Odin has you all!”
“And Odin donn’d
His dazzling corslet and his helm of gold,
And led the way on Sleipnir.”
BALDER DEAD (Matthew Arnold).
At times he also used his magic bow, from which he shot ten arrows at
once, every one invariably bringing down a foe. Odin was also supposed
to inspire his favorite warriors with the renowned “Berserker rage”
(bare sark or shirt), which enabled them, although naked, weaponless,
and sore beset, to perform unheard-of feats of valor and strength, and
go about as with charmed lives.
As Odin’s characteristics, like the all-pervading elements, were
multitudinous, so were also his names, of which he had no less than
two hundred, almost all of which were descriptive of some phase of his
being. He was considered the ancient god of seamen and of the wind:
“Mighty Odin,
Norsemen hearts we bend to thee!
Steer our barks, all-potent Woden,
O’er the surging Baltic Sea.”
VAIL.
[Sidenote: The Wild Hunt.]
Odin, as wind god, generally rode about on his eight-footed steed
Sleipnir, a habit which gave rise to the oldest Northern riddle,
which runs as follows: “Who are the two who ride to the Thing? Three
eyes have they together, ten feet, and one tail; and thus they travel
through the lands.” And as the souls of the dead were supposed to be
wafted away on the wings of the storm, Odin was worshiped as the leader
of all disembodied spirits. In this character he was most generally
known as the Wild Huntsman, and when people heard the rush and roar
of the wind they cried aloud in superstitious fear, fancying they
heard and saw him ride past with his train, all mounted on snorting
steeds, and accompanied by baying hounds. And the passing of the Wild
Hunt, known as Woden’s Hunt, the Raging Host, Gabriel’s Hounds, or
Asgardreia, was also considered a presage of misfortune of some kind,
such as pestilence or war.
“The Rhine flows bright; but its waves ere long
Must hear a voice of war,
And a clash of spears our hills among,
And a trumpet from afar;
And the brave on a bloody turf must lie,
For the Huntsman hath gone by!”
THE WILD HUNTSMAN (Mrs. Hemans).
People further fancied that if any were so sacrilegious as to join
in the wild halloo in mockery, they were immediately snatched up and
whirled away with the vanishing host, while those who joined in the
halloo with implicit good faith were rewarded for their credulity by
the sudden gift of a horse’s leg, hurled at them from above, which, if
they carefully kept until the morrow, was changed into a solid lump of
gold.
Even after the introduction of Christianity the ignorant Northern
people still dreaded the on-coming storm, declaring that it was the
Wild Hunt sweeping across the sky.
“And ofttimes will start,
For overhead are sweeping Gabriel’s hounds,
Doomed with their impious lord the flying hart
To chase forever on aëreal grounds.”
SONNET (Wordsworth).
Sometimes it left behind it a small black dog, which, cowering and
whining upon a neighboring hearth, had to be kept for a whole year
and carefully tended unless the people succeeded in exorcising it or
frightening it away. The usual recipe, the same as for the riddance
of changelings, was to brew beer in egg-shells, which performance so
startled the spectral dog that he fled with his tail between his legs,
exclaiming that, although as old as the Behmer, or Bohemian forest, he
had never yet seen such an uncanny sight.
“I am as old
As the Behmer wold,
And have in my life
Such a brewing not seen.”
OLD SAYING (Thorpe’s tr.).
The object of this phantom hunt varied greatly, and was either a
visionary boar or wild horse, white-breasted maidens who were caught
and borne away bound only once in seven years, or the wood nymphs,
called Moss Maidens, who were thought to represent the autumn leaves
torn from the trees and whirled away by the wintry gale.
In the middle ages, when the belief in the old heathen deities was
partly forgotten, the leader of the Wild Hunt was no longer Odin,
but Charlemagne, Frederick Barbarossa, King Arthur, or some Sabbath
breaker, like the squire of Rodenstein or Hans von Hackelberg, who,
in punishment for his sins, was condemned to hunt forever through the
realms of air.
As the winds blew fiercest in autumn and winter, Odin was supposed
to hunt in preference during that season, especially during the time
between Christmas and Twelfth-night, and the peasants were always
careful to leave the last sheaf or measure of grain out in the fields
to serve as food for his horse.
This hunt was of course known by various names in the different
countries of northern Europe; but as the tales told about it are all
alike, they evidently originated in the same old heathen belief, and to
this day ignorant people of the North still fancy that the baying of a
hound on a stormy night is an infallible presage of death.
“Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,
Till time itself shall have an end;
By day, they scour earth’s cavern’d space,
At midnight’s witching hour, ascend.
“This is the horn, and hound, and horse
That oft the lated peasant hears;
Appall’d, he signs the frequent cross,
When the wild din invades his ears.
“The wakeful priest oft drops a tear
For human pride, for human woe,
When, at his midnight mass, he hears
The infernal cry of ‘Holla, ho!’”
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
The Wild Hunt, or Raging Host of Germany, was called Herlathing in
England, from the mythical king Herla, its supposed leader; in northern
France it bore the name of Mesnée d’Hellequin, from Hel, goddess of
death; and in the middle ages it was known as Cain’s Hunt or Herod’s
Hunt, these latter names being given because the leaders were supposed
to be unable to find rest on account of the iniquitous murders of Abel,
of John the Baptist and of the Holy Innocents.
In central France the Wild Huntsman, whom we have already seen in
other countries as Odin, Charlemagne, Barbarossa, Rodenstein, von
Hackelberg, King Arthur, Hel, one of the Swedish kings, Gabriel, Cain,
or Herod, is also called the Great Huntsman of Fontainebleau (_le Grand
Veneur de Fontainebleau_), and people declare that on the eve of Henry
IV.’s murder, and also just before the outbreak of the great French
Revolution, his shouts were distinctly heard as he swept across the sky.
[Illustration: THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.--H. Kaulbach.]
It was generally believed among the Northern nations that the soul
escaped from the body in the shape of a mouse, which crept out of a
corpse’s mouth and ran away, and it was also said to creep in and
out of the mouths of people in a trance. While the soul was absent, no
effort or remedy could recall the patient to life; but as soon as it
had come back animation returned.
[Sidenote: The Pied Piper.]
As Odin was the leader of all disembodied spirits, he was identified in
the middle ages with the Pied Piper of Hamelin. According to mediæval
legends, Hamelin was so infested by rats (the souls of the dead) that
life became unbearable, and a large reward was offered to the person
who would rid the town of these rodents. A piper, in party-colored
garments, undertook the job, and piped so gaily that the rats were one
and all beguiled out of their holes, along the street, and down to the
river Weser, where they were drowned.
“And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives--
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step for step they followed dancing,
Until they came to the river Weser,
Wherein all plunged and perished!”
ROBERT BROWNING.
As the rats were all dead, and there was no chance of their returning
to plague them, the people of Hamelin refused to pay the promised
reward, and braving the piper’s anger bade him do his worst. A few
moments later the magic flute again began to play, and the astonished
parents saw all their children gaily swarm out of the houses and
merrily follow the piper.
“There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling;
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,
And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering,
Out came all the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.”
ROBERT BROWNING.
While the parents stood there helpless and spellbound, the piper
led the children out of the town to the Koppelberg, a hill, which
miraculously opened to receive them, and only closed again when the
last child had passed out of sight. The children were never seen
in Hamelin again, and in commemoration of this public calamity all
official decrees have since been dated so many years after the Pied
Piper’s visit.
“They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly
If, after the day of the month and year,
These words did not as well appear,
‘And so long after what happened here
On the Twenty-second of July,
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six.’
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children’s last retreat,
They called it the Pied Piper street--
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor
Was sure for the future to lose his labor.”
ROBERT BROWNING.
In this myth Odin is the piper, the shrill tones of the flute are
emblematic of the whistling wind, the rats represent the souls of the
dead, which cheerfully follow him, and he even leads the children into
the hollow mountain, which is typical of the grave.
[Sidenote: Bishop Hatto.]
Another German legend, which owes its existence to this belief, is the
story of Bishop Hatto, the miserly prelate, who, annoyed by the clamors
of the poor during a time of famine, had them all burned alive in a
deserted barn, like the rats whom he declared they resembled, rather
than give them some of the precious grain which he had laid up for
himself.
“‘I’ faith, ’tis an excellent bonfire!’ quoth he,
‘And the country is greatly obliged to me
For ridding it in these times forlorn
Of rats that only consume the corn.’”
ROBERT SOUTHEY.
No sooner had this terrible crime been accomplished than the souls of
the poor murdered wretches, assuming the forms of the rats to which he
had likened them, came rushing towards the wicked bishop, whom they
pursued even into the middle of the Rhine, where he took refuge in a
stone tower to escape from their fangs. But the rats swam to the tower,
gnawed their way through the stone walls, and pouring in on all sides
at once, they pounced upon the bishop and devoured him.
“And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls, helter-skelter they pour,
And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the Bishop they go.
They have whetted their teeth against the stones;
And now they pick the Bishop’s bones;
They gnaw’d the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgment on him!”
ROBERT SOUTHEY.
The red glow of the sunset above the Rat Tower near Bingen on the Rhine
is supposed to be the reflection of the hell fire in which the wicked
bishop is slowly roasting in punishment for this heinous crime.
[Sidenote: Irmin.]
In some parts of Germany Odin was considered identical with the Saxon
god Irmin, whose statue, the Irminsul, near Paderborn, was destroyed
by Charlemagne in 772. Irmin was said to possess a ponderous brazen
chariot, in which he rode across the sky along the path which we know
as the Milky Way, but which the ancient Germans designated as Irmin’s
Way. This chariot, whose rumbling sound occasionally became perceptible
to mortal ears as thunder, never left the sky, where it can still be
seen in the constellation of the Great Bear, which is also known in the
North as Odin’s, or Charles’s Wain.
“The Wain, who wheels on high
His circling course, and on Orion waits;
Sole star that never bathes in the Ocean wave.”
HOMER’S ILIAD (Derby’s tr.).
[Sidenote: Mimir’s well.]
To obtain the great wisdom for which he is so famous, Odin, in the morn
of time, wandered off to Mimir’s (Memor, memory) spring, “the fountain
of all wit and wisdom,” in whose liquid depths even the future was
clearly mirrored, and besought the old man who guarded it to let him
have a draught. But Mimir, who well knew the value of such a favor (for
his spring was considered the source or headwater of memory), refused
to grant it unless Odin would consent to give one of his eyes in
exchange.
The god did not hesitate, but immediately plucked out one of his eyes,
which Mimir kept in pledge, sinking it deep down into his fountain,
where it shone with mild luster, leaving Odin with but one eye, which
is considered emblematic of the sun.
“Through our whole lives we strive towards the sun;
That burning forehead is the eye of Odin.
His second eye, the moon, shines not so bright;
It has he placed in pledge in Mimer’s fountain,
That he may fetch the healing waters thence,
Each morning, for the strengthening of this eye.”
OEHLENSCHLÄGER (Howitt’s tr.).
Drinking deeply of Mimir’s fount, Odin gained the knowledge he coveted,
and such was the benefit received that he never regretted the
sacrifice he had made, but as further memorial of that day broke off a
branch of the sacred tree Yggdrasil, which overshadowed the spring, and
fashioned from it his beloved spear Gungnir.
“A dauntless god
Drew for drink to its gleam,
Where he left in endless
Payment the light of an eye.
From the world-ash
Ere Wotan went he broke a bough;
For a spear the staff
He split with strength from the stem.”
DUSK OF THE GODS, WAGNER (Forman’s tr.).
But although Odin had won all knowledge, he was sad and oppressed, for
he had also won an insight into futurity, and had become aware of the
transitory nature of all things, and even of the fate of the gods, who
were doomed to pass away. This knowledge so affected his spirits that
he ever after wore a melancholy and contemplative expression.
To test the value of the wisdom he had thus obtained, Odin soon went to
visit the most learned of all the giants, Vafthrudnir, and entered with
him into a contest of wit, in which the stake was nothing less than the
loser’s head.
“Odin rose with speed, and went
To contend in runic lore
With the wise and crafty Jute.
To Vafthrudni’s royal hall
Came the mighty king of spells.”
VAFTHRUDNI’S-MAL (W. Taylor’s tr.).
[Sidenote: Odin and Vafthrudnir.]
On this occasion Odin had disguised himself as a Wanderer, by Frigga’s
advice, and when asked his name declared it was Gangrad. The contest
of wit immediately began, Vafthrudnir questioning his guest concerning
the horses which carried Day and Night across the sky, the river Ifing
separating Jötun-heim from Asgard, and also about Vigrid, the field
where the last battle was to be fought.
All these questions were minutely answered by Odin, who, when
Vafthrudnir had ended, began the interrogatory in his turn, and
received equally explicit answers about the origin of heaven and earth,
the creation of the gods, their quarrel with the Vanas, the occupations
of the heroes in Valhalla, the offices of the Norns, and the rulers
who were to replace the Æsir when they had all perished with the world
they had created. But, when in conclusion, Odin bent near the giant and
softly inquired what words Allfather whispered to his dead son Balder
as he lay upon his funeral pyre, Vafthrudnir suddenly recognized his
divine visitor. Starting back in dismay he declared that no one but
Odin himself could answer that question, and that it was now quite
plain to him that he had madly striven in a contest of wisdom and wit
with the king of the gods, and fully deserved the penalty of failure,
the loss of his head.
“Not the man of mortal race
Knows the words which thou hast spoken
To thy son in days of yore.
I hear the coming tread of death;
He soon shall raze the runic lore,
And knowledge of the rise of gods,
From his ill-fated soul who strove
With Odin’s self the strife of wit,
Wisest of the wise that breathe:
Our stake was life, and thou hast won.”
VAFTHRUDNI’S-MAL (W. Taylor’s tr.).
As is the case with so many of the Northern myths, which are often
fragmentary and obscure, this one ends here, and none of the scalds
inform us whether Odin really slew his rival, nor what was the answer
to his last question; but mythologists have hazarded the suggestion
that the word whispered by Odin in Balder’s ear, to console him for his
untimely death, must have been the hopeful term “resurrection.”
[Sidenote: Invention of runes.]
Besides being god of wisdom, Odin was god and inventor of runes, the
earliest alphabet used by Northern nations, which characters, meaning
mystery, were at first used for divination, although in later times
they served for inscriptions and records. Just as wisdom could only be
obtained at the cost of sacrifice, Odin himself relates that he hung
nine days and nights from the sacred tree Yggdrasil, gazing down into
the immeasurable depths of Nifl-heim, plunged in deep thought, ere,
after wounding himself with his spear, he won the knowledge he sought.
“I know that I hung
On a wind-rocked tree
Nine whole nights,
With a spear wounded,
And to Odin offered
Myself to myself;
On that tree
Of which no one knows
From what root it springs.”
ODIN’S RUNE-SONG (Thorpe’s tr.).
When he had fully mastered this knowledge, Odin cut magic runes upon
his spear Gungnir, upon the teeth of his horse Sleipnir, upon the claws
of the bear, and upon countless other animate and inanimate things.
And because he had thus hung over the abyss for such a long space of
time, he was ever after considered the patron divinity of all who were
condemned to be hanged or who perished by the noose.
After obtaining the gift of wisdom and runes, which gave him power over
all things, Odin also coveted the gift of eloquence and poetry, which
became his in a manner which we shall relate in a subsequent chapter.
[Sidenote: Geirrod and Agnar.]
Odin, as has already been stated, took great interest in the affairs
of mortals, and, we are told, was specially fond of watching King
Hrauding’s handsome little sons, Geirrod and Agnar, when they were
about eight and ten years of age. One day these little lads went
fishing, and when a storm suddenly arose their boat drifted far out
to sea, and was finally stranded upon an island, where dwelt an old
couple, Odin and Frigga, in disguise. The lads were warmly welcomed and
kindly treated, Odin choosing Geirrod as his favorite, and teaching him
the use of arms, while Frigga petted and made much of little Agnar. The
boys tarried on the island with their kind protectors during the long,
cold winter season; but when spring came, the skies were blue, and the
sea calm, they embarked in a boat which Odin provided, and set out for
their native shores. Favored by gentle breezes, they were soon wafted
thither; but as the boat neared the shore Geirrod quickly sprang out
and shoved it far into the water, bidding his brother sail away into
the evil spirit’s power. At that selfsame moment the wind veered, and
Agnar was carried away, while his brother hastened back to his father’s
palace, where he was joyfully received, and where, in due time, he
succeeded his father upon the throne.
Years had passed since Odin and Frigga had spent that winter in human
form on the desert island, when one day, while the royal couple were
seated on the throne Hlidskialf, Odin bade his wife notice how powerful
his pupil had become, and taunted her because her favorite Agnar had
married a giantess and had remained poor and of no importance in the
world. Frigga quietly replied that it was better to be poor than hard
hearted, and accused Geirrod of lack of hospitality--one of the most
heinous crimes in the eyes of a Northerner. She even went so far as to
declare that in spite of all his wealth he often ill treated his guests.
When Odin heard this accusation he declared that he would prove the
falsity of her charge by assuming the guise of a Wanderer and testing
Geirrod’s generosity. Wrapped in his cloud-hued raiment, with slouch
hat and pilgrim staff,--
“Wanderer calls me the world,
Far have I carried my feet,
On the back of the earth
I have boundlessly been,”--
WAGNER (Forman’s tr.).
Odin immediately set out by a roundabout way, while Frigga, to outwit
him, sent Geirrod a secret warning to beware of a man in wide mantle
and broad-brimmed hat, as he was a wicked enchanter who would work him
ill.
As soon, therefore, as Odin presented himself before the king’s palace
he was dragged into Geirrod’s presence, where, when he had given his
name as Grimnir, and had refused to tell whence he came or what he
wanted, he was bound between two fires, whose flames played around him
without quite touching him. There he remained eight days and nights, in
obstinate silence, without a morsel of food, and had it not been that
Agnar, who had returned to his brother’s palace and occupied a menial
position there, once secretly brought him a horn of ale, he would have
had nothing to drink.
At the end of the eighth day, while Geirrod, seated upon his throne,
was gloating over his prisoner’s sufferings, Odin began to sing--softly
at first, then louder and louder, until the hall reëchoed with his
triumphant notes--a prophecy that the king, who had so long enjoyed the
god’s favor, would soon perish by his own sword.
“The fallen by the sword
Ygg shall now have;
Thy life is now run out:
Wroth with thee are the Dîsir:
Odin thou now shalt see:
Draw near to me if thou canst.”
SÆMUND’S EDDA (Thorpe’s tr.).
As the last notes died away the chains dropped from his hands, the
flames flickered and went out, and Odin stood in the midst of the hall,
no longer in human form, but in all the power and beauty of a god.
On hearing the ominous prophecy Geirrod hastily drew his sword,
intending to slay the insolent singer; but when he beheld the sudden
transformation he started in dismay, tripped, fell upon the sharp
blade, and perished as Odin had just foretold. Turning to Agnar, who,
according to some accounts, was the king’s son and not his brother,
Odin then bade him ascend the throne in reward for his humanity and,
further to repay him for the timely draught of ale, the king of the
gods blessed him with all manner of prosperity.
On another occasion Odin wandered off to earth, and was absent so
long that no one ever expected to see him in Asgard again. His
brothers Vili and Ve, who by some mythologists are considered as other
personifications of himself, then usurped his power, occupied his
throne, and even, we are told, married his wife Frigga.
“Be thou silent, Frigg!
Thou art Fiörgyn’s daughter
And ever hast been fond of men,
Since Ve and Vili, it is said,
Thou, Vidrir’s wife, didst
Both to thy bosom take.”
SÆMUND’S EDDA (Thorpe’s tr.).
[Sidenote: May-day festivals.]
But upon his return they vanished forever; and in commemoration of
the disappearance of the false Odin, who had ruled seven months and
had brought nothing but unhappiness to the world, and of the return
of the benevolent deity, the heathen Northerners formerly celebrated
yearly festivals and processions, which were long continued as May-day
rejoicings. Until very lately there was always, on that day, a grand
procession in Sweden, known as the May Ride, in which a flower-decked
May king (Odin) pelted with blossoms the fur-enveloped Winter (his
supplanter), until he put him to ignominious flight. In England the
first of May was also a festive occasion, in which May-pole dances, May
queens, Maid Marian, and Jack in the Green played prominent parts.
As personification of heaven, Odin, of course, was the lover and
spouse of the earth, and as it appeared under a threefold aspect, the
Northerners, although a chaste race, depicted him as a polygamist, and
allotted to him several wives. The first among these was Jörd (Erda),
the primitive earth, daughter of Night or of the giantess Fiorgyn.
She bore him his famous son Thor, the god of thunder. The second and
principal wife was Frigga, a personification of the civilized world.
She gave him Balder, the gentle god of spring, Hermod, and, according
to some authorities, Tyr. The third wife was Rinda, a personification
of the hard and frozen earth, who reluctantly yields to his warm
embrace, but finally gives birth to Vali, the emblem of vegetation.
Odin is also said to have married Saga or Laga, the goddess of history
(hence our verb “to say”), and to have daily visited her in the crystal
hall of Sokvabek, beneath a cool, ever-flowing river, to drink its
waters and listen to her songs about olden times and vanished races.
“Sokvabek hight the fourth dwelling;
Over it flow the cool billows;
Glad drink there Odin and Saga
Every day from golden cups.”
NORSE MYTHOLOGY (R. B. Anderson).
His other wives were Grid, the mother of Vidar; Gunlod, the mother
of Bragi; Skadi; and the nine giantesses who simultaneously bore
Heimdall--all of whom play more or less important parts in the various
myths of the North.
[Sidenote: Historical Odin.]
Besides this ancient Odin, there was a more modern, semi-historical
personage of the same name, to whom all the virtues, powers, and
adventures of his predecessor have been attributed. He was the chief
of the Æsir, inhabitants of Asia Minor, who, sore pressed by the
Romans, and threatened with destruction or slavery, left their native
land about 70 B.C., and migrated into Europe. This Odin is said to
have conquered Russia, Germany, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, leaving
a son on the throne of each conquered country. He also built the town
of Odensö. He was welcomed in Sweden by Gylfi, the king, who made him
associate ruler, and allowed him to found the city of Sigtuna, where
he built a temple and introduced a new system of worship. Tradition
further relates that as his end drew near, this mythical Odin assembled
his followers, publicly cut himself nine times in the breast with his
spear,--a ceremony called “carving Geir odds,”--and told them he was
about to return to his native land Asgard, his old home, where he would
await their coming, to share with him a life of feasting, drinking, and
fighting.
According to another account, Gylfi, having heard of the power of the
Æsir, the inhabitants of Asgard, and wishing to ascertain whether
these reports were true, journeyed off to the south. He soon came to
Odin’s palace, where he was expected, and where he was deluded by the
vision of three divinities, enthroned one above the other, and called
Har, Iafn-har, and Thridi. The gatekeeper, Gangler, answered all his
questions, gave him a long explanation of Northern mythology, which is
recorded in the Younger Edda, and having finished his instructions,
suddenly vanished with the palace amid a deafening noise.
According to other very ancient poems, Odin’s sons, Weldegg, Beldegg,
Sigi, Skiold, Sæming, and Yngvi, became kings of East Saxony, West
Saxony, Franconia, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, and from them are
descended the Saxons, Hengist and Horsa, and the royal families of the
Northern lands. Still another version relates that Odin and Frigga had
seven sons, who founded the Anglo-Saxon heptarchy. In the course of
time this mysterious king was confounded with the Odin whose worship he
introduced, and all his deeds were attributed to the god.
Odin was worshiped in numerous temples, but especially in the great
fane at Upsala, where the most solemn festivals were held, and where
sacrifices were offered. The victim was generally a horse, but in times
of pressing need human offerings were made, even the king being once
offered up to avert a famine.
“Upsal’s temple, where the North
Saw Valhal’s halls fair imag’d here on earth.”
VIKING TALES OF THE NORTH (R. B. Anderson).
The first toast at every festival here was drunk in his honor, and,
besides the first of May, one day in every week was held sacred to
him, and, from his Saxon name, Woden, was called Woden’s day, whence
the English word “Wednesday” has been derived. It was customary for
the people to assemble at his shrine on festive occasions, to hear the
songs of the scalds, who were rewarded for their minstrelsy by the gift
of golden bracelets or armlets, which curled up at the ends and were
called “Odin’s serpents.”
There are but few remains of ancient Northern art now extant, and
although rude statues of Odin were once quite common they have all
disappeared, as they were made of wood--a perishable substance, which
in the hands of the missionaries and especially of Olaf the Saint, the
Northern iconoclast, was soon reduced to ashes.
“There in the Temple, carved in wood,
The image of great Odin stood.”
SAGA OF KING OLAF (Longfellow)
Odin himself is supposed to have given his people a code of laws
whereby to govern their conduct, in a poem called Hávamal, or the
High Song, which forms part of the Edda. In this lay he taught
the fallibility of man, the necessity for courage, temperance,
independence, and truthfulness, respect for old age, hospitality,
charity, and contentment, and gave instructions for the burial of the
dead.
“At home let a man be cheerful,
And toward a guest liberal;
Of wise conduct he should be,
Of good memory and ready speech;
If much knowledge he desires,
He must often talk on what is good.”
HÁVAMÁL (Thorpe’s tr.).