be evinced even by means of hobgoblins--he put up earnest prayers, and
sang holy hymns. She trembled. Was it the power of the prayers and
hymns that affected her thus? or was it a cold shivering at the
approach of morning, that was about to dawn? What was it that she
felt? She raised herself up into the air, attempted to stop the horse,
and was on the point of leaping down; but the Christian priest held
her fast with all his might, and chanted a psalm, which he thought
would have sufficient strength to overcome the influence of the
witchcraft under which she was kept in the hideous disguise of a frog.
And the horse dashed more wildly forward, the heavens became red, the
first ray of the sun burst forth through the morning sky, and with
that clear gush of light came the miraculous change--she was the young
beauty, with the cruel, demoniacal spirit. The astonished priest held
the loveliest maiden in his arms he had ever beheld; but he was
horror-struck, and, springing from the horse, he stopped it, expecting
to see it also the victim of some fearful sorcery. Young Helga sprang
at the same moment to the ground, her short childlike dress reaching
no lower than her knees. Suddenly she drew her sharp knife from her
belt, and rushed furiously upon him.
"Let me but reach thee--let me but reach thee, and my knife shall find
its way to thy heart. Thou art pale in thy terror, beardless slave!"
She closed with him; a severe struggle ensued, but it seemed as if
some invincible power bestowed strength upon the Christian priest. He
held her fast; and the old oak tree close by came to his assistance
by binding down her feet with its roots, which were half loosened from
the earth, her feet having slid under them. There was a fountain near,
and he splashed the clear, fresh water over her face and neck,
commanding the unclean spirit to pass out of her, and signed her
according to the Christian rites; but the baptismal water had no power
where the fountain of belief had not streamed upon the heart.
Yet still he was the victor. Yes, more than human strength could have
accomplished against the powers of evil lay in his acts, which, as it
were, overpowered her. She suffered her arms to sink, and gazed with
wondering looks and blanched cheeks upon the man whom she deemed some
mighty wizard, strong in sorcery and the black art. These were mystic
Rhunes he had recited, and magic characters he had traced in the air.
Not for the glancing axe or the well-sharpened knife, if he had
brandished these before her eyes, would they have blinked, or would
she have winced; but she winced now when he made the sign of the cross
upon her brow and bosom, and she stood now like a tame bird, her head
bowed down upon her breast.
Then he spoke kindly to her of the work of mercy she had performed
towards him that night, when, in the ugly disguise of a frog, she had
come to him, had loosened his bonds, and brought him forth to light
and life. She also was bound--bound even with stronger fetters than he
had been, he said; but she also should be set free, and like him
attain to light and life. He would take her to Hedeby, to the holy
Ansgarius. There, in the Christian city, the witchcraft in which she
was held would be exorcised; but not before him must she sit on
horseback, even if she wished it herself--he dared not place her
there.
"Thou must sit behind me on the horse, not before me. Thine enchanting
beauty has a magic power bestowed by the evil one. I fear it; and yet
the victory shall be mine through Christ."
He knelt down and prayed fervently. It seemed as if the surrounding
wood had been consecrated into a holy temple; the birds began to sing,
as if they belonged to the new congregation; the wild thyme sent forth
its fragrant scent, as if to take the place of incense; while the
priest proclaimed these Bible words: "To give light to them that sit
in darkness, and in the shadow of death; to guide our feet into the
way of peace."
And he spoke of everlasting life; and as he discoursed, the horse
which had carried them in their wild flight stood still, and pulled at
the large bramble berries, so that the ripest ones fell on little
Helga's hand, inviting her to pluck them for herself.
She allowed herself patiently to be lifted upon the horse, and she sat
on its back like a somnambulist, who was neither in a waking nor a
sleeping state. The Christian priest tied two small green branches
together in the form of a cross, which he held high aloft; and thus
they rode through the forest, which became thicker and thicker, and
the path, if path it could be called, taking them farther into it. The
blackthorn stood as if to bar their way, and they had to ride round
outside of it; the trickling streams swelled no longer into mere
rivulets, but into stagnant pools, and they had to ride round them;
but as the soft wind that played among the foliage of the trees was
refreshing and strengthening to the travellers, so the mild words that
were spoken in Christian charity and truth served to lead the
benighted one to light and life.
It is said that a constant dripping of water will make a hollow in the
hardest stone, and that the waves of the sea will in time round the
edges of the sharpest rocks. The dew of grace which fell for little
Helga softened the hard, and smoothed the sharp, in her nature. True,
it was not discernible yet in her, nor was she aware of it herself.
What knows the seed in the ground of the effect which the refreshing
dew and the warm sunbeams are to have in producing from it vegetation
and flowers?
As a mother's song to her child, unmarked, makes an impression upon
its infant mind, and it prattles after her several of the words
without understanding them, but in time these words arrange themselves
into order, and they become clearer, so in the case of Helga worked
_that word_ which is mighty to save.
They rode out of the forest, and crossed an open heath; then again
they entered a pathless wood, where, towards evening, they encountered
a band of robbers.
"Whence didst thou steal that beautiful wench?" they shouted, as they
stopped the horse, and dragged its two riders down; for they were
strong and robust men. The priest had no other weapon than the knife
which he had taken from little Helga. With that he now stood on his
defence. One of the robbers swung his ponderous axe, but the young
Christian fortunately sprang aside in time to avoid the blow, which
then fell upon the unfortunate horse, and the sharp edge entered into
its neck; blood streamed from the wound, and the poor animal fell to
the ground. Helga, who had only at that moment awoke from her long
deep trance, sprang forward, and cast herself over the gasping
creature. The Christian priest placed himself before her as a shield
and protection from the lawless men; but one of them struck him on
the forehead with an iron hammer, so that it was dashed in, and the
blood and brains gushed forth, while he fell down dead on the spot.
The robbers seized Helga by her white arms; but at that moment the sun
went down, its last beam faded away, and she was transformed into a
hideous-looking frog. The pale green mouth stretched itself over half
the face, its arms became thin and slimy, and a broad hand, with
webbed-like membranes, extended itself like a fan. Then the robbers
withdrew their hold of her in terror and astonishment. She stood like
the ugly animal among them, and, according to the nature of a frog,
she began to hop about, and, jumping faster than usual, she soon
escaped into the depths of the thicket. The robbers were then
convinced that it was some evil artifice of the mischief loving Loke,
or else some secret magical deception; and in dismay they fled from
the place.
* * * * *
The full moon had risen, and its silver light penetrated even the
gloomy recesses of the forest, when from among the low thick
brushwood, in the frog's hideous form, crept the young Helga. She
stopped when she reached the bodies of the Christian priest and the
slaughtered horse: she gazed on them with eyes that seemed full of
tears, and the frog uttered a sound that somewhat resembled the sob of
a child who was on the point of crying. She threw herself first over
the one, then over the other; then took water up in her webbed hand,
and poured it over them; but all was in vain--they were dead, and dead
they would remain. She knew that. Wild beasts would soon come and
devour their bodies. No, that must not be; therefore she determined to
dig a grave in the ground for them, but she had nothing to dig it
with except the branch of a tree and both her own hands. With these
she worked away until her fingers bled. She found she made so little
progress, that she feared the work would never be completed. Then she
took water, and washed the dead man's face; covered it with fresh
green leaves; brought large boughs of the trees, and laid them over
him; sprinkled dead leaves amongst the branches; fetched the largest
stones she could carry, and placed them over the bodies, and filled up
the openings with moss. When she had done all this she thought that
their tomb might be strong and safe; but during her long and arduous
labour the night had passed away. The sun arose, and young Helga stood
again in all her beauty, with bloody hands, and, for the first time,
with tears on her blooming cheeks.
During this change it seemed as if two natures were wrestling within
her; she trembled, looked around her as if awakening from a painful
dream, then seized upon the slender branch of a tree near, and held
fast by it as if for support; and in another moment she climbed like a
cat up to the top of the tree, and placed herself firmly there. For a
whole long day she sat there like a frightened squirrel in the deep
loneliness of the forest, where all is still and dead, people say.
Dead! There flew by butterflies chasing each other either in sport or
in strife. There were ant-hills near, each covered with hundreds of
little busy labourers, passing in swarms to and fro. In the air danced
innumerable gnats; crowds of buzzing flies swept past; lady-birds,
dragon-flies, and other winged insects floated hither and thither;
earth-worms crept forth from the damp ground; moles crawled about;
otherwise it was still--_dead_, as people say and think.
None remarked Helga, except the jays that flew screeching to the top
of the tree where she sat; they hopped on the branches around her with
impudent curiosity, but there was something in the glance of her eye
that speedily drove them away; they were none the wiser about her,
nor, indeed, was she about herself. When the evening approached, and
the sun began to sink, the transformation time rendered a change of
position necessary. She slipped down from the tree, and, as the last
ray of the sun faded away, she was again the shrivelled frog, with the
webbed-fingered hands; but her eyes beamed now with a charming
expression, which they had not worn in the beautiful form; they were
the mildest, sweetest girlish eyes that glanced from behind the mask
of a frog--they bore witness to the deeply-thinking human mind, the
deeply-feeling human heart; and these lovely eyes burst into
tears--tears of unfeigned sorrow.
Close to the lately raised grave lay the cross of green boughs that
had been tied together--the last work of him who was now dead and
gone. Helga took it up, and the thought presented itself to her that
it would be well to place it amidst the stones, above him and the
slaughtered horse. With the sad remembrances thus awakened, her tears
flowed faster; and in the fulness of her heart she scratched the same
sign in the earth round the grave--it would be a fence that would
decorate it so well. And just as she was forming, with both of her
hands, the figure of the cross, her magic disguise fell off like a
torn glove; and when she had washed herself in the clear water of the
fountain near, and in amazement looked at her delicate white hands,
she made the sign of the cross between herself and the dead priest;
then her lips moved, then her tongue was loosened; and that name
which so often, during the ride through the forest, she had heard
spoken and chanted, became audible from her mouth--she exclaimed,
"JESUS CHRIST!"
When the frog's skin had fallen off she was again the beautiful
maiden; but her head drooped heavily, her limbs seemed to need
repose--she slept.
Her sleep was only a short one, however; she awoke about midnight, and
before her stood the dead horse full of life; its eyes glittered, and
light seemed to proceed from the wound in its neck. Close to it the
dead Christian priest showed himself--"more beautiful than Baldur,"
the Viking's wife would have said; and yet he came as a flash of fire.
There was an earnestness in his large, mild eyes, a searching,
penetrating look--grave, almost stern--that thrilled the young
proselyte to the utmost depths of her heart. Helga trembled before
him; and her memory awoke as if with the power it would exercise on
the great day of doom. All the kindness that had been bestowed on her,
every affectionate word that had been said to her, came back to her
mind with an impression deeper than they had ever before made. She
understood that it was love that, during the days of trial here, had
supported her--those days of trial in which the offspring of a being
with a soul, and a form of mud, had writhed and struggled. She
understood that she had only followed the promptings of her own
disposition, and done nothing to help herself. All had been bestowed
on her--all had been ordained for her. She bowed herself in lowly
humility and shame before Him who must be able to read every thought
of the heart; and at that moment she felt as if a purifying flame
darted through her--a light from the Holy Spirit.
"Daughter of the dust!" said the Christian priest, "from dust, from
earth hast thou arisen--from earth shalt thou again arise! A ray from
God's invisible sun shall stream on thee. No soul shall be lost. But
far off is the time when life takes flight into eternity. I come from
the land of the dead. Thou also shalt once pass through the dark
valley into yon lofty realms of brightness, where grace and perfection
dwell. I shall not guide thee now to Hedeby for Christian baptism.
First must thou disperse the slimy surface over the deep morass, draw
up the living root of thy life and thy cradle, and perform thy
appointed task, ere thou darest to seek the holy rite."
And he lifted her up on the horse, and gave her a golden censer like
those she had formerly seen at the Viking's castle; and strong was the
perfume which issued from it. The open wound on the forehead of the
murdered man shone like a diadem of brilliants. He took the cross from
the grave, and raised it high above him; then away they went through
the air, away over the rustling woods, away over the mountains where
the giant heroes are buried, sitting on the slaughtered steed. Still
onward the phantom forms pursued their way; and in the clear moonlight
glittered the gold circlet round their brows, and the mantle fluttered
in the breeze. The magic dragon, who was watching over his treasures,
raised his head and gazed at them. The hill dwarfs peeped out from
their mountain recesses and plough-furrows. There were swarms of them,
with red, blue, and green lights, that looked like the numerous sparks
in the ashes of newly-burned paper.
Away over forest and heath, over limpid streams and stagnant pools,
they hastened towards "the wild morass," and over it they flew in wide
circles. The Christian priest held aloft the cross, which looked as
dazzling as burnished gold, and as he did so he chanted the mass
hymns. Little Helga sang with him as a child follows its mother's
song. She swung the censer about as if before the altar, and there
came a perfume so strong, so powerful in its effect, that it caused
the reeds and sedges to blossom; every sprout shot up from the deep
bottom--everything that had life raised itself up; and with the rest
arose a mass of water-lilies, which looked like a carpet of
embroidered flowers. Upon it lay a sleeping female, young and
beautiful. Helga thought she beheld herself mirrored in the calm
water; but it was her mother whom she saw--the mud-king's wife--the
princess from the banks of the Nile.
The dead Christian priest prayed that the sleeper might be lifted upon
the horse. At first the latter sank under the additional burden, as if
its body were but a winding-sheet fluttering in the wind; but the sign
of the cross gave strength to the airy phantom, and all three rode on
it to the solid ground.
Then crowed the cock at the Viking's castle, and the apparitions
seemed to disappear in a mist, which was wafted away by the wind; but
the mother and daughter stood together.
"Is that myself I behold in the deep water?" exclaimed the mother.
"Is that myself I see on the shining surface?" said the daughter.
And they approached each other till form met form in a warm embrace,
and wildly the mother's heart beat when she perceived the truth.
"My child! my heart's own flower! my lotus from the watery deep!"
And she encircled her daughter with her arm, and wept Her tears
caused a new sensation to Helga--they were the baptism of love for
her.
"I came hither in the magic disguise of a swan, and I threw it off,"
said the mother. "I sank through the swaying mire deep into the mud of
the morass, which like a wall closed around me; but soon I perceived
that I was in a fresher stream--some power drew me deeper and still
deeper down. I felt my eyelids heavy with sleep--I slumbered and I
dreamed. I thought that I was again in the interior of the Egyptian
pyramid, but before me still stood the heaving alder trunk that had so
terrified me on the surface of the morass. I saw the cracks in the
bark, and they changed their appearance, and became hieroglyphics. It
was the mummy's coffin I was looking at; it burst open, and out issued
from it the monarch of a thousand years ago--the mummy form, black as
pitch, dark and shining as a wood-snail, or as that thick slimy mud.
It was the mud-king, or the mummy of the pyramids; I knew not which.
He threw his arms around me, and I felt as if I were dying. I only
felt that I was alive again when I found something warm on my breast,
and there a little bird was flapping with its wings, twittering and
singing. It flew from my breast high up in the dark, heavy space; but
a long green string bound it still to me. I heard and I comprehended
its tones and its longing: "Freedom! Sunshine! To the father!" Then I
thought of my father in my distant home, that dear sunny land--my
life, my affection--and I loosened the cord, and let it flutter away
home to my father. Since that hour I have not dreamed. I have slept a
long, dark, heavy sleep until now, when the strange sounds and perfume
awoke me and set me free."
That green tie between the mother's heart and the bird's wings, where
now did it flutter? what now had become of it? The stork alone had
seen it. The cord was the green stem; the knot was the shining
flower--the cradle for that child who now had grown up in beauty, and
again rested near her mother's heart.
And as they stood there embracing each other the stork-father flew in
circles round them, hastened back to his nest, took from it the magic
feather disguises that had been hidden away for so many years, cast
one down before each of them, and then joined them as they raised
themselves from the ground like two white swans.
"Let us now have some chat," said the stork-father, "now we understand
each other's language, even though one bird's beak is not exactly made
after the pattern of another's. It is most fortunate that you came to
night; to-morrow we should all have been away--the mother, the young
ones, and myself. We are off to the south. Look at me! I am an old
friend from the country where the Nile flows, and so is the mother,
though there is more kindness in her heart than in her tongue. She
always believed that the princess would make her escape. The young
ones and I brought these swan garbs up here. Well, how glad I am, and
how fortunate it is that I am here still! At dawn of day we shall take
our departure--a large party of storks. We shall fly foremost, and if
you will follow us you will not miss the way. The young ones and
myself will have an eye to you."
"And the lotus flower I was to have brought," said the Egyptian
princess; "it shall go within the swan disguise, by my side, and I
shall have my heart's darling with me. Then homewards--homewards!"
Then Helga said that she could not leave the Danish land until she had
once more seen her foster-mother, the Viking's excellent wife. To
Helga's thoughts arose every pleasing recollection, every kind word,
even every tear her adopted mother had shed on her account; and, at
that moment, she felt that she almost loved that mother best.
"Yes, we must go to the Viking's castle," said the stork; "there my
young ones and their mother await me. How they will stare! The mother
does not speak much; but, though she is rather abrupt, she means well.
I will presently make a little noise, that she may know we are
coming."
And he clattered with his bill as he and the swans flew close to the
Viking's castle.
Within it all were lying in deep sleep. The Viking's wife had retired
late to rest; she lay in anxious thought about little Helga, who now
for full three days and nights had disappeared along with the
Christian priest: she had probably assisted him in his escape, for it
was her horse that was missing from the stables. By what power had all
this been accomplished? The Viking's wife thought upon the wondrous
works she had heard had been performed by the immaculate Christ, and
by those who believed on him and followed him. Her changing thoughts
assumed the shapes of life in her dreams; she fancied she was still
awake, lost in deep reflection; she imagined that a storm arose--that
she heard the sea roaring in the east and in the west, the waves
dashing from the Kattegat and the North Sea; the hideous serpents
which encircled the earth in the depths of the ocean struggling in
deadly combat. It was the night of the gods--RAGNAROK, as the heathens
called the last hour, when all should be changed, even the high gods
themselves. The reverberating horn sounded, and forth over the
rainbow[3] rode the gods, clad in steel, to fight the final battle;
before them flew the winged Valkyries, and the rear was brought up by
the shades of the dead giant-warriors; the whole atmosphere was
illuminated around them by the Northern lights, but darkness conquered
all--it was an awful hour!
[Footnote 3: The Bridge of Heaven in the fables of the Scandinavian
mythology.--_Trans._]
And near the terrified Viking's wife sat upon the floor little Helga
in the ugly disguise of the frog; and she shivered and worked her way
up to her foster-mother, who took her in her lap, and disgusting as
she was in that form, lovingly caressed her. The air was filled with
the sounds of the clashing of swords, the blows of clubs, the whizzing
of arrows, like a violent hail-storm. The time was come when heaven
and earth should be destroyed, the stars should fall, and all be
swallowed up below in Surtur's fire; but a new earth and a new heaven
she knew were to come; the corn was to wave where the sea now rolled
over the golden sands; the unknown God at length reigned; and to him
ascended Baldur, the mild, the lovable, released from the kingdom of
death. He came; the Viking's wife beheld him--she recognised his
countenance: it was that of the captive Christian priest. "Immaculate
Christ!" she cried aloud; and whilst uttering this holy name she
impressed a kiss upon the ugly brow of the frog-child. Then fell the
magic disguise, and Helga stood before her in all her radiant beauty,
gentle as she had never looked before, and with speaking eyes. She
kissed her foster-mother's hands, blessed her for all the care and
kindness which she, in the days of distress and trial, had lavished
upon her; thanked her for the thoughts with which she had inspired
her mind--thanked her for mentioning _that name_ which she now
repeated, "Immaculate Christ!" and then lifting herself up in the
suddenly adopted shape of a graceful swan, little Helga spread her
wings widely out with the rustling sound of a flock of birds of
passage on the wing, and in another moment she was gone.
The Viking's wife awoke, and on the outside of her casement were to be
heard the same rustling and flapping of wings. It was the time, she
knew, when the storks generally took their departure; it was them she
heard. She wished to see them once more before their journey to the
south, and bid them farewell. She got up, went out on the balcony, and
then she saw, on the roof of an adjoining outhouse, stork upon stork,
while all around the place, above the highest trees, flew crowds of
them, wheeling in large circles; but below, on the brink of the well,
where little Helga had but so lately often sat, and frightened her
with her wild actions, sat now two swans, looking up at her with
expressive eyes; and she remembered her dream, which seemed to her
almost a reality. She thought of Helga in the appearance of a swan;
she thought of the Christian priest, and felt a strange gladness in
her heart.
The swans fluttered their wings and bowed their necks, as if they were
saluting her; and the Viking's wife opened her arms, as if she
understood them, and smiled amidst her tears and manifold thoughts.