Gods and Myths of Northern Europe

the other as fervent for the Swedes.

Gesta Danorum, 1, 29 (Elton’s translation)

There is, however, nothing which precisely resembles the picture associated with die Dioskouroi, that of the two young men on horseback appearing together to help their worshippers. The Alcis appear to have been forgotten in the north by the time Snorri came to collect his myths.

4. Forseti

Snorri mentions Forseti, the son of Balder, among the gods of Asgard. In Grimnismal, in a list of the dwellings of the gods, mention is made of Glitnir, a hall of gold and silver, which belongs to Forseti. He is said to dwell there, and to ‘still all strifes’. This may be a late addition to the poem, but Forseti is worth notice because there are two independent traditions about him. One is a story in the eighth-century life of St Willebrord which tells of a visit by the saint to an island between Frisia and Denmark. This island had a holy spring, from which men had to draw water in silence, because of the sanctity of the place. Willebrord baptized three men in the spring, and killed a cow there, defiling the holy spot. However, he escaped death at the hands of King Radbod, because three times lots were drawn, and each time he avoided the death sentence, although one of his party was killed. This island was said to be called Fositesland after the god worshipped there. The name Forsetlund is also found near Oslo fiord, so that it is possible that at one time the cult of this god spread northward to Norway from the Frisian coast.

The other story is a Frisian saga¹ telling how Frisian law came to be recorded. Charles the Great had demanded of twelve representatives from Frisia that they should tell him their laws, and when they could not obey, he offered them the gloomy alternatives of death, slavery, or being set adrift in a rudderless boat. They chose the last of these punishments, and called on God to help them. Their prayer was answered, for a thirteenth man appeared among their company with a golden axe on his shoulder. He steered the ship with his axe, and as they drew near land, he threw it ashore, and a spring gushed up in the place where it touched the earth. The stranger taught them the laws which they needed to know, and disappeared.

This story has been given Christian colouring, and it is possible that it is not of heathen origin. It has been thought by some, however, to be a memory of the god Forseti, who according to Grimnismal was associated with silver and gold (hence the golden axe ?) and with the peaceful settlement of disputes. The company of twelve men with a god as their leader need not necessarily have been suggested by Christ and the twelve apostles, as there is plenty of independent evidence for the council of twelve in the north. Odin headed such a council in the story of the sacrifice of King Vikar (page 52). Nor indeed does the axe seem a fitting symbol for Christ, while the use of it to cause a spring to gush out from the earth is in agreement with the sacred spring on Forseti’s island in the other story. The names Axenshowe and Eswei are mentioned as place-names associated with this incident, and Eswei might be related to the name of the Aesir. There is no full agreement however as to the reliability of these traditions as evidence for a cult of Forseti in the north. As usual, attempts have been made to identify him with the greater gods, but without success.

5. Heimdall

When we turn to the figure of Heimdall, we are faced with a problem of a very different kind from that involved in the study of nebulous deities like Hoenir or Forseti. We have a good deal of material about this god, and the figure which emerges from Snorri’s description of him and from references in the poems is that of a mysterious, impressive power, with a strong personality of his own. He does not however fit into any recognized category among the divinities. Scholars have been most industrious in their efforts to fit Heimdall neatly into the religious scheme of the north. He has been interpreted as a sun god, a moon god, a ram god, and a woodpecker god. He has been seen as the spirit of ritual silence, as a personification of the World Tree or of the rainbow. He has been compared with the Indian fire god Agni, with the Persian Mithras, with the Christian St Michael, even with Christ himself. Pering, who gives a masterly survey of the different theories about Heimdall, ends with the conclusion that his true place is as guardian spirit of the gods, a kind of brownie in Asgard.¹ De Vries, however, emphasizes his function of sentry.² Such a variety of theories gives some idea of the wide diversity of Heimdall’s character. None of them however seems completely satisfying, since in every case certain aspects of this many-sided god have been emphasized and isolated at the expense and neglect of the rest.

Heimdall’s most dramatic aspect is that of the Watcher. Snorri describes him sitting tirelessly at the end of heaven to guard the rainbow bridge. He needs no sleep, and can see by night as by day, his ear is perpetually alert for the tiniest sound and the faintest threat to Asgard’s safety. He holds Gjallarhorn, the horn of warning. It is this patient watchfulness of the god with which Loki taunts him in Lokasenna, and in Voluspa his horn is used as the trump of doom, to arouse the gods when the forces of evil converge upon them.

It has been suggested that Heimdall’s horn in this poem is an imitation of the trumpet of the archangel Gabriel, and cannot be an early feature of the god. On Gosforth Cross in Cumberland a figure is seen holding a horn; this comes among a series of scenes which must be related to the doom of the gods, and implies that the horn formed part of the tradition by the tenth century. The theory of a Christian origin does not, however, explain why the horn was connected with Heimdall in the beginning, and the picture of him as the unwearying sentinel can hardly be attributed solely to imitation of Gabriel. One explanation favoured by the Finnish scholar Pipping³ was that Heimdall had some special connexion with the horned ram, since one form of his name found in the texts is Heimdali, ‘ram’. We have no real solution to the problem raised by two strange kennings quoted by Snorri; he says that a poetic name for a sword is ‘Heimdall’s head’, and that a poetic name for a head is ‘sword of Heimdall’. If myths have given rise to these puzzling kennings, they are now lost, and most of the theories evolved to account for them are too complicated to be satisfactory. Pipping sees the basic explanation in the figure of a ram with the horn on its head as a sword, and thinks that perhaps Heimdall represents the ram sacrifice hanging from the World Tree, so that to some extent he came to be identified with the tree itself. The tree was the guardian of the dwelling of the gods, and this would account for the unceasing watch kept by Heimdall.

Pipping also sees in the figure of Heimdall links with north-eastern Europe, and in particular with the Finno- Ugric tribes, many of whom are accustomed to represent their gods by standing pillars of wood. Heimdall is called the White God, great and holy, and there are Yakut legends of a White Youth, the father of the human race, who was nourished by the spirit of the World Tree and fed on milk. This conception must have come from the south, and must be connected in some way with the image of the life-giving, nourishing tree of the Near East. On the other hand there are certain characteristics of Heimdall which seem to point to western origin. In the preface to Rigspula, one of the Edda poems, Heimdall is identified with the hero of the poem, Rig. This Rig, whose name is not mentioned elsewhere, is represented as the progenitor of mankind and the father of the human race. He goes up and down the earth, and in his wanderings he visits representatives of three classes of men: the thrall, the farmer, and the earl. He stays a night at three typical houses in turn, and lies down to sleep in each house between the husband and the wife. Nine months after his visit, a child is born to each couple; the first is the boy who becomes the rough, labouring thrall, the second, the boy who becomes the hard-working, freeborn farmer, managing his own lands, and the third, the boy of noble ancestry, who is to grow into the earl, the leader of men.

There appears to be Celtic influence behind this poem. First, the name Rig is presumably to be derived from the Irish word rig, ‘king’. Secondly, this story of the travelling god, going from house to house among his subjects and begetting children, shows a striking resemblance to certain Irish traditions connected with Manannan mac Lir and his son Mongan.¹ Manannan is a Celtic god of the sea, associated with the Isle of Man, and called Son of the Sea. The same name might be given to Heimdall. In the lost Heimdallargaldr, a poem about him known to Snorri, he is said to be the son of nine mothers. These appear to be sea-giantesses, or perhaps waves of the sea (see p. 130). It is assumed that Heimdall