Gods and Myths of Northern Europe

the spot once occupied by the fatal tree of Eden. No idea of this resemblance however seems to have occurred to Snorri when he wrote his description of the World Ash, taken from a number of Edda poems which still survive. An interesting question to consider is that of the kind of audience for which the strange collection of facts about the nature of the cosmos given in these poems was intended. It is one to which we must return later.

2. The Creation of the World

The series of worlds whose centre was the tree was held to have had a definite beginning and to await a final destruction. Near the close of the heathen period, an unknown poet composed a poem of considerable power on this theme, and it is this poem, Voluspa, which was the chief source of Snorri’s unforgettable account of the creation and destruction of the universe. We do not know how far this poet has himself pieced together isolated fragments of beliefs into a coherent whole, or whether he was dealing with a theme which already formed part of the recognized teaching about the gods. We are however able to conclude, from odd surviving references from other sources, that Voluspa did not exist in complete isolation.

We are told in this poem that at the beginning there was neither earth nor heaven, sand nor sea nor green grass, but only Ginnungagap, a great emptiness which was nevertheless pregnant with the potential power of creation. De Vries has interpreted the word ginnunga as associated with the idea of deceit through magic, with the altering of appearances to mislead the eyes, and this interpretation has been generally accepted.¹ There is a similar use of the term in Snorri’s tide for one section of the Prose Edda, Gylfaginning, ‘the beguiling of Gylfi’. It is a more satisfactory explanation than to take the phrase to mean ‘yawning gap’, or to assume that Ginnung was a giant.

It appears that in the eleventh century Adam of Bremen was familiar with this name for the abyss, for he uses what must be the same term: ghinmendegop. Again in a fragment of an early poem from southern Germany, Wessobrunner Gebet, it is significant to find that the creation of the world is described in language very like that of the Norse poem:

There was neither earth nor high heaven, neither tree… nor mountain. … No sun shone, no moon gave light. There was no glorious sea.

Although in this poem the creation is given a Christian interpretation the close similarity suggests that a similar tradition to that in Voluspa existed among the continental Germans. The popularity of the creation as a subject of Old English poetry may be due to this. It was said to be the subject of the first inspired Christian poem of Caedmon. More surprisingly, it was the subject of the song sung by Hrothgar’s minstrel in the new hall at Heorot, as related in the poem Beowulf (90–8):

He who knew how to tell of the creation of men in the far past related the tale of how the Almighty wrought the earth, the bright and radiant expanse encircled by the waters. Exulting in victory, he set up sun and moon, lights to give light to the earth-dwellers, and he adorned the surface of the ground with branches and foliage. Life also he created for every race of beings that move and live.

This was the song which tormented the monster Grendel, when he came prowling round the newly built hall, and heard sweet music within. The contrast between the order and beauty of creation and the dark formless world of the monsters is an effective artistic contrast; it is moreover something which may well come out of heathen tradition. The shaping of the earth out of formless chaos and the raising of the bright lights of heaven was an important part of pre-Christian teaching also, judging from the emphasis upon it in northern literature. The building of a bright hall in the wild country where the monsters ranged is like an echo of the creation of the fair world whose destruction was sought by the evil powers, an image likely to be familiar to those who could remember the old tales of the gods.

The original form of the creation myth in the north is not easy to determine. Snorri knew at least three different accounts. First there is a picture of layers of ice forming in the void, while sparks and embers rise from the warm region further south. Life was formed from the meeting of heat and cold, and the giant Ymir took shape in the ice as it melted. He was the ancestor of all the giants, and when he was slain, the earth was formed from his body. Secondly the sons of Bor were said to have been licked out of the salty ice-blocks by the cow Au?humla. She emerged from the ice in the beginning, and Ymir was nourished on her milk. Thirdly there is a reference to the giant Bergelmir, who escaped in his boat from the flood caused by the blood of Ymir which overwhelmed the world, and who founded a new race. This last story sounds less convincing than the other two, and Snorri may have based it on a rather free interpretation of a verse about Bergelmir in Vafpru?nismal, grafted on to the Biblical story of the Flood. The name Bergelmir itself is suspicious, and seems to belong to a group of river names, like Hvergelmir and Va?gelmir. The idea of a destroying flood is also in contradiction to that of the sacrifice of Ymir which created the world.

In the first two myths however we have two concepts of creation for which there are many parallels in different parts of the world. In the story of Ymir we have the slaying of the primeval being, in order that the earth may be formed, and there is good reason to believe that such a myth formed part of early Germanic tradition. Ymir’s name has been related to Sanskrit yama, meaning ‘hybrid’ or ‘hermaphrodite’. According to Tacitus, the Germans had a primeval ancestor Tuisto, whose son Mannus was the father of mankind. Attempts have been made to connect Tuisto with Tiwaz, but it seems more likely that his name is connected with Old Swedish tvistra, ‘separate’, and that, like Ymir, it means a two-fold being.¹ An explanation of such a name is given in Vaf?ru?nismal, where we are told that a man and woman were born from under the arm of Ymir, and a giant engendered from his two feet. Another example of a primeval being from which the first male and female spring is found in Indian mythology. Ymir indeed is a two-fold being in another sense, since from him both giants and men are born. Attempts have been made to account for the Ymir legend by borrowings from the Talmud and other sources which trace the creation of the world from the body of Adam. But expressions such as ‘Ymir’s skull’ for heaven in the skaldic poets show that the idea of the slaughtered giant was widespread, and can hardly be due to a late borrowing from Christian or Jewish sources. Moreover, the wide distribution of the creation myth in this form provides us with plenty of parallels from non-Christian thought.

The idea of part of the giant’s body being flung up into heaven to become a star seems to have been remembered in various myths. Thiazi’s eyes were said to be thrown up to heaven by Odin, making two stars (see p. 40), and again the frozen toe of Aurvandil was said to have been thrown up by Thor (p. 41). These myths are evidently connected with names of constellations, but the strange reference to a frozen toe suggests that there is some connexion with the creation legend of the giant who emerged from the ice.

There are parallels also for the other primeval figure, that of the cow. She was the symbol of the fruitful earth in Egypt and the Near East from the time of the earliest religious records. However au?humla is a native word for a rich, hornless cow. The streams of milk from her udders which became rivers echo the idea of the World Tree as a source of nourishment, although there is some confusion as to whether it is the cow, the goat, or the hart from which the life-giving streams come. The cow, like Ymir, emerged from the melting ice, and licked the salty ice-blocks. It has been suggested that there is some link between the creation legend and the holy place of the Germans, mentioned by Tacitus (p. 55), by the salt springs of the River Saale near Strassfurt, for which a great battle was fought. At this spot it was believed that ‘men’s prayers received ready access’,¹ and it was thought to be close to heaven. The Germans obtained salt there

… by pouring river water on heaps of burning wood, and there uniting the two opposed elements, fire and water.

Thus we have the same conjunction of water, salt, and fire as in the creation myth, associated with a definite holy place in Germany. Another possible origin for the impressive picture of life forming from the union of intense heat and intense cold might however be sought in the volcanic conditions in Iceland. Eruptions of boiling lava, flames, and steam have recurred there at fairly frequent intervals throughout historic times, and must have been known in the Viking age. Iceland is unique among volcanic regions in the meeting of cold and heat which takes place when the ice-covered volcanoes erupt, and the snow and ice melt in the burning flood of lava to send down