and perfunctory. Like Kjartan, he might prefer to trust in his own strength and weapons rather than spend much time considering the gods, although he enjoyed hearing stories about them and paid them lip-service at the popular festivals. He might find more satisfaction in the popular beliefs which formed a large part of the heathen heritage for many people. Many must have paid more attention to the land-spirits, for instance, than to the high gods, to the spirits said to follow men who were lucky at hunting and fishing, who dwelt in hills and stones round the farms, and sometimes appeared in animal form or sometimes like little men with wives and children of their own. They could either help or hinder, and men and women would instinctively turn to them – as to a favourite saint – in the little troubles and hopes of everyday life in the fields or on the sea. Similarly they thought a good deal of the dead in their mounds, and remembered with awe and terror tales of local hauntings by characters who had been fearsome influences in their lifetimes and would not rest quiet in their graves. They respected the giants said to dwell in local caves or wander over the mountains behind their settlements, who could give help to men or prove terrible enemies if their hostility was aroused. Nearer even than these were the protective spirits attached to certain families, whose friendship would pass from father to son, who might be seen in dreams walking over the hills or the sea, and would give warning of approaching death. There were many popular beliefs such as these, peopling the waste places and giving a sense of significance to life, linking man with the powers which he could not control, even while they might also fill the long dark winter nights with terror.
Such popular beliefs were part of the common heritage of men, and flourished in the lonely, isolated communities among the mountains. There must always have been men however who were fanatical devotees to the cults of Odin, Thor, the Vanir, or one of the lesser gods, to whom the local shrine of the deity they chose for special worship was the centre of the world. Between the two extremes there was every variety of attitude towards the gods, inconsistencies, doubts and fears, cynical appraisal of the old tales and scorn of the ancient rites, sentimental faithfulness to the old ways and the well-known customs. There was no central organization to formulate a body of beliefs, and so ideas about the gods must have varied from one district to another, as we have seen that the names of the deities varied also. But men shared the body of myths which grew out of their beliefs about the gods, even though to some they were no more than a source of entertainment. Thus it is that certain assumptions which we find there are enlightening for our understanding of the northern peoples.
We realize anew the value which they set on individualism. Greek and Latin writers, commenting on the methods of warfare among the Germanic peoples, noted that while they were intensely loyal to leaders and kinsmen, they could not be relied on to cooperate in large numbers, or to obey a general’s commands without question:
If it comes about that their friends fall, they expose themselves to danger to avenge them. They charge swiftly with much spirit, both foot-soldiers and horsemen, as if they were of a single mind, and quite without the slightest fear. They do not obey their leaders well. Headstrong, despising strategy, precaution, or foresight, they show contempt for every tactical command.
Such was the shrewd description of the sixth-century Germans recorded in
While there is constant recognition of the fact of death and its seriousness, it is faced without undue fear. The emphasis in the myths is the same as that in the heroic poetry, on the importance not of holding on to life at any cost, but of acting in a way which will be long remembered when life is over. There are many noble expressions of this desire for renown, and they have often been quoted, but it is nevertheless worth while recalling two of them again. First a passage from the poem
O wise man, do not grieve. Better for every man to avenge his friend rather than lament for him overmuch. Each of us must endure the ending of life in this world. Let those who can therefore achieve glory before the coming of death. That is the finest lot for the warrior when life is over.
And secondly, lines from the Norse
Cattle die, kinsfolk die,
oneself dies the same.
I know one thing only which never dies –
the renown of the noble dead.
After a life of courage and achievement and a glorious death, a man will be remembered for many generations. His burial mound will be a lasting memorial and a reminder to his descendants of their splendid heritage. Such ideas are enshrined in the myths. They are in accordance with the worship of Odin, the god who sought out young heroes and inspired them with unflinching courage, and with the religion of Thor and the Vanir, where the emphasis is on the continuity of the family and the community rather than any personal immortality in the Other World. A man’s heroic deeds will win renown, and his fine qualities will be passed on to his descendants. Such is the noblest form of immortality, and the great gods themselves achieved no more.
But to accomplish great things, a man must avoid excesses. ‘He knows everything who knows moderation’, it is said in one of the Icelandic sagas, and this is characteristic of the spirit of the heroes at their wisest and best. One of the most telling qualities of Snorri is the quick irony with which he deflates the pretentious: the wolf Fenrir gapes so hugely with his jaws that they stretch from earth to heaven – and he would gape even more widely, were there more room to do so; the gods laughed when the wolf was bound – all except Tyr: he lost his hand. Man must not take himself or even his gods too seriously, and this is an attitude which goes deeper than the wit of Snorri, it is part of the spirit of the myths themselves. The exuberant exaggerations of the Irish sagas are not for the northern gods; Freyja, Thor, Loki have the robust common sense which the Vikings themselves admired hugely, and although they take part in the comedies of the regaining of the hammer or the visit to the land of the giants, they survive virtually unscathed. The man who could make a joke when wounded to death or gasp out a witty remark when men were removing an arrow from his throat after battle is honoured in the sagas, because even in pain and weakness he could still keep his sense of proportion, and it is this sense which is perhaps the great quality of these northern stories.
This sense of proportion is gained by viewing men and gods objectively, by standing back, as it were, to see them clearly and without prejudice. It is this ability which helps to preserve in the myths a keen realization of the strength of fate. This is the main lesson in the story of Balder, against whose destined fate Odin and the gods struggled in vain. Fate runs like a scarlet thread through the tales both of the gods and the great heroes.
