north!” On he rode until he came to the gates of hell, which were closed to all but the dead. But he was not discouraged; plunging his spurs into his wondrous horse, he cleared the gate, and proceeded into a hall of vast extent. Here he perceived his brother, who filled the most honourable place. But far less honourable was it than the meanest in Valhalla, which Balder could not enter because it had not been his good fortune to die in battle. It is, however, some consolation for us, poor mortals, to perceive that hospitality is not forgotten in the gloomy regions below. Hermod remained the whole night; and the next morning he acquainted Hela with the anxiety of the gods, of men, of all nature, for the return of Balder, and besought her to permit it. She seemed to doubt whether the mourning for the hero was so universal as he had represented; but, to place the matter beyond dispute, she replied, that if all objects, inanimate no less than animate, would weep for him, the request of the gods should be granted. Hermod accordingly rose to depart. By Nanna he was intrusted with several presents for Frigga, his mother: from Balder he was the bearer of a ring (no doubt the one which had been placed in the funeral pile!) to their father Odin. He was then escorted to the outer gate as if he had been a favoured guest just leaving the palace of an earthly sovereign. On reaching Asgard, where Odin then was, he acquainted the gods with the message of Hela. By their advice agents were sent through all creation, praying everything to weep for Balder. By everything was the mandate obeyed, except by one old sorceress, who refused to weep, and said that Hela must keep her prey.[46]
But in the elder or poetical Edda—that of Sæmund the Wise, which in compilation is antecedent a full century to Snorro’s—the journey to the shades is attributed to Odin himself. When it was undertaken, Balder was yet alive, but dreams and portents afflicted him; and, after consulting the fates, Odin mounted his steed, Sleipner, and descended in darkness towards the abode of Hela, where a celebrated prophetess had been long interred. He met the terrible dog which the Greeks preserved in their mythology, and which, with bloody jaws, barked loudly as he passed along. Downwards he went, the earth trembling beneath his steed, until he reached the lofty hall of Hela. From the eastern gate he proceeded to the spot where he knew the tomb of the prophetess was to be found. Turning himself towards the north, he then commenced the fatal incantation, and placed in order the mystic rhymes. Many were the words of might which he uttered, until he forced the unwilling prophetess to raise her head, and to speak in the language of men. “What unknown mortal is he who has thus disturbed my repose? Bleached by the snow, beaten by the winds, drenched by the rains, have I long remained—long here I have been in the arms of death!”—“Vegtam is my name, the son of Valtam.[47] Tell me the secrets of hell, and I will tell thee what passes on earth. For whom are these costly benches, for whom these golden couches prepared?”—“This tempered mead, this liquid nectar awaits the arrival of Balder. Sorrowful are the sons of heaven. Unwillingly have I spoken; now my lips shall be closed.”—“Listen, prophetess, for I must know the whole. Whose hand shall deprive Odin’s son of life?”—“That of Hoder: he the bruiser shall be of Odin’s son, the spoiler of Balder’s life! Unwillingly have I spoken; now my lips shall be closed.”—“Listen, prophetess, for I must know the whole. Who shall revenge on Hoder the death of the hero? who shall bear the smiter of Balder to the funeral pyre?”—“Rinda, a virgin of the west, shall bear a son by Odin; he, when only one night old, shall slay the murderer. His hands he shall not wash, nor his head shall he comb, until he bears to the funeral pyre the enemy of Balder. Unwillingly have I spoken; now my lips shall be closed.”—“Listen, prophetess, for I must know the whole. Who are these damsels that weep at pleasure and raise their covered heads on high?[48] Say this only, and thou mayest sleep.”—“Ah! no wandering spoiler art thou, as I have hitherto believed: well do I know thee for Odin, the preserver of nations!”—“And thou art not Vala; no prophetess art thou; but the mother of the three infernal furies!”—“Odin, ride back to thine house, and there command! Never again will I be consulted by the living until Loke shall break loose from his fetters, and the dreaded twilight of the gods arrive!”[49] Such is the dark poetical legend which the genius of our poet[50]
Gray has immortalised. It is among the most imaginative efforts of the Scandinavian muse.[51]
According to Saxo, it was not the mystic Vala, but Rostiof, king of the Finns, who foretold that Odin’s son, by Rinda, should avenge the death of Balder. That Odin, who was esteemed chief of the gods, should be less prescient than a Finnish king, may appear strange; but this term god frequently means no more than Goth, and the chief of the gods means only the head of the pontifical college established, first in Asia, and next in Sweden. And we must remember that the Finns were expressly declared to be unrivalled in magic, at least in that dark magic which sought the injury of mankind. Yet Odin was equally malignant. He could not rest until he had discovered the maiden whose offspring was thus predestined to accomplish his purpose. This Rinda was a princess, and, consequently, demanded more attention than one of humbler birth. The disguises which he successively assumed at her father’s court; his frequent repulses by her; his numerous stratagems, and his ultimate triumph under the character of a physician; are gravely related by the venerable historian of Denmark. His conduct on these occasions was so unworthy of a god, that his colleagues at Byzantium (or we should rather suppose Asgard) removed him for a time from their society, deprived him of his supernatural powers, degraded him to the level of mortals, and sentenced him to exile—a doom which he, therefore, suffered a second time, though on the former occasion it had been self-imposed.[52] All this, in plain English, means that he was expelled from the college of priests. This natural explanation is confirmed by the statement, that in ten years, the gods, pitying his sufferings, or, perhaps, bribed by flattery and costly gifts, restored him to all his former privileges. Lest the public worship should sustain any injury, his place had been supplied by one Oller, a priest so expert in magic that he could cross the seas on a bone; but this usurper was slain by the Swedes, just as Mitothin had been slain. In the mean time Bo, the issue of Odin’s connection with Rinda, grew up, and was intrusted by the father with the sacred task of revenge. Accordingly he advanced against the Danish king. Hoder foresaw his doom; and, in an assembly of chiefs, he prevailed on them to elect his son, Runi, for his successor. In the battle which followed destiny was fulfilled: he fell by the hand of Bo; but the victor also received a mortal wound and died the following day.[53]
All that we have farther to say respecting Odin, in the present Introduction, may be despatched in a few words. Perceiving his end approach, he marked his body with a sword, probably to denote the advantage of dying by that weapon; and declared that he was going to Godheim or paradise, where he should joyfully receive his people. The Swedes were persuaded that he was returned to Asgard to enjoy eternal life; and in this belief his worship was renewed and enlarged. In time of war, and before great battles, he often appeared to them, promising victory to some, inviting others to his hall—in both respects the harbinger of good. After death he was placed on the funeral pyre, and burnt with exceeding pomp. His followers believed the higher the smoke ascended the higher would be his place among the gods; and that the more abundant the riches consumed with him the richer he would be in the other world.[54]
From the concurrent testimony of Snorro, Saxo Grammaticus, and the two Eddas, little doubt can be entertained in regard to the true character of Odin. He was evidently a conqueror, a king, a priest, a lawgiver, and an adept in the superstitious practices of his age. Endued with commanding talents and an unmeasured ambition, he was enabled to take advantage of circumstances in a degree seldom attained by mortals. Perceiving the success which attended his views, and the veneration in which his wisdom was held, he did not hesitate to ascribe both to the peculiar favour of the gods, from whom, like most of the Scythian princes, he boasted of his descent. As he was of divine race, why should he not participate in the privileges of divinity? Short, indeed, is the transition from veneration to actual worship; and there can be little doubt that, even in his lifetime, this artful pontiff king had altars smoking in his honour. But it is worthy of remark that he was often regarded as a mortal, not merely in his own age, but in subsequent ages; that the words giants and gods are to be understood of the Jutes and Goths—the former, the original possessors of the soil, the latter, the victorious strangers from Asia—the dominant caste which arrogated to itself the sacerdotal and regal
