Old Norse and Finnish Religions and Cultic Place-Names 9516496954, 9789516496958

Table of contents :
Editorial Note / Carl-Martin Edsman 7
Opening Address at the Symposium on Encounters between Religions in Old Nordic Times and on Cultic Place-Names, arranged by the Donner Institute 19-21 August 1987 9
Old Norse and Finnish Religion
Jens Peter Schjødt / Horizontale und vertikale Achsen in der vorchristlichen skandinavischen Kosmologie 35
Preben Meulengracht Sørensen / Der Runen-Stein von Rök und Snorri Sturluson — oder 'Wie aussagekräftig sind unsere Quellen zur Religionsgeschichte der Wikingerzeit?' 58
Juha Pentikäinen / Child Abandonment as an Indicator of Christianization in the Nordic Countries 72
Unto Salo / Agricola’s Ukko in the light of archaeology. A chronological and interpretative study of ancient Finnish religion 92
Anna-Leena Siikala / Singing of Incantations in Nordic Tradition 191
Jon Hnefill Aðalsteinsson / Opferbeschreibungen in christlichen Schriften 206
Jonas Gíslason / Acceptance of Christianity in Iceland in the Year 1000 (999) 223
Ragnhild Bjerre Finnestad / The Study of the Christianization of the Nordic countries. Some Reflections 256
Ottar Grønvik / Der Runenstein von Tanum — ein religionsgeschichtliches Denkmal aus urnordischer Zeit 273
Else Mundal / The Position of the Individual Gods and Goddesses in Various Types of Sources — with Special Reference to the Female Divinities 294
Gro Steinsland / Pagan Myth in Confrontation with Christianity: 'Skírnismál' and 'Genesis' 316
Marianne Görman / Nordic and Celtic. Religion in Southern Scandinavia during the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age 329
Anders Hultgård / Old Scandinavian and Christian Eschatology 344
Håkan Rydving / Scandinavian-Saami Religious Connections in the History of Research 358
Åke V. Ström / Personal Piety in Nordic Heathenism 374
Cultic Place-Names
Bente Holmberg / Views on Cultic Place-Names in Denmark. A Review of Research 381
John Kousgård Sørensen / The Change of Religion and the Names 394
Mauno Koski / A Finnic Holy Word and its Subsequent History 404
Sven Benson / Einige Personennamen und Götternamen in schwedischen Ortsnamen 441
Stefan Brink / Cult Sites in Northern Sweden 458
Lennart Elmevik / Aschw. 'Lytis-' in Ortsnamen. Ein kultisches Element oder ein profanes? 490

Citation preview

Old Norse and Finnish Religions and Cultic Place-Names

Old Norse and Finnish Religions and Cultic Place-Names B ased

on

Pa p e r s

read

Symposium on Encounters between R eligions O ld Nordic T imes and on C ultic Place-N ames h e l d at Å bo , F i n l a n d , on the 19th —21st o f A ugust 1987

at the in

Edited by TORE AHLBÄCK

Published by T he D onner Institute for R esearch in R eligious and C ultural History Å bo /F inland Distributed by A lmqvist & W iksell International Stockiiolm /S weden

ISSN 0582-3226 ISBN 951-649-695-4 Typesetting by Ann-Mari Dahlström, Åbo, Finland Printed in Finland by KOTEVA, Åbo 1990

Contents

Editorial Note

7

C arl -M artin E dsman

Opening Address at the Symposium on Encounters between Religions in Old Nordic Times and on Cultic Place-Names, arranged by the Donner Institute 19-21 August 1987 O

ld

N orse

and

9

F i n n is h R e l i g i o n

Jens Peter Schjødt

Horizontale und vertikale Achsen in der vorchristlichen skandinavischen Kosmologie

35

Preben M eulengracht Sørensen

Der Runen-Stein von Rök und Snorri Sturluson — oder ‘Wie aussagekräftig sind unsere Quellen zur Religionsgeschichte der Wikingerzeit?’

58

Juha Pentikäinen

Child Abandonment as an Indicator of Christianization in the Nordic Countries

72

U nto Salo

Agricola’s Ukko in the light of archaeology. A chronological and interpretative study of ancient Finnish religion

92

A nna -L eena Siikala

Singing of Incantations in Nordic Tradition

191

Jon Hnefill A ðalsteinsson

Opferbeschreibungen in christlichen Schriften

206

Jonas GÍslason

Acceptance of Christianity in Iceland in the Year 1000 (999)

223

R agnhild Bjerre Finnestad

The Study of the Christianization of the Nordic countries. Some Reflections

256

O ttar G rønvik

Der Runenstein von Tanum— ein religionsgeschichtliches Denkmal aus urnordischer Zeit

273

Else M undal

The Position of the Individual Gods and Goddesses in Various Types of Sources — with Special Reference to the Female Divinities

294

G ro Steinsland

Pagan Myth in Confrontation with Christianity: Skirnismal and Genesis

316

M arianne G örman

Nordic and Celtic. Religion in Southern Scandinavia during the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age

329

A nders Hultgård

Old Scandinavian and ChristianEschatology

344

Håkan Rydving

Scandinavian-Saami Religious Connections in the History of Research

358

Å ke V. Ström

Personal Piety in Nordic Heathenism

374

C u ltic P l a c e - N a m e s

B ente Holmberg

Views on Cultic Place-Names in Denmark A Review of Research

381

John K ousgård Sørensen

The Change of Religion and the Names

394

M auno K oski

A Finnic Holy Word and itsSubsequent History

404

Sven Benson

Einige Personennamen und Götternamen in schwedischen Ortsnamen

441

Stefan B rink

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

458

Lennart Elmevik

Aschw. Lytis- in Ortsnamen. Ein kultisches Element oder ein profanes?

490

Editorial Note

The Donner Institute for Research in Religious and Cultural History organised a symposium in Åbo (Turku), Finland on August 19-21, 1987. The title of the symposium was Encounters between Religions in Old Nordic Times and Cultic Place-Names. It was planned as a continuation to the inventory of Nordic research into old religions in Scandinavia and Finland which began with the Donner Institute's symposium on Saami (Lapp) religion on August 16-18, 1984. It is no secret that Nordic research into the religions of prehistoric Norse times is a neglected field. On the other hand, it is well-known that research in this field is pursued in Europe, the USA and Australia. To remedy this shortcoming the Nordic Cooperation Committee for Humanistic Research set up a joint working group in 1985 to produce a document that might form the basis for long-term efforts to intensify research into Norse religion within the Nordic region. The group completed its report, Innstilling om førkristen nordisk religion (Approach to Pre-Christian Norse Religion) in September 1986. The report pointed out that research into Norse religion should be a matter of the greatest importance for Nordic scholars, Furthermore, it was also stressed that different aspects of the topic are studied in neighbouring disciplines, e.g. philology, archaeology, place-name studies and runology, The Donner Institute's symposium in 1987 therefore constituted a swift reaction to the group's intentions. A parallel theme for the symposium was Cultic Place-Names in the Nordic countries and the symposium was organised jointly with the Nordic Cooperation Committee for Place-Name Studies (NORNA) with Dr Peter Slotte as contact person. It is difficult to imagine a more suitable partner for scholars of the history of religion than philologists engaged in the study of pre-Christian place-names — and vice versa. Peter Slotte observed in his invitation to the symposium that even though place-names form a very important part of the scant sources we have casting light on pre-Christian beliefs and pre-Christian cult in the Nordic region, research into cultic place-names has been neglected for several decades, partly as a result of the hypercritical attitude caused by earlier over-hasty conclusions. This had led to a suppressed

8

Editorial Note

need for research in the field — not only place-name scholars but also neighbouring disciplines awaited the interpretations and views of place-name experts on this much maligned and neglected group of names. The papers read at the symposium have now been published. They bear witness to the extent and direction of Nordic research in this field. Tore Ahlbäck

Opening Address at the Symposium on Encounters between Religions in Old Nordic Times and on Cultic Place-Names, arranged by the Donner Institute 19-21 August 1987.

BY CARL-MARTIN EDSMAN

Ladies and Gentlemen Some of you may wonder why a historian of religions who is not himself a Nordicist should introduce our sessions. This circumstance may illustrate the lack in Scandinavia to-day of specialists in Old Norse religion. Even a non-expert is often obliged to move outside his own field of competence, both in his research and still more in his teaching. Under such circumstances he clearly needs the good written information of reliable handbooks and scholarly works, as well as the oral advice of helpful colleagues. Our symposium is intended to offer both of these possibilities. Irrespective of our different fields of research we are also dependent on common traditions of scholarship and on problems of methodology, A more formal reason for standing here is the fact that I was chairman of the board which once chose the theme of our transactions to-day. In this paper I shall try to consider some questions concerned with bibliography, history of scholarship, methods and special problems, This will be done in connection with a recently published report. The first announcement of this symposium mentions the recommendation of the Nordisk samarbetsnämnd för humanistisk forskning (NOS-H = Nordic Cooperation Committee for Humanistic Research) which in May 1985 nominated a collaboration group, composed of representatives from all the Nordic countries. The task of those appointed was to work out a programme to intensify the meagre research in the field of Old Norse religion in the Scandinavian countries, Under the presidency of the Norwegian historian of religion, Gro Steinsland, from the University of Oslo, the collaboration group presented a document in September 1986 entitled Innstilling om førkristen nordisk religion

10

CARL-MARTIN EDSMAN

(Report on pre-Christian Nordic Religion) (NAF Steinsland et al. 1986). Our symposium may be seen as an unplanned first realisation of these projects. During the 25 years in which the Donner Institute has arranged symposia on the history of religion, including the phenomenology and psychology of religion, we have tried to establish interdisciplinary contacts, We have been more or less successful in these efforts. Thanks to co-operation with Nordiska samarbetskommittén för namnforskning (NORNA = the Nordic Collaboration Committee for Name Research) the Donner Institute has been particularly lucky this time in attracting participants from an important neighbouring discipline. For those of us on the board who planned this symposium years ago it has been most gratifying to meet such a warm response from place-name scholars and Nordicists. As a scholar you may now and then discover that a special subject which interests you somehow seems to be in the air. Studies and themes suddenly appear which supplement, contradict or confirm your own work. When one is planning a dissertation, it is of course necessary to begin with a bibliographic inquiry to decide whether it is worth exploring the subject in question. In our case part of this preparatory work has been carried out by the Nordic Co-operation Committee for Humanistic Research. But, it must be added, time moves fast and the material expands rapidly, Even if the Nordic field seems to be rather limited, at least from a geographical point of view, it is not always easy to follow what happens in different areas. The first inter-disciplinary Conference covering Archaeology, History of Religion, and Nordic Philology and Literature was held in Norway in 1984 (Words 1986). In 1983 and 1984, to take another example, a Seminar on the Conversion of Scandinavia was given at the University of Gothenburg. Swedish, Danish and English historians, literary historians, Nordicists, runologists and archaeologists — with even a participating Soviet scholar — delivered 16 papers on different aspects of the main subject. Among the more specific topics was "The myth of the sacrificial death of King Dómaldi — did there exist a sacral kingship in the North?" This paper was later translated into English (Lönnroth 1986), This seminar was concluded by an international symposium on the conversion of Scandinavia at Kungälv, Sweden, 4-9 August 1985. No papers were read on this occasion. Instead, the ten sessions centred around discussions on specially chosen topics. The summaries with comments and additional observations by the session leaders were pub-

Opening Address

11

lished in the Symposium volume The Christianization of Scandinavia, The three editors have contributed, each with one paper: "Christians and pagans in ninth-century Scandinavia" by Ian Wood from the School of History, University of Leeds, "The process of Scandinavian Christianization in the tenth and eleventh centuries" by Peter Sawyer, and "Scandinavian conversion histories" by Birgit Sawyer, the last two scholars resident in Alingsås, South-Western Sweden, The fourth contribution, which together with the other three, covers the same field as our present programme here in Åbo, is by Pirkko-Liisa LehtosaloHilander from Helsingfors and deals with "The conversion of the Finns in Western Finland" (The Christianization 1987; cf. Boyer 1987). In his critical, even hypercritical, evaluation of Rimbert whose Latin Vita Anskarii is the oldest source for the conversion of the Swedes (sueones), the historian Ian Wood seems to be dependent on or in line with the Swedish Weibullian school. A more positive attitude is taken by Carl Fredrik Hallencreutz, whose field is missionary history, in his comments on the new Swedish translation of Vita Anskarii, where he discusses Rimbert, Sweden, and the encounter of religions (Hallencreutz 1986, 163 ff.). Vita Anskarii is naturally hagiography with a theological interpretation of history, But this circumstance does not preclude the fact that the descriptions of geographical environments, historical events and personal traits or experiences may be correct. Here, as with Old Norse sources, a change to a more positive appreciation is apparently in progress. This also applies to Adam of Bremen, who has likewise recently (Adam av Bremen 1984) been honoured with a modern Swedish translation with commentary. The publication of these two originally Latin documents, the reprints of older or more recent translation of the Poetic Edda (Eddan 1913; Eddan 1957), as well as of Snorri's Edda (Snorres Edda 1958) and handbooks (Ström, F, 1967), might be an indication that at least on a more popular level interest in Old Norse religion is on the increase, At the level of elementary school and in literature for young people the saine phenomenon may be seen, This revival of interest in myths and fairy tales in general is pointed out in the preface of a small, popular textbook, It can be confirmed by an older generation with memories from the first school years immediately after the First World War: "During the post-war period the Old Norse myths and sagas gradually disappeared from school-teaching, where they earlier quite naturally belonged to general education. In later times this has changed" (Eriksson & Svantesson 1984, 4). The demands of the young public were met by reprints of Scandinavian mythology books

12

CARL-MARTIN EDSMAN

from the 1880's, written by such diverse authors as Victor Rydberg, poet, cultural historian and specialist in Germanic religions (Rydberg 1887), and Kata Dalström, the subsequent socialist activist but one time teacher of her own children at home (Dalström 1887; Dalström 1889), In May 1987 I was invited to the top class of a State secondary school in Stockholm for a dialogue on Old Norse mythology. Four years earlier, no less than three different State museums in the same city had organized extremely popular exhibitions on myths, the historical museum with the subtitle "Gods, sacrifices and sagas", Quite recently, the Swedish Board of Education delivered a proposal to the government for chaning the elementary curricula in Swedish literature so as to include "the old fairy tales, legends, myths and fables", This enumeration may suffice to show that our scholarly demands of to-day are founded on a strong popular basis. There are other, more curious ghosts from the past. Under the pseudonym "Falstaff fakir", a Swedish author from the 1890's, Axel Wallengren, wrote highly appreciated burlesques. In one of them he made fun of the Pietists, who because of their Bible reading were called läsare (readers), and invented a then unimaginable society termed asaläsare or asa-readers (Wallengren 1901, 175 ff.), Nowadays this fantasy has become a reality as believers in the Old Norse gods are numbered among the new religious movements in the Nordic countries (Wikström 1982, 89 f,). Even if they consist of small groups, they regularly make a sensation in mass media and have become objects of serious religio-sociological research. In our connexion they deserve attention as they stimulate publishers sensitive to the way the wind blows, with a view to restocking their literature on Old Norse religion, Another point of view in the case of Iceland is that "Asa-believers" there, besides being romantics in search of a more or less artificial national identity, may also be witnesses to the continuity of ancient popular religion. According to statistics from 1974, 30% of adult Icelanders, who are very interested in spiritism, have participated in seances, 18% have experienced ghostly apparitions, and 5% have seen fairies with their own eyes. The same study made it clear that 33% were persuaded or considered it probable that enchanted places existed, 37% were persuaded or considered it probable that female guardian spirits fylgjur existed, and 18% believed in the existence of fairies (Pétursson 1985, 3). To return to the useful and suggestive little volume The Christianization of Scandinavia: its list of references, containing 15 pages, also

Opening Address

13

serves as a select bibliography, It naturally contains, among other things, the critical guide to Old Norse-Icelandic literature (Clover & Lindow 1985) by the Californian medievalists Carol J. Clover and John Lindow, where 47 pages are devoted to comments on books treating pre-Christian mythology. I have not been able to consult Lindow's annotated bibliography of Scandinavian Mythology from 1988 listing 3043 works as it was not published when this paper was prepared (Lindow 1988). Among still current but uncommented surveys of literature with a chronological and regional systematization, where the North is of course represented, Bibliographie zur alteuropäischen Religiongeschichte should be mentioned. The first volume was started by Peter Buchholz (Buchholz 1967), a Germanist and Nordicist from Kiel (now in Pretoria, South Africa), as a preparation for a new, never realized research project, called "The Religious Geography of Pagan Scandinavia". Ile discerns three basic opposing categories in the common handbooks on Nordic or Germanic religion, namely: "1. structure `versus' development and history, 2. common Scandinavian, Germanic or even Indo-European 'versus' regional characteristics, and 3. literature 'versus' real life (a pair which includes the relation of myth and cult, and their function in society)." While admitting that the members of each contrast are not mutually exclusive, he makes his choice: "Of the four aspects of time, place, structure, and function, my project emphasizes geography." There are other statements of his that are directly applicable to our symposium. As for the religious placenames, Magnus Olsen, according to Buchholz, needs complementing, and in Sweden and Denmark a corresponding inventory is still lacking, A research team, to be successful in the Nordic field, ought to consist of "two philologists (one for the names), one archaeologist, one historian, and one folklorist" (Buchholz 1972b), Buchholz's doctoral dissertation from 1968 (Buchholz 1968), of which two abridged chapters were published in English three years later (Buchholz 1971) treated of shamanistic traces in Old Icelandic literature, This thesis has been contested by the French scholar FrançoisXavier Dillmann in his voluminous dissertation on the magicians of Old Iceland, presented at the University of Caen in 1986 but still unprinted (CU Dillmann 1986). One of the crucial texts discussed by both scholars, is the saga of Eirik the Red, Ch. 4 (Buchholz 1986-87, 319 ff.; cf. Boyer & Lot-Falck 1974; Boyer 1986, 189 ff.). Both have published works on runes and on the conception of Odin, and both have contributed relevant bibliographies (Buchholz 1972a; Buchholz 1980, 171 ff.; Dillmann 1975; Dillmann in Durand 1983, 55 ff,). With

14

CARL-MARTIN EDSMAN

special regard to the theme of our symposium, it is worth mentioning that Dillmann started his scholarly career with a still unpublished MA dissertation on the christianization of Sweden according to Chrisian sources, introduced by a French translation of i.a. Vita Anskarii, His methodological orientation has qualified him as probably "Dumezil's closest French follower among younger scholars in the Germanic area" (Clover & Lindow 1985, 46; cf. Dillmann 1979). From 1988 on, lie will occupy a new chair of History and Philology of Ancient and Medieval Scandinavia at the École pratique des Hautes Études in Paris, Speaking of bibliography here in Åbo it is appropriate to mention the inter-Nordic journal Temenos, published by the Finnish Society for the Study of Comparative Religion with professor Lauri Honko as Chairman of the board and Chief Editor. From Vol, 18 (1982) onwards, every second volume contains a general Bibliography of Nordic Research in Comparative Religion compiled at The Donner Institute for Research in Religious and Cultural History at Åbo Akademi. A particular section is reserved there for Old Norse religion. The entries under this title in Vol. 22 (Dahla 1986, 198 f.) confirm the awakening interest in this field. The history of scholarship is important and it has been duly considered in the Innstilling already quoted. Much can be added, especially concerning tendencies, methods and different schools of interpretation. Limited space, of course, explains that some relevant titles are missing, However, in comparison with the other subdivisions, that on Sweden is treated in a rather general way. Helge Ljungberg's Swedish doctoral dissertation from 1938 on Old Norse religion and Christianity, i.e. the conversion of the North, ought to have been mentioned (Ljungberg 1938). It was translated into German and also influenced a corresponding work by the Norwegian Georg Sverdrup (Sverdrup 1942). Much later (Ljungberg 1980) it was followed up by its author with a more popular work founded on broadcast lectures. By the way, the author, a historian and psychologist of religion, was elected bishop of Stockholm and devoted 22 pages of his pastoral letter to the history of religions including Old Norse magic, belief in gods and in fate (Ljungberg 1954, 11 ff.). The encounter between the indigenous religion of the North and Christianity was also the subject of the Olaus Petri Lectures at the University of Uppsala in the spring of 1941, delivered by the Norwegian historian of medieval literature, Fredrik Paasche, and posthumously published as late as 1958 (Paasche 1958) by his Swedish friend, Dag Strömbäck. He was in his turn two years afterwards invited by the same foundation to lecture on the conversion

Opening Address

15

of Iceland, and a book with the same title appeared in English with 15 years' delay (Strömbäck 1975). In the meantime, Strömbäck guided the first steps of a young Icelander who worked on the same subject, published his work in his own language in 1971, revised it completely, and presented it as a dissertation in Uppsala (Aôalsteinsson1978), In the Norwegian survey I miss, among other things, the two voluminous and suggestive studies by Emil Birkeli on ancestor cult in Norway. Inspired by his long stay as a Christian missionary in Madagascar, where this kind of religion plays a dominant role, he discovered the same phenomenon in the North with the help of ancient literary preChristian sources and more recent folklore material. Both the doctoral dissertation of 1938 and the work which followed in 1944, also dealing with eschatology in older and younger traditions, have been printed in the Transactions of the Norwegian Academy of Sciences in Oslo, a certain guarantee of their scholarly merit (Birkeli 1938; Birkeli 1944). Even if Saami religion has recently been the topic of no less than two symposia, one in Stockholm and the other in Åbo, with their own publications (Saami Pre-Christian Religion 1985; Saami Religion 1987), this adjacent field is mentioned in the Swedish contribution to the Innstilling, but not in the other ones. Some inquiry from the University of Trondheim: "What can we put into the hands of our students, when they want brief information on the religion of the Saamis?" My answer was: "Such an introduction has been provided by the Norwegian, Adolf Steen, in his study programmes (Steen 1967-69), which have been printed in your own city." I repeat his name here in view of the fact that the general title of the symposium was formulated with special regard to Saami religion. Another Norwegian work, not mentioned in the Instilling but certainly worthy of attention, is vol. 2 of a handbook on the history of Norway written by Per Sveaas Andersen. Here he discusses the unification and christianization of Norway during the period 800-1130. His presentation of sources and history of research can serve as a model for corresponding studies in the other Nordic countries, The founder of the Norwegian historical school at the beginning of the nineteenth century, Rudolf Keyser, is given his due in the history of his time, The debate between Edvard Bull and Fredrik Paasche during the years 1912-1915 is reported. The former thought it probable that for the common people the change was only a superficial one, whereas the latter was convinced that the christianization resulted in a quite new attitude to life (Andersen 1977, 191 ff.). The present holder of the chair of Religion at the University of

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CARL-MARTIN EDSMAN

Bergen, Anders Hultgård, whose main works deal with documents of ancient Judaism, has more recently directed his attention towards Old Norse religion as represented in runic texts (Hultgård 1982). In the same yearbook of Nathan Söderblom-Sällskapet his former colleague in Uppsala, Carl Fredrik Hallencreutz, also engaged in preparation (Hallencreutz 1984) and editing of the Swedish translation of Adam of Bremen, has studied the Christian rune stones as monuments of the first indigenous theology (Hallencreutz 1982). Neither of them is a runologist or a Nordicist, but they illustrate the fact that the study of the encounter of religions, comprising the expansion of Christianity, is at home in another, important branch of research, namely Church history (cf. Estborn 1929; Wehner 1981). Very properly, the Innstilling mentions Fritjov Birkeli in Norway, and Hallencreutz in his paper does justice to the late Emanuel Linderholm in Sweden. From the very beginning of this century until his death in 1937, this church historian, liberal theologian and reformer in Uppsala probably devoted most of his time to the problem of the christianization of Sweden and popular magic, religion, and mysticism, His contributions to the conversion of his country were organized according to regions and founded on all conceivable sources, such as literary material, place-names, runes and Church monuments, They remained, however, a large incomplete torso, which must be reconstructed from lectures, papers and a number of unpublished variants in the archives (UUB Linderholm 62-65). In a private, oral examination an undergraduate must be prepared for questions from his teacher according to the principle of "what the heart thinketh, the tongue speaketh". This was certainly the case with Linderholm, In such a situation in 1934 I had to translate a chapter from Vita Anskarii. Apparently it was a contribution to the volume in honour of Nathan Söderblom in 1926, regarding Ansgar's way to Birka, and the printed jubilee lecture on Ansgar from 1930 which directed the questions of the examiner in 1934. Linderholm returned many times to the rune-stones, for instance in a printed statement from a session of the Chapter of Uppsala in 1933, where he was speaking on Bishop Osmund, sent out from England, and called by Linderholm "apostle of Uppland", and identified with the rune-carver Asmund Kareson: "My own studies on the christianization of Sweden, based on the Christian rune-stones from the eleventh century, have led to the general conclusion, that our people was christianized both earlier and more widely than has been hitherto believed [,., ]. The 'emigration' at that time resulted in the same religious change as in the nineteenth century, when our emigrants to America

Opening Address

17

started missions in their old homeland as baptists, methodists, etc." (Linderholm 1934, 330 f.; cf. Jarlert 1987, 145), In his bitter and self-centered retirement lecture in 1937 Linderholm prophesied that an orthodox darkness would fall over the country for 40 years after he had left his chair. His library went to Åbo, where, together with the Uppsala archives, it throws light on the work of a man who really deserves attention in connexion with our symposium. A conclusion contrary to that of Linderholm was drawn 25 years later by an English historian, even if his opinion bears upon the early ninth century: "Christian war-prisoners, Christian merchants from Frisia and Christian Swedes who had been converted abroad when serving as traders or as mercenaries could all alike be found in substantial numbers in southern Sweden; and yet their combined influence, together with the strenuous and sustrained efforts of Ansgar and Rimbert, made little impression on the paganism of the country" (Thompson 1963, 62). Since encounters between religions are considered as part of Church history, Germanic religion — including its Nordic branch — is dealt with in theological encyclopedias and related dictionaries, e,g. the huge Theologische Realenzyklopädie with the new-written articles "Germanenmission, arianische" (Schäferdiek 1984a), "Germanische Religion" (Ebenbauer 1984) and "Germanisierung des Christentums" (Schäferdiek 1984b). Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, too, contains a detailed description of "Germanenmission" (Schäferdiek 1978). It goes without saying that the second, much enlarged edition of Reallexikon der Germanischen Altertumskunde pays attention to our subject, which is treated in considerable detail by well-qualified contributors under "Bekehrung und Bekehrungsgeschichte" (Gschwantler Schäferdiek 1976), and "Christentum der Bekehrungszeit" ( Salc,G1he9fo8ärm).tWn-idwkg we can rely on the latest, more succinct contribution to this general theme by Edgar C. Polomé in The Encyclopedia of Religion (Polomé 1987). The same author has written the chapter on Germanic religious conceptions in Germanenprobleme in heutiger Sicht, a supplementary volume to Reallexikon (Polomé 1986). These short remarks are intended as a kind of supplement to the handbooks of Germanic religion, the last of which appeared in 1981 (Boyer 1981; cf. Boyer & Lot-Falck 1974), thus adding a Frenchwritten work to an originally German-dominated branch (more recently Vries 1956-57, [reprint 1970]; Ström, Å.V. 1975; cf. Tveitane 1979) with some more or less important English exceptions (Turville-

18

CARL-MARTIN EDSMAN

Petre 1964, [reprint 1973]; Davidson 1964). Another reason for citing articles on the older contacts between Christian missionaries and Germanic peoples is that the theological interpretations of pagan religons are determined by the Bible and the attitudes of the Old Church in the environment of Late Antiquity. These different evaluations with their resultant influence on the practical actions of the Church were revived in medieval times, and they have been rediscovered by Nordicists, even though these scholars are not acquainted with exegetic or patristic scholarship, An Indologist like Paul Hacker and a classical philologist like Christer Gnilka have revealed the laws governing christianization in modern India as well as that in the Roman Empire. The process in Late Antiquity has served as a model for the encounter between religions in other regions and in later times, notwithstanding self-evident local variants (Gnilka 1984). In the pre-Christian North, for instance, there existed no philosophy comparable with the classical one. Summarizing an older work on Christian approaches to Germanic paganism (Schomerus 1936), the Swedish literary historian, Lars Lönnroth, who has treated the conversion period in the North in many papers, writes as follows (we omit the examples illustrating the separate, not mutually exclusive attitudes): According to Schomerus, there were on the whole three different ways in which paganism was treated by Christian authors. One way was to picture the heathens as dupes of the Devil or of evil demons, posturing as gods and inducing them to worship their powerless idols [...] A second interpretation was the Euhemeristic one, according to which the pagan gods were actually men, whose wordly exploits had become so glorified that they had finally received the official hallmark of apotheoses [...] Finally, there was the idea that paganism was really a sort of imperfect Christianity, derived from the natural instincts of the human heart and from primitive observations of nature (Lönnroth 1969, 4 f).

The creation as testimony for the Creator is an ancient biblical and patristic idea which Lönnroth and earlier Walter Baetke quite correctly find reoccurring in the Preface to the Prose Edda. The Norsemen are thus recognized as participants of the true Revelation, adherents to Natural religion (cf. Rom 1-2) or in reality worshipping an "Unknown God" (Acts 17). As we shall see in the following it has also been possible to apply a typological interpretation to Old Norse sacrifices, which parallel Old Testament ones, thus prefiguring the true sacrifice of Christ which cancels all of them, The historical argument which the

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Church fathers utilized to explain striking similarities between biblical and classical traditions — Moses is older than Plato — comes back in the North in another connexion, Comparing similar ceremonies in ancient Israel and in Lapland, the Scandinavian clergymen of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries resorted to the legend of the Lost tribes of Israel and declared the Lapps (now: Saamis) to be descendants of the Children of Israel. Snorri's prologue to his Edda has attracted the interest of many scholars, The English research team of Ursula and Peter Dronke, the former a Germanist at Oxford, the latter a Latinist at Cambridge have investigated "to what extent Snorri could have been influenced by twelfth-century Latin thought, as against Patristic thought". According to the Dronkes there is a greater tolerance of pagan myth among the leaders of the French cultural renaissance and their Icelandic followers than in the writings of the Church fathers (Dronke & Dronke 1977, 168 f.). Contrary to and independent of his countrymen, A. Faulkes insists that in spite of influence from the subtle doctors of "Paris and Chartres like Alain de Lille, Bernard of Chartres, or even Abelard, though it is not so unlike Peter Comestor" Snorri is "reminiscent of earlier writers like Augustine, Bede, Isidore, or Ælfric" (Faulkes 1983, 306), It appears to be a question of nuances, since we have an unbroken tradition of both positive, negative, and neutral Christian interpretations of the classical religious heritage since the beginning of Christianity. The search for sources does not entail an atomization or reduction of Old Norse religion as in the case of older methods of literary history. The point is that there is "a general tendency to accept the Old Norse texts as literature in its own right" (Endow & Lönnroth & Weber 1986, 7). But there are, e,g, in Heimskringla, "intertextual layers, not always easy to disentangle. In this respect they are the ideal objects of poststructuralist 'deconstruction" (Lönnroth 1986, 93). Those who are accustomed to working with biblical source criticism can feel fairly at home, even if to some extent they use other terms. So far we have exclusively followed one main trend in the study of Old Norse religion, where interest is concentrated on its superstrata of Christian ideas. Among other trends we shall now only consider the one which connects myths and cults of the North with Indo-European religion. If we trace this influence or rather common heritage to the bottom layer of complicated religious traditions, this seemingly opposite orientation does not quite exclude the first one. Such an attempt to reconcile different interpretations does not, however, simplify the

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actual situation of Nordic research. The history of that discipline invites reflection and humility, but it also tends to foster relativism and genuine despair over the possibility of reaching firm ground, since the source conditions of Old Norse religion are so awkward. One general theory or hypothesis succeeds another, the gaps are filled up with material from very different quarters, and bridges are built with material from other disciplines. When personal academic contacts could be reestablished after the isolation caused by the Second World War, the University of Lund in southern Sweden, where the present author lived at the end of the 1940's, was visited by two outstanding scholars. One was the Germanist Walter Baetke from Leipzig; the other was the comparative philologist Georges Dumézil from Paris, both historians of religion. At the interval of a few weeks, they lectured on the same subject, namely Snorri as a source for our knowledge of Old Norse religion. Their conclusion were diametrically opposed. To Baetke the source value was very limited since, according to him, the mythological material was embedded in Christian medieval philosophy of history (cf. Baetke 1950; Baetke 1951). To Dumézil, however, Snorri, if correctly interpreted in the light of Old Indian documents, could provide us with very valuable insights into Old Norse myth and religion (cf, Dumézil 1948, 81 ff.; Dumézil 1973, XXVIII, 131), terms which, by the way, are sometimes still used as synonyms, although the former represents only one aspect of religion. In spite of considerable criticism Dumézil has exercised an enormous influence all over the world. Leading handbooks on Old Norse religion demonstrate a positive attitude towards him (Turville-Petre 1964), or alternatively are more (Ström, Å.V. 1975) or less (Vries 1956-57) dominated by him. In Sweden the Iranologist Stig Wikander was his spokesman and personal friend, and these two scholars were to a certain extent a mutual inspiration, As a matter of fact, it was in Uppsala that Dumézil, who was University lecturer in French 1931-33, realized during a series of lectures in 1938 that his sociological method was applicable over the whole Indo-European field. According to Dumézil, the threefold structure of society corresponds to the same partition of the pantheons. But in contrast to the older French sociological school, e.g. Durkheim, he does not mention any priority, i.e. that the heavenly world is a projection of the earthly one. Applied to the old Germanic pantheon, the model signifies that Odin represents the ultimate sovereignty, Thor is the incarnation of the warrior stratum, whereas Freyr stands for herdsmen and cultivators. These ideas were

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first published in Dumézil's little book on the Germanic gods (Dumézil 1939), re-written 1959 (Dumézil 1959). By the way, a warning should be given against the first edition of the Swedish translation of 1962 by Åke Ohlmarks, a very productive, sometimes ingenious, but also rather careless Nordicist (Dumézil 1959). A good and exhaustive history of the study of "Indo-European religions" including Dumézil's new comparative mythology is contained in The Encyclopedia of Religion (Littleton 1987a; cf. Charachidzé 1987), where Wikander also received one of the very few biographies (Littleton 1987b), Both these articles were written by C. Scott Littleton, one of Dumézil's American disciples. Stimulated by Strömbäck and his remarks on an earlier paper of mine dealing with the idea of "Arbor inversa" (Edsman 1966; in Swedish 1944) I considered, in the late 1940's, the motive of Yggdrasill in the second strophe of Vgluspd, After philological scrutiny by two Nordicists, it was published in Arkiv för Nordisk Filologi. Suffice it to quote the title which well demonstrates how the same text can be interpreted in amazingly different ways: "Does V91. 2 :5-8 reflect a shamanistic ritual or a celtic age-verse?" In the first case the poem is associated with North-European, Siberian, and Inner Asian rites; in the second case an influence from Irish monasteries can be assumed. A third possibility is that the vglva has a cosmogonic vision in which she sees the birth of the world-tree. She remembers the nine worlds of that tree and what is contained in them when it is still (as a germ) beneath the ground (Edsman 1949; cf, Steinsland 1979, 120 ff; Boyer 1983, 120; Schach 1983, 89; Buchholz 1984-85, 436). From the point of view of philology, literary history and history of religions, the different traditions of Balder contain a number of problems. What is the real meaning of the many difficult and ambiguous expressions in the varying texts? Which story tradition is the original one, and how did the various readings arise? Do the myths of Balder represent real, living religion, or are they rather the free creations of poets, comparable with the epics of Homer? Or in other words: did a real cult of Balder exist? The sun god Balder, the vegetation demon Balder, the Iranian light god Ohrmuzd, the Middle Eastern suffering god Tammuz, the disguised Christ whose side, according to the medieval legend, is pierced by the lance of the blind Longinus, the hero of the old Finnish runes, Lemminkäinen who is killed by an arrow from an old herdsman, the beautiful Ossetic (Caucasian) champion Soslan or Sosryko who is struck down by a malicious, rolling wheel, the Greek twin-Gods -Dioskouroi who

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alternate between heaven and hell — all these mythical figures have, through the efforts of scholarship wandered over glittering bridges of airy construction to the Hel of abandoned theories (Dumézil 1948, 149 ff., 209 ff., 227 ff.), There are few rituals which have not been glimpsed at the scene of Balder's death, from West European bonfires to Athenian bull sacrifices, Old Norse sword dances and Siberian bear ceremonies. Comparative religion has elucidated much, but it has not been able to give a definite answer to all questions. Nor do philological analysis — Balder probably means 'the Lord' and Höo evidently 'warlike' — , place-name research, archaeology and folklore give the figure of Balder any sharper contour. To be sure, the late Friopjofs Saga gives a description of the cult of Balder which in 1825 recurs in the well-known poem of the same name written by Esaias Tegnér, the Swedish romantic poet, classical scholar and bishop. The historicity of his prototype, Friopjof, however, is contested (Edsman 1951, 860). "Only Barbarism was once native" wrote the same poet, clearly aware of the continental origin of the Nordic cultural heritage. When so much of magic, too, is revealed as gesunkenes Kulturgut, one is almost inclined to think that barbarism, too — if this term might be applied to magic — has been native for only a short period. As Swedes, we are often asked by foreigners whether our folklore has not retained something of the pre-Christian, Nordic religion of the Viking age. Because of the source conditions, we are unfortunately forced to answer that the establishment of such a connection is a very intricate task (cf. Olrik & Ellekilde 1926-51; Kellerman 1958; Motz 1984), It is almost impossible to break through the thick wall of medieval, Roman Catholic popular religion. This means that we are nearly always led back to the European continent with its Christian or christianized folk traditions. We can often ascertain the manner of the continental influence. A good deal of Old Swedish literature consists of translations from Latin, German or Danish. These works contain here and there specimens of folk religion from abroad. If we closely compare the originals with the Old Swedish versions it is, in favourable circumstances, possible to trace some indigenous conceptions. This is the case when we examine the Low German edifying tract, Seelentrost, from the 14th century and its Old Swedish translation a hundred years later. A section on folk beliefs, including good fairies and fate, belongs to the interpretation of the first Commandment. It is obvious that the Swedish text has been expanded compared with the German one, and contains additional

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matter. Thus the Low German words guden holden, beteren, clue, guden wichteken and spoknisse (Der grosse Seelentrost 1959, 16) are rendered with tompta gudha, waetter, nek aeller forsa karla, skratta eller tompt orma, maro eller elfwa and spook eller willo (Siælinna thrøst 1954, 23), The Old Swedish literature, however, does not lack original material, e.g. the Revelationes of St. Bridget from the middle of the 14th century. These were dictated in her mother tongue, edited in Latin and retranslated into Old Swedish. The Saint reproaches those who "venerate tompta (penates) and do not go to church". She strongly admonishes wrongdoers: "Give up the snakes, to whom you put out milk, and do not give the tompta gudhom my tithe of your cattle and swine, nor of bread or [..,] of other things, Do not say that fortune or fate determines or does that or that but believe that God allowed it to occur so" (Birgitta 1861, VI, 78). Much of medieval Nordic folklore is contained in historia de gentibus septentrionalibus published in Rome in 1555 by the exiled Swedish archbishop Olaus Magnus, As is shown by the excellent commentary of Johan Granlund added to the modern translation into Swedish, the author has used a great amount of comparative material from classical and medieval sources. Thus it is here again important to distinguish between general European and indigenous Nordic traditions (Edsman 1961, 441 f.; Edsman 1971, 158 f.). It is quite natural to ask oneself, as does the Sorbonne professor of Scandinavian Philology and Civilization, Régis Boyer, how to treat such a subject as Old Norse religion, We find ourselves there in a culture which neither possesses a word for religion, but only 'custom' (sicIr), nor any original expressions for 'belief' or 'believe' (trú and trúa are loan-words), Similarly terms for 'venerate' and 'pray' are lacking (biója only means 'beg', 'ask for'). It is, moreover, a paganism which does not know of any dogmas and where priests and temples are explicitly mentioned only in later times, And what is the reality behind such designations as "Nordic" or "Germanic"? At the same time, we have a comprehensive documentation from both a chronological and a geographical point of view. It extends from prehistoric times — ca 10000 B.C. — to the thirteenth century A.D., and covers a space from the Black Sea to Greenland, from Northern Eurasia to Spain. Under these circumstances we must reckon with a great many different influences from other cultures and religions: analogies, loans, imitations or distorted pictures Almost without exception, these sources consist, on the one hand, of runes, rock-carvings,

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and other archeological remains, not all of them easily accessible; and on the other hand, of literary documents which are tendentious and make subjective evaluations. To bring order into that variegated world scholars have used many different methods which, according to the short summary by Boyer, are as follows: 1. Linguistic-etymological, nowadays represented by Dumézil, and in the seventeenth century by the Swedish polyhistor Olof Rudbeck. 2. Psychological, where it remains unclear whether Boyer — who only mentions the sagas as unreliable sources — has the famous Dane, Vilhelm Grønbech, in mind, or whether he is perhaps alluding to the modern French mentality school. 3. Symbolic, e,g. the duel between Thor and the giant Hrungnir interpreted by Dumézil as a rite de passage. Boyer, however, admits that this method very often results in arbitrariness, 4. Historical, according to Boyer the only sure approach. Diachrony is here indispensable whereas synchrony becomes possible ever since the Viking age. In different periods there are anyhow certain constants that reappear, themes or structures that can be traced backwards in time. These include cosmic phenomena such as the sun, water, and earth which ought to be conceived of in a natural or concrete way, not to be psychoanalyzed or explained from a sociological point of view. In his combination of historical and systematic methods Boyer explicitly follows Mircea Eliade, who speaks of cosmic hierophanies, manifestations of the sacred, and F. Ström (Boyer 1981, 7 ff., 38 ff.). Let us leave this more general discussion of methods and consider some concrete examples of documentation and interpretation, to counterbalance the feeling of despair or lurking scepticism, Empirical discoveries can resolve the conflict between opposite views. The three figures on the well-known tapestry from Skog, a parish in Northern Sweden, and dated to the thirteenth century, have been identified as Odin, Thor and Freyr, but also with the Magi. A closer examination of the original indicates that the figure postulated as Odin is not actually one-eyed. There are traces of a woollen thread which has marked the other eye, as Karl Hauck has demonstrated in Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde (Hauck 1976, 586). As a consequence of this observation, the pagan interpretation which has dominated modern scholarly and popular descriptions has been definitely eliminated. Unlike archaelogical monuments, literary sources speak for themselves and can generally be fixed in place and time, attributed to a certain author, and analyzed according to intentions and tendencies, They deal with real events even if those may be conceived of and

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interpreted in different ways. Later on during this symposium a paper will be read on descriptions of blót in Icelandic sources. Here I only intend to take up an oft quoted Norwegian document, its historical background and its interpretatio christiana. This term, by the way, does not mean demonization of a pagan rite, as it has sometimes been understood (cf. Schomerus 1936, 72 ff., quoting Achterberg; Schäferdiek 1987, 25), but is equal to praeparatio evangelica, a heathen prefiguration of a Christian idea or ceremony (correctly Weber 1981, 475, 478). There are three Norwegian jarls of Lade in Trøndelag, father, son, and grandson, who each in turn furthered blót, The first, Jarl Hákon, was contemporary with king Harald Fairhair who united Norway, according to traditional chronology in 872 but presumably about fifteen years later, and whose wives included a daughter of Hákon. The king sent his youngest son with Tora Mosterstangs, Hákon, to be brought up in England at the court of king Æthelstan. There the Norwegian prince, then called Hákon Adalsteins fostri, received a Christian education. After the death of king Harald Fairhair at the beginning of the 930's, Hákon returned to his home country where the next jarl of Lade, Sigurd, had him elected king. Jarl Sigurd, himself pagan but loyal to his Christian king, used all his skill to settle the discords that arose repeatedly between his overlord and the farmers who were devoted to their ancient religion (Andersen 1977, 91 ff.; Sawyer 1987, 70 f.). In ch. 14 of the Saga of Hákon the Good, another name of the Christian king, Snorri gives us a detailed description of the heathen Yule celebrations at the middle of the tenth century. This saga is contained in Heimskringla, dated about 1230. There are slightly differing translations and I choose the one which is easiest to understand for a non-expert: It was ancient custom that when sacrifice was to be made, all farmers were to come to the heathen temple and bring along with them the food they needed while the feast lasted. At this feast all were to take part in the drinking of ale. Also all kinds of livestock were killed in connection with it, horses also; and all the blood from them was called hlaut [sacrificial blood], and hlautbolli, the vessel holding that blood; and hlautteinar, the sacrificial twigs [aspergills]. These were fashioned like sprinklers, and with them were to be smeared all over with blood the pedestals of the idols and also the walls of the temple within and without; and likewise the men present were to be sprinkled with blood. But the meat of the animals was to be boiled and to serve as food at the banquet. Fires were to be lighted in the middle of the

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temple floor, and kettles hung over them. The sacrificial beaker was to be borne around the fire, and he who made the feast and was chieftain, was to bless the beaker as well as all the sacrificial meat. Óthin's toast was to be drunk first — that was for victory and power to the king — then Njorth's and Frey's, for good harvests and for peace. Following that many used to drink a beaker to the king. Men drank toasts also in memory of departed kinsfolk — that was called minni [memorial toast]. (Snorri 1964, 107; cf. Aôalsteinsson 1985, 24).

Compare this Old Norse sacrifice with a similar ceremony in ancient Israel. On the Day of Atonement the high priest Aaron according to Lev. 16 :12-19 — I take the text as it was read by medieval man without any critical analysis — enters the Holy of holies with incense and the blood of the slain bull. He takes sorne of the blood and sprinkles it once on the "mercy seat", the cover of the Ark, and seven times on its front. This sin-offering for himself and his household is repeated for the people with a goat as sacrificial animal and with the sprinkling of blood, Also the Tabernacle containing the Ark is sprinkled as is the altar of burnt offering outside. In the typological interpretation of Hebr, 9 these rites prefigure the sacrifice of Christ once and for all. In this connexion Ex. 24 :8 is quoted where Moses sprinkles blood on the people. We may ask ourselves whether the striking similarities between Old Norse blót ceremonies and the sacrificial rites of ancient Israel are accidental. Or have the biblical texts perhaps influenced Snorri in his description of the heathen Yule celebrations in the Trondheim district? Or are there certain common traits which characterize sacrifices all over the world? Having made this comparison and these reflections as an outsider, I received — thanks to the participants of the Åbo symposium — a recently published monograph on the sacrificial feast at Lade. The author claims that the story is based neither on oral nor on written tradition. It consists of an interpolation, inspired by the blood rites of the Old Testament and introduced to prepare the coming conflict between Hákon the Good and the farmers of Trøndelag over sacrificial meat and drink. Further, Christian minni drinking has been projected into pre-Christian time. This does not mean that Old Norse sacrifices and temple ceremonies did not exist. Snorri, however, tried to bridge the gap between paganism and Christendom by idealizing the former or giving it an interpretatio christiana, or by discovering a Natural religion in his ancestors' pre-Christian belief (Duvel 1985, 119 ff.), This

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is in perfect conformity with the general tendencies of interpretation noticed above and with a statement which directly concerns our text and comes from another part of the world: "For example, a closer look at authorial intentions will differentiate between Heimskrngla' medieval Christian perspective on its subject (Scandinavian history and prehistory) and those perspectives as are embodied in its subjectmatter — Snorri's sources themselves" (Lindow & Lönnroth & Weber 1986, 10). Among these oral and written sources, scaldic poems, although composed in the period of Christianization, can reflect pre-Christian attituedes ( The discussions 1987, 18). Jarl Sigurd's son, who derived his name from his grandfather, Jarl Hákon, was an eager blót-man, Many verses dedicated to him by different scalds (Ström, P. 1981) glorify his bravery, manifested for instance in the victory over the Jóms-vikings, The poets also praise Hákons fidelity to his hereditary religion. In Einar Helgason Skálaglamm's Vellekla (lack of gold) from the beginning of the 970's the re-establishment of the ancestral temples, the return of the ancient gods, and the flourishing of the country, which is a consequence of the restauration, is described in the following way. The two modern translations illustrate the difficulties of interpretation, differences of transcriptions and methods of introducing an old text. At the same time they complement and explain each other: 15. Holy fanes and homes of hallowed godheads, known to all, but wrecked and ravaged, raised the wise lord forthwith: over all the seas, toward etin-pathways, armed for combat, came the warrior: keep the gods him ever!

The wise man at once allowed the men of kórr to uphold the plundered temple lands and shrines of the gods well known to the people; and then the god of the fence of the spears (i.e. the warrior) carried the wolf of slaughter (i.e. the sword) over the mountains and all the sea — the gods guide that man.

16. And the gracious godheads go back to their olden

And the sons of the Æsir (i.e. the gods), needful to men, return to the sacrifices; the mighty tender of the red board of the meeting of Hlgkk (i.e. Hákon) wins fame by such a thing. Now the soil flourishes as before — again the destroyer of the wealth of the spear-bridge allows the merry messengers of the gods to inhabit the temples. (Turville-Petre 1976, 60 ff.)

sacrifices; such is seemly in a chieftain. Increase gives the earth as erstwhile, since the generous lord lets flock the folk, all fearless, to their worship. (The Skalds 1945, 107 f.)

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In Old Norse religion there are testimonies of personal piety, although one would hardly expect such an attitude among the rough Vikings. This subject, too, will be treated later on in our symposium, so I confine myself to one single example, although a renowned one, the famous Sonatorrek (the sons' wreck or the irreparable loss of the sons) by Egil Skallagrímsson composed about 960. "Nowhere is this burning love for (Minn expressed more clearly than it is in the Sonatorrek, in which Egill rebukes his 'patron', who has deserted him and deprived him of his sons" (Turville-Petre 1972, 9; Turville-Petre 1976, 24 ff.,), The background of the poem is given in Egil's Saga (ch. 78). The second son of the old Viking, Gunnar, was snatched from him by a fever, and soon afterwards the eldest brother, Bodvar, a youth of about seventeen, was drowned. The father in his grief was prepared to starve himself to death but was skilfully prevented by his daughter, who then urged him to compose a funeral poem. To start with, Egil complains that it is not easy to make use of Odin's gift, the mead of poetry. He has just buried Bodvar at Naustness, and this son is not his only loss. The goddess of the sea, Ran, has smitten him severely. Could he fight with sword against her husband, the god of the sea, Ægir, Egil would meet him as a foe, but as the old warrior he now is, he is doomed to helplessness, Odin himself lias betrayed him, even if the poet is not deprived of his skill of poetry, Odin's noblest gift, With the help of many kennings this is expressed in the following way: 21. This I remember yet, when the friend of the Gautar raised up the ash-tree of my race which grew from me and the family branch of my wife into the world of gods.

23. I do not sacrifice to the brother of Vilir, the guardian of gods, because I am eager to do so; and yet the friend of Mímr has given me recompense for my harms if I count better.

22. I was on good terms with the lord of the spear, I grew trustful, believing in him, until the friend of chariots (?), the prince of victory, broke friendship with me.

24. The enemy of the wolf, accustomed to battle, gave me that skill devoid of faults, and such a spirit that I made certain enemies out of

tricksters.

25. Now it goes hard with me: the sister... of Tveggi's enemy stands on the headland; but yet happy, in good heart and fearless, I shall await the goddess Hel. (Turville-Petre 1976, 39 ff.; cf. The Skalds 1945, 96 ff.)

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It has not been possible to do more than take a few steps into the vast field of Old Norse religion, hinting at the history of research and a discussion of methods, and giving some illustratory examples of different kinds of sources, May this introductory lecture do service, anyhow, as a challenge to the many specialists who have gathered for our symposium.

Bibliography UNPUBLISHED SOURCES AND LITERATURE

Caen CU L'université de Caen Dillmann, Fr.-X. 1986. Les magiciens dans l'Islande ancienne, Etudes sur la représantation de la magie islandaise et de ses agents dans les sources littéraires norroises. Thèse pour l'obtention du Doctorat d'Etat. Caen. Oslo NAF Norges Allmennvitenskapelige Forskningsråd Steinsland, G. et al. 1986. Innstilling om førkristen nordisk religion. (Nordisk Samarbeidsnemnd for Humanistisk Forskning NOS-H.) Oslo. Uppsala UUB Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek Linderholm, E. 62 fol. C 7-13. Heden kultur och religion i Sverige. Ansgar. 63 fol. C 14-19. Sveriges kristning. 64 fol. C 20. Sveriges kristning. Runstenar. 65 fol. C 21. Sveriges kristning. Runstenar. PUBLISHED SOURCES AND LITERATURE

Aôalsteinsson, J. H. 1978. Under the cloak. Uppsala. — 1985. Blót and Ding. Temenos 21. Turku. Adam av Bremen. 1984. Historien om Hamburgstiftet och dess biskopar.

Stockholm. Andersen, P. S. 1977. Samlingen av Norge og kristningen av Landet 8001130. (Handbok i Norges historie 2.) Oslo. Baetke, W. 1950. Die Götterlehre der Snorra-Edda. (Berichte über die Verhandl. der Sächs. Akad. der Wiss. zu Leipzig. Philol.-Hist. Klasse 97, 3.) Berlin. — 1951. Christliches Lehngut in der Sagareligion. (Berichte über die Verhandl. der Sächs. Akad. der Wiss. zu Leipzig. Philol.-Hist. Klasse 98, 6.) Berlin.

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Birgitta, Hel. 1861. Uppenbarelser 6-8. [Ed. by] G. E. Klemming. (Samlingar utg. af Svenska Fornskrift-Sällskapet 14, 3.) Stockholm. Birkeli, E. 1938. Fedrekult i Norge, (Skrifter utg. av Det Norske VidenskapsAkademi i Oslo. Hist.-filos. klasse 1938, 5.) Oslo. - 1944. Huskult og hinsidighetstro. (Skrifter utg. av Det Norske VidenskapsAkademi i Oslo. Hist.-filos. klasse 1943, 1.) Oslo. Boyer R. 1981. La religion des anciens Scandinaves, Paris. - 1983. On the composition of Voluspá. Edda. Ed. by R. J. Glendinning & C. Bessason. (The University of Manitoba Icelandic Studies 4.) Winnipeg. - 1986. Le monde du double. Paris. - 1987. Le Christ des barbares. Paris. Boyer, R. & Lot-Falck, E. 1974. Les religions de l'Europe du Nord. Paris. Buchholz, P. 1967. Bibliographie zur alteuropäischen Religionsgeschichte 19541964. (Arbeiten zur Frühmittelalterforschung 2.) Berlin. [Continued by J. Ahrendts & W. Flüchtler until 1975.] 1968. Schamanistische Züge in der altisländischen Überlieferung. Münster. - 1971. Schamanism - the testimony of old Icelandic literary tradition. Mediaeval Scandinavia 4. Odense. - 1972a. A bibliographical introduction to Mediaeval Scandinavia. Bibliography of Old Norse-Icelandic studies 1971. Ed. by H. Bekker-Nielsen. Copenhagen. - 1972b. The religious geography of pagan Scandinavia. Mediaeval Scandinavia 5. Odense. 1980. Vorzeitkunde. (Skandinavistische Studien 15.) Neumünster. 1984-85. Odin: Celtic and Siberian affinities of a Germanic deity. The Mankind Quarterly 25. Washington, DC. - 1986-87. The devils deceptions: Pagan Scandinavian witchcraft and wizardry in Medieval Christian perspective. The Mankind Quarterly 27. Washington, DC. Charachidzé, G. 1987. La Mémoire indo-européenne du Caucase. Paris. The Christianization of Scandinavia. 1987. Ed. by B. Sawyer & P. Sawyer & I. Wood. Alingsås. Clover, C. J. & Lindow, J. 1985. Old Norse-Icelandic literature: A critical guide. (Islandica 45.) Ithaca. Dahla, B. 1986. Bibliography of Nordic research in comparative religion 19841985. Temenos 22. Turku. Dalström, K. 1887 Nordiska gudasagor. Stockholm. [Reprint 1985.] - 1889. Nordiska hjeltesagor. Stockholm. [Reprint 1986.] Davidson, H. R. E. 1964. Gods and myths of Northern Europe. Harmondsworth. [Swedish transl. 1966, 1984.] Dillmann, Fr.-X. 1975. Cultur & civilization vikings. Caen. - 1979. Georges Dumézil et la religion germanique: l'interprétation du dieu Odhinn. Georges Dumézil à la découverte des Indo-Européenne. Ed. par J.-CI. Rivière. Paris.

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The discussions. 1987. The Christianization of Scandinavia. Ed. by B. Sawyer & P. Sawyer & I. Wood. Alingsås. Dronke, U. & Dronke, P. 1977. The prologue of the Prose Edda: Explorations of a Latin background Sjötíu Ritgerair helgaaar Jacobi Benediktssyni.

Reykjavík. Dumézil, G. 1939. Mythes et dieux des Germains. (Mythes et religions 1.) Paris. - 1948. Loki (Les dieux et les hommes 1.) Paris. [Reprint 1986; Germ. transl. 1959.] - 1959. Les dieux des Germains. (Mythes et religions 38.) Paris. [Swedish transl. 1962, 1966; Danish transl. 1969.] - 1973. Gods of the Ancient Northmen. Ed. by E. Haugen. Berkeley. Durand, Fr. 1983. Nordistik, Mit Beitr. von K. Schier & Fr.-X. Dillmann. (C. Fr. v. Siemens-Stiftung, Themen 36.) München. O1pf9e(rW8stKDvi5goLenAnm.übaridec.hlz,ur Altertumskunde und Philologie 27.) Wien. Ebenbauer, A. 1984. Germanische Religion. Theologische Realenzyklopädie 12. Berlin. Eddan 1913. [Transl. by] E. Brate. Stockholm. [Reprints 1978, 1980, 1986.] Eddan 1957. [Transl. by] B. Collinder. Stockholm. [Reprints 1964, 1970, 1972.] Edsman, C.-M. 1949. Återspeglar Vçluspá 2 : 5-8 ett schamanistiskt ritual eller en keltisk åldersvers. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 63. Lund. - 1951. Gudar i Valhall: Balder. Hörde Ni? 4, 12. Stockholm. - 1961. Volksglaube. Schwedische Volkskunde. Red. G. Berg. Stockholm. - 1966. Arbor inversa. Festschrift Walter Baetke. Weimar. - 1971. Folktro. Folkdikt och folktro. [Ed. by] A. B. Rooth. Lund. Eriksson, G. & Svantesson. I. 1984. Fornnordiska myter och gudasagor. Stockholm. Estborn, S. 1929. Evangeliska svenska bönböcker under reformationstidevarvet. Lund. Faulkes, A. 1983. Pagan sympathy: Attitudes to heathendom in the Prologue to Snorra Edda. Edda. Ed. by R. J. Glendinning & H. Bessason. (The University of Manitoba Icelandic Studies 4.) Winnipeg. Gschwandtler, O. & Schäferdiek, K. 1976. Bekehrung und Bekehrungsgeschichte. Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 2. 2. Aufl. Berlin. Gnilka, Chr. 1984. Der Begriff des "rechten Gebrauchs". Basel, Der grosse Seelentrost. 1959. Hrsg. von M. Schmitt. (Niederdeutsche Studien 5.) Köln. Hallencreutz, C. F. 1982. Runstenarnas teologi; våra första uttryck för inhemsk kristendomstolkning. Religion och Bibel 41. Uppsala. - 1984. Adam Bremensis and Sueonia. (Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis C, 47.) Uppsala.

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Hallencreutz, C. F. 1986. Rimbert, Sverige och religionsmötet. Boken om Ansgar. [Transl. by] E. Odelman. [With comm. by] A. Ekenberg et al. Stockholm. Hauck, K. 1976. Bilddenkmäler zur Religion. Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 2. 2. Aufl. Berlin. Hultgård, A. 1982. De äldsta runinskrifterna och Nordens förkristna religion. Religion och Bibel 41. Uppsala. Jarlert, A. 1987. Emanuel Linderholm som kyrkohistoriker. (Bibliotheca Historico-Ecclesiastica Lundensis 15.) Lund. Kellerman, G. 1958. Västgötsk forntro och folktro. (Västergötland A, 10.) Lund. Linderholm, E. 1934. Osmund Kåreson, Upplands apostel. Kyrkohistorisk årsskrift 34. Uppsala. Lindow, J. 1988. Scandinavian mythology: An annotated bibliography. New York. Lindow, J. & Lönnroth, L. & Weber, G. W. 1986. Introduction. Structure and meaning: New approaches to old Norse literature, Odense. Littleton, C. S. 1987a. Indo-European religions: History of study. The encyclopedia of religion 7. New York. - 1987b. Wikander, Stig. The encyclopedia of religion 15. New York. Ljungberg, H. 1938. Den nordiska religionen och kristendomen. (Nordiska texter och undersökningar utg. i Uppsala av Bengt Hesselman 11.) Uppsala. - 1954. Herdabrev till Stockholms stift, Stockholm. - 1980. Röde Orm och Vite Krist. Stockholm. Lönnroth, L. 1969. The noble heathen: A theme in the sagas. Scandinavian Studies 41. Urbana, IL. - 1986. Dómaldi's death and the myth of sacral kingship. Structure and meaning in old Norse literature. By J. Lindow & L. Lönnroth & G. W. Weber. Odense. Motz, L. 1984. Gods and demons of the wilderness. Arkiv för nordisk fi lologi 99. Lund. Olrik, A. & Ellekilde, H. 1926-51. Nordens Gudeverden 1-2. København. Paasche, Fr. 1958. Motet mellom hedendom og kristendom i Norden. [Ed. by] D. Strömbäck. Stockholm. Pétursson, P. 1985. Asasamfundet på Island och massmedia, (Religionssociologiska institutet. Forskningsrapport 1985, 1.) Stockholm. C.1Germanen9E8rP6ueliGgoösmnaVtd.é, probleme in heutiger Sicht, Hrsg. von H. Beck. (Ergänzungsbände zum Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 1.) Berlin. - 1987. Germanic religion. The encyclopedia of religion 5. New York. Rydberg, V. 1887. Fädernas gudasaga. Stockholm. [Reprint 1983.] Saami pre-Christian religion. 1985. Ed. by L. Bäckman & A. Hultkrantz. (Stockholm Studies in Comparative Religion 25.) Stockholm.

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Saami religion. 1987. Ed. by T. Ahlbäck. (Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis 12.) Åbo. Sawyer, P. 1987. The process of Scandinavian Christianization in the tenth and eleventh centuries. The Christianization of Scandinavia. Ed. by B. Sawyer & P. Sawyer & I. Wood. Alingsås. Schach, P. 1983. Some thougths on Völuspá. Edda. 1983. Ed. by R. J. Glendinning & C. Bessason. (The University of Manitoba Icelandic Studies 4.) Winnipeg. Schomerus, R. 1936. Die Religion der Nordgermanen im Spiegel christlicher Darstellung. Göttingen. Schäferdiek, K. 1978. Germanenmission. Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum 10. Stuttgart. - 1984a. Germanenmission, arianische. Th eologische Realenzyklop ädie 12. Berlin. - 1984b. Germanisierung des Christentums. Theologische Realenzyklopädie 12. Berlin. - 1987. Missionary methods. The Christianization of Scandinavia. Ed. by B. Sawyer & P. Sawyer & I. Wood. Alingsås. Schäferdiek, K. et al. 1981. Christentum und Bekehrungszeit. Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 4. 2. Aufl. Berlin. Sidelinna ihrost 1. 1954. [Ed. by] S. Henning. (Samlingar utg. av Svenska Fornskrift-Sällskapet 59.) Uppsala. The skalds. 1945. With intr. and notes by L. M. Hollander. New York. Snorres Edda. 1958. [Transl. and with intr. by] B. Collinder. Stockholm. [Reprints 1970, 1983.] Snorri Sturluson. 1964. Heimskringla. Transl. with intr. and notes by L. M. Hollander. Austin. Steen, A. 1967-69. Samene 1-3. Trondheim. Steinsland, G. 1979. Treet i Vgluspi. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 63. Lund. Ström, F. 1967. Nordisk hedendom. Stockholm. [Reprint 1985.] - 1981. Poetry as an instrument of propaganda. Speculum norroenum. 1981. Ed. by U. Dronke et al. Odense. Ström, A. V. 1975. Germanische Religion. Germanische und Baltische Religion. Von A. V. Ström & H. Biezais. (Die Religionen der Menschheit 19, 1.) Stuttgart. Strömbäck, D. 1975. The conversion of Iceland. (Viking Society for Northern Research. Text Series 6.) London. Sverdrup, G. 1942. Da Norge ble kristnet. Oglo. Thompson, E. A. 1963. Christianity and the Northern barbarians. The conflict between paganism and Christianity in the Forth Century. Ed. by A. Momigliano. Oxford. Turville-Petre, E. O. G. 1964. Myth and religion of the North. London. [Reprint 1973.]

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Turville-Petre, E. O. G. 1972. Nine Norse studies. (Viking Society for Northern Research. Text series 5.) London. — 1976. Scaldic poetry. Oxford. Tveitane, M. 1979. On a new account of Germanic religion. Ary 35. Stockholm. Vries, J. de 1956-57. Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte 1-2. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 12, 1-2.) Berlin. [Reprint 1970.] Wallengren, A. 1901. Skrifter. [Ed. and with foreword by] A. Strindberg & P. Rosenius. Stockholm. Weber, G. W. 1981. Irreligiosität und Heldenzeitalter. Speculum norroenum. 1981. Ed. by U. Dronke et al. Odense. Wehner, R. 1981. Svenska runor vittnar. Stockholm. Wikström, L. 1982. Nya religioner mitt ibland oss. Stockholm. Words and objects. 1986. Ed. by G. Steinsland. (Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning, B, 71.) Oslo.

Horizontale und vertikale Achsen in der vorchristlichen skandinavischen Kosmologie VON JENS PETER SCHJØDT

Das Ziel der folgenden Untersuchung ist es, einige Faktoren zu erhellen, die für unser Verständnis des Weltbildes von Bedeutung sind, so wie es vermutlich in der Wikingerzeit vor der Einführung des Christentums ausgesehen hat. Einige der Konsequenzen, die die Auffassung von diesem Weltbild für unser Verständnis der nordischen Religion und Mythologie generell mit sich bringt, sollen ebenfalls untersucht werden. Die meisten Forscher haben der Tatsache Aufmerksamkeit geschenkt, dass unsere Quellen in diesem Punkt offenbar eine Reihe widersprüchlicher Informationen liefern, während die Erklärungen zur Erhellung dieser Widersprüche ein ausgesprochen weites Spektrum aufweisen. In dieser Untersuchung soll vor allem das Verhältnis zwischen den sogenannten vertikalen und horizontalen Subsystemen in dem räumlichen Modell der Skandinavier diskutiert werden, um die Terminologie zu benutzen, die E. M. Meletinskij in seinem berühmten Artikel von 1973 "Scandinavian Mythology as a System" I-II (Meletinskij 1973a, 46 ff.) angewandt hat, Man hat in der Kosmologie mit zwei Achsen gearbeitet, einer vertikalen, mit den Polen Himmel-Unterwelt und einer horizontalen, mit den Polen Miagarôr (oder iisgar5r)-Útgarôr. Das Widersprüchliche liegt hauptsächlich in dem Standort, der den Göttern in den beiden Modellen zugeordnet wird: in dein vertikalen befindet sich ihr Platz im Himmel, während sie in dein horizontalen ihren Platz in Asgarôr haben, im Zentrum der Welt am Fuss der Weltesche Yggdrasil'. Die Quellen, die primär benutzt wurden, um die heidnische Kosmologie zu rekonstruieren, sind Die ältere und Die jüngere Edda, aber es sind natürlich auch andere hinzugezogen worden, Gylfaginning und Grítnnismál sind besonders explizit in der Darstellung des Weltbildes. Es steht fest, dass Gylfaginning um 1220 verfasst wurde, während die Datierung von Grímnismdl beträchtlich variiert. Die meisten jedoch datieren es zuriick in die heidnische Zeit, was ganz angemessen zu sein scheint (z, B. Vries 1964-67, 1, 45; Stanley Martin 1972, 20 f.).

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Snorri bietet uns einen gewaltigen Wirrwarr an Informationen iiber die Einrichtung des Kosmos. In Kap. 6 wird erzählt, dass die Götter Miogarôr aus Ymirs Wimpern gebaut haben, was zuerst eine Burg genannt wird, während kurz danach gesagt wird, dass die Götter Asgarôr in der Mitte der Welt gebaut haben, worin sie und ihre Familien dann gewohnt haben. Kurz davor wurde uns in demselben Kapitel etwas über die Form der Welt erzählt: sie ist rund und von einem tiefen Meer umgeben. An den Küsten dieses Meeres wohnen die Riesen, während die Menschen weiter im Inneren wohnen. Es ist bemerkenswert, dass aus drei Handschriften (RWT) hervorgeht, dass jisgarôr von den Menschen Troja genannt und somit als irdischer Ort aufgefasst wird — ein Zug, der ein Ausdruck von Snorris Euhemerismus sein kann, hinter dem aber auch mehr liegen könnte. Wir befinden uns ebenfalls auf der horizontalen Achse, wenn davon berichtet wird, dass es östlich von Miôgarör einen Wald gibt, der Iárnviôr heisst, wo eine Riesin ihre Brut zur Welt bringt, Diese Zuordnung der Riesen im Osten findet man bei Snorri und in anderen Quellen häufig. Am Schluss des Kapitels wird von Bifrgst erzählt, die laut Snorri ein Regenbogen, aber gleichzeitig auch eine Brücke ist, die Himmel und Erde miteinander verbindet, was hier ein wenig verwunderlich ist, denn nach dem, was wir bisher gehört haben, sind die Götter eindeutig in der Weltmitte auf der horizontalen Achse angesiedelt. In Kap. 7 befinden wir uns bei der Beschreibung der Heiligtümer der Götter wieder auf dieser Achse, wo Glaôsheimr als das beste und grösste Haus der Welt bezeichnet wird. Dagegen ist die im gleichen Kapitel beschriebene Schöpfung der Zwerge und deren in Erde und Steinen gelegene Wohnstätte vertikal orientiert. In Kap. 8 berichtet Snorri über Yggdrasill. Dort ist der Hauptort oder auch die heilige Stätte der Götter, und hier halten sie jeden Tag Gericht. Er ist der grösste aller Bäume und ragt hoch in den Himmel hinein, während seine drei Wurzeln nach drei Seiten gehen — zu den Asen, den Reifriesen und zu Hel. Die Wurzel, die zu den Asen führ t, befindet sich im Himmel, was ziemlich ungewöhnlich erscheint. Aber jetzt bekommt Bifrgst seine natürliche Erklärung, denn die Asen reiten jeden Tag darüber, um zu ihrem Gerichtshof zu kommen. Nach noch einer eingehenden Beschreibung von Yggdrasill erfährt man, dass man unter der Wurzel der Esche bei den Göttern Urds Brunnen (Urôar brunnr) finden kann. In Kap. 9 fragt Gangleri in folgender Weise: "Grosse Nachrichten kannst du über den Himmel kundtun, Welche anderen Hauptorte mag es wohl ausser Urds Brunnen dort geben?" Urds Brunnen befindet sich also im Himmel, genauso wie die folgenden Orte, die die Antwort auf die gestellte Frage darstellen: Alfheimr,

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Breiaablik und viele andere Wohnstätten der Götter. Am südlichen Ende des Himmels befindet sich z, B. Gimlé, aber etwas später wird gesagt, dass sich dieser Ort in dem dritten Himmel befindet — der also nicht identisch ist mit dem Himmel, den wir sehen können. Auch die Entstehung des Windes wird mit Hinweis auf eine Himmelsrichtung, nämlich Norden, erklärt: dort sitzt Hræsvelgr und schlägt so mit den Flügeln, das Wind entsteht. Snorri belegt seine Information mit Vm 37, wo jedoch nichts vom nördlichen Ende des Himmels gesagt wird. In Kap. 11 wird davon erzählt, dass Baldr und Nj4rôr im Himmel wohnen, genauso wie wir es später über verschiedene andere Götter erfahren. In Kap. 19 und 20 erfahren wir in Verbindung mit den Kindern von Loki, dass die Welt von der Midgardschlange umgeben ist, während Hel in den Niflheimr (im übrigen ein Name, der in den älteren mythologischen Liedern nicht vorkommt) geworfen wird. Die Zuordnung der Riesen nach Norden im horizontalen Modell wird von folgendem Bild bestärkt: von Hli5skialf aus sieht Freyr im Norden die Riesin Gerôr. Zum Schluss soll noch kurz eine von Snorris Aussagen über die mythologische Geografie erwähnt werden; in Kap. 34 beschreibt er, dass der Weg nach Hel nach Norden und dann nach unten führt, wodurch Hel dann beiden Ausrichtungen zugeordnet wird der horizontalen und der vertikalen. Man könnte in Gylfaginning noch zahlreiche andere Beispiele anführen, die Aussagen über die Einrichtung des Kosmos machen, aber die erwähnten Beispiele dürften genug sein, um sich einen Eindruck davon zu verschaffen, wie chaotisch diese Informationen im Verhältnis zu einem eindeutigen Kosmosmodell sind. Bevor ich noch auf andere Quellen eingehe, scheint es mir angemessen, einen Blick darauf zu werfen, was andere Forscher mit diesem Weltbild anfangen können, oder besser gesagt mit diesen Steinchen eines Mosaiks, die ein Weltbild ausmachen, Wie gesagt, haben die meisten der Tatsache Aufmerksamkeit geschenkt, dass mit verschiedenen Kosmosbildern gearbeitet wird, denn die Inkonsequenzen bei Snorri sind nicht gerade schwer zu entdecken (vgl. z. B. Gurevich 1969, 46). Es ist also notwendig, für diesen Mangel an Eindeutigkeit eine Erklärung zu finden, und die verschieden Erklärungsversuche weisen eine ausgesprochen grosse Variationsbreite auf, Dennoch wollen wir es hier wagen, diese Versuche in zwei Kategorien einzuteilen, deren Zugang zur Problematik grundsätzlich verschieden ist — nämlich eine historisch orientierte und eine strukturalistisch orientierte. Einige wenige Beispiele dieser verschiedenen Zugangsmöglichkeiten dürften zur Erläuterung ausreichen. Jan de Vries beschreibt z, B. die zwei Weltbilder — das vertikale und das horizontale — auf etlichen Seiten, jedoch

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ohne diese Terme explizit zu gebrauchen und fast ohne sie aufeinander zu beziehen (Vries 1956-57, 2, 372 ff.). Er schreibt: "Der Himmel ist der Wohnort der Götter, jedenfalls nach der späteren Vorstellung, Die Götterwohnungen, die Asgarór bilden, werden schliesslich nicht mehr auf Erden, in der Nähe der Menschenwelt, gedacht, sondern in den Himmel versetzt." Auch Neckel hatte bereits im Jahre 1913 eine ähnliche Auffassung, nämlich dass Walhall zu einem späten Zeitpunkt in heidnischer Zeit in den Himmel gerückt wird (z. B, Neckel 1913, 56 ff,), wohingegen Odins Platz im Himmel als uralt dargestellt und auf indoeuropäische Zeit zurückdatiert wird (Neckel 1913, 59 ff.). Neckels Darstellung ist lang, kompliziert und wenig wahrscheinlich, aber charakteristischerweise nimmt er ganz selbstverständlich an, dass der Platz der Götter in spätheidnischer Zeit im Himmel war, Neckel und de Vries und vielen anderen ist es gemeinsam, dass die Widersprüche in den Quellen historistisch erklärt werden. Demgegenüber ist es interessant, die Versuche einer Reihe von Forschern zu beobachten, die eine ganz andere Methode zur Erklärung dieser Dinge heranziehen, Es scheint in den neueren Versuchen, die nordische Mythologie zu beschreiben, geradezu eine Tendenz dazu vorhanden zu sein, in wesentlich höherem Masse gerade die Kosmosvorstellungen mit einzubeziehen, was als solches schon als positiv betrachtet werden muss. Diese neueren Forscher haben natürlich auch ihre Aufmerksamkeit auf die verschiedenen offenbar widersprüchlichen Informationen gerichtet, die unsere Quellen in Verbindung mit dem Weltbild bieten, aber im Gegensatz zu den älteren, historistisch orientierten Untersuchungen spielen hier verschiedene Aspekte der strukturalistischen Analysestrategie eine grosse Rolle. Anstatt die verschiedenen Ideen altersmässig einzuordnen, worin z. B. Neckel und seine Generation schwelgten, strebt man danach, die Logik der Vorstellungswelt zu verstehen, die uns unsere Quellen vermitteln. Es soll hier gleich gesagt werden, dass dieses "research-paradigm" meine volle Sympathie hat und dass es die Frage nach Sinn und Bedeutung in wesentlich höherem Masse als das historistische Projekt scheint beantworten zu können. Andererseits besteht darin auch eine Gefahr, nicht zuletzt auf einem Gebiet wie dem nordischen, wo der Hauptanteil unserer Quellen nach einem Religionswechsel verfasst wurde, der jedenfalls in einiger Hinsicht einige ausgesprochen bedeutungsvolle Veränderungen für Individuum und Gesellschaft mit sich gebracht hat. Wie dem auch sei, es gibt besonders drei Forscher, deren Untersuchungen sich in starkem Masse um diese horizontal/vertikale Problematik zentrieren, weshalb deren Ansichten in diesem Zusammenhang näher diskutiert werden

Horizontale und vertikale Achsen

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sollen. Es handelt sich um E. Meletinskij: "Scandinavian Mythology as a System" von 1973, Kirsten Hastrup: "Cosmology and Society in Medieval Iceland" von 1981 und Henk Molenaar: (Minns Gift von 1985. Diese Analysen umfassen — nicht zuletzt in Verbindung mit den Kosmosvorstellungen — jede für sich ausgesprochen spannende Resultate, die trotz der Kritik, die an ihnen hier geübt werden soll, und die sich ganz allein auf die Bedeutung bezieht, die sie Snorris Informationen über die Götterwelt hn Himmel zulegen, wertvoll sind. Meletinskij, auf den ich später näher eingehen werde, ist ganz explizit bei der Unterscheidung zwischen den beiden Kosmossystemen, die er als zwei räumliche Subsysteme beschreibt, deren Inhalt von dem einen "Kode" zum anderen "konvertiert" werden kann (Meletinskij 1973a, 46). Über Yggdrasill wird behauptet, dass dieser die Oppositionen zwischen den Göttern und den chthonischen Mächten auf der vertikalen Achse kennzeichnet. Er schreibt: "The meeting of the gods take place at the top of the tree, their dwellings (Asgard) are also found there..." (Meletinskij 1973a, 49).1 Danach analysiert Meletinskij eine Reihe von Elementen auf den beiden Achsen und versucht sie u.a. in Relation zueinander zu setzen. Die Hervorhebung der beiden Subsysteme ist wesentlich für Meletinskijs Projekt als solches, weil ihnen zwei Zeitauffassungen entsprechen: eine reversible und eine irreversible — eine Behauptung, die weiter unten ausfürlich diskutiert werden soll. In diesem Zusammenhang ist es jedoch entscheidend, dass die himmlische Zuordnung der Götter im heidnischen Selbstverständnis nicht in Frage gestellt wird. Die dänische Anthropologin Kirsten Hastrup ist von Meletinskijs Ansichten stark beeinflusst, baut sie aber auf höchst interessante Weise aus: u.a. indem sie in Verbindung mit dem horizontalen Modell einen anderen sowjetischen Forscher, A, Ya, Gurevich, und dessen Parallelisierung der makro- und mikrokosmischen Vorstellungen mit einbezieht (Hastrup 1981, 64 f,; Gurevich 1969, 42 ff.). Für uns ist jedoch in diesem Zusammenhang Hastrups Übernahme und Ausbau von Meletinskijs Theorien des vertikalen Modells von Bedeutung. Sie schreibt: "On top of the tree was the abode of the Gods, Åsgarar, and Valhalla, the upper kingdom of the dead ruled over by Ooinn. [...] The middle of the world-ash was the place of the humans, while at its roots we find the lower kingdom of the dead, ruled over by the goddess An dieser Stelle ist es wichtig, darauf aufmerksam zu machen, dass Meletinskij in seinem Artikel nicht Snorris Weltbild analysiert, wie es in seiner Edda zum Ausdruck kommt, sondern generell über "eddic" Mythologie als ein System redet und darüber, wie es in heidnischer Zeit konzipiert war. (Meletinskij 1973a, 43).

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Hel" (Hastrup 1981, 66). Hastrup benutzt diese vertikal orientierte Kosmologie, urn eine Reihe von Oppositionspaaren aufzustellen, die sich alle analog zu der hoch-niedrig Opposition verhalten. Bei Hastrup finden wir ausserdem eine Vertiefung von Meletinskijs etwas wager Aussage über das Verhältnis zwischen Reversibilität und Irreversibilität einerseits und den zwei räumlichen Modellen anderseits. Wir sehen also, dass die Feststellung der beiden Modelle bei Hastrup die gleiche Bedeutung für die Logik der heidnischen Ideologie hat wie bei Meletinskij, aber die Einordnung der Götter in den Himmel hat hier noch grössere Bedeutung bei der Auslegung der vertikalen Trichotomie und ihrer entsprechenden horizontalen Parallele (Hastrup 1981, 67), Zum Schluss soll die Dissertation des Holländers Henk Molenaar von 1985 erwähnt werden, die in vieler Hinsicht einen erfrischenden neuen Denkansatz für die gesamte nordische Mythologie bedeutet, die jedoch grosse Mängel aufweist, u.a, was die grundlegenden Kenntnisse der mehr philologisch orientierten Forschung betrifft. Molenaar geht, wie die anderen, die oben erwähnt wurden, wie selbstverständlich davon aus, dass Walhall im Himmel liegt (Molenaar 1985, 71), und auch er versucht, die Oppositionspaare von der einen Achse auf die andere zu "überführen", genauso wie er dem Verhältnis zwischen den beiden Zeitmodellen grosse Bedeutung beimisst (Molenaar 1985, 92), Die drei Forscher haben also gemeinsam, dass sie es nicht nur als selbstverständlich betrachten, dass Asgarôr und Walhall nach heidnischer Auffassung im Himmel lagen — auch spielt diese "Feststellung" in ihren weiteren Analysen der gesamten heidnischen Vorstellungswelt eine grosse Rolle. Wie bereits erwähnt haben alle drei Forscher eine Reihe interessanter Ideen, aber dennoch scheint es angemessen zu untersuchen, ob diese grundlegende Annahme einer näheren Analyse standhalten kann, da alle drei Forscher sich anscheinend alleine auf Snorris Aussagen stützen. In Grm sowie in der übrigen Götterdichtung der ältcren Edda und was das betrifft auch in der Skaldenidichtung bis hin zum Jahr 1000 sind die Informationen eher fragmentarisch, aber abgesehen von einigen wenigen Strophen, die aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach christlich beeinflusst sind, ist es charakteristisch, dass Snorris gesamte himmlische Konstruktion gänzlich unbekannt ist.2 Wenn die Wohnstätten 2 Man könnte Vsp 41 als Beweis dafür anführen, dass "ragna sjgt" eine Kenning für den Himmel ist, was der Meinung von fast allen Interpreten entspricht. Mir scheint es jedoch kaum überzeugend zu sein. Es ist zwar (vermutlich) die Rede

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41

der Götter im Himmel wirklich ein so fester Bestandteil im heidnischen Weltbild gewesen wären, wie Snorris Bericht es uns vermuten lässt, dann ist es gelinde gesagt auffallend, dass keines der vermutlich älteren Gedichte überhaupt darauf eingeht. Dies gilt besonders für Vsp, Vm und Grm, die sich alle recht ausführlich den verschiedenen Phänomenen bei der Einrichtung des Kosmos widmen. In diesem Zusammenhang soll kurz erwähnt werden, dass Strophe 65 in Vsp, die nur im Hanks!)ók vorkommt, und vermutlich auch Strophe 64 eindeutig christlich inspiriert sind, seien sie nun spätere Interpolationen oder mit dem Gedicht um die Jahrtausendwende entstanden. In allen diesen Gedichten befinden wir uns ganz klar in dem horizontalen Modell. Gute Beispiele bieten Vm 16, wo wir erfahren, dass der Fluss ifing die Gebiete der Riesen und der Götter voneinander trennt, und Grm 29, worin 1>ôrr nachgesagt wird, dass er die verschiedenen Flüsse durchwatet, um zu Yggdrasill zu gelangen, weil die Asenbrücke (die mit Bilrgst identisch sein muss) in Flammen aufgeht. Viele andere Beispiele könnten noch genannt werden, die mehr oder weniger stark indizieren, dass wir es eindeutig mit einer horizontal orientierten Kosmosauffassung zu tun haben. Selbst in den Beschreibungen von Yggdrasill in Vsp und Grm gibt es nicht die geringste Andeutung einer von dem Wolf, der die Sonne verschlingt, aber hier in der ersten halben Strophe ist er eindeutig als ein Leichenwolf beschrieben, der das Blut der Gefallenen aufsaugt, und in Verbindung mit der herannahenden Ragnarok-Schlacht, wo das Schlachtfeld nahe den Wohnstätten der Götter liegt, ist es ganz natürlich, dass sie von diesem Blut rot gefärbt werden. Dass die Sonne in der zweiten halben Strophe schwarz wird, ist — trotz Nordals poetischem Erklärungsversuch (Nordal 1927, 81) eher darauf zurückzuführen, dass die Sonne geraubt wurde (vgl. Strophe 40, wo der Wolf als "tungis tjtigari" beschrieben wird, also als jemand, der etwas entfernt). Was 11112 49 betrifft, wo ein "flugssagr" (ganz gleich welche Übersetzung man vorzieht, vgl. Sijmons & Gering 1906-31, 3, 2, 132, so ist es mit einem Himmelsweg verbunden worden) und einige Himmelsbrücken — "Vindlıjalms brúar" erwähnt werden, so können diese keineswegs als Beweis für eine himmlische Wohnstatt genommen werden. Hingegen können sie, worauf unten noch näher eingegangen wird, als Beispiele dafür gelten, dass die Luft oder der Himmel als Transportweg fungierten. Schiesslich soll Hliöskjcilferwähnt werden, der oft als Hochsitz in einem himmlischen Walhall betrachtet wird (z. B. in der einleitenden Prosa zu Orm und Skm), von wo aus man in alle Welt schauen kann. Hierzu kann man bloss sagen, dass das "himmlische" an Htiöskjeilf nur in Erscheinung tritt, wenn man Snorris Weltbild mit in Betracht zieht. Erstens kann man sich vorstellen, dass dieser Sitz magische Kräfte besitzt (Kiil 1960), die einem ermöglichten, iıı die ganze Welt zu schauen, und zweitens muss man sich Walhall a priori hochangebracht in der Mitte der Welt vorstellen, was eine gewisse Aussicht ermöglicht.

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himmlischen Wohnstatt für die Asen. Nun kann man behaupten, dass ein grosser Teil der neueren Forschung, wobei hier besonders Dumézil und seine Schüler genannt werden sollen, gezeigt hat, dass es eine Menge mythischen Stoff gibt, den man nur von Snorri kennt, der aber dennoch uralt sein muss. Dies ist zweifellos richtig, aber es muss doch festgehalten werden, dass es zwischen einzelnen Mythen oder mythischen Details und einer so grundlegenden Sache wie dem Standort der Götter einen Unterschied gibt. In Relation gesehen zu dem vielen Platz, den der Himmel in Gylfaginning einnimmt, wirkt das Schweigen der anderen Quellen fast lärmend. Es scheint daher ganz unwahrscheinlich zu sein, dass ein Gedicht wie Grm, das sich im grossen und ganzen mit nichts anderem als mythischen Örtlichkeiten beschäftigt, einen solchen himmlischen Standort nicht weitergegeben oder wenigstens angedeutet hätte, wenn es dem Dichter bekannt gewesen wäre, Das gleiche gilt für die Kenningkunst, wo nichts uns vermuten lässt, dass die Götter "himmlisch" gewesen sind, in dem Sinne dass sie auch im Himmel gelebt haben. Es ist hier keineswegs die Absicht, Snorris Angaben, so wie er sie in Gylfaginning darstellt, hinsichtlich einer Unterscheidung zwischen heidnisch und christlich zu sezieren. Dies ist bereits oft unternommen worden, und hatte in vielen Fällen ein unangemessenes Misstrauen Snorri gegenüber zur Folge. Dennoch scheint es mir an dieser Stelle angemessen, auf Anne Holtsmarks in vieler Hinsicht überzeugendes Werk Studier i Snorres mytologi hinzuweisen, das besonders bezüglich der Kosmosvorstellungen gezeigt hat, wie sehr Snorri von seinem christlichen Kinderglauben beeinflusst war (Holtsmark 1964, 27 ff., 55 ff,), den er natürlich mit seiner Kenntnis der heidnischen Ideologie kombiniert hat. Auch Hastrup führt übrigens den Gedanken aus, dass es beträchtliche Ähnlichkeiten zwischen dem heidnischen "vertikalen" Modell und der mittelalterlichen christlichen Kosmosauffassung gibt, kommt aber nicht auf die Idee zu fragen, ob es überhaupt so etwas wie ein vorchristliches räumliches Modell gegeben hat, wo die Götter "himmlisch" waren. Zieht man das Quellenmaterial in Betracht, so ist das wie gesagt nicht besonders wahrscheinlich, und die Ähnlichkeiten zwischen den beiden vertikalen Modellen, dem christlichen und dem "vorchristlichen" lassen sich am besten dadurch erklären, dass die himmlischen Wohnstätten der Götter ganz einfach ein postheidnisches Phänomen sind. Daher kann ich voll und ganz Gurevichs Ansicht unterstützen, der in dem oben bereits genannten Artikel sagt: "... there is no reason to suppose that the Scandinavians imagined their gods to be inhabi-

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tants of some heavenly spheres" (Gurevich 1969, 46). Es erscheint recht unverständlich, dass weder Hastrup noch Molenaar diese Aussage nicht im geringsten reflektiert haben, obwohl sie beide den Artikel mit einbezogen haben; dies ist besonders zu beklagen, da er wie gesagt mit dem entsprechenden Quellenmaterial in völliger Übereinstimmung steht, Warum so viele Forscher, ohne auch nur einen Ansatz von quellenkritischem Lesen zu zeigen, Snorris himmlisches Götterheim akzeptiert haben, darüber können natürlich nur Vermutungen angestellt werden; aber man kann sich nicht von dem Verdacht lösen, dass sich die betreffenden Forscher, genau wie Snorri, nur schwer von ihrem Kinderglauben lösen konnten, dass "richtige" Götter in den Himmel gehören.' Dass es dennoch in gewisser Weise angemessen ist, in der vorchristlichen nordischen Religion mit einer vertikalen Achse zu arbeiten, jedoch ohne im Himmel wohnende Götter, darauf werde ich später noch zurückkommen. Aber vorher wollen wir noch auf einige weitere, eher positive Argumente eingehen, um der Frage nachzugehen, warum die Skandinavier schwerlich diese Vorstellung gehabt haben können. Gurevich (Gurevich 1969, 42 ff.) und Hastrup (Hastrup 1981, 65, 69 ff.) zeigen, von einer überwiegend soziologischen Argumentation ausgehend, dass die "world-view", die dem horizontalen räumlichen Modell zu eigen ist, in verblüffender Weise auch den sozialen Raum mit Zentrum und Periferie geprägt hat. Ihre Argumentation, auf die hier nicht näher eingegangen werden soll, scheint überzeugend und entspricht übrigens ausgezeichnet den Vorstellungen der Religionsphänomenologie über Mikrokosmos und Makrokosmos. Aber auch was die Auffassung der Beziehungen zwischen Göttern und Menschen angeht, die in unseren Quellen zum Ausdruck kommt, scheint es wesentlich natürlicher, Götter und Menschen auf derselben horizontalen Achse anzusiedeln. Das, was zuerst ins Auge fällt, sind eine Reihe von Grundbedingungen, die für Götter und Menschen gleich sind; hierzu Die Vorstellung, dass die Götter im Himmel wohnen, ist natürlich keine spezifisch christliche, sondern ist im Gegenteil auf der ganzen Welt verbreitet. Aber dennoch haben die meisten Religionen auch Götter, die man nicht dort findet, sondern in der Unterwelt, in den Bergen, in den Wäldern etc. Das klassische Beispiel dafiir ist natürlich der Olymp, also ein Ort auf der Erde, den man sich als Aufenthaltsort der griechischen Götter vorgestellt hat (auch selbst wenn Zeus, schon allein wegen der Etymologie des Namens, Relationen zum Himmel gehabt haben muss. Wie man dies historisch erklären will, ist diskutabel, aber in der klassischen und archaischen Periode ist die "irdische" Position indiskutabel).

3

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gehört vor allem die Schicksalsgemeinschaft: Ragnarok würde eine, wenngleich nicht totale, so doch fast gänzliche Destruktion beider "Geschlechter" bedeuten. Daher ist ihr Verhältnis zu den Chaosmächten gleich; beide müssen sich gegen sie schützen — und dies keineswegs in irgendeinem ethischen Sinne, wo für die eine oder andere Seite Partei ergriffen wird, sondern im ganz konkreten Sinne durch Kampf. Der Unterschied zwischen Göttern und Menschen ist eher quantitativer als qualitativer Art. Man könnte eine grosse Anzahl Mythen aufzählen, die den "menschlichen" Charakter der Götter deutlich werden lassen, aber hier soll es genug sein, an die Prosaeinleitung zu Reginsmál oder an Oóinn's Erlebnisse mit Billings mær in Hdvamdl zu erinnern. Denn auch wenn Pórr eindeutig stärker ist als die meisten und auch wenn (5ôinn's magische Kräfte die der Menschen übertreffen usw., so kann hier doch nur die Rede von feinen Gradunterschieden sein, die keinesfalls dazu berechtigen, die Götter auf ein ganz anderes Niveau als die Menschen zu plazieren. Es ist also in der skandinavischen Gott-MenschenRelation keineswegs von der Opposition vollkommen vs unvollkommen die Rede. Das Verhältnis impliziert ebenfalls eine gewisse Interaktion, die jedoch nie auf der vertikalen Achse nach oben hin stattfindet, Pórr macht z, B. in Mi5gardr in Hym halt und bekommt hier Pjalfi und R9skva übereignet, Diese können andererseits auch ohne weiteres in lisgaror wohnen. In der Heldendichtung hält sich (5ôinn oft bei den Menschen auf und steht ihnen mit gutem Rat zur Seite; dies findet man z. B, ebenfalls in Saxo und den Fornaldarsagen,4 Ausser der "Gemeinsamkeit des Schicksals", die bei Ragnarok am stärksten impliziert ist, kann ebenfalls die Machtunvollkommenheit genannt werden, denen auch die Götter unterliegen, 6ôinn hat z, B. keine Kontrolle über seine Walküre, als sie einen anderen als den von ihm Erwählten gewinnen lässt (Sigrdrífumdl), aber er kann sie mit IIilfe von magischen Kräften strafen, was allerdings irdische Zauberer oder Magier ebenfalls vermögen, All dies kann natürlich nicht "beweisen", dass die Götter ihren Platz nicht im Himmel hatten, aber zieht man gleichzeitig in Betracht, dass die älteren poetischen Quellen diesen Umstand nie erwähnen, so schei4 Bifr9st kann nicht als Argument für das Gegenteil gebraucht werden, denn nur bei Snorri kommt es in Form einer Brücke vor, die vom Himmel zur Erde reicht. In Grm 29 wird darüber keine Andeutung gemacht, dass es diese beiden Orte sind, die die Brücke verbindet. Ausserdem kann die Vorstellung von einer Brücke eine spätere Vorstellung sein, die eine ältere Vorstellung von einem eigentlichen "Weg" abgelöst hat, wie einige Forscher meinen (vgl. z. B. Ström, A. V. 1975, 191).

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nen doch recht starke Indizien darauf hinzuweisen. Oben ist einzig und allein dafür argumentiert worden, dass die heidnischen Skandinavier höchstwahrscheinlich nie ein Weltbild gehabt haben, wo die Götter ihre Wohnstatt im Himmel hatten. Die Tatsache, dass wie gesagt trotzdem eine vertikale Achse existiert hat, kann auf zweierlei Weise belegt werden, Erstens hat der Himmel als vorübergehender Aufenhaltsort für verschiedene Wesen fungiert, wozu nicht zuletzt Pórr gehört, der hier mit seinem von Böcken gezogenen Wagen entlang fährt. Und zweitens gibt es eine Unmenge von Beispielen für die Existenz einer Achse, die die Oberwelt (Miôgarar und jisgarôr) mit der Unterwelt (Hel) verbindet. Die räumliche Vorstellung von einer vertikalen Achse nach unten hin hat zweifellos in dem ideologischen und semantischen Universum der Skandinavier eine grosse Rolle gespielt (vgl. z. B. Schjødt 1983; Motz 1975; Motz 1980), wovon die Edda- und Skaldendichtung ein so reiches Zeugnis ablegt. Es soll hier also keineswegs gegen die Vertikalität als Orientierungsform argumentiert werden, dagegen aber gegen die Ansicht, dass die heidnischen Vorstellungen über die Einrichtung des Kosmos mehr oder weniger chaotisch, und auf jeden Fall widersprüchlich gewesen sind. (Meletinskij 1973a, 46), Genau das habe ich in der vorgehenden Untersuchung versucht zurückzuweisen, und das Kosmosbild, das zum Vorschein kommt, scheint daher eine absolut zusammenhängende Konzeption aufzuweisen: die Götter haben ihren Platz im Zentrum; aussen herum sind dann die Menschen, die Riesen und das Weltenmeer in selbiger Reihenfolge5 in "Domänen" plaziert, die als konzentrische Zirkel aufgefasst wurden. In Richtung nach "oben" ist der Himmel, Ymirs Schädel, auf dem die Sterne und andere Himmelskörper sitzen und durch den die Götter durchreisen konnten — besonders Pórr, wenn er über Miogárôr nach Útgarôr und wieder zurück flog. In diesem Sinne sind die Götter natürlich "himmlisch", aber es ist charakteristisch, dass der Himmel in diesem Zusammenhang "benutzt" wird und daher in Relation zu dem horizontalen Modell eine Funktion bekommt. Aber die Fähigkeit, sich durch den Himmel zu bewegen, ist keinesfalls nur den Göttern vorbehalten, denn z. B. Môhgggr (Vsp 66), der Riese Piazzi (Haustkıng) und andere Wesen wie Magier ( Vatnsdcelasaga Kap. 212) Und nicht, wie Hastrup behauptet, eine Reihenfolge wie folgt: Götter, Menschen, Meer und dann Riesen. In diesem Punkt ist Snorri ganz deutlich (Kap. 6), und es ist auch nicht die Rede davon, dass ein Meer durchfahren werden muss, um zum Land der Riesen zu gelangen. Dass die Riesen (jedenfalls einige von ihren) laut Vsp zum Ragnarokkampf segeln, braucht keinensfalls so aufgefasst werden, als sei es Úthaf, das überquert wird. 5

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bedienen sich des Himmels als Transportweg, wenn sie es eilig haben, und so gesehen sind Riesen und Menschen genauso "himmlisch" wie die Götter. Der Himmel ist sozusagen "leer" gewesen, und diejenigen, die sich darauf verstanden, konnten dort verkehren. Ausserdem soll hier noch festgehalten werden, dass die Richtungsangabe "nach oben" auch die Wohnstätte der Götter gegenüber der Menschenwelt bezeichnet haben kann (z, B. Sonatorrek 216 ), ohne dass gleich vom Himmel die Rede sein muss: eine solche Richtungsangabe kann ebenso auf das Zentrum der Welt gerichtet sein, das im Verhältnis zum Meer oben gelegen haben muss. Die vertikale Achse war dagegen in Richtung nach unten dicht mit Wesen bevölkert, die auf irgendeine Art und Weise mit der Unterwelt verbunden waren, Dies gilt für Gruppen wie Zwerge, Elfen und vermutlich auch die Wanen, betrachtet als Gesamtgruppe (Schjodt 1984), aber hauptsächlich wohl für Hel und die Toten, die in ihrem Reich verkehren. Ganz abgesehen davon wie interessant diese Unterwelt ist, so soll es in diesem Zusammenhang ausreichen, auf ihre Existenz hinzuweisen, wodurch die vertikale Achse dann etabliert ist. Aus deren Existenz kann jedoch keine Inkonsequenz hinsichtlich der Vorstellungen über Kosmographie abgeleitet werden. Dieses Bild scheint im grossen und ganzen recht konsistent zu sein mit einigen wenigen Ausnahmen, die die Nordländer keineswegs weniger "logisch" in ihrer Kosmosauffassung machen als andere Völker. Dies wäre dagegen der Fall, wenn etwas so Wichtiges wie die Götter keinen festen Platz im Kosmos hätten. Wie bereits vorher erwähnt, soll es hier keinesfalls darum gehen, die Analysen der herangezogenen Forscher zu schwächen, denn natürlich kann in der nordischen Mythologie von einer hoch-niedrig-Opposition mit äquivalenten Oppositionspaaren die Rede sein — das liegt im Begriff der vertikalen Achse an sich. Dagegen gibt es eine Reihe Details in diesen Analysen, die diskutiert werden sollten. Es dreht sich in erster Linie um die Konvertierung der Begriffe von dem einen "Kode" (Achse) zum anderen, wie wir es besonders bei Molenaar und Meletinskij gesehen haben; ein anderer Punkt ist die Beziehung zwischen den beiden räumlichen Modellen einerseits und den beiden zeitlichen Modellen andererseits, die bei Molenaar und Hastrup eine Rolle spielen. Strophe 18 des gleichen Gedichts, wo wir die Kenning "b3',skips bær" finden können, ist kein endscheidendes Argument für eine himmlische Wohnstatt der Götter. Die Kenning ist unsicher, und ohne einen alternativen Vorschlag vorzubringen, scheint "die Wohnung der Luft" nicht überzeugend, worauf auch Finnur Jönsson aufmerksam macht (LP 73).

13

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Von einem Kode zum anderen "zu übersetzen" ist keineswegs unproblematisch. Molenaar zieht die Schlussfolgerung, dass Norden im horizontalen Modell und die Unterwelt im vertikalen Modell mit den gleichen semantischen Inhalten belegt sind. Als Beweis wird Snorri (Kap. 34) angeführt, wo Hermóar, um nach Hel zu kommen, nach unten und nach Norden gehen muss. Snorri baut hier augenscheinlich auf älteren Vorstellungen von einem Todesreich im Norden und von den Riesen als Leichenesser auf (Vm 37, milj 16). Ob dies wirklich dazu berechtigt, die Behauptung aufzustellen, dass dieses Totenreich und Hel in heidnischer Zeit identisch waren, möchte ich noch bezweifeln. Andererseits kann man sich ohne weiteres vorstellen, dass der Weg nach Hel in nördliche Richtung führte, da es wesentlich natürlicher erscheint, den Norden mit seiner Kälte mit der Unterwelt unten in der Erde zu parallelisieren als mit einem gliihendheissen Ort, wie man es von den christlichen Vorstellungen her kennt. Auf jeden Fall gibt es ausser Snorri keinen Beleg dafür, dass Hel in dem horizontalen Modell überhaupt einen Platz einnehmen kann', wohingegen es zahlreiche Beispiele dafür gibt, dass man es sich als zur Unterwelt gehörig vorgestellt hat. Es kann natürlich nicht ausgeschlossen werden, dass eventuell eine Vorstellung über verschiedene Richtungen im horizontalen Sinne in der Unterwelt existiert haben kann, aber es wird in den Vorstellungen über sie kaum eine weitere Rolle gespielt haben. Hel war in erster Linie unten, Die Frage stellt sich nun, ob wir — selbst wenn es eventuell ein Totenreich in nördlicher Richtung gegeben haben sollte — ohne weiteres behaupten können, dass die Unterwelt und Útgar8r in den beiden Kosmossystemen die gleiche Bedeutung haben. Dieser Meinung ist Molenaar offenbar und Meletinskij ist an dieser Stelle ganz explizit. Er sagt: The vertical model [...] corresponds to the horizontal one by a series of identifications which are essentially transformations. The main hinge, tying and strengthening boths models is the identification of the "north" and also the east, with the below (the locus of the kingdom of the dead and generally of Der Saal, dessen Tür nach Norden zeigt und den man auf Nistrond ( Vsp 38) findet, kann nach Meinung Finnur Jönssons (LP 424) im nördlichen Teil von Hel liegen und demnach ein Teil davon sein. Dass es in Hel einen Strand gibt, hängt wohl natürlicherweise damit zusammen, dass der Weg dorthin oft über Wasser oder eine Brücke führt. Im übrigen wird an der Stelle nichts davon gesagt, dass der Saal in nördlicher Richtung liegt, nur dass die Tür nach Norden zeigt, was damit zusammenpasst, dass der Weg nach Hel von der Oberwelt zuerst nach Norden und danach nach unten geht.

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Chtonian demonic forces). The watery element in the horizontal model (the sea) figures essentially a negative quantity (sources, roots). Jormungandr is in some measure equivalent to Nidhögg who gnaws at the roots of the cosmic tree. In the vertical model there is no shaman mediation by Loki between the Aesir, the giants and the dwarfs and it is Odin who carries out the shaman functions. Only in the vertical model is the description of the heavenly world of the gods and of the heavenly "happy" Kingdom of the dead developed, but to make up for it, the opposition of gods and giants and the struggle with them is virtually absent. The opposition with the giants does to sorne extent correspond to the opposition with the Kingdom of the dead and the chtonian forces. Therefore, if the opposition "culture-nature" is most pronounced in the horizontal model, it is the opposition "cosmos" and "chaos" which is in the foreground in the vertical model (Meletinskij 1973a, 50). Dies ist ausgesprochen interessant, aber die Frage stellt sich, ob es auch richtig ist, Zunächst gibt es, wie bereits oben angesprochen, Probleme mit der Analogie von "Norden" und "Osten" einerseits und der Unterwelt andererseits. "Norden" und "Osten" im horizontalen Modell sind vor allem als der Ort charakterisiert, wo sich die Riesen aufhalten und wo Pórr hinreist, um sie zu bekämpfen. In der Unterwelt gibt es, wie Meletinskij selbst sagt, praktisch keine Riesen8 , dafür aber eine andere Kategorie von Wesen, deren dämonischer Charakter nicht

Mímir könnte hier eine Ausnahme sein, denn was ihn betrifft, so ist er zweifellos mit der Unterwelt verbunden. Es ist schon eher diskutabel, ob er ein Riese ist. Dass sein Name in einem Pala als Riese vorkommt, scheint nicht überzeugend, zieht man die Rolle in Betracht, die er im Krieg der Wanen einnimmt, wie er in Yng.s Kap. 4 dargestellt wird und die Rolle, die er als Wissensvermittler für Odin spielt, ua., weil Odin sich durch seine Wissenswettsbewerbe als klüger als die Riesen erwiesen hat. Mímir kann ein Ase sein, der durch eine Reise in die Unterwelt oder das Totenreich sich ein Wissen angeeignet hat, was es nur dort gibt. Dass es sich auch um einen Riesen handeln kann, ist jedoch nicht ganz von der Hand zu weisen. ( Vgl. Sgkkmímir, u.a. in Yt. 2 und Grm 50 und andere Zusammensetzungen mit Mímir). Denn selbstverständlich können die Riesen, genau wie die Götter in die Unterwelt reisen. Das typische Beispiel ist Loki, aber seine eigentlich Wohnstatt liegt nicht dort. Etwas anders verhält es sich mit den Riesinnen, die — nicht primär als Riesen — sondern als Frauen, also als Ausdruck eines femininen Prinzips (das als der Unterwelt zugehörig klassifiziert wird, vgl. Hastrup 1981; Schjødt 1983), aber auch als Tote der Unterwelt angehören, denn Riesen sowohl als Menschen können nach Hel kommen, wenn sie sterben. Dass daher nicht nur die Volva in Bdr, sondern auch in Vsp und Helreiö Brynhildar als Tote aufgefasst werden müssen, dafür habe ich bereits früher argumentiert (Schjødt 1981). Dagegen kann ich Einar Haugens Vorschlag kaum akzeptieren, dass die Zwerge nur diminutive Riesen sein sollen (Haugen 1966, 863). Die Tatsache, dass sie gewisse Dinge mit ihnen gemeinsam haben, macht sie nicht zu solchen. 8

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unbedingt einleuchtend ist. Hel ist sicherlich keine besonders anziehende Persönlichkeit, aber das "Dämonische" an ihr, ist wiederum vor allem auf Snorris Beschreibung zurückzuführen (Gylf. Kap. 20), der nach allgemein anerkannter Auffassung christlich beeinflusst war, zumal alle sich einig sind, dass Hel kein Totenreich war, wo man Qualen ausstehen musste, sondern eher der klassischen Vorstellung von Hades entsprach — also einem Ort, der gewiss freudlos war, aber keineswegs einer eigentlichen Hölle gleichkam. Sieht man einmal von Hel selbst ab, so ist es dagegen schwierig, die Dämonie in der Unterwelt zu entdecken. Die Gruppen chthonischer Wesen, die oben erwähnt worden sind, haben gewiss ein grösseres Wissen über Magie und andere Künste als es in der Oberwelt der Fall ist, aber deshalb sind sie noch lange nicht mit den Riesen äquivalent, deren Relation zu Göttern und Menschen — trotz der ursprünglichen Verwandtschaft — eindeutig antagonistisch ist. Ich möchte also behaupten, dass die Opposition, von der auf der vertikalen Achse die Rede ist, eine ganz anderer Art ist, als diejenige, der wir auf der horizontalen Achse begegnen. Die Oppositionspaare auf den zwei Achsen weisen jedoch nicht nur einen unterschiedlichen Charakter auf, sondern sie finden auch bei ganz verschiedenen Kodes Anwendung.9 Mit Hinweis auf das Meletinskij-Zitat weiter oben kann man in den beiden Oppositionspaaren Kosmos vs Chaos und Kultur vs Natur den Ausgangspunkt nehmen. Diese kommen seiner Meinung nach am deutlichsten auf der vertikalen bzw. der horizontalen Achse zum Ausdruck. Es ist jedoch nicht besonders ersichtlich, warum sich das so verhalten sollte, und auf jeden Fall erfordert es ein Diskussion der Terme Chaos und Natur: was ist eigentlich damit gemeint, was sind deren semantische Konnotationen im Norden und wie verhalten sie sich zueinander? Diese Fragen müssen zwangslaufig beantwortet oder zumindest kommentiert werden, bevor man Meletinskijs Hypothese (oder Theorie?) zustimmen oder sie ablehnen kann. Dies ist jedoch aus Platzgründen nicht möglich, daher will ich mich mit einigen kurzen Bemerkungen begnügen, die den Gebrauch dieser Ausdrücke wenigstens problematisieren. Ich will natürlich nicht bestreiten, dass gewisse Transformationen zwischen den beiden räumlichen Modellen stattfinden können (z. B. Njgrar, der als ursprünglich chthonischer Gott in der Oberwelt später Bewohner der Gebiete am Meer wurde), aber es sind keine Transformationen, die Alternativen bewirken und folglich inkonsistent sind, wie es der Fall ist mit der Frage, ob die Götter im Himmel wohnen oder auf der Erde. Es ist im Gegenteil die Rede von Transformationen, die ganz in Übereinstimmung mit der narativen Eigenlogik der Mythen stehen. 9

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Nun verhält es sich so, dass Chaos im Verhältnis zu Kosmos und Natur im Verhältnis zu Kultur sowohl räumliche als auch zeitliche Implikationen hat. Gleichzeitig damit, dass man sie ausserhalb ihrer Gegenpole findet und dass man also zu ihnen "reisen" kann, so befinden sie sich auch "vor" ihren Gegenpolen: Kosmos entsteht aus dem Chaos und die Natur kann kulturähnlich gemacht werden. Ausserdem ist es wichtig, dass man sich klarmacht, dass beide Terme kulturbezogen sind: sie können nur im Verhältnis zu dem semantischen Universum definiert werden, das die Kultur definiert. Das bedeutet wiederum, dass sie im wesentlichen nur als Oppositionen zu Kosmos bzw. Kultur definiert werden können, Nun verhält es sich so, dass jede Kultur sich als in Übereinstimmung mit der kosmischen Ordnung auffasst, weshalb Kosmos, definiert als das geordnete Universum, und Kultur sich zueinander verhalten wie Makrokosmos zu Mikrokosmos, da das letztere ein Abbild des ersteren ist. Auf einem gewissen Niveau ist es daher nicht möglich, zwischen Kosmos und Kultur zu unterscheiden: Die Strukturierungs- und Klassifikationsprinzipien, die für das eine gelten, gelten auch für das andere (vgl. die oben angeführte Argumentation bei Gurevich und Hastrup, über diese Prinzipien im Verhältnis zu Kosmologie und Gesellschaft). Wenn sich eine solche Unterscheidung mit den beiden markierten Termen Kultur und Kosmos nicht durchführen lässt, muss es folglich auch schwierig werden, die negativen Pole im Verhältnis zueinander zu definieren. Dieses Problem wird noch deutlicher, wenn man sich das nordische Material ansieht; in der nordischen Mythologie kommen kaum richtige Menschen vor, da die Protagonisten der meisten mythologischen Plots fast ausschiesslich Götter und andere übernatürliche Wesen sind. Dennoch würden die meisten Chaos wohl als ein zeitliches Phänomen definieren (etwas, das bereits dagewesen ist und evt, wiederkommen kann), während Natur dementsprechend als ein räumliches Phänomen verstanden wird (das, was die Kultur umgibt). Dieser Blickwinkel kann jedoch nicht konsequent durchgehalten werden, da es klar ist, wie wir oben gesehen haben, dass beide Terme (auf jeden Fall im Norden, vermutlich aber überall) zeitliche und räumliche Konnotationen aufweisen. Eine solche Unterscheidung ist daher nicht zweckmässig. Es scheint ergiebiger zu sein, sich die Zusammenhänge anzusehen, wo die Terme Chaos und Natur angemessenerweise in Übereinstimmung mit dem Bedeutungskomplex gebraucht werden kannen, den sie innerhalb der modernen anthroprologischen und religionshistorischen Literatur in sich tragen. Dann kann man sehen, dass wir es in allen Situationen, wo es natürlich wäre, den Term Chaos zu gebrauchen, mit Riesen

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zu tun haben, Es dreht sich in dem zeitlichen Kode vorrangig um Kosmogonie und Eschatologie. In der Kosmogonie, so wie wir sie von Snorri erzählt bekommen und wie sie bruchstückhafter in den iibrigen Quellen vorkommt, spielen die Riesen eine alles dominierende Rolle: sie sind die Ältesten, und ihr Stammvater Ymir ist es, der das Baumaterial für den gesamten Kosmos liefert. In diesem Zusammenhang ist es wichtig, darauf zu achten, dass dieser Urriese erst nach seinem Tod Bedeutung erhält, als die Götter aus dem ursprünglichen Chaos den Kosmos erschaffen. Die Kosmogonie als solche kann daher als eine doppelte Opposition zwischen dem Chaos und den Riesen auf der einen Seite und dem Kosmos und den Göttern auf der anderen Seite analysiert werden. Das gleiche gilt für die Eschatologie, wo der endgültige Untergang auf den Kampf der Riesen mit den Göttern zurückführen ist, wobei die letzteren auf verschiedene Art und Weise immer als Beschützer und Schöpfer des geordneten Kosmos gegolten haben. Etwas Ähnliches gilt auch für den räumlichen Kode. Hier haben wir gesehen, dass genau das, was ausserhalb der bekannten Welt ist, was am äussersten plaziert, also am weitesten von den Behausungen der Götter und Menschen weg ist — das ist das Land der Riesen, das, nicht zuletzt durch den zeitlichen Kode, eine eindeutig negative Bedeutung erhält, was gerade charakteristisch für das Chaos ist." Es scheint daher völlig ohne Übereinstimmung mit den Quellen, zu behaupten, dass Chaos vs Kosmos auf der vertikalen Achse am deutlichsten hervortritt: Chaos droht ganz allein auf der horizontalen Achse. Der Begriff Natur ist dagegen wesentlich schwieriger zu hantieren. İ.Jber Chaos kann man wenigsten sagen, das es negative Konnotationen in sich trägt, wohingegen dies bei der Natur nicht, oder auf jeden Fall nicht eindeutig der Fall ist. Die Natur ist natürlich etwas anderes als die Kultur, aber im Gegensatz zu der Opposition Kosmos-Chaos, ist hier nicht die Rede von Feindschaft, wenn die Götter (oder die 1° Deswegen erscheint es auch nicht überzeugend, wenn einige Forscher versucht haben, mythische Ausdrücke zu finden für den Versuch, ein Gleichgewicht zwischen Kosmos und Chaos aufrechtzuhalten, wo auch die Kosmosmächte nicht die Überhand bekommen dürfen und so das Gleichgewicht zerstören. Dies gilt besonders im Verhältnis zu der Midgardsschlange (Boyer 1981, 194 ff.; Meulengracht Sørensen 1986). Denn die gesamte nordische Mythologie ist Ausdruck eines andauernden Kampfes, wo das Böse überwunden werden soll, und der Mensch oder "Mythenmacher" kann diesem Konflikt keineswegs neutral gegenüberstehen: es wäre natürlich ideal, wenn die Götter siegen würden, die Welt aber zeigt, dass dies nicht so gewesen ist.

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Menschen), das aufsuchen, was wir Natur nennen — verstanden als eine kulturell definierte semantische Kategorie. Aber was macht den semantischen Inhalt dieses Begriffs aus? Es muss leider konstatiert werden, dass hier eine gewisse Subjektivität mit hereinspielt, u.a., weil in der Religionsphänomenologie "Natur" ein Begriff ist, mit dem man sich nicht beschäftigt hat — vermutlich aus der Betrachtung heraus, dass "Natur" als objektive Grösse definierbar ist, was natürlich nicht zutrifft. "Chaos" ist dagegen eine Kategorie, die religionsphänomenologisch im Verhältnis zum Kosmos immer eine Rolle gespielt hat. Wir stehen daher in gewissem Sinne ganz am Anfang, wenn wir die Natur im Verhältnis zu dem semantischen System, in das die Kosmologie auch als Teil eingeht, definieren sollen. Es muss jedoch im Rahmen des Erlaubten liegen, die Natur als eine Welt zu betrachten, die ausserhalb der Kultur liegt, und die sich nicht an die Spielregeln hält, die für die Kultur gelten, jedoch ausgesprochen mächtige Kräfte zur Verfügung hat, deren sich gewisse Repräsentanten der Kultur besser zu bedienen wissen als andere, z. B. Frauen und die Toten, sowie natürlich Zauberer. Diese Kräfte werden also mehr oder weniger von gewissen Individuen der Gesellschaft beherrscht, und sie können sowohl negativ als auch positiv eingesetzt werden. Zeitlich gesehen ist die Natur genau wie das Chaos etwas, was "noch nicht" in Übereinstimmung mit den Regeln gebracht worden ist, die in der jeweiligen Kultur gelten; aber im Gegensatz zum Chaos wird diese Abweichung nicht vorrangig als etwas Negatives betrachtet. Es ist im Gegenteil von entscheidender Bedeutung, dass die Kräfte, die hier verborgen liegen, "kultiviert" wer, den, Daher sehen wir auch oft, während der Übergang von Chaos zu Kosmos sich in Form von Kampf ausdrückt, wo die Repräsentanten des Kosmos notwendigerweise siegen müssen, dass das Verhältnis zu den Repräsentanten der Natur eher auf friedlichem Austausch basiert," 11 Dies

bedeutet jedoch nicht, dass die Gegensätze im vertikalen Modell "schwächer" sind; sie sind nur von anderer Art . Man kann im Gegenteil sehen, dass die horizontalen Gegensätze quantitativer Art sind (der eine Teil ist "besser" als der andere), wohingegen die Oppositionen auf der vertikalen Achse wesentlich stärker qualitativ markiert sind: z. B. Leben vs Tod, maskulin vs feminin. Diese qualitativen Gegensätze gehören nicht desto weniger zusammen wie Yin und Yang, während die horizontalen Gegensätze (wo Götter und Riesen im übrigen miteinander verwandt sind) auf der Frage basieren, wer der Stärkste ist — aber mit einem gleitenden Übergang zwischen den Polen. Hier dreht es sich um böse oder gut, und der Unterschied ist, wie bekannt, nicht immer einsichtig, und das gilt auch für die alten Nordländer. In diesem Zusammenhang ist es interessant, auf den Unterschied achtzugeben, den es zwischen den beiden wichtigsten Göttern in der Mythologie, Óöinn und

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Das hängt natürlich auch damit zusammen, dass Chaos als Negation zu Kosmos Ausdruck einer "Unordnung" sein muss, während die Natur nur Ausdruck einer "anderen Ordnung" ist. So gesehen stehen also Kultur und Natur in Opposition zu Chaos. Andererseits steht es jedoch ausser Zweifel, dass die Symbole, die Konnotationen wie "Unordnung" und "die andere Ordnung" hervorrufen, zusammenfallen können, da es sich in beiden Fällen um Negationen der "richtigen Ordnung", nämlich Kosmos und Kultur, handelt. Wenn diese Hypothese stimmt, dann folgt daraus auch, dass gerade die Unterwelt im Norden und der Austausch, der zwischen ihr und der Oberwelt stattfindet, das "Naturelement" repräsentiert: hier geht der Austausch zwar nicht reibungslos vor sich, ist aber doch im allgemeinen eher durch komplementäre als konträre Gegensätze geprägt. Dies gilt im Bezug auf die Wanen, deren chthonischer Charakter wohl kaum bezweifelt werden kann, im Bezug auf die Zwerge, die auch Affinität zur Unterwelt haben, und nicht zuletzt im Bezug auf alles, was mit Wissensaneignung zu tun hat. Derartige Wissensaneignungen finden immer auf die Art und Weise statt, dass "die Repräsentanten der Oberwelt" entweder direkt oder indirekt mit der Unterwelt Kontakt aufnehmen oder mit den Toten (indem sie eventuell selber sterben). Dies ist sowohl in der Eddadichtung als anderswo der Fall, z. B. in Grógaldr, in Bdr, in der Mythe vom Erhängen in Hdv, in den Mythen von Mímir, in den Mythen von Kvasir und anderen. "Natur" und die Unterwelt werden dadurch zum Ausdruck der "anderen Welt", wie wir es in der Religionsphänomenologie nennen — derjenigen Welt, die die potentiellen Kräfte beinhaltet, die in der Oberwelt, evtl. in Form von Magie, manifestiert werden können, Chaos ist seinerseits natürlich auch Ausdruck einer "anderen Welt", aber es ist eine Welt, deren Potential eindeutig destruktiv ist und folglich bis hin zu Ragnarok bekämpft werden muss. Ob "Natur" in diesem Zusammenhang überhaupt ein guter Ausdruck ist, kann in hohem Masse diskutiert werden, aber das Obige hat auf jeden Fall die etwas oberflächliche Anschauung problematisiert, ID6rr, gibt, die offenbar jeweils mit ihrer Achse verbunden sind — nämlich der vertikalen bzw. der horizontalen. (56inn's Reisen finden in den meisten Fällen längs der vertikalen Achse zur Unterwelt statt, während ID6rr's an der horizontalen Achse entlang nach Útgarör gehen. Während Pórr auf diese Weise den einen (den positiven) Pol in einem Oppositionspaar ausmacht, der auf gut vs böse basiert, wird (Ann wesentlich mehr zusammengesetzt, weil es gerade seine primäre Funktion ist, das Potential, das in der Unterwelt liegt, an die Oberwelt zu bringen und zu aktualisieren.

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der Meletinskij Ausdruck verlieh, denn wenn die Opposition Natur vs Kultur überhaupt relevant ist, dann verhalten sich diese und die Opposition Chaos vs Kosmos ungekehrt im Verhältnis zu den beiden räumlichen Achsen. Es ist auf gleiche Weise problematisch zu behaupten, dass die zwei zeitlichen Modelle (Reversibilität und Irreversibilität) jedes für sich an ihr räumliches Modell gebunden seien. "... the vertical model was explicitly concerned with the irreversability of time", sagt Hastrup (Hastrup 1981, 68), und spricht dann, als Beleg dafür, von Yggdrasill und dem Schicksal. Nun ist dieses Gebiet natürlich auch zu umfassend, um hier ausführlich diskutiert zu werden, aber die Aussage scheint nicht unmittelbar einleuchtend zu sein. Zunächst einmal scheint die horizontale Achse nur in geringem Umfang überhaupt zeitliche Konnotationen zu haben. Es stimmt natürlich, dass die Kosmogonie, wie wir gesehen haben, vorzugsweise dort stattfindet, aber darüber hinaus kann man kaum behaupten, dass von einer Art Reversibilität die Rede sein könnte, nur weil unmittelbar keine Entwicklung stattfindet und die Kosmologie stabil bleibt. Im Gegenteil scheint gerade die Relation Götter vs Riesen fur die Phasen im kosmischen Verlauf entscheidend zu sein, und diese Relation wird, wie gesagt, auf der horizontalen Achse konstituiert, Umgekehrt ist die vertikale Achse mit Yggdrasill als Hauptbestandteil nicht eindeutig irreversibel. Das Symbol des Baumes selbst ist, wie Eliade nachgewiesen hat (Eliade 1958, 265 ff.) oft ein Symbol der Wiederholung, der Rückkehr, der Fähigkeit wieder zu erblühen, und daher also der Reversibilität, Es stimmt, dass Yggdrasill nicht zuletzt in Vsp dazu gebraucht wird, die Zeit zu messen und die fortschreitende Zeit bis hin zu Ragnarok zu symbolisieren, aber wir stehen hier eher dem Verhältnis zwischen kleinen und grossen Verläufen gegenüber, Teilt man einen zyklischen Verlauf in kleinere Einheiten auf, so wird dieser linear, da er eine Entwicklung hin zu einem neuen Zustand darstellt. Ich habe früher bereits dafür argumentiert, dass wir Hinweise auf eine zyklische Zeitauffassung in Vsp selbst finden können (Schjødt 1981), und es scheint mir innerhalb einer Religion mit einer derart grundlegenden zyklischen Ideologie, nicht möglich, Reversibilität und Irreversibilität als Gegensatzpaar aufzustellen. Selbst in Indien, wo die zyklische Auffassung ausgesprochen deutlich und für das gesamte religiöse Universum konstituierend ist, sehen wir, dass die makrokosmische Zeit in Verläufe (Yugas) eingeteilt ist, wo jede ihren linearen Verlauf hat. Das Lineare ist also fast per Definition im Zyklischen eingebaut, und im Norden ist es vorzugsweise Yggdrasill, der mit seiner Entwicklung

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Exponent für diesen Teilverlauf ist, der unsere Zeit ausmacht. Das einzige konsequente Beispiel, das wir für Reversibilität innerhalb dieses Verlaufs im Norden haben, ist das Schicksal der toten Krieger in Walhall — mit deren Tod und Wiedergeburt; aber man kann nicht sagen, dass dieses Beispiel auf der horizontalen Achse stattfindet. Wiederum wirkt es so, als ob die genannten Forscher einem Systemzwang zum Opfer gefallen sind, der nicht notwendig ist, um strukturalistische Analysen zu machen. Zum Schluss will ich nur noch an ein wichtiges strukturalistisches Prinzip erinnern, das u.a. für Lévi-Strauss in seinem Buch über Totemismus entscheidend war, nämlich, dass die Identität zwischen verschiedenen Kodes sich auf Relationen und nicht auf Elemente bezieht. Dies führt für diese Untersuchung mit sich, dass himmlische Symbole ohne weiteres in Verbindung mit chthonischen oder anderen vorkommen können und dass es daher die Relation hoch vs niedrig sein kann, die hier expliziert wird. Aber es ist wichtig, daran festzuhalten, dass es Relationen und nicht Elemente sind, die bedeutungstragende Werte in sich tragen: ein himmlisches Symbol kann im Hinblick auf die vertikale Plazierung dazu gebraucht werden, es von einem chtlionischen zu unterscheiden; das eine ist die Oberwelt, während das andere die Unterwelt ist. Wenn also der französische Forscher Renauld-Krantz z, B. auf diese Weise drei verschiedene Niveaus ausfindig maclıt, wo die drei Funktionen wiedergefunden werden können, und er in Verbindung mit der kosmischen Taxonomie bereits behauptet, dass die erste Funktion mit dem Himmel verbunden ist, so ist es keinesfalls beabsichtigt, dies hier zurückzuweisen. Man muss sich nur darüber im klaren sein, dass eine solche Feststellung nur dann einen Sinn ergibt, wenn zugleich die zweite und dritte Funktion mit der Luft bzw. der Erde verbunden ist: die drei Funktionen verhalten sich so zueinander wie die drei kosmischen Sphären sich zueinander verhalten (RenauldKrantz 1972, 215). Die wechselseitigen Relationen der Funktionen können somit in einer Reihe von verschiedenen Kodes wiedergefunden werden — wie z. B. dein kosmischen, aber auch dem sozialen und anthropologischen sowie auch auf verschieden anderen Ebenen. Dies hat jedoch nichts mit "Wohnstätten" weder im mythologischen noch im kosmologischen Sinne zu tun, sondern es bezieht sich ganz alleine auf einige Klassifikationsprinzipien. Zum Schluss möchte ich noch gerne hervorheben, dass die hier im Artikel kritisierten Verfasser nicht deswegen kritisiert worden sind, weil ihre Werke unbrauchbar oder gleichgültig sind, sondern im Gegenteil, weil sie provozierend und dadurch ausgesprochen interessant

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sind - im Gegensatz zu manch anderem, das iiber dieses Gebiet verfasst worden ist. Ich kann mich daher dem übergeordneten Projekt, das diesen Untersuchungen zugrunde liegt, vällig anschliessen; aber eine fortlaufende Diskussion über diese Themen und eine Präzisierung der Terminologie und des Begriffapparates müssen notwendigerweise immer derartigen Versuchen folgen - und in diesem Zusammenhang soll mein Beitrag hier auch gesehen werden.

Literaturverzeichnis Boyer, R. 1981. La religion des anciens Scandinaves. Paris. Eliade, M. 1958. Patterns in comparative religion. New York. Gurevich, A. Ya. 1969. Space and time in the "Weltmodell" of the old Scandinavian peoples. Mediaeval Scandinavia 2. Odense. Hastrup, K. 1981. Cosmology and society in Medieval Iceland. Ethn ologia Scandinavica. Lund. Haugen, E. 1966. The mythical structure of the ancient Scandinavians: Some thougths on reading Dumézil. To honour of Roman Jacobson: Essays on the occasion of his Seventieth birthday, 11. October 1966 2. The Hague. Holtsmark, A. 1964. Studier i Snorres mytologi. (Skrifter utg. av Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi i Oslo 2, Hist.-Filos. Klasse, N. S. 4.) Oslo. Kiil, V. 1960. Hliôskiálf og seiôhjallr. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 75. Lund. Meletinskij, E. 1973a. Scandinavian mythology as a system 1. Journal of Symbolic Anthropology 1. The Hague. - 1973b. Scandinavian mythology as a system 2. Journal of Symbolic Anthropology 2. The Hague. Meulengracht Sørensen, P. 1986. Thor's fishing expedition. Words and objects. Ed. by G. Steinsland. Oslo. Molenaar, H. 1985. 6clinns Gift. Leiden. Motz, L. 1975. The king and the goddess. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 90. Lund. - 1980. Sister in the cave: The stature and the function of the female figures in the Eddas. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 95. Lund. Neckel, G. 1913. Walhall. Dortmund. Nordal, S. 1927. Völuspci. København. Renauld-Krantz, P. 1972. Structures de la mythologic Nordique, Paris. Schjødt, J. P. 1981. Völuspá - cyklisk tidsopfattelse i gammelnordisk religion. Danske Studier. København. - 1983. Livsdrik og vidensdrik. Religionsvidenskabeligt Tidsskrift 2. Århus. - 1984. Aser og vaner: Historie eller struktur? Fallos 5. Århus. Sijmons, B. & Gering, H. 1906-31. Die Lieder der Edda 1-4. Halle. Stanley Martin, J. 1972. Ragnargk. Assen.

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Ström, A. V. 1975. Germanische Religion. Germanische und Baltische Religion. Von A. V. Ström & H. Biezais. (Die Religionen der Menschheit 19, 1.) Stuttgart. Vries, J. de 1956-57. Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte 1-2. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 12, 1-2.) Berlin. — 1964-67. Altnordische Literaturgeschichte 1-2. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 16.) Berlin.

Der Runen-Stein von Rök und Snorri Sturluson — oder `Wie aussagekräftig sind unsere Quellen zur Religionsgeschichte der Wikingerzeit?' VON PREBEN MEULENGRACHT SØRENSEN

In der Diskussion über die Verwendbarkeit der uns zur Verfügung stehenden Quellen zur Geschichte der Wikingerzeit ist es allgemein geübter Brauch geworden, die erzählenden Texte des Mittelalters als im großen und ganzen unbrauchbar abzulehnen, Sind die schriftlichen Quellen ihrer Art nach erklärend oder beschreibend, was bei mittelalterlichen Quellen durchweg der Fall ist, hält man sie für verfälscht und tendenziös oder schlichtweg für erdichtet. Unter 'historischer Wahrheit' versteht man nicht den schriftlichen Bericht über die Vorzeit selbst, sondern ihm zugrundeliegende Data, die der moderne Wissenschaftler mittels seiner Analyse möglicherweise hervorholen und zu einem neuen Ganzen zusammenfügen kann.' Unter diesem quellenkritischen Blickwinkel hält man die mittelalterlichen Quellen durchweg für weniger wertvoll als die authentischen Quellen, also archäologische und andere materielle und sprachliche und sonstwie symbolische Zeugnisse aus der Wikingerzeit selbst. Diese Quellen gelten aufgrund ihrer Eigenschaft als tberreste' in gewissem Sinne selbst als Geschichte, In den letzten Jahren hat sich, was diese quellenkritische Methode betrifft, eine gewisse Umorientierung bemerkbar gemacht, insbesondere unter dem Eindruck der sozialanthropologischen Theoriebildung, Hier sind z. B, der Rechtshistoriker William Ian Miller zu nennen i Repräsentativ für diese quellenkritische Einschätzung der mittelalterlichen Quellen ist Olaf Olsens Ablehnung der Sagaliteratur: "I intet tilfælde kan oplysninger om hedenske kultforhold i sagaerne og Landnimab6k med visited føres så langt tilbage i tiden, at vi har lov til at betragte dem som pålidelige historiske kilder. Tværtimod må vi anse det for sandsynligt, at størstedelen af disse efterretninger enten er fri digtning eller traditionsstof, der under den lange mundtlige overlevering er forvansket og farvet af forfatterens kristne grundsyn, således at deres eventuelle historiske kærne ikke kan blotlægges" (Olsen 1966, 54).

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(Miller 1983a; Miller 1983b; Miller 1986a; Miller 1986b), die Ethnologin Kirsten Hastrup (Hastrup 1985) und der Historiker Sverre Bagge (Bagge 1986). Ich selbst habe in anderem Zusammenhang im Hinblick auf die Geschichtsschreibung des Mittelalters die Quellenkritik angesprochen (Meulengracht Sørensen 1986a; Hastrup & Meulengracht Sørensen 1987). Hier möchte ich mich mit der Frage beschäftigen, was es eigentlich heißt, diese authentischen Quellen heranzuziehen. Es handelt sich dabei, wie gesagt, um mehrere ihrem Wesen nach unterschiedliche Arten von Quellen, und ihre Verwendung impliziert dementsprechend das Auftreten unterschiedlicher methodischer Probleme. Als Beispiel habe ich die Inschrift des Runensteins von Rök ausgewählt, also eine schriftliche Quelle, die unbezweifelbar der Wikingerzeit angehört, Sie wird allgemein in die erste Hälfte des neunten Jahrhunderts datiert, und es besteht Einigkeit darüber, daß sie keinerlei christlichen Einfluß aufweist. Ebensogroße Einmütigkeit herrscht darüber, daß sie als Ganzes außerordentlich schwer zu verstehen ist. Ich konzentriere mich auf den Teil der Inschrift, von dem angenommen werden kann, daß er religiösen oder mythischen Inhaltes ist, also die Umrahmungszeilen auf der Rückseite des Steins und die Inschrift auf der Oberseite und der linken Schmalseite des Steins, Meine Absicht ist nicht, eine neue Deutung vorzuschlagen, sondern — wie gesagt — Überlegungen darüber anzustellen, was es eigentlich heißt, wenn man es unternimmt, diese Inschrift zu deuten,2 Als Ausgangspunkt dient mir dabei die Analyse und Deutung, die Ottar Grønvik in seinem Aufsatz "Runeinnskriften på Rök-steinen" (Grønvik 1983) vorgelegt hat, denn es ist die neueste Gesamtdeutung der Inschrift, und sie bezieht nicht nur alle Teile des Textes in die Deutung ein, sondern stellt den Text auch in einen äußeren religionshistorischen Zusammenhang. Der Teil der Inschrift, den ich hier behandele, lautet in Grønviks Deutung folgendermaßen: Ich sage die Erinnerung, wer von den Ingvaldingen gegeben (oder: übergeben) wurde durch das Opfer der Hausfrau. Ich sage die Erinnerung, welchem kühnen Mann ein Verwandter geboren wurde; dies ist kein Irrtum: er konnte den Riesen erdrücken (ihn mit den

Die gleiche Fragestellung wurde kürzlich von Mzehlum diskutiert (Mæhlum 1987). Vgl. auch Westman 1981. Eine Ubersicht über die verschiedenen Deutungsvorschläge zur Rök-Inschrift findet sich an mehreren Stellen in der Sekundärliteratur, zuletzt bei Grønvik 1983. 2

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Knöcheln pressen); es besteht auch kein Irrtum darüber, daß er den Schadenstifter rotfärbt (tötet). Ich trage eine Erinnerung vor; Thor, Sifs Gemahl, der Schützer des Heiligtums (Grønvik 1983, 123-28). Diese Deutung stimmt in wesentlichen Punkten mit der heute allgemein anerkannten Lesart überein; bei einigen anderen ebenso wesentlichen Punkten schlägt Grønvik neue Lesarten vor. Bevor wir uns das Textzitat näher ansehen, möchte ich ein paar Worte zu dem Stein als Ganzem sagen, als Denkmal. Wegen ihres Inhaltes, der Schreibweise und ihres Umfanges hat man der Rök-Inschrift zu allen Zeiten eine Ausnahmestellung zugesprochen. Keine andere Runeninschrift enthält derart umfängliche Hinweise auf Erzählungen, Mythos, Sage oder möglicherweise zeitgenössische Begebenheiten, und nur wenige gibt es, die lediglich Andeutungen ähnlicher Hinweise enthalten. Elias Wessên wies jedoch 1958 auf die Analogie hin, die zwischen dem Rök-Stein und den ungefähr gleichzeitigen gotländischen Bildsteinen sowie der ein paar hundert Jahre jüngeren Sigurd-Ritzung von Ramsundsberg in Södermanland besteht (Wessén 1958, 70 f.). Dieser Vergleich machte, wie Lis Jacobsen ein paar Jahre später in einem Aufsatz, in dem sie Wesséns Idee weiterverfolgte, schrieb, der Isolation der Rök-Inschrift ein Ende (Jacobsen 1961, 32-41), Sie läßt sich numehr als eines von mehreren Denkmälern der Wikingerzeit begreifen, auf denen Sage und Mythos in Zusammenhang mit den aktuellen Ereignissen, die zur Entstehung der steinernen Monumente Veranlassung gegeben hatten, bezeugt sind. Lis Jacobsen zog den Vergleich zum Monument von Hunnestad. Der Sparlösa-Stein mit seiner Kombination aus Inschriften und Bildern liefert ein weiteres Beispiel, das zudem mit dem Rökstein gleichzeitig und, was seine Schriftform betrifft, verwandt ist (Sanness Johnsen 1968, 154, 160). Es existieren noch mehrere Parallelen aus späterer Zeit. Ein naheliegendes Beispiel ist der Altuna-Stein (vgl. ferner v. See 1966, 74 f,), Der Vergleich mit den Bildsteinen erlöst die Rök-Inschrift jedoch nicht allein aus ihrer isolierten Sonderstellung, sondern macht auf neue Weise ihre Einzigartigkeit sichtbar. Die Inschrift baut auf Erzählungen oder Dichtungen auf, und derartige Erzählungen wurden lange vor und lange nach der Entstehung der Rök-Inschrift erzählt oder vorgetragen. Die gesprochene Sprache war das Medium, in dem Mythos und Geschichte Ausdruck fanden, aber man hat es die ganze Zeit hindurch stets auch verstanden, sie in einer anderen und dauerhaften Ausdrucksform zu verewigen, nämlich der des Bildes. Bilddarstel-

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lungen des Erzählten auf Stein, auf Wänden oder Schilden bildeten ein Seitenstück zur mündlichen Erzählung, mit dem man diese festhalten und ihr einen dauerhaften und unveränderlichen Platz in ganz bestimmten Zusammenhängen geben wollte, Von dieser Perspektive aus betrachtet stellt sich uns der Rök-Stein als Ausdruck einer revolutionierenden Idee dar, die darin bestand, anstelle des Bildes zur Bewahrung des Erzählten die Schrift zu verwenden. Hierbei handelte es sich ganz sicher nicht um eine naheliegende Möglichkeit, wie dies fiir uns gelten würde. Denn in Stein eingehauene Runen eigneten sich ganz einfach nicht für längere Texte, wofür die Rök-Inschrift mit ihrer bloß andeutenden und fragmentarischen Form ein deutliches Beispiel ist. Es muß auch außerordentlich schwierig gewesen sein, eine Erzählung in Schrift umzusetzen. Die bildliche Darstellung war und blieb ein Ausdrucksmittel, das weitaus näher lag und besser geeignet war, solange Pergament und lateinische Schrift noch nicht zur Verfügung standen; und tatsächlich fand das großangelegte Schriftexperiment von Rök auch nirgends, soviel wir wissen, Nachahmung. Der Unterschied zwischen dem Rök-Stein und den Bildsteinen besteht nicht allein in ihrer Unterschiedlichkeit als Ausdrucksmittel. Er ist weitaus radikaler. Auf einer bestimmten Ebene ist das Bild unmittelbar verstehbar, auch für denjenigen, der die ihm zugrundeliegende Vorstellung oder Bedeutung nicht kennt. Es stellt etwas dar. Dies ist im Falle der Schrift ganz anders, und schon gar beim Rök-Stein, dessen Inschrift geradezu absichtlich eingefügte Verständnishemmnisse aufweist. Erstens konnte sie natürlich nur von Leuten gelesen werden, die Runen verstanden. Zweitens war sie auch für diese nur schwer zu deuten. Die Schwierigkeiten hinsichtlich der Lesefolge, der Wortabtrennung und des richtigen Verstehens dieser Wörter, die von den neuzeitlichen Runologen gemeistert sein wollen, haben schon damals existiert. Drittens gibt es das bedeutsame Faktum, daß der Runenmeister Teile des Textes in Geheimschrift abgefaßt hat. Er war also bemüht, diese Partien für den, der in den Code nicht eingeweiht war, unlesbar zu machen. Schließlich ist der Text selbst, ist er erst einmal entziffert, für denjenigen, der mit der Mythen- und Sagenwelt nicht vertraut ist, schwer zu verstehen — möglicherweise sogar auch für diejenigen, die über solche Kenntnisse verfügen. Es hat den Anschein, als ob das Rätselhafte Bestandteil der eigentlichen Idee dieser Inschrift war. Mit welcher Absicht? Wir kennen die Antwort nicht, aber wir können daraus die Schlußfolgerung ziehen, daß der Stein nicht in erster

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Linie als eine Mitteilung gedacht war. Die Schrift, die ihn überall bedeckt, ist ein Schmuck, der als solcher den Stein bereits zu einem Monument macht. Der Text enthält einen Sinn, aber dieser Sinn war nicht für alle und jeden gedacht. Der Text ließ sich lesen, aber die Lesung wurde so sehr erschwert, wie eben möglich, Er birgt ein Wissen, das erhalten und dokumentiert werden sollte, aber dennoch verborgen bleiben sollte, wahrscheinlich deshalb, weil dies die ihm innewohnende Kraft vergrößerte und seine Heiligkeit verstärkte. Dieses Wissen ist von der gleichen Art wie jenes, das später in den mythologischen Eddaliedern faßbar wird, in Grímnismdl und Vaflırdelnismdl, Vgluspd und HyndlulM, und das dort nur unter besonderen und gefährlichen Bedingungen gewährt und erworben wird,' Vielleicht läßt sich dieses Wissen mit dem Ausdruck aldar orlóg `das Schicksal der Götter und Menschen' aus der Str, 21 der Lokasenna bezeichnen (vgl. str. 25 und 29), wo davor gewarnt wird, es zu offenbaren. Wenn das Wissen, das auf dein Rök-Stein verkündet wird, von dieser Art ist, muß man sich die Frage stellen, ob die neuzeitlichen Versuche, die darnach streben, den Text erschöpfend und unzweideutig als Ausdruck für bestimmte Handlungen oder narrative Sinngehalte zu erklären, überhaupt Aussicht haben, mit Erfolg gekrönt zu werden, oder ob man nicht eher mit einer hiervon völlig verschiedenen Denkweise rechnen muß, derzufolge das Rätselhafte Teil des intendierten Sinnes ist und das Ungedeutete und Offene des Textes Absicht ist. Mit diesen Erwägungen zur Mitteilungsfunktion des Textes im Hinterkopf wende ich mich jetzt wieder der Deutung Ottar Grønviks zu, Magnus Olsen sah in der Wortfolge kruía knátti Mun, die von allen bis auf einige wenige Ausnahmen (Brate 1911, 241 f,; Lindqvist 1967, 214, 223) mit 'er konnte einen Riesen schlagen (oder erdrücken oder töten)' übersetzt wird, eine Übereinstimmung mit einem Satz in Skdidskaparmdl. Dort sagt Thors Sohn Magni, nachdem Thor den Riesen Hrungnir getötet hat: ee hygg, at iotvn J>enna mvndac hafa lostit ihel mecl hnefa minvm ich meine, daß ich diesen Riesen mit meiner bloßen Faust hätte erschlagen können' (Edda 1931, 103). Magnus Olsen war der Ansicht, die Übereinstimmung sei so groß, daß auf dem Rök-Stein von einem Hinweis auf den Hrungnir-Mythos gesprochen werden könne (Olsen 1921, 214 ff.). Er rechnete mit einem verlorengegangenen Gedicht als gemeinsamer Quelle für sowohl Snorri Die Verwandtschaft des Rök-Textes mit u.a. den Gedichten Hyndlulja, Ynglingatal und Vallnliönismdl wurde bereits von Sophus Bugge diskutiert (Bugge 1910, 238-58).

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wie den Verfasser der Inschrift. Diese Hypothese wurde später von Niels Åge Nielsen weiterentwickelt (Nielsen 1969, 54-60) und wird von Ottar Grønvik in veränderter Form wieder aufgegriffen, der annimmt, daß die Eigenschaft, einen Riesen mit bloßen Fäusten erschlagen zu können, ursprünglich Thor beigelegt worden und später auf seinen Sohn übertragen worden sei (Grønvik 1983, 127). Grønvik untermauert die Hypothese zusätzlich mit einem Hinweis auf Gylfaginning, in deren Erzählung von Thor und Hymir es heißt: en Porr reiddi til hnefann ok settr via eyra Hymi 'Thor aber schwang die Faust und traf Hymir am Ohr' (Edda 1931, 63; Grønvik 1983, 131). Der verbale Ausgangspunkt für die Parallelisierung der Rök-Inschrift und der Edda, die Verwandtschaft zwischen den Wörtern knzía und hnefi, findet Grønvik zufolge seine Stütze darin, daß die Erwähnung einer Person, die einen Riesen schlagen oder töten kann, ohne weiteres an Thor denken läßt, wofür er abschließend die Bestätigung auf der Oberseite des Rök-Steins findet, wo der Name Thor eingeritzt ist (Grønvik 1983, 127). Ottar Grønviks Deutung der Inschrift ist, wie gesagt, eine Gesamtdeutung, und deshalb können die übrigen Teile des religiösen InschriftAbschnitts mit dem Satz über den Gott, der den Riesen besiegen konnte, in Verbindung gebracht werden. Dies wird mittels völlig neuer Lesungen auf der verbalen und syntaktischen Ebene der Inschrift und darüberhinaus vermittels einer Neudeutung der ersten Partien des Abschnittes bewerkstelligt, In dem Satz 'welchem kiihnen Manne ein Verwandter geboren wurde' wird der kühne Mann — der entsprechende Ausdruck im Text lautet drengr — mit Thor identifiziert und der Verwandte als der tote Væmod. Auch hier wird Thor mithilfe der Edda Snorris identifiziert, wo es in der Erzählung der Gylfaginning von Thors Reise zu dem Riesen Hymir heißt: Geck hann vt of miclgark sva sem vngr drengr (Edda 1931, 61; Grønvik 1983, 131).4 Anschließend wird auch die erste "Erinnerung" in den Zusammen4 Die allgemein akzeptierte Lesung von niör und drengi auf dem Stein birgt eine Schwierigkeit, die Grønviks Deutung und den meisten übrigen gemeinsam ist. Wenn wir davon ausgehen, daß drengr in der Wikingerzeit die Grundbedeutung `junger Mann' mit den Nebenbedeutungen 'Krieger' und `kühner Mann' gehabt hat (Kuhn 1944, 112 ff.; Foote & Wilson 1970, 105 f.; Lindow 1976, 106-12), ist nur schwer verständlich, wie ein solcher junger Mann einen niar habe bekommen können, wenn hierunter ein ehelich geborener 'Verwandter' zu verstehen ist. Der Begriff drengr beinhaltet, daß es sich um junge, unverheiratete Männer handelt (Nielsen 1945, 115 f.), und dies scheint auch Snorris Definition in Skåldskaparmdl vorauszusetzen: Drengir heita vngir menn bvlavsir, mefian keir afla ser fiar efia oröztir (" `Drengir' heißen junge, noch nicht etablierte Männer, solange sie sich

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hang miteinbezogen, die in Grønviks Übersetzung lautet: 'Ich sage die Erinnerung, wer von den Ingvaldingen gegeben (oder: übergeben) wurde durch das Opfer der IIausfrau.' Die vieldiskutierte Opferhandlung, kvánar húsli, wird in Übereinstimmung mit Otto Höfters Deutungsvorschlag (Höfler 1952, 76 ff.) als Weihung — oder Übergabe — des Sohnes vonseiten seiner Mutter — der Frau des Runenmeisters Varia — an den Gott Thor gedeutet, der also in diesem symbolischen Sinne Væmod als Verwandten erhalten hat. Damit handelt der religiöse Abschnitt in seiner Gesamtheit von Thor und dem toten Sohn, der ihm geweiht wurde. Die dieser Deutung zugrundeliegende Methode ist die zwar oft kritisierte, aber dennoch allgemein akzeptierte, bei der das Ganze vom Detail her und umgekehrt das Detail voin Ganzen her in einem vertiefenden Prozeß verstanden wird, Im vorliegenden Fall baut die Deutung des Ganzen auf der Identifikation des nicht genannten Subjekts des Satzes knúa knátti jQtun `konnte einen Riesen erschlagen' mit Thor als dem Detail auf, und diese Identifikation beruht auf Snorri Sturlusons Erzählung von Thors Kampf mit den Riesen. Tatsächlich wäre diese Deutung aber auch ohne Snorri möglich gewesen. Denn für die Identifikation reicht es aus, wenn man weiß, daß Thor der Widersacher der Riesen ist, und dies läßt sich aus den wikingerzeitlichen Quellen selbst erschließen. Snorris wichtigste Quelle für die Erzählung von Thor und Hrungnir war 145ôó1frs HaustlQng, in der Thors Schlag, allerdings nicht mit der Faust, sondern mit dem Hammer, geschildert wird (Str. 17 und 18; SKJ 1912, 17 f.). Auch der Mythos von Thor und Hymir und der Midgardschlange war im neunten Jahrhundert bekannt. Thor und der Riese im Boot werden sowohl in der Ragnarsdnipa als auch auf dem Bildstein Ardre VIII auf Gotland geschildert, In Ulfr Uggasons Húsdrápa vom Ende des zehnten Jahrhunderts wird Thors Faustschlag an Hymirs Ohr folgendermaßen geschildert (Str. 6): Fullpflugr lét fellir fjall-Gauts hnefa skjalla, ramt mein vas bat, reyni reyrar leggs viô eyra. (SKJ 1912, 129).

noch um den Erwerb von Vermögen und Ruhm bemühen"). Wir müssen davon ausgehen, daß Snorri drengr ebenfalls in diesem Sinne gebrauchte, als er Thor ungr drengr nannte. Lars Lönnroth hat die Schwierigkeit gesehen und schlägt vor, sie als Teil der Rätselhaftigkeit des Steins zu betrachten, daß nämlich ein unverheirateter junger Mann einen Sohn bekommt. Er geht allerdings nicht darauf ein, ob ein solcher Sohn mit niar bezeichnet werden konnte (Lönnroth 1977, 39 f.).

Der Runen-Stein von Rök und Snorri Sturluson 65 Dies heißt: 'Sehr kräftig ließ der Bezwinger des Gebirgs-Göten (d,h. Thor) die Faust gegen das Ohr des Prüfers des Röhrichtstengels (d.h. des Riesen) erschallen, dies war ein starker Schaden.' Die Strophe ist die unmittelbare Vorlage für Snorris Schilderung derselben Episode. Es gibt also zuverlässige Belege aus der Wikingerzeit dafür, daß Thor als Faustkämpfer angesehen wurde. Tatsache ist allerdings, daß die moderne Forschung für ihr Verständnis des Rök-Steins nicht diese wikingerzeitlichen Quellen, sondern Snorris Edda und andere Texte des Mittelalters benutzt hat und diese es sind, die für die Deutungen die sichere Basis haben abgeben müssen. Ohne sie nähmen sich die neuzeitlichen Synthesen fragwürdiger aus. Damit sich die einzelnen Teile der Gesamtdeutung zu einem Ganzen zusammenfügen, müssen sie einander angenähert werden, weswegen die Deutung Einzelheiten enthält, über die man streiten kann. Ich möchte einen Augenblick bei den Wörtern kvánar húsli `das Opfer der Hausfrau' verweilen. Ausgangspunkt für Ottar Grønviks Deutung war, daß es sich um eine Gedenkinschrift handelt, die auf die eine oder andere Weise den Toten betrifft (Grønvik 1983, 104). Das Bindeglied zwischen dem ersten — historischen — Teil und dem zweiten — mythischen — Teil sind die Zeilen über die Opferhandlung der Hausfrau. Grønviks Deutung stellt einen natürlichen Zusammenhang zwischen dem Aktuellen dem toten Sohn — und dem Heiligen her. Wie die meisten übrigen Forscher ist er der Ansicht, daß das Opfer irgendetwas mit diesem Sohn zu tun habe. Hierbei ergibt sich jedoch ein Problem, Es herrscht Einigkeit darüber, daß kvdnar zu lesen ist, der Genitiv von kván, das stets Thefrau', also nicht 'Mutter' oder 'Fran' bedeutet, Hätte sich das Opfer der hier erwähnten Frau auf den Sohn oder auf sie selbst bezogen, hätte man ein Wort für 'Mutter' oder 'Fran' erwarten sollen, Auf dem Stein steht jedoch kvdnar, weshalb die nächstliegende Lesart des Satzes ist, den `Ingvalding', der durch die Opferhandlung der Ehefrau geweiht wurde, nicht als Sohn, sondern als Ehemann der Hausfrau aufzufassen und das Opfer ganz konkret zu verstehen: Es geht um eine Ehefrau, die ihren Ehemann höheren Mächten opfert,5 Diese Deutung des Satzes ist als solche nicht unwahrscheinlich. Daß eine Frau ihren Mann auf eine Weise tötet, die sich als Opferung verstehen läßt, ist der wikingerzeitlichen Vorstellungswelt nicht fremd. Es läßt sich die Strophe 10 des Ynglingatal über Skjalf anführen, die 5

Eine derartige Deutung hat Hugo Pipping vorgeschlagen (Pipping 1932, 78).

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ihren Mann Agni mit seinem goldenen IIalsring erhängte.6 Akzeptiert man diese Deutung, die sich am Detail festmacht und die übrigen Teile des Textes außer Betracht läßt, geht der Zusammenhang mit diesen Teilen sogleich verloren. Es gibt keinerlei Bezug zum Anfang der Inschrift mit ihrer Angabe über den toten Sohn mehr, und ebenso fehlt auch jeglicher Bezug zu den nachfolgenden Sätzen, Wir haben keinerlei Anlaß, Thor als den Empfänger eines solchen Opfers anzusehen. Wir könnten eine neue Deutung versuchen, und dies ließe sich auf mehreren Ebenen bewerkstelligen, Der religiöse Teil der Inschrift enthält Kerne oder Signale, die Grundbedingungen sozialer Existenz und mythischen Denkens repräsentieren. Als erstes die Ehe, die eine Allianz mit Fremden, was soviel wie `mit potentiellen Feinden' bedeutet, darstellt. Als nächstes Geburt und Generationswechsel, die zu den positiven Aspekten der Vereinigung gehören, und schließlich der Konflikt, die Überwindung des Feindes — hier des Riesen — , die die Alternative zur Allianz darstellt. Schließlich wird Thor als sifi genannt — ich zitiere Grønvik — : "den mannlige gud for det gode forhold mellom sammengiftede slekter" (`der männliche Gott, der für das gute Verhältnis zwischen den durch Heirat verbundenen Geschlechtern zuständig ist') und "véenes vokter" (`der Beschützer der Heiligtümer') (Grønvik 1983, 128), also als Garant für Frieden und für das Heilige. Ich habe diese Deutung hier kurz skizziert, um zu sehen, was passiert, wenn man für die Deutung einen neuen Ausgangspunkt wählt, Sie ergibt einen gewissen Sinn insofern, als sie zeigt, daß die Inschrift Institutionen nennt, von denen wir annehmen dürfen, daß sie zentrale Bedeutung für Leben und Denkweise der Wikingerzeit gehabt haben; aber es ist auch klar, daß sie in wesentlichen Punkten nicht zufriedenstellen kann Als erstes ist sie viel zu allgemein im Hinblick auf den Wortlaut der Inschrift, der auf ganz bestimmte Verhältnisse oder Geschichten hinzuweisen scheint. Sie ist dort reduktionistisch, wo die Gesamtdeutungen ihrerseits konstruieren und mitgestalten. Sie besitzt nicht das dramatische Volumen, das der Text auf dem Stein zu besitzen scheint: die Frau, die ihren Mann tötet und opfert; Hugo Pipping vergleicht — was weniger naheliegend ist — die Paare SignýSiggeir in der VQlsunga saga und Hallgerör-Gunnarr in der Njcils saga (Pipping 1932, 78). Die Geschichte von Skjalf im Ynglingatal ist von Gro Steinsland im Rahmen einer umfassenden Untersuchung des ilieros gamos-Mythos in der ältesten norrönen Literatur analysiert worden. Von daher könnte auch das kycinar hush der Rök-Inschrift in einem neuen Licht erscheinen (Steinsland 1989: 383-87).

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der Verwandte, der geboren wird; der Ungenannte, der einen Riesen besiegen konnte. Diese sehr verallgemeinernde Deutung ließe sich sicherlich konkretisieren, und vielleicht ließen sich die einzelnen Bestandteile sogar zu einem erzählerischen oder historischen Handlungsablauf zusammenfügen, Je weiter wir auf diesem Weg voranschreiten, je umfassender und zusammenhängender wir die Deutung zu machen wünschen, desto seltener werden wir den Maßstäben der Quellenkritik gerecht werden können und desto geringer wird die Nachpriifbarkeit unseres Bildes von der Vorzeit, das wir uns machen, sein. Die Rök-Inschrift besteht aus Mitteilungen, die für uns unverständlich sind, solange wir sie nicht in einen Zusammenhang mit etwas bringen, was wir kennen. Unsere Methode besteht darin, Unbekanntes in Bekanntes zu übersetzen, zunächst die Wörter und Sätze, danach die größeren Einheiten, in die der Runenmeister seinen Text unterteilt hat. Schließlich vielleicht die ganze Inschrift als ein zusammenhängendes Ganze. Die Übersetzung geht so vor sich, daß wir den Text zu irgendetwas, nicht zuletzt zu mittelalterlichen Texten, analog setzen. Letzteres insbesondere dann, wenn wir in der Inschrift Erzählungen vermuten, denn dann stehen uns kaum andere Texte, die wir als Analogien heranziehen könnten, zur Verfügung. Angesichts der verbreiteten Skepsis gegenüber dein Quellenwert mittelalterlicher Texte mag die Methode problematisch erscheinen. Man muß sich jedoch fragen, ob die Forschung beides tun kann, nämlich Snorris Edda als Schlüssel für ihre Deutungen des Rök-Steins benutzen und gleichzeitig den Wert ebendieses Werkes als Quelle für unsere Kenntnis des nordischen Heidentums bezweifeln, Oder anders gefragt anhand eines konkreten Beispiels: Welche Konsequenzen hat es für uns in methodologischer Hinsicht, wenn Ottar Grønvik — indirekt aufgrund u.a. der Schilderung, die Snorri in der Saga &ikons des Guten von einem Opferritual gibt — das minni der Rök-Inschrift als Ausdruck für eine kultische Trink-Zeremonie auffaßt (Grønvik 1983, 131), während Klaus Düwel in einer quellenkritischen Untersuchung ebendieser Opferszene bei Snorri zu dem Schluß kommt, daß ihre Trinkzeremonien eine Rückprojektion christlicher Bräuche aus Snorris Gegenwart in die heidnische Zeit sind (Diiwel 1985)? Die erste Frage läßt sich mit ja beantworten, Es mag vertretbar erscheinen, einige Grundzüge aus Snorris Hrungnir-Mythos als Modell für eine Deutung der Rök-Inschrift zu verwenden, selbst wenn die Edda als eine mehr oder weniger christlich gefärbte Arbeit angesehen wird. Zweierlei ist jedoch in diesem Zusammenhang anzumerken. Erstens

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die Tatsache, daß die Praxis so aussieht, daß die mittelalterliche Quelle für den modernen Forscher den Referenzrahmen abgibt, Sie dient ihm als Inspiration und Basis für seine Deutung der authentischen Quelle. Zweitens müssen wir zugeben, daß wir, sofern wir mit Magnus Olsen annehmen, die Rök-Inschrift und Snorri beruhten beide auf einem gemeinsamen Mythos über Hrungnir, Snorris Version den Vorzug geben müssen. Die Inschrift, also die authentische Quelle, erzählt uns hierüber so gut wie nichts. Sie kann höchstens dazu dienen, eine Detailangabe der mittelalterlichen Quelle zu bestätigen. Auf die zweite Frage muß die Antwort lauten, daß es selbstverständlich nicht angeht, einerseits zu behaupten, das Wort minni habe 'Erinnerungstrunk' innerhalb eines kultischen Zusammenhanges in vorchristlicher Zeit bedeutet, und andererseits gleichzeitig zu behaupten, dies sei nicht der Fall. So einfach liegen die Dinge indessen nicht. Klaus Düwel hat nicht bewiesen, daß Snorri keine genuin heidnische Tradition referiert, wenn er bei seiner Schilderung des Opferrituals behauptet, minni habe diese Bedeutung. Düwel hat lediglich darauf hingewiesen, daß es für diese Bedeutung keinen zweifelsfrei älteren Beleg gibt, und hieraus hat er den Schluß gezogen, daß sie in heidnischer Zeit nicht existiert habe. Dieser Schluß ist indessen nicht zwingend. Man kann auch weiterhin von der Verläßlichkeit von Snorris Angaben ausgehen und damit den Rök-Stein als Mittelpunkt einer Kulthandlung ansehen, bei der Erinnerungstrünke in Verbindung mit einer Rezitation des Textes der Inschrift vorkamen, Es ist lediglich erforderlich, das gesamte Quellenmaterial unter Berücksichtigung der von Düwel vorgebrachten Argumente erneut zu sichten. Sollte sich nach einer solchen Untersuchung herausstellen, daß das Wort minni so verstanden werden kann, wie Grønvik es auffaßt, und sollte Snorris Schilderung des Opferfestes zu Lade der Kritik zum Trotz dennoch als mehr oder minder authentisch aufgefaßt werden dürfen — welche der beiden Quellen gewährt uns dann den besten Einblick in den heidnischen Kult? Die Antwort muß wiederum lauten: Snorris Text. Dieser erzählt, wie sich der mittelalterliche Historiker aufgrund der Quellen, die ihm zur Verfügung gestanden haben mögen, den Kult vorstellte, und diese Vorstellung bat ihren Ausdruck in einer Synthese gefunden, die sich der Synthese des modernen Forschers an die Seite stellen läßt. Die Rök-Inschrift allein, ohne Deutung, erzählt nichts. Die Quintessenz dieser Überlegungen ist, daß wir entweder damit aufhören müssen, die Zeugnisse der Wikingerzeit als Quellen heranzuziehen, oder aber auch sie im Zusammenhang mit den mittel-

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alterlichen Quellen heranziehen können. Entscheiden wir uns für das zweite, haben wir die mittelalterlichen Quellen damit als brauchbar akzeptiert. Wenn Ottar Grønvik schreibt, die Rök-Inschrift zeige als authentisches religiöses Zeugnis aus der Zeit der vorchristlichen Religion selbst den religiösen Kult als mit den Augen seiner eigenen Zeit gesehen, so ist dies nur zum Teil richtig (Grønvik 1983, 133). Es handelt sich um ein authentisches Zeugnis, aber weder den Text noch den eventuellen Kult um ihn herum sehen wir 'von innen heraus'. Wir sehen ihn mit den Augen unserer eigenen Deutungen und mithilfe von Analogien zu mittelalterlichen Schilderungen. Es liegt mir fern, mit diesen Bemerkungen den Wert des Rök-Steins oder anderer authentischer Quellen der Wikingerzeit für die Forschung in Zweifel zu ziehen, sondern ich möchte die gängige Beurteilung dieser Quellen als primärer Quellen im Verhältnis zu den mittelalterlichen Quellen über dieselbe Zeit mit einigen Fragezeichen versehen, Sie sind primär insofern, als die Zeit selbst sie hervorgebracht hat, aber sie sind nicht schon deshalb notwendigerweise auch für uns die besseren Zeugnisse über diese Zeit. Der quellenkritische Historiker zieht Runeninschriften und alte Skaldenstrophen vor, weil sie Data aus der Zeit selbst darstellen. Für sich allein genommen sind diese Data jedoch eigentlich ziemlich wertlos. Wir können nicht einmal in allen Fällen sicher sein, was sie für sich allein bedeuten. Wörter wie húsli und knúa, denen für die meisten Deutungsversuche der RökInschrift zentrale Bedeutung zukommt, lassen sich nicht mit letzter Sicherheit deuten. Noch weniger lassen sich die gewonnenen Data zu Synthesen zusammenfügen, die im quellenkritischen Sinne `wahr' sind, Sowie es darum geht, den Sinn größerer Einheiten oder Abläufe zu deuten, kommt die Quellenkritik zu kurz, weil sich solche Deutungen nicht verifizieren lassen; allenfalls können sie ein gewisses Maß an Wahrscheinlichkeit für sich in Anspruch nehmen. In seinem Buch über den Stein von Eggjum fordert Ottar Grønvik ausdrücklich, in der Runologie müssten Nüchternheit und Stringenz sowohl, was epigraphische Probleme angeht als auch bei, der sprachlichen Analyse Einkehr halten, fügt aber hinzu, daß die Runenforschung dennoch nicht zu einer rein analytischen Wissenschaft werden könne. "Det det gjelder om," schreibt Grønvik, "er noe sä vanskelig som å lytte seg inn till enheten bak innskriftens ord [...]" (`Es geht um etwas so Schwieriges wie das Sich-Einhören in das Ganze, das den Wörtern der Inschrift zugrundeliegt', Grønvik 1985, 48 f.), Dieser Einfühlungsprozess ist seinem Wesen nach von den metho-

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dischen Erfordernissen der Quellenkritik, die Objektivität und Verifizierbarkeit verlangt, verschieden, und derartige Forderungen können angesichts der Bedingungen, denen die Erforschung der wikingerzeitlichen Religion unterliegt, als ziemlich unrealistisch erscheinen, Die Nüchternheit und Stringenz des Forschers sind wertlos, wenn sie nicht von Phantasie und Kombinationsgabe begleitet sind, Die vielen Deutungen der Rök-Inschrift bezeugen dabei, daß die Stringenz eher Dienerin der Phantasie zu sein scheint, als daß es umgekehrt wäre. Die Analyse ist jedoch auch unlöslich an das Wissen und jenen Konsens gebunden, den die Forschungstradition begründet hat, und dieser Ihnstand gibt ihr Gewicht und Glaubwürdigkeit. Das wichtige subjektive und zeitbedingte Element, das in den Forschungsprozeß eingeht, muß zwangsläufig zu unterschiedlichen und mehr oder weniger wahrscheinlichen Ergebnissen führen. Dabei geht es um ein Spektrum von Möglichkeiten, die nicht jede für sich allein, sondern zusammengenommen eine Summe von Erkenntnis ergeben. Ausgangspunkt aber für diese Erkenntnis sind Snorri Sturluson und seine Zeitgenossen. Ihre Rekonstruktionen sind es, die uns Zutritt zu den gänzlich andersartigen Quellen aus der vorchristlichen Zeit gewähren. Es gibt sozusagen keinen direkten Weg. Wir kommen um das Mittelalter nicht herum. (Übersetzt von Gerd Wolfgang Weber)

Lit erat urverzeichnis Bagge, S. 1986. Borgerkrig og statsutvikling i Norge i middelalderen. Historisk Tidsskrift. Oslo. Brate, E. 1911. Östergötlands Runinskrifter. (Sveriges Runinskrifter 2.) Stockholm. Bugge, S. 1910. Der Runenstein von Rök in Östergötland, Schweden. Hrsg. von M. Olsen. Stockholm. Düwel, K. 1985. Das Opferfest von Lade. (Wiener Arbeiten zur germanischen Altertumskunde und Philologie 27.) Wien. Edda Snorra Sturlusonar. 1931. [Hrsg. von.] F. Jónsson. København. Foote, P. & Wilson, D. 1970. The Viking Achievement. London. Grønvik, O. 1983. Runeinnskriften på Rök-steinen. Maal og Minne. Oslo. — 1985. Runene pd Eggjastenen. Oslo. Hastrup, K. 1985. Culture and history in medieval Iceland. Oxford. Hastrup, K. & Meulengracht Sørensen, P. 1987. Indledning. Tradition og historieskrivning. Århus. Höfler, O. 1952. Germanisches Sakralkönigtum 1, Tübingen. Jacobsen, L. 1961. Rökstudier. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 76. Lund.

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Ra und Snorri Sturluson

71

Kuhn, H. 1944. Altnordisch rekkr und Verwandte. Arkiv för nordisk filologi

58. Lund. Lindow, J. 1976. Comitatus, Individual and Honor. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 83.) Berkeley. Lindqvist, S. 1967. Varins mailing på Rökstenen. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 82. Lund. Lönnroth, L. 1977. The riddles of the Rök-stone: A structural approach. Arkiv för nordisk fi lologi 92. Lund. Meulengracht Sørensen, P. 1986a. To gamle historier om Knud den hellige og de moderne. Knuds-bogen 1986. [Hrsg. von] T. Nyberg (Fynske Studier 15.) Odense. - Im Druck. Håkon den Gode og guderne. Fra stamme til stat 2. [Hrsg. von] P. Mortensen & B. Rasmussen. Miller, W. I. 1983a. Choosing the Avenger: Some Aspects of the Bloodfeud in Medieval Iceland and England. Law and History Review 1. Champaign, IL. - 1983b. Justifying Skarphedinn: Of Pretext, and Politics in Icelandic Bloodfeud. Scandinavian Studies 55. Urbana, IL. - 1986a. Gift, Sale, Payment, Raid. Speculum 61. Cambridge, MA. - 1986b. Dreams, prophecy and sorcery: Blaming the secret offender in Medieval Iceland. Scandinavian Studies 58. Urbana, IL. Mæhlum, B. 1987. Ottar Grønvik, Runerne på Eggjastenen. [Rez.] Norsk Lingvistisk Tidsskrift 1. Oslo. Nielsen, K. M. 1945. Var Thegnerne og Drengene kongelige Hirdmænd. Aarbøger for nordisk oldkyndighed og historie. København. Nielsen, N. A. 1969. Runerne på Rökstenen. (Odense University Studies in Scandinavian Languages 2.) Odense. Olsen, M. 1921. Til Rök-indskriften. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 37. Lund. Olsen, O. 1966. Horg, hov og kirke. København. Pipping, H. 1932. Rökstensinskriften en rktsurkund. Studier i nordisk filologi 22. [Hrsg. von] H. Pipping. Helsingfors. Sanness Johnsen, I. 1968. Stuttruner i vikingetidens innskrifter. Oslo. See, K. v. 1966. Germanische Heldensage. Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen 218. Göttingen. (= See, K. v. 1981. Edda, Saga, Skaldendichtung. Heidelberg.)

Steinsland, G. 1989. Det hellige bryllup og norrøn kongeideologi. En undersøkelse av hierogami-myten i Skirnismál, Ynglingatal, Håleygjatal og Hyndlulja Universitetet i Oslo. SKJ Den norsk-islandske skjaldedigtning B, 1. 1912. [Ed.] F. Jönsson. København. Wessén, E. 1958. Runstenen vid Röks Kyrka. Stockholm. Westman, M. 1981. Text och textanalys ur språkvetenskapligt perspektiv. (Meddelanden från Institutionen för nordiska språk vid Stockholms universitet 9.) Stockholm.

Child Abandonment as an Indicator of Christianization in the Nordic Countries BY JUHA PENTIKÄINEN

1.

Introduction: Typology of Nordic sources on child abandonment

The pre-Christian religion of the Nordic Countries is often called Old Norse religion because of its sources, which derive mainly from Norm (N, Atlantic) islands and the coastal areas of Western Norwegian fjords. It was in this maritime area where the practice of writing down the early history of the settlements, chieftains and their families, wars and expeditions developed in the Middle Ages. The handwritten libraries of the sagas mainly describe the gradual process of Christianization which took place in Iceland and other maritime settlements over the course of centuries, Although the early saga historians were already Christian, the accounts reveal their ambivalent attitudes typical of this period of radical change. Several sagas also describe the legal processes which took place in the early Icelandic parliament Alkingi, as well as in the local courts, One of the first issues to be criminalized by Christianity was the ancient custom of child abandonment. Interesting enough, this same issue is relevant in the first provincial laws written down soon after the formal conversion of the Swedes as well as the Church laws established by the Catholic Churches in Norway and Sweden. The handwritten library of provincial laws never developed in Finland where a Finno-Ugric language, very different from the Scandinavian (Germanic) dialects was spoken, at least among the ordinary people. The Scandinavian type provincial system also developed, however, in this remote Swedish possession. The legal practices were based on oral tradition only. There are several descriptions of the criminalization of child abandonment in Finnish oral poetry. These runes, sung in the ancient trochaic Kalevala metre, bear clear testimony to the existence of sanctions against child abandonment in Finland. This paper in an effort to study child abandonment as an indicator of Christianization in the Nordic Countries on the basis of

Child Abandonment as an Indicator of Christianization

73

three source groups mainly: 1. Old Norse sagas, 2. Swedish and Norwegian provincial and ecclesiastical laws and 3. Finnish runic poetry, all stemming from the Middle Ages. 2, Phenomenology of Infanticide and Child Abandonment

Culturo-historical and anthropological studies (Lallemand 1885; Ploss 1911-12, 160-196; Schrader 1917-23, 65 ff,; Thurnwald 1926, 352358; Montandon 1934, 655 ff,, map 29; Potter 1949, 522 ff.) indicate that infanticide (violent killing of a child) and/or abandonment (leaving a child on its own, without using violence) have appeared in one form or another among many peoples, and at many periods of history. The tradition seems to have existed on every continent (Montandon 1934, map 29). In some cultures infanticide and abandonment have been practised up to very recent and even present times, The motivations for infanticide in different cultures may be classified as economic, religious, social or biological. Food shortage and famine are the most usual economic reasons, Infanticide in such cases is a means of limiting the population; in some cultures it can mean the destruction of all the offspring, in others it may mean indifference towards the female offspring or the system of feeding only a limited number of children. The killing of the deformed may be excused on economic grounds; the question is sometimes considered from the biological standpoint (as a form of racial hygiene for example, as in ancient Greece) or socially (a monster cannot be accepted as a member of the community). When the grounds for infanticide are religious, it is often a question of ritualistic killing or the sacrifice of an exceptional child (the first-born, twins, one of twins, a baby born with teeth). Among cannibals, ritualistic infanticide often forms the central cult; on the other hand, it must be recognized that famine may also in some situations actualize the killing and eating of the cannibals' own children or those of others,' The social aspect of infanticide is emphasized in the killing of an illegitimate child, There are in effect two facets to the question. Firstly there is the community and its norms which force the mother to kill her child because the child is not fitted for the community Among the Ngali and Yumu, mothers abort themselves in order to feed the foetus to their living children during periods of famine. Devereux 1955, 14.

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— the proving of the social fatherhood is in many cultures a fundamental condition for the acceptance of the child into the community. Secondly, especially in Semitic cultures, there is the situation where the individual commits infanticide in order to avoid social pressure upon herself and her child and in order to retain her status. The grounds for the killing of twins are, at the same time, moral. Only one of the twins is regarded as the mother's "own" child, whereas the other is the result of an "illegal" relationship, a relationship forbidden by the community. Thus, in many primitive communities (Potter 1949, 523), the position of a woman who has given birth to twins is similar to that of the unmarried mother in higher cultures. As a quite recent example, the information about infanticide among the Netsilik Eskimoes collected in 1923 by Knud Rasmussen (Rasmussen 1931, 139 ff.) may be studied in detail, The Netsilik tribe had a total of 259 members, 150 men and 109 women, Rasmussen asked each of the 18 women of child-bearing age in the village of Malerualik how many children they had and how many they had killed, The 18 village women had given birth to a total of 116 children, of which 57 (58%) were still alive, 39 (34%) had been killed and 10 (8%) had died in other ways. Those killed were all female with the exception of one male who had been killed during a period of famine. Thus, 59% of the females were killed and 2% of the males, Of those left alive 73% were male and 27% female. The reasons for killing the females were primarily economic; providing food for a girl was considered to be nothing but trouble and expense, It seems possible to ascertain that a girl was only allowed to live if her parents had promised her as a wife to the son of another family. One reason advanced for the killing was the long period of breast feeding which among the Eskimoes lasted 2 or 3 years. Breast feeding was thought to delay the next pregnancy by several years.2 Because they wanted boys they hoped, by killing the girls, to add to the number of male children, The principal result of this is the gradual diminishing of the population (Rasmussen 1931, 139 ff.). Among the Eskimoes, then, the reasons for child murder were primarily economic. The abandonment of female babies n-lay be seen as the result of an arctic hunting and fishing culture, in which the number of men capable of hunting and fishing is the measure of the wealth and social status of the family (E,g, Ruong 1959, 24-66). 2 The probable primary explanation is breach of taboo, since sexual intercourse before the child is weaned is forbidden in many cultures. Cf. Potter 1949, 523.

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Privation and famine are the most usual reasons for child murder, and obviously also the oldest ones; this not only results in the abandonment of girls, but also to a general limitation in the number of children. 3, Criminalization of Child Abandonment — an Indicator of Christianization in the Nordic Countries As far as the Nordic Countries are concerned, child abandonment seems to have been a commonly accepted social tradition until the acceptance of Christianity. When Christian influences reached the Far North, this old practice was gradually criminalized. The tradition was so strong, however, that it took a longer time before Christian authorities dared to oppose it strongly. This becomes very clear from the early sources. Child abandonment and infanticide are very widely discussed issues in Old Norse sagas as well as in Scandinavian provincial laws. From this point of view, the criminalization of child abandonment may be seen as an indicator of the strength and distribution of Christian influences in the various parts of the Nordic Countries, Legal historical sources can be supplemented by oral tradition material. When the old practice was criminalized by Christian sanctions and norms, the abandoned, murdered or aborted unbaptized children were experienced supernaturally. Their supranormal manifestations are described in Nordic folk beliefs and narratives concerning dead children.' The distribution of these tradition items reflects the encounter of Christianity with the Pre-Christian (ethnic) religions in the Nordic Countries. Under the Viking period, which coincided with the early Christian mission in Scandinavia, there were Scandinavian settlements over a considerably wider area than nowadays; outside the Nordic Countries, for example, Normandy, the Orkneys and Hebrides, Iceland, Greenland, Kiev, Archangel and Novgorod in Russia as well as on the western coasts of Northern American continent. From this point of view, one could speak of Scandinavian colonialism coinciding with early Christian Mission.

3

More thoroughly Pentikäinen 1968, 57-100.

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4.

Barna 7itburdr, Abandonment of children in the Icelandic sagas,

Saga tradition (Íslendíngabók 1843-47, 1, 9-13; cf. Bugge 1910, 266 ff,; Hovstad 1943, 164; Wessén 1957, 30 f.; Bo 1960, 101) shows that in the year 1000 Christianity reached Iceland and was enforced legally by the Althing4 which traditionally assembled at Lögberg, During the session for that year — and probably to avoid civil strife an extraordinary compromise was made. The decision concerned the question of abandonment of children which was very relevant in connection with conversion. At the same time as it was agreed that all Icelanders should be baptized, a demand was made that "The old law" about the abandonment of children and the eating of horsemeat should remain in force. "But he (Porgeirr lögsögumaar) ended his speech so that everyone agreed to have one law, that which he would read aloud (then). It was specified in the laws that all people should be Christians and accept baptism, including those who had earlier been unbaptized in that country, but the old law about abandonment of children should remain in force as well as that concerning the eating of horsemeat ..." (islendfngabók 1843-47, 1, 12). Saint Olaf reversed this decision and the abandonment of children and the eating of horsemeat was forbidden; this was probably in the year 1018 (Saga Olafs 1825-37, ch. 59; cf. Pálsson 1932, 200 ff.).5 The first Icelandic sagas which tell of the abandonment of children concern the early part of the 10th century. Although the country was then still officially pagan, a clear Christian influence can be seen in the sagas, A disapproving attitude towards the abandonment of children can be seen and the custom is called "ancient", "pagan", "belonging to the past", G unnlaugs saga ormstungu (Gunnlaugs saga 1938, 55 ff,) tells how loorsteinn, the son of Egill Skallagrímsson, when he sets out for the Thing, tells his wife to abandon her expected child if it is a daughter, The reason for this is a dream which foretold that the Icelandic assembly, met annually in the summer from the year 930 onwards until 1798 in a place called Pingvellir in south-west Iceland. During the Free State this assembly was led by lögs6guma6r, whose task was to remember the unwritten laws of tradition. Lárusson 1956-78, 123 ff. 5 J. Hovstad (Hovstad 1943, 164) mentions that St. Olaf forbade the abandoning of children and the eating of horsemeat as early as the year 1016.

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a daughter would cause many misfortunes.6 The wife, Jófrfôr, opposes her husband, remarking that such a deed is improper for a rich man like himself. The author of the saga says: "There was a custom, when the country was still pagan, that those who were poor and who had many children to care for, allowed their children to be abandoned; and this was always regarded as an evil deed," (Gunnlaugs saga 1938, 56). Gunnlaugs saga ormstungu describes the abandoning of a girl baby. It emphasizes, like the Finnboga saga (Finnboga saga 1959, 254 f.), that only the poor had the right to abandon children. Since both narratives tell of an attempt by a rich man to abandon his child, additional grounds for the action must be sought. Gunnlaugs saga ormstungu also contains the motivation of a dream about future misfortunes, whereas in the Finnboga saga there is a situation where a wife, against her husband's will and without his knowledge has allowed her daughter to escape with Skfoi, "a man from the east". Among the reasons for abandoning children, the economic ones are certainly the most ancient. Yet other reasons can be found: in the Vatnsdæla saga (Vatnsdæla saga 1939, 97 ff,) a wife gives orders for the abandoning of a child which her husband has had by his mistress. Dorsteinn uxafótr is abandoned by order of his uncle because he was born out of wedlock (Dattr Dorsteins uxafóts 1860, 252). Both sagas tell of the abandoning of an illegitimate child. In studying Icelandic sagas it is useful to draw attention to the fact that they normally never describe the violent killing of children. It is true, as we have seen, that Haraar saga ok Hglinverja contains an incident where orders are given for the drowning of a child (llarôar saga 1945, 11 ff.), More frequently, the child is wrapped in clothes (ikla Flekks saga 1927, 85; Vatnsdæla saga 1939, 98) and carried to a lonely place or to a place where it could easily be discovered (IIar5ar saga 1945, 11 ff,). Dorsteinn uxafótr is so wrapped, then hidden under a tree root with a piece of pork fat in his mouth and finally carefully buried (Dáttr Dorsteins uxafóts 1860, 252). Dorsteins Dáttr Tjaldst2e6ings (Dorsteins Dáttr Tjaldstæôings 1904, 431 f,) tells of a man called Asgrimr from Telemark to whom a son was born just before he left for a Viking expedition. Ile ordered that the boy be abandoned and gave the task of burying the child to a slave, Even before there was time to lift the child from the floor, it began to speak, asking for its mother: The dream motif in the saga may be a remiscense of the international Oedipus tale. Schick 1832. Aarne .4/ Thompson 1964, No. 931.

6

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Give me to my mother;

I am cold on the floor; where could be better for a boy than by his father's fireside? No need to sharpen the iron or cut the turf; leave your ugly deed undone; I want to live longer,with people. (Porsteins Páttr Tjaldstæôings 1904, 431 f.).

We have here an episode very similar to that in the Finnish rune "Väinämöinen's Judgment" where a newborn baby starts speaking. Asgrimr then announces that the boy, "the relation", must be allowed to live. He allows the child to be baptized with the name Porsteinn. The saga belongs to the Landnáma-period; Porsteinn is one of those who moved to Iceland in approximately 900 A,D. because of the general taxation enforced in Norway by Harald Fairhair (Porsteins Páttr Tjaldstwôings 1904, 431 f.). The ceremony of baptism, which included lifting the child from the floor and placing him in his father's arms (the phrase used was borit at fOur sínum 'carried to his father') was in Nordic usage the most important rite of incorporation from the child's point of view (ReichbornKjennerud 1933, 83). The father in this way indicated his acceptance of the child into the family and confirmed its fitness for society by pouring water over the child and giving it a name. According to the Qrvar Odds saga (Qrvar-Odds saga 1892, 4 f), Lopthoena, who had just given birth to a male child asked that it should be taken to the father and given a name. Water was then poured over the boy, he was given the name Oddr. The necessity of giving a name as a sign of acceptance by the family is also reflected in those sagas which describe the finding of an abandoned child. Páttr Pórsteins vxafots tells how a man called Krurnmr finds a child in the forest four days after it was abandoned. "He gave the boy a name, called him Pórsteinn (Pórsteinn uxafóts) and called him own son. He agreed to this with his wife," (Páttr Porsteins uxafóts 1860, 252). The phrase ausa vatni, 'to pour water over', is generally used when speaking of the ceremony of name giving prior to the advent of Christianity, whereas the term skím 'purification', is used of Christian baptism (Moller 1940, 416 ff.; Bovstad 1943, 162 ff.).7 The expression vatni 7 The expression scirn taca appears for example iıı fslenclingaba meaning Christian baptism. islendíngaba 1843-47, 1, 12.

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ausinn, 'poured over with water', is always used in connection with the name-giving ceremony for a child which is intended to abandon (Snorre 1868, 124, 47, 90; Saga Ragnars 1829, 187 ff.; Qrvar-Odds saga 1892, 4 f,; hórsteins Dattr Tjaldstatôings 1904, 431 f.; Harbar saga 1945, 11 f.). The decision as to whether the child was to be kept or abandoned (the contrast is expressed by foeda upp barn and bera lit barn (Vemundar saga 1843-47, 2, 248; Gunnlaugs saga 1938, 55 f.;, Harôar saga 1945, 11 ff.) was actualized, at the latest, at the moment of name-giving or baptism. A child that for one reason or another was not accepted into the family and who was not given a name, was abandoned, Abandoning a child with a name was already regarded as murder in the pre-Christian period, Harbar saga ok Holmverja, which dates from c. 950 A.D., affirms laconically: "pvi at pat var moró kallat at drepa born, fra Pvf er Pau yarn vatni ausin" (it was called murder when children were killed after water had been poured over them') (Harbar saga 1945, 11 ff.). A name is therefore the most important criterion of the child's acceptability in the community, according to saga tradition. But it is also true that a child that had been placed at its mother's breast, might not be abandoned (Reichborn-Kjennerud 1933, 84).8 This rite of incorporation, in which the mother is made public, is central and must be regarded as very ancient. According to a Frisian saint's legend of pre-Christian origin (c. 700 A.D.) a child had to be drowned if the intention was to abandon it prisquam lac sugeret matris, 'before it had sucked its mother's breast' (Reichborn-Kjennerud 1933, 84), It is interesting to observe that name-giving and first feeding are also parallel criteria of a child's fitness for the community in Scandinavian provincial law, when a decision was made on the child's right (Maurer 1880, 30, 38, 49 ff.; Moller 1940, 316 ff., 417). The expression "bera tit barn" meant 'to carry out, to leave abandoned', and the opposite is "foeda upp barn", 'to care for the child', Barna titburdr originally had the profane meaning 'abandoned, carried out (especially for a child)'. It was only with the advent of Christianity that moral ideas were changed and that a change in the meaning of the concept arose. It is clear in the sagas, which reflect the critical phase in moral outlook provoked by the arrival of Christianity, that the right to abandon a child concerned only those children without a 8 The ritual importance of breast feeding is stressed also in Nordic legal tradition. According to Norwegian provincial laws the last task of the midwife was to put the child to the mother's breast. Until this was done she was not given permission to leave the mother.

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name. Whether or not the child was baptized before death was the criterion for the nature of funeral rites. According to Biskupa sögur "The children who had not received skím were to be buried outside the churchyard and earlier were buried far from consecrated ground like criminals, and were called by unlettered people útburôi". (Biskupa sögur 1858, 687). Later on, the word Ilibur5r came to have a special meaning 'a child buried in unconsecrated ground'. The supranormal meaning of this term is widely known in the Nordic Countries (Pentikäinen 1968, 190 f,),

5. Child abandonment in medieval provincial law

From the point of view of legal history there is no sharp line of division between the saga tradition and the firstChristian provincial laws. Although the sagas partly deal with the arrival of Christianity or the period preceding it, attitudes to child abandonment resemble in many respect the oldest provincial laws of Norway in particular, It should be remembered that like the sagas, the laws also lived for a long time in oral tradition and this gave much scope for changes. The distinctions are further blurred by the fact that both laws and sagas were written for the first time during the same period. The sagas were first written in the 12th century (fslendIngabók in about 1120) and the Norwegian provincial laws probably as early as the 11th century (the versions of the Gulating-, Frostating- and Eidsivating laws now lost): in Denmark the laws were first written down either at the end of the 12th or at the beginning of the 13th century (the law of Skåne 1202-16) and in Sweden in the 13th century (Äldre Västgötalagen 1280, a fragment exists dated 1240) (Iuul 1956-78, 228 ff.; Liedgren 1965, 231 f.). The source value of the sagas, from the point of view of legal history, depends upon the fact that they sometimes contain, in addition to information about legal customs and fragments of actual laws, clues to the history of the beginnings of provincial law and the development of lawmaking and the Thing, as well as the social context and actual applications of law. The statute forbidding the abandonment of children was probably a part of the first church law in Saint Olaf's time. This can be surmised, firstly, from the placing of this paragraph immediately after the introductory formula and by the fact that there is an almost identical form of expression in the laws that follow; secondly, by the fact that Saint Olaf, after having become king, lost no time in

Child Abandonment as an Indicator of Christianization 81 annulling the compromising decision of the Icelandic Althing in the year 1000, Almost all ancient Norwegian provincial laws categorically forbid the abandonment of a healthy child. On the other hand, one is not obliged to rear a deformed child (Norges gamle love 1846, 12 f,, 339, 375 f., 303, 130 f.).9 In the Gulating Law we find the following: Magnus-text: ... every child that is born in our country is to be fed. Olaf's text: "Unless it is born deformed in such a way that the face is turned where the back of the neck should be, or the toes where the heels should be. Such a child must be taken into the church and be converted from paganism and laid down in the church and left there to die (Norges gamle love 1846, 12).n) The Gulating Law lays

a child:

down the following punishment for abandoning

If someone abandons his unbaptized or baptized child and destroys it and is proven guilty of this then he has lost property and peace and we call this a great murder. And if a subordinate destroys his pagan or Christian child, then the master must flog him (her) skinless before the fifth day, or take him (her) to the king's melt, or let him also have the right to sell him (her) outside the country (province) if he wants, and let him not mix with his people who eat together. But if he allows him to mix (with those who eat together), let him pay 3 marks to the bishop. But if the bishop or his representative accuses the man of destroying his child, either pagan or of Christian, and he denies this, then he must show himself to be innocent of this murder, as in other cases. But this oath outlaws him. But if the bishop or his representative has heard that he has buried a pagan child in consecrated ground and that which is a lie comes into the open, then the person who told it, must pay a fine of 3 marks to the bishop for his lie (Norges gamle love 1846, 12)."

Of the Swedish and Danish provincial laws the Gutalagen of Gotland (written down in the 1350s) is the only one to deal with the abandonment of a child. It is categorical: "Every child must be fed that is born in our country and it must not be abandoned" (Gotlands-lagen 1827-77, 7 f.)12 It seems to be clear that through the influence of Christianity the abandoning of children was made a criminal offence at the time when the provincial laws of Sweden and Denmark were Den aeldre Gulathings-Lov ch. 21-22. Den aeldre Borgartings- eller Vikens Christenret ch. 1. Den aeldre Eidivathings-Christenret ch. 1, 5, 6. Den aeldre By-Lov eller Bjarkö-Ret ch. 1. Den aeldre Frostathings-Lov ch. 1-2. w Den aeldre Gulathings-Lov ch. 21. 11 Den aeldre Gulathings-Lov ch. 21. 12 Gotlands-lagen ch. 2.

9

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being written down. It is interesting that the punishments prescrided in the Gutalagen resemble rather closely the Norwegian laws, It is therefore clear that between the saga and the Norwegian provincial laws there is only a difference of degree in the concepts concerning the abandonment of children. In both, abandoning is disapproved of, but at the same time it is allowed in special cases, In the sagas it is emphasized that the abandonment of a named child is murder. The provincial laws do not make any distinction here; abandonment is regarded as murder, whether it is a question of a baptized or unbaptized child. What is new in Christian provincial laws is the classification made by the church of various deformities in children and certain problems connected with the condition of the dead children in the after-life. 6, "To the bog, said the family," Abandonment of children according to ancient Finnish runes. The Icelandic sagas and Scandinavian provincial laws show convincingly that abandonment of children was part of the Scandinavian social system as late as the early Middle Ages. Did a similar institution exist among the Finns as well? As far as legal history is concerned, Finland is an interesting area where two nationalities with their different legal customs have come together and where, historically, Swedish law gradually displaced Finnish. Lack of historical sources makes it difficult to follow this process closely or to give precise dates. A considerable part of the legal customs about which we have information is to be found in Finnish folk tradition, primarily in legends and runes, and is also known in Scandinavia. Examples are bartering for a bride, ordeal, duelling, blood feud, stoning to death as a punishment, as well as abandonment of children, which concerns us here (Virtanen 1933, 361-368; Pirinen 1956-78, 271-276). It is not always possible to decide, at least in the case of the oldest institutions, whether we are dealing with indigenous tradition or Scandinavian loans. The central difficulty is to determine the date of the tradition. This is complicated by the fact that a tradition or a motif may contain information of a certain custom, without necessarily proving the existence of this custom in a particular culture. The borrowing of the custom itself, and the independent tradition element must therefore be kept separate. In ancient Finnish runic tradition where abandoning of children is concerned we can see traces of both types of exchange. The following runes deal with our subject matter: "Väinämöinen's

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Judgment", "Marketta and Hannus", "Boy or Girl", "Grieving for her Birth" and the "Elegy of the Orphan". The plot of the abandonment episode in "Väinämöinen's Judgment"", known also as the last poem of the Kalevala, is as follows: They searched for a christener, all the people for a baptizer. A priest came to christen, Virokannas to baptize; he gave the name Joukamoinen, The name did not become a sure one. Who was brought thither to be judge of that stupid deed? There is old Väinämöinen, he was brought in to be judge. "Let the boy be taken to a swamp, hit on the head with a billet." The boy says to Väinämöinen: "You were not taken the swamp, nor hit on the head with a billet, although you raped my mother, seduced my bearer, on the shore of shoals, on a gloomy, sandy spot!" Then the old man, the foreigner, the Karelian Virokannas, christened the child rapidly, baptized the child quickly, king of Kainuu, guardian of Rahavuori.

A geographical examination of tradition shows that the phenomenon of child abandonment is known in one form or another throughout the area where runic tradition has been recorded in the Kalevala metre (cf, Hako et al. 1963, 27, map, 130-137). The independent existence of this motif in different runes and their wide distribution is a strong indication that the abandonment of children had a place in the legal systems of the Finnish peoples, In the poems there According to the reconstruction of the contents by Martti Haavio. Haavio 1952, 187.

13

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is reference to the abandonment of both girls and fatherless children, i.e. economic and social child abandonment, as is the case in Scandinavia. At this point, the Scandinavian and Finnish-Estonian traditions correspond so closely that the connection may be genetic. It is possible that the Finnish peoples adopted this custom from the Germanic peoples during the close contacts which began at about the time of the birth of Christ and which resulted in a renewal of the social and legal vocabulary of the Finnish languages (Itkonen 1958, 36 ff.). Because the connections with the Baltic peoples, which began at the latest in about 500 B.C., had not yet ended when the Germanic connections began, the distribution of the Baltic-Estonian-FinnishKarelian poem "Grieving for her birth" may also be explained in this way. The loan theory is also supported by the observation of the Norwegian legal historian, Erik Solem, that no sign can be found of child abandonment having existed among the Lapps (Solem 1933, 63), who separated from the proto-Finns in about the year 500 B.C. The fact that the Lapps borrowed their dead-child traditions from neighbouring peoples (Pentikäinen 1968, 325-334) also points in the same direction, 7. Reports by Greenland missionaries in the 18th century

The Norwegian Egede-family has a central position in the history of missions to Greenland. The pioneer missionary was Hans Egede, He went to Greenland in 1721, founded a colony there, learned the Eskimo language and worked among the Eskimoes until the year 1736, His son Poul Hansen Egede continued his father's work from the year 1734 until 1740, his place of work being Diskobukt on the west coast of Greenland (Egede 1939, I—XI). Poul Egede gained an expert knowledge of the Eskimo language and tradition. He kept a diary of his journeys and experiences", containing detailed reports, not only about the phases of the missionary work and his personal experiences, but also information about the customs, folk beliefs, tales and legends of the Greenlanders; he also describes, for example, his meetings with angákoqs (shamans). In this connection three reports in the Egede diary about an ángiaq, the dead-child being known to Eskimoes, are of interest. On the 20th of November 1736 Egede tells of having heard 14

The diary of Poul Egede first appeared in 1741. In this study we use the version published in the Series "Meddelelser om Grønland". Egede & Egede 1939.

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once again a peculiar story explaining why seal dogs (i.e. seal puppies) sometimes swim so far out to sea. I quote: "On the morning of the 20th, before I left them, they told me once again the peculiar story, concerning the reason why the seal-dogs sometimes go away from the land, and said that it was a thing which they called Arnet angiet; women's secret; a concealed thing; it was frightening and could not be seen, except by the Angekoks, who — screaming loudly in the middle of the day — run after it both inside and outside the house in order to catch it; and when they have got hold of it, the seal-dogs return. They did not however know what it was, but from the name and their description of it one can almost certainly conclude what the first man who invented it meant by it" (Egede & Egede 1939, 33). Another report on the dngiaq is with a storm that raged for a long time on the west coast of Greenland in March 1738, The ice had floated far out to sea, seal hunting had become impossible and there was danger of famine On the 14th March 1738 some Eskimoes came to Egede and told him that the reason for the famine was a woman. According to the angákoq's explanation, she was supposed to have an ángiaq because whenever the woman had attended a meeting (led by the angákoq), the weather had been bad, The description contains the following definition of the ángiaq: the ángiaq is an aborted foetus (or premature baby) that is delivered in secret and becomes a being that flies, It causes rough weather, scarcity of seal-dogs among other things (Egede & Egede 1939, 58). Egede heard in 1740 yet a third story about the ángiaq which three angákoqs had tried to catch at midday. The reason for holding the shamanistic ritual was, on this occasion, the scanty herring catch. The fish had in effect gone into the deeps. One of the angâkoqs had at last succeeded in catching the ángiaq. It had resisted strongly, but gradually the angákoq had got the better of it. Nobody saw the ángiaq. The fierceness of the battle was however attested by the fact that the hands of the angákoq had become covered with blood. Egede mentions that some Eskimoes believed this and that others had accepted one of the explanations which Egede himself had given concerning the event (Egede & Egede 1939, 108), Egede, however, gives no further details in his diary of the explanation he used to rationalize the event in question. In more recent materials the main emphasis lies in ceremonies describing the revelation of the angiaq. In the West Greenland narratives the angákoq exposes the guilty person by a blood test. The ángiaq is put above the women present. When the angákoq comes to the

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guilty woman, some drops of blood fall upon her (Glahn 1784, 269 ff.; Rasmussen 1925, 180 ff.),15 Rink's account, which does not include a blood test, is the only one to describe an interrogation of the guilty person (Rink 1866, 76 f.). There are, however, many narratives about the confession which follows the blood test and the revelation of the guilty one (Rink 1866, 76 f.; Rasmussen 1925, 180 ff.). The guilty person then reveals her crime. Sometimes the revealing of the father's name is also required (Rasmussen 1925, 180 ff,). Rink's narrative from South Greenland (Rink 1866, 279 ff.) differs from the others in that the angákoq simultaneously interrogates the women present, and questions the ángiaq about the matter, whereupon the ángiaq narrates the sequence of events. The angákoq asks: "Who is your mother? Tell me the name of your mother!" A child's voice answers: "Kakamak is my mother," The angákoq then asks: "Where were you born?" And is answered "On the island of Alangok," The sister-in-law tries at this stage to take the guilt upon herself: "Kakamak has not done it, I am the mother, tell me the naine of your mother." To this the ángiaq answers: "Kakamak is my mother, I was born on the island of Alangok, I have killed my younger brothers." The usual description ot the capture of the ángiaq follows. Glahn says that the Eskimoes believe that a woman having an ángiaq dies if the ángiaq is not caught (Glahn 1784, 269 ff.). Most often however the drama ends with the unmasking of the guilty person and her confession. When breach of taboo is the explanation of disease, the formula of the healing ceremony is in the main as follows; an interrogation is arranged, which is led by the healer himself, the patient and the audience having their own parts to play. All the possible offences against values which the patient might have committed are gone through in a process of elimination, The most important thing is that the patient openly confesses. After a detailed interrogation and confession, healing follows, although the patient is often given exceptionally strict taboo rules to follow for a time (llonko 1960, 63; cf. Boas 1979, 592 f,; Rasmussen 1929, 133-141). When we compare the healing ceremony of breach of taboo with the unmasking of the ángiaq, many similarities may be observed. To illuminate the question I give the following figure in which the explanation of disease is 1) simplified in keeping with the healing drama of the Iglulik Eskimoes according to Rasmussen's accound, In Rasmussen's record from Egedesminde we have tlıe only case where the unmasking of the angiaq's father is referred to. The episode produced no result the guilty person had moved elsewhere.

15

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and 2) in respect of the ángiaq is an ideal type of revelatory ritual, reconstructed from many Greenlandic descriptions,

Breach of taboo among the Eskimoes 1. as an explanation of disease

2. as an explanation of dearth of prey

DISEASE

DEARTH OF PREY

DRAMA OF HEALING

UNMASKING DRAMA 1 search for the cause: ángiaq

search for the' guilty person: the patient search ford the cause (interrogation) 1 confession: breach of taboo

search for thé guilty person (interrogation + blood test) confession: breach of taboo

asking for forgiveness 1 (punishment)

(punishment)

HEALING

LUCK IN HUNTING

8. The relationship between the ángiaq belief and the Scandinavian dead-child tradition It appears that the ángiaq belief is known of in the easternmost corner of the Eskimo settlement. On the basis of distribution, the idea that this belief belongs to an old Eskimo tradition must be refuted. There also seems to be another explanation: the Greenlanders may have adopted the belief later from some other people. From the Icelandic sagas it is known that Vikings of west Norwegian extraction made expeditions to Greenland as early as the year 900. A Norwegian, Gunnbjørn, is regarded as the discoverer of the island (Indrebø 1936, 138; Birket-Smith 1961, 22). Erik the Red founded in 986 a Norwegian colony on the south-west coast of Greenland, and later another in the region of Godthaab. Thenceforth, Scandinavian population was

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permanently to be found on the east coast right up to the 14th century, and on the west coast until the 15th century (Indrebø 1936, 138; Birket-Smith 1961, 22), If we abstract the explanatory pattern on breach of taboo which is unknown in Nordic tradition, it becomes possible to see many similarities between Nordic and Greenlandic Eskimo traditions. The following are the most important: 1) The ángiaq is invisible but 2) utters sounds like a new-born baby. 3) The ángiaq is predatory, 4) takes revenge on its relations, 5) sucks its mother like a vampire. It has 6) the power to frighten people to death. 7) The Eskimo ángiaq can raise a storm and in Scandinavia we find records in which dead children are omens of storm. 8) The ángiaq's mother, like the childmurderess in the Nordic Countries, may be revealed by the ordeal of a blood test, The custom 9) of asking the being for its mother's (the guilty one's) name is also parallel. 10) One common element in explaining the ángiaq is the circumstance that the ángiaq is a secretly born, abandoned child or an aborted foetus, as is the case with many Scandinavian dead-child beings, The pattern of breach of taboo is generally missing in Scandinavian tradition. In the tradition of central Norway and in Härjedalen a belief is known according to which the utburd, a dead-child being, is 11) born from the after-birth that has not been hidden or burnt. The belief in dead-child beings appears in this case, to be a prop for the norm of handling the afterbirth. The question here concerns the same problem related to female blood as that in the Eskimo ángiaq tradition, although breach of taboo does not appear to be so important as among the Eskimoes. These eleven parallel points and the eastern distribution of the tradition suggest that the ángiaq tradition contains motifs which originally belonged to the Nordic dead-child tradition. The Norwegians who lived in Greenland from the 10th to mid-15th century may be assumed to have been intermediaries in the tradition. The nearest parallels to the ángiaq tradition are indeed to be found in the west Norwegian tradition. In Greenland, the dead-child tradition developed differently and adapted itself to a different function from that in Scandinavia and was determined by the taboo-system characteristic of the Eskimo community. The existence of those Nordic elements in Greenland is a clear evidence of the Christian influences on medieval Greenlandic culture,

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Bibliography Aarne, A. Sr; Thompson, S. 1964. The types of the folktale. (FF Communica-

tions 184.) Helsinki. Ala Flekks saga. 1927. Altnordische Saga-Bibliothek 17, Hrsg. von Å. Lagerholm. Halle. Birket-Smith, K. 1961. Eskimoerne. København. Biskupa sögur 1. 1858. Kaupmannahöfn. BO, O. 1960. Øskjer i kyrkjemuren. Norveg 7. Oslo. Boas, F. 1974. The Central Eskimo. (Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology. Smithsonian Institution 6.) Washington. Bugge, A. 1910. Norges historie. Norges historie fremstillet for det norske folk 1, 2. Kristiania. Devereux, G. 1955. A study of abortion in primitive societies. New York. Egede, N. 1939. Beskrivelse over Grønland ved H. Osterman. Meddelelser om Grønland 120. Kopenhagen. Egede, P. & Egede, N. 1939. Continuation af Hans Egedes Relationer fra Grønland. Meddelelser om Grønland 120. Kopenhagen. Finnboga saga. 1959. Kjalnesinga saga. [Ed. by] J. Halldörsson. (Islenzk fornrit 14.) Reykjavík. Glahn, IL C. 1784. Efterretning om det af Grønlaenderne saa kaldte Angiak. (Det Kgl. Norske Videnskapers Selskabs Skrifter N.S. 1,) Kjøbenhavn. Gotlands-lagen. 1827-77. Samling Af Sweriges gamla lagar 7. [Ed. by] C. J. Schlyter. Stockholm Sc. Lund. Gıınnlaugs saga ormstungu. 1938. Borgfirainga sggur. [Ed. by] S. Nordal & G. Jönsson. (Islenzk fornrit 3.) Reykjavík. Haavio, M. 1952. Viiinämöinen, The Eternal Sage. Porvoo. Hako, M. et al. 1963. Kirjoittamaton kirjallisuus. Suomen kirjallisuus 1. [Ed. by] M. Kuusi. Helsinki. Hamlar saga ok Hólmverja. 1945. [Ed. by] G. Jönsson. Reykjavík. Honko, L. 1960. Varhaiskantaiset taudinselitykset ja parantamisnäytelmä. Tietolipas 17. [Ed. by] J. Hautala. Forssa. Hovstad, J. 1943. Mannen og samfunnet. Oslo. Indrebø, G. 1936. Grønland. Befolkning i oldtiden. [Ed. by] H. Schetelig. (Nordisk kultur 1.) Stockholm. islendíngaba Ara prests ens Fr6ôa Dorgilssonar. 1843-47. Islendínga sögur I. Udg. efter gamle Haandskrifter af det Kongelige Nordiske OldskriftSelskab. Kopenhagen. Itkonen, E. 1958. Suomen suvun esihistoria. Oma maa 1. Porvoo. Iuul, S. 1956-78. Landskabslove. Kulturhistoriskt lerikon för nordisk roedeltid 10. Helsingfors.

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Lallemand, L. 1885. Histoire des enfants abandonnés et délaissés. Paris. Lárusson, O. 1956-78. All)ingi. Kulturhistoriskt lexikon för nordisk medeltid 1. Helsingfors. Liedgren, J. 1956-78. Landskapslove. Kulturhistoriskt lexikon för nordisk medeltid I0. Helsingfors. Maurer, K, 1880. Ueber die Wasserweihe des germanischen Heidenthurns. (Abhandlungen der kgl. Bayer. Akademie der Wissenschaften 1, 15.) München. Møller, J. S. 1940, Moder og Barn i dansk Folkoverlevering. (Danmarks Folkeminder 48.) København. Montandon, G. 1934. L 'ologénèse culturelle traité d'ethnologie cyclo-culturelle et d'ergologie systématique. Paris. Norges gamle love indtill 1387 1. 1846. [Ed. by] R. Keyser & P. A. Munch. Christiania. Qrvar-Odds saga. 1892. Hrsg. von R. C. Boer. (Altnordische Saga-Bibliothek 2.) Halle. Pálsson, A. 1932. 'Um lok Preeld6ms á fslandi'. Skiirnir 106. Reykjavík. Pentikäinen, J. 1968. The Nordic dead-child tradition. (FF communications 202.) Helsinki. Pirinen, K. 1956-78. Finlands rättsedvänjor. Kulturhistoriskt lexikon Pr nordisk medeltid 4. Helsingfors. Ploss, H. 1911-12. Das Kind in Brauch und Sitte der Völker. 1-2. 3 Aufl. v. B. Renz. (Völkerkundliche Studien 1-2.) Leipzig. Potter, C. F. 1949. Infanticide. Funk & Wagnall's standard dictionary of folklore, mythology and legend 1. Ed. by M. Leach. New York. Rasmussen, K. 1925. Myter og sagn fra Grønland 3. Kjøbenhavn. - 1929. Intellectual culture of the Iglulik Eskimos. (Report of the fifth Thule expedition 1921-24, 7, 1.) Copenhagen. - 1931. The Netsilik Eskimos. (Report of the fifth Thule expedition 192124, 8, 1-2.) Copenhagen. Reichborn-Kjennerud, I. 1933. Vdr gamle trolldomsmedisin 2. (Skrifter utg. av Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi i Oslo, 2. Hist.- Fil. Klasse 1933, 2.) Oslo. Rink, H. 1866. Eskimoiske eventyr og sagn. Kjøbenhavn. Ruong, I. 1959. Arktiska folk. Gävle. Saga Olafs konúngs luns helga. 1825-37. Fornmanna Sogur 4-5. Kaupmannahan. Saga Ragnars kontings Loôbrókar. 1829. Fornaldar søgur Nordrlanda 1. [Ed. by] C. C. Rafn. Kaupmannahøfn. Schick, J. 1832. Das Glückskind mit dem Todesbrief. (Corpus Hamleticum 1, 2.) Leipzig. Schrader, O. 1917-23. Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde 12. Berliıı.

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Snorre Sturlasson. 1868. Heimskringla eller Norges Kongesagaer. [Ed. by] C. R. Unger. Christiania. Solem, E. 1933. Lappiske rettsstudier, (Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning B, 24.) Oslo. Dättr Forsteins uxafóts. 1860. Flateyjarbök 1. [Ed. by] G. Vigfússson & C. R. Unger. Christiania. Dorsteins Páttr Tjaldstaeôings. 1904. Fjörutíu íslendinga Peettir. [Ed. by] T. Jónsson. Reykjavík. Thurnwald, R. 1926. Kind. Reallexikon der Vorgeschichte 6. Hrsg. von M. Ebert. Berlin. Vatnsdeela saga. 1939. (Islenzk fornrit 8.) [Ed. by] E. O. Sveinsson. Reykjavík. Vemundar Saga ok Vigaskútu. 1843-47. Islendinga sögur 2. Udg. efter gamle Haandskrifter af det Kongelige Nordiske Oldskrift-Selskab. Kopenhagen. Virtanen, E. A. 1933. Kansanomaisen ja hallinnollisen oikeuslaitoksen rajoilta. Suomen kulttuurihistoria 1. [Ed. by] G. Suolahti et al. Jyväskylä. Wessén, E. 1957. De nordiska språken. (Stockholm studies in Scandinavian philology 16.) Lund.

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology A chronological and interpretative study of ancient Finnish religion BY UNTO SALO

Sources

No written sources of ancient Finnish religion have been preserved from the pre-Christian period. Study of the subject is thus based on later historical data, folk poetry and other recorded national traditions, supplemented by etymology and onomastics, A valuable basis for study is provided by the celebrated, if brief and partly obscure, verses of Mikael Agricola in the preface to his Psalms of David from 1551. Here Agricola lists the gods of Karelia and Häme. He admittedly subjects them to Christian censure, but he is also in these verses the first systematizer and the first theologian of our ancient religion; in actual fact, he created twin Olympuses of the old religion, two anthropomorphic god-worlds, the sub-structure of which includes the worship of spirits, animals and the dead (e.g. Harva 1948, 1-21). The Olympuses

The sources of our ancient religion are thus from a later period, it is true, from a time when the old beliefs were still flourishing as popular culture, although they had been transformed by centuries of Christian influence. According to Martti Haavio, most of the Karelian gods were in fact fallen saints from a Christian background (Haavio 1959). Haavio bases his theory mainly on etymologies which may be characterised as highly ingenious, whether or not they are actually correct; up to the present time, they have not been submitted to critical examination. It is nevertheless clear that the special tasks of the Karelian gods would presumably have been better suited to the saintly flora of monastery gardens than to the pagan products of village growth. They require, in my opinion, more specialized religious thought or mythology than might be expected under our conditions from a purely pagan religion. In this respect, ancient Finnish religion does not seem to have led to such highly evolved,

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cult-based institutions that their maintenance would have demanded specialized individuals, priests or monks; one form of witchcraft with deep roots in pre-history, the practice of shamanism, is not founded on myths and is not, in this sense, cult-based. It is in any event clear that the differences between the respective Olympuses of the Tavastians and the Karelians cannot be explained merely on the basis of the brevity and oversimplicity of Agricola's verses and this was probably never done. The account must to a large extent be factual and thus have a genuine historical basis, Haavio identifies the latter as Christian influences which would have reached Karelia perhaps as early as the 9th and 10th-centuries from the diocese of Hamburg-Bremen, either directly or perhaps through the mediacy of Birka; according to Haavio, several Karelian gods correspond in both name and function to the patron saints of this area. Haavio's hypothesis of the North Sea origins of the Christian-based gods of Karelia would fit admirably with Jalmari Jaakkola's theory of Friesian influence spreading to Finland via Birka during the Viking period (Jaakkola 1935, 80-85, 173-181), Jaakkola's arguments, based among other things on the supposition that the kugg names along the coast denote Friesian origins, are now however no longer accepted, and there is no clear evidence among finds from the Finnish Viking period to suggest any direct Friesian influence (Leppäaho 1949b, 68 f.; Nordman 1942). And since the Friesian contribution to the foundation of Birka does not appear to have been so decisive as was previously thought, Haavio's underlying assumption is in a way left hanging iıı the air. Some chronological support may nevertheless be obtained from the locally produced round brooches which occur in archaeological finds from around the year 800 (Salo 1987) (Fig, 1). Their Christian symbolism and clearly geometricized floral ornamentation suggest that the smiths who made them were familiar with Christian art and its symbols and also consciously tried to represent them; for this reason, their round brooches may be regarded as the earliest indicators of Christianity in Finland. They are more or less from the period corresponding to Ansgar's Birka mission, but do not appear to be connected with Birka's Christianity. No similar objects are known from this region, or from anywhere else in the Baltic area, except for a few round brooches found in Lithuania, but these do not display any Christian features. It is thus difficult to connect Finnish round brooches with the Hamburg-Bremen influence, and the question of Karelian gods is also problematic, since the brooches are more common in Western Finland

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Fig. 1. The early influence of Christianity in Finland is reflected in finds of ringbrooches from ca. 800 A.D. The ornaments of these go back to symbols found in early Christian art: the victor's wreath with the equal-armed cross within the circle, the anchor motif on the convoluted cross buckle. The multilooped central ornamentation of the brooch probably goes back to the quadrilooped symbol of John the Baptist. The central six-armed decoration also has its counterpart in early Christian art, and may be considered a simplification of a Christogram but it may equally well come from the wheel motif. On the left is a convoluted cross brooch from Lopotti, Kurkijoki (Karelia, USSR), at the bottom circular cross brooches from Papinsaari, Kuhmoinen and Kylänmäki, Laitila, at the top a St John's shield brooch from Hattelmala, Hämeenlinna and another circular cross buckle from Puttola, Jiimsä. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

than in Karelia, As far as the time factor is concerned, however, they would fit well with Haavio's hypothesis. They could also be linked with the Karelian gods on the grounds that their symbolism undergoes a decline with the coming of the Viking Age, which must also mean some

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eclipse of the corresponding Christian concepts; in the same way, the saints mislaid their Christian features and became transformed into Karelian divinities, if Haavio's interpretation is correct. The number of true pagan gods among those mentioned by Agricola would thus be largely confined to the gods of Häme, including Väinämöinen, Ilmarinen, Ahti and Tapio, familiar from ancient poetry. Among the gods of Karelia, Ukko, Hiisi and the Water Mother would go back to an earlier period. At this point, I would not like to judge which of these figures were more champions or cultural heroes than gods.

Substrata and conceptual alternatives in ancient religion Since the sources for ancient religion do not go back beyond Agricola's psalter, our concept of the subject may be compared to the sediment of a river bed, where the deposits of the different periods are not really separable. Except for a surface layer coloured by Christianity, for which it has not been possible to suggest dates, it is non-historical, "ancient" or "timeless". Our early religion is thus to a large extent without chronology. But since it must have its chronological strata, research should attempt to distinguish them, in spite of the difficulty of the task and the wide range of possible interpretation, Where ancient religion is concerned, I believe it is possible to provide a rough but broad-based perspective for pre-history, According to a general consensus, certain features in early Finnish religion have of course been distinguished as primitive or evolved, but it has not been possible to attach these to any particular period. There are at least three such substrata. The most recent is formed partly or completely by paganised saints o divinities, in addition to beliefs and concepts which reveal Christian influence, but have nevertheless become detached from their Christian background. Older than this are the pagan anthropomorphic gods and divine heroes. The oldest substratum includes sprites or spirits linked to a particular place and beliefs connected with the dead, as well as impersonal forces or powers found in natural elements such as earth, water, forest or fire; the idea of power would appear to include the notion of a mutual link with natural objects or phenomena, a concept reduced by natural science to the ultimate identity of matter and energy. These strata lived side by side, however, in ancient times, and even the oldest seems to have appropriated foreign cultural elements right into historical times.

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In the chronology of early religion it is a matter of dating such substrata or more circumstantial features. To do this, one may of course only use sources which are related to a belief or cult, and which return to a pre-historical period, when they have been organized into chronologically consecutive groups. This is principally a question of linguistic and archaeological material, The perspectives of historical linguistics have often been applied to early Finnish religion, if not on a systematic basis. One difficulty has been the inexactness of linguistic chronology, the fluctuations arising from this, and the resultant conflict with archaeological chronology. In recent times, in the work of Jorma Koivulehto among others, this chronology has come gratifyingly close to that of archaelogy (cf. Koivulehto 1973). Archaeological sources have been used less, because they are more alien to students of early religion. On the one hand, in Finland very little of the available religious and cultic material has been understood, the obvious exceptions being graves and burial customs, as well as certain emblems from the late Iron Age, some Christian and others interpreted as pagan. Archaeologists have been bound in this respect by the notion that hypotheses based on beliefs or cults are an extreme measure, only to be adopted when there are no alternatives; religious interpretations have thus been regarded as not really belonging to the sphere of rationalistic and positivistic research. At the same time, they have been rejected because of the uncritical facility with which research once relied on religious and cult-based explanations. Students have also been checked by a healthy caution; every hothead who goes off on adventures outside the safe paths of his own discipline obviously runs the risk of stumbling, if not of an actual fall. Another weighty reason is Alfred Ilackman's well-grounded settlement theory from the beginning of the century (Hackman 1905, 189359), Since, according to this theory, Finnish settlement in the country only dates from the Roman period onwards, no material older than this can possibly be connected with Finnish religious history. The potentially valuable support offered by archaeology, a science capable of providing a chronology, could not therefore be adequately used. This obstacle has now been largely removed since views on the history of settlement have changed (Meinander 1954a; Meinander 1954b; Meinander 1969; Meinander 1984; Salo 1981; Salo 1984a; Salo 1984b; Salo 1984c), According to these, Finnish society and Finnish culture were formed in Finland. An unbroken continuity of settlement can now be traced back to the very beginning, more than nine millenia ago. Continuity of

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Fig. 2. Early comb-ceramic settlements according to C. F. Meinander. Present beliefs hold that the original language of the Balto-Finns, proto-Finnish, spread to the Baltic, Ladoga and Onega areas with typical comb-ceramic migration about 3300 B.C. since no earlier and no later prehistoric culture common to the BaltoFennic area that could suitably have served as the foundations of proto-Finnish culture is known in the area. The influence of the earlier population of the area is probably reflected in the numerous proto-Finnish words for which no earlier etymology has been proposed and which have not been shown to be loans from Indo-European languages. National Museum, Helsinki.

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Fig. 3. The distribution of battle-axe culture in Finland according to C. F. Meinander. Battle-axe culture, which spread to Finland from the south (ca. 2500-2000 B.C.) is often considered to be proto-Baltic. National Museum, Helsinki.

settlement does not in itself, however, mean continuity of the ethnos, but the kind of cultural activity which makes the continuity of the ethnos likely may be traced in Finland for at least four thousand and possibly over five thousand years, The history of the Finnish ethnos, as far as may be judged from continuous features of settlement and culture, goes back at least to the final phase of the Stone Age, to the beginning of the Kiukais-culture (2000-1400/1200), but it would appear to go back even further, i,e. right to the comb-ceramic period proper, ca, 3300-2800, according to present theories (Fig. 2). Combceramics proper seem to have spread to Finland and Estonia together with a population which may be regarded as Fenno-Ugrian. According to recent Estonian research, it seems to have brought the Finnish ethnos to Estonia. It does not follow from this, however, that the same condition also applies to Finland, since a Fenno-Ugrian element

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C Y954

Fig. 4. Distribution of grave mounds typical of the Bronze Age and early Iron Age (ca. 1300 B.C. — 500 A,D.) along the Finnish coast according to C.F. Meinander. Grave mounds seem to have spread about 1300-1000 B.C. from the west with migrating proto-Germanic tribes. The old proto-Finnish peoples of the coast adopted the custom and the new social structure associated with it at the latest around 1000 B.C. (Meinander 1954b).

may have been present in the population from the very beginning. In spite of this continuity, the history of settlement in Finland was not straightforward after the comb-ceramic wave. A battle axe culture spread from the South to the South West areas of the country included an Indo-European, probably proto-Baltic population, which left the

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Fig. 5 has been replaced due to a mishap in the original printing. Fig. 5. Swedish-type burial grounds of early Roman times (50-200) provide evidence of immigration from the west, or perhaps of other contacts. The burial grounds in question are limited to the central and northern parts of Finland Proper (Salo 1968).

Fenno-Baltic languages with a rich stratum of words (Fig. 3). After the middle of the second millenium, numbers of proto-Germans from the West seem to have reached the coast in the middle of the proto-Finnish population, bringing with them a new social structure, the farmhouse based on family ownership (Fig. 4). The influence of these arrivals is reflected in the proto-Germanic word stratum of the Finnish language, and apparently also in the history of its phonology. In the early Roman period some proto-Scandinavian groups, perhaps predominantly male, settled in the central and northern districts of Finland Proper (Fig. 5). More intensive and widespread was the Swedish colonisation of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, directed towards the coastal regions, and also — judging by place names — to the interior of the country; according to Erik's Chronicle, it was organized by Birger Jarl and later also supported by the Crown. These migrations of early history and pre-history doubtless affected the racial composition of the population, but they had an even stronger

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology

Map fig. 6.

Map fig. 7.

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Map fig. 8.

Map fig. 9 Fig. 6-9. Iron Age burial grounds from early (50-200) and late (200-400) Roman times, the great migration period (400-550) and the Merovingian period (550-800). The density and distribution of the burial grounds reflects the expansion of peasant settlements and evidently its organisation into parishes.

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Fig, 10. Burial grounds from the Viking and crusade periods (800-1150/1300). There were permanent settlements on Åland, along the coast of Finland Proper, along the Kokemäenjoki watercourse, in Savo and on the banks of Ladoga in Karelia. (Kivikoski 1961).

influence on language and culture. These traces, together with the continuity of the Finnish ethnos for thousands of years, are also reflected in ancient religion. This may now be studied simultaneously from the perspective of a Finnish ethnic continuity which has lasted for four or five thousand years and in the light of these migrations, With this material it may be possible to sketch a hitherto non-existent history of Ukko, the ancient Finnish god of thunder, Agricola's Ukko From the point of view of archaelogy, Agricola's Ukko, 'old man', is one of the most interesting figures in ancient religion. The verses referring to him as follows:

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UNTO SALO Ja quin kevekyluö kyluettin/ silloin ukon Malia jootijn. Sihen haetin ukon vacka/ nin joopui Pica ette Acka. Sijtte palio Häpie sidle techtin/ quin seke cwltin ette nechtin. Quin Rauni Ukon Naini härsky/ ialosti Ukoi Pohiasti pärsky. Se sis annoi Hman ja Wdhen Tulon/ And when the spring-sowing was done/ then the old man's toast was drunk. For this was Ukko's wooden vessel fetched/ and the girl and the wife got drunk. Then were shameful things done there/ as was both heard and seen. When Rauni Ukko's woman huffed/ Greatly puffed Ukko from the depths. Thus it gave weather and the new crop.

According to the traditional interpretation, the Ukko whose toast was drunk was the same Ukko that gave "weather and the new crop". By describing his cult and his activities in nine lines — the other gods only receive one or two lines — Agricola effectively places him at the summit of the Karelian Olympus, without actually saying so, His grounds for doing so may have been the general importance of Ukko, since there was probably no real hierarchy of gods at the time; there were either divinities of major importance, sometimes to be feared, or those of minor importance, whose significance was linked with a particular occasion. The length of Agricola's description may also have been influenced by the fact that Ukko's toast was drunk in Eastern Finland, and even in Mime, too, at a relatively late period (Harva 1948, 103-122), which in itself of course suggests the importance of Ukko, According to Agricola, Ukko was (only) a Karelian god, but scholars have long considered that he was referring to the universally feared Ukko, Ukkonen, the god of thunder, who would have fitted equally well among the gods of Häme (Tavastland) (Harva 1948, 74102).

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Martti Haavio's interpretation That ingenious dissenter, Martti Haavio, nevertheless reached the conclusion that the lines, besides referring to the drinking of Ukko's toast, also described the hieros gamos, or "holy marriage" of Ukko and his bride which increased the fertility of the land. He based his interpretation on a highly versatile analysis of the obscure verses in the poem. He referred first to the fact already established by previous research that the same ukko, literally "old man", was an honorary name, given in old runes to other divine figures, and not therefore only a name for the god of thunder, Rauni was not, in his view, the name of Ukko's wife, as was previously supposed, but was joined to Ukko as an epithet: it was thus a question of Rauni-Ukko. This interpretation accounted for the strange circumstance that genuine folk tradition has absolutely nothing to say about Rauni. According to Haavio, Rauni was a continental-Germanic adjectival loan. He also demonstrated convincingly that the verbs härskyä and piirskyii, the modern meanings of which are obscure, have acquired in several dialects the general sense of the "huffing and puffing" of rutting animals. It then "ukon Naini härsky" — Ukko's bride huffed — rutting Ukko, in turn, puffed vigorously, even "greatly"; and the curious "Pohiasti", for which different explanations have of course been suggested, simply meant "pohjasta" or "from the bottom". The "bottom" in turn was the "bottom of the field", and this was the abode of the sleeping "boy", Sampsa or Pellervoinen, who — in some ancient runes — seduced the "old woman from beneath the earth" or his stepmother in order to increase the fertility of the land, It is the same holy marriage familiar from many rebirths of fertility gods in the Mediterrenean, and from the myths describing the copulation with the mother, and not only from these, but also from Scandinavian mythology. Since the line "Se sis annoi Ilman ia Wdhen tulon" it thus brought weather and a New Coming meant, according to Haavio, the provision of favourable weather and a new coming or harvest, besides being linked with the holy marriage of Ukko and his bride, Haavio may have regarded his demonstration as virtually complete. Ukko the Thunder God does not appear at all then in Agricola's Olympus, according to Haavio, although he does occur in certain ancient runes, i.e, as the killer of the great ox or of the corresponding great pig (Haavio 1959, 81-102).

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Other studies of Ukko Haavio's ingenious interpretation represents an almost total reversal of previous hypotheses and opens new perspectives to scholarship. One of Haavio's most remarkable insights is the notion of a Holy marriage between Rauni-Ukko and his bride. The actual basic idea may however be mistaken. According to the traditional and — in my opinion better founded notion, Agricola's verses do in fact describe the thunder god, Ukko. A number of viewpoints may be suggested, and most of these have long been familiar. To begin with, I shall provide a brief account of the thunder god as conceived by earlier scholarship, especially E. N. Setälä (Setälä 1910), Kaarle Krohn (Krohn 1914, 116126), Uno Harva (Harva 1948, 74-102) and Martti Haavio (Haavio 1959, 95-102; Haavio 1961). 1. The god's name throughout the country is generally Ukko, Ukkonen, "old man, old fellow", but in different areas he is also known as Isoi, Isäinen, Isänen, "father", or by the rarer but older name of Aijä, "old man", variants of which are known in Lapland and Estonia, as well as Pitkänen, Pitkäinen, Pitkämöinen, apparently "distant coming or striking from afar" in Finland Proper (and Estonia), Sometimes the circumlocution vanha mies (old man) is used, and in Vermland Ylkäinen and Ylikäinen, "the one above" have been recorded. The ancient runes of Russian Karelia also mention Tuuri. The diminutive forms of names may be due to a fear of thunder, but I also presume that, with the exception of the last example, the names should be interpreted as euphemisms induced by fear. One may thus ask whether the god ever had a real name, although — if he had — in winter, at least, there would have been no danger in uttering it.

2. Ukko's domain is the clouds, He is "lord above", "the master of the clouds", the raiser of clouds, He pursues, thunders, raises the wind or makes lightning ("Ukko of the sky struck fire, Väinämöinen flashed lightning"). He controls "the weather" ("holy Ukko father of the weather", Hauho 1662) or stormy weather, the roughest weather. Ukko also produces rain and especially rain with thunder (Isänen's shower — "the father's shower"). The rainbow is known, in Finland Proper at least, as Ukko's arch, but the equivalent name also exists in Lappish. Ukko sometimes started a fire, which — to distinguish it from other fires — was known as the white fire of Pitkäinen or Ukkonen. It could

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be prevented by Ukko's own weapons, the thunderbolts, and it could also be extinguished by the same means or by a woman's milk. Ukko also increased fertility. Pitkänen's cast, i.e. lightning, "oh sorely welcome to earthly growth"; according to Agricola (the distant one), who makest all afraid, breakest/ and turnest/ and makest the earth fruitful" (Gospel according to St Mark, New Testament, 1548). The real nature of inducing fertility becomes apparent, as I understand it, from such expressions as "Ukko panee", "Isänen panee" (Renvall's dictionary 1826) or from a line in Siimon Paavalinpoika's funeral elegy from 1704 "Joco nyt pitkänen panepi" (And lays the thunder now). These may be compared with the common expression "halla panee" (frost "lays"); it should of course be noted that the verb, panna (put or — in a sexual sense — lay) is used in many ways, so that other possible interpretations naturally exist, Putting out Ukko's fire with woman's milk nevertheless suits the interpretations suggested above, since the woman's milk is the result of a sexual act, 3. Ukko was also an all-purpose god, invoked in many different situations, such as childbirth, hunting and in staunching the flow of blood, 4. Ukko's attributes included a blue cloak, Setälä has also pointed out that Ukko is "hattaroiden hallitsija" (master of the clouds) and that the Finnish word hattara (cloud) is apparently a loan from the Swedish hattar, which is also connected with the thunder god, as in gofar hattar and åska-hattar (the old man's hats or clouds). In Sweden, the attributes of thunder god perhaps included a hat, but this was hardly the case in Finland; hattara may have been borrowed from a plural form of the word and thus refer to hat-shaped clouds or cumulus. The name of the flower ukonhattu (wolf's bane), in Swedish stormhatt (Lönnrot's dictionary), would thus be explained by the hat of the thunder god, but may be a later development. In any case, Ukko's connection with the hattara-clouds is in my opinion a Western feature, although SKES (The Etymological Dictionary of the Finnish Language) offers the hypothesis that the origin of hattara (cloud) is the Finnish hattara in the sense of "foot cloth"; the patches of cloud envisaged in this explanation are not however connected with thunder as much as with autumn storms. There is clearer information about Ukko's weapons. These included the hammer, the club, the thunderbolt or wedge, the bow and arrow, the nail, and sometimes the aze or sword, The thunderbolt or wedge

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are of stone, and so sometimes is the axe (stone axe from the sky, a magic formula from Satakunta), but the weapons are for the most part of metal (gold club; copper hammer), Ukonkivi ("thunderstone") is a widely used popular name for quartz. The name may be derived from the fact that pieces of quartz flare up if they are rubbed or struck together; a light may be distinguished, particularly in the dark.' When lightning struck, the thunderbolt, wedge, nail or arrow was buried deep into the ground, where, in the course of time, it rose and could be seen, The thunderbolt was used to prevent "Ukko's fire", for which purpose — for example — it was placed on the roof joists, and with its help it was claimed that the fire caused by the thunder would die. Placed in the seed bag, it increased the harvest. It was also possible to grate a curative powder from it, to judge by the damaged stone blades in museum collections. In the light of these arguments it may be stated of Agricola's Ukko that: 1. he corresponded to a thunder god known by this name throughout the country 2. he provided the weather, which in this case most probably means stormy weather, "god's weather", "the lord's weather" 3. by giving the year's crops, he is equivalent to a growth-furthering thunder god 4. he promoted growth by union with a woman who is not directly mentioned in any other reliable tradition. The sexually explicit verbs used for lightning flashes may indicate an identification in this respect. It should also be pointed out that according to Adam of Bremen the Scandinavian Thor was "master of the weather, he controlled the thunder and lightning, he ruled the wind and the rain, good weather and fertility", to quote Haavio's slightly free translation (Haavio 1959, 96). Ukko and Thor correspond so closely to each other that they must be one and the same god, and so it has been understood for centuries, as is apparent from the fact that Ukko is regularly translated into Swedish as Thor. Setälä (Setälä 1910) formed the same opinion on the basis of a similarity in names.

The author remembers how small boys in the 1930's often played by rubbing two pieces of quartz together in the dark, thus producing a bluish or greenish light.

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology 109 The holy marriage Haavio's interpretation nevertheless requires further comment, Haavio is correct in my opinion to interpret the "huffing and puffing" of Ukko and his bride as a holy wedding to increase fertility. They are not however the fertility god and his mother, but they represent the "marriage" of earth and sky, in which sky represents the masculine and earth the feminine element. Haavio refers to the actual myth of the marriage of earth and sky, and also quotes lines placed by Aeschylus in the mouth of Aphrodite (Haavio 1959, 80, 96): The noble Sky longs for the Earth and the Earth longs to marry the sky. When the rain falls from the heavenly bridegroom, the earth grows fertile, the meadows bear for the flocks and Demeter's gifts to mortals. The dew of marriage ripens the fruit of the trees. Therefore the credit is also mine Haavio nevertheless ignores the analogy offered by the myth with Agricola's Ukko, although it seems almost self-evident. Against Haavio's interpretation it may be pointed out that in the myth of Sampsa one of the parties to the holy marriage is always a boy, or a young man. This feature is also fundamental in the Mediterranean sources of the same myth; in the latter, the young god or vegetation god wakes to life every spring: Adonis, Attis, Tammuz, as Haavio himself observes. The difference may perhaps be seen in the fact that Ukko makes the earth more fruitful, but Sampsa or Pellervo the fields, The fields were of course earth too, but earth also included clearings, meadows, pastures, forests, the whole basis of vegetation, and since the thunderstorm soaked them all without distinction, Ukko's fertility could not be limited to the fields, It is therefore another myth, Haavio is certainly right to suggest that ukko should be interpreted as an honorary title, which could be attached to other divinities, including Ilmarinen, But it does not seem to have been linked with Pellervoinen, Sampsa or the boy of the fields, for which reason ukko in the sense of "old man" cannot be eliminated in this context, Agricola's verses thus celebrate the holy marriage of the old man and his bride and not of the boy and his stepmother or mother, as in the myth of Pellervo or Sampsa,2

2

On Sampsa see for example Harva 1948, 170-188; Valonen 1946; Kirkinen 1967.

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We may continue our discussion of interpretation by observing that the "Weather" which Ukko provides according to Agricola is certainly not "good weather" as Haavio supposed, but "dirty weather, rough weather, the storm", as Harva has established. Scholarship has long interpreted the "coming of the new" in accordance with Agricola's linguistic usage as "the coming of the year, harvest", and Haavio is of the same opinion. Ukko is well suited as the giver of the harvest, however, because in the New Testament, too, Agricola presents the concept of the power of thunder to produce fertility, as Harva has verified. It is of no great importance, in my opinion, whether "the weather" and "the coining of the new" are interpreted as the gifts of Ukko, as has usually been the case, or whether they are the consequences of the divine marriage, as Haavio believed, since Ukko's activity could also be seen in this marriage. The word "Pohiasti" is difficult to explain. Haavio is on the right track in my opinion in suggesting that, written with a capital letter, the word refers to locality, Pohja, "bottom" or "depths". If this line of thought is acceptable, it cannot however be the "bottom of the field", as Haavio supposed, but more likely the "depths of the sky", the place where Pohjan tähti or Pole star was situated. This was where "Ukko, navel of the sky" lived (SKVR [= The old Finnic Runes] 7:4, 1594; Haavio 1961, 13) and from there he could well puff greatly. It may therefore be affirmed that Agricola's description of the holy marriage fits the god of thunder and his bride at any rate, and that it fits them better than the boy of the field and his stepmother. There is no need to suspect, therefore, that Agricola's Ukko was not the god of thunder. If Haavio's interpretation were correct, it would have the remarkable consequence that there was no place for Ukko, "the highest lord", in either the Tavastian or the Karelian pantheons, although many lesser gods lived there, How could Agricola have failed to include the god whose violent power the ancient Finns must have feared most of all?

Rauni Haavio, however, had the acute insight that Rauni may not have meant Ukko's bride, as four hundred years of scholarship has supposed, but Ukko himself, who would therefore be Rauni-Ukko. The hypothesis is quite possible, since Agricola does not appear to have used the hyphen. I have already pòinted out that with this interpretation the problems

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of the enigmatical female Rauni disappear, including the fact that there is no mention of her elsewhere in reliable tradition. She may therefore never have existed! But not even Haavio himself feels he has discovered a convincing etymology for Rauni, He compares the name to the Old High German word fro, gen. sing. frono, "lord", and believes that Rauni may in some way contain the Germanic frauja, the equivalent of which in Gothic also meant "lord"; the word originally had an n-ending. The interpretation would certainly have been suitable in terms of meaning, but it is probably contrary to phonological history. According to Jorma Koivulehto, the auj sequence in protogermanic words, which does not appear in proto-Finnish, was replaced in the latter case by the sequence aiv as demonstrated by the protogermanic loan word "laiva" (ship)3; hence the au diphthong could not have been preserved at all. E, N. Setälä (Setälä 1912, 203 f.) offered the hypothesis that Rauni was derived from the same proto-word as the Swedish "rönn" (rowan, mountain ash), which would certainly conform to the laws of phonology, but it is contextually impossible, as Haavio points out; there are no connections between the mountain ash and the god of thunder, at least in the myths which have been preserved, to suggest that the mountain ash could be regarded as Ukko's bride (!) (Harva 1948, 128-136; Haavio 1959, 91 ff,), The etymologies proposed must therefore, as I understand it, be rejected. This does not, however, resolve the problem of Rauni, and neither does it eliminate the fundamental question: if Rauni is, as seems to be the case, an epithet for Ukko, why is it not linked with Ukko in other contexts? The problem obviously belongs to the history of religion but, surprisingly enough, it also concerns archaeology and the humanities. If my proposal is correct, the question may be resolved by a return to antiquity. Zeus, the supreme deity of the Greeks, god of clouds, rain, thunder, promoter of vegetation and in these respects, therefore, a parallel divinity to Ukko is, on account of his numerous functions, the reciever of a large number of epithets, one of which is Kerdunios, Keraunós means "thunderbolt, Donnerkeil" but also "lightning", whilst the adjective derived from it, "kerdunios" means "belonging to the thunderbolt, struck by a thunderbolt, hurling thunderbolts" (Frisk Frauja contains the sequence - auj- , which was impossible in proto-Finnish and, according to Jorma Koivulehto, therefore replaced by - aív- , as in the word laiva, whose proto-Germanic origin has been traced back to the form *fianja (Koivulehto 1973). Koivulehto's arguments are reinforced by the fact, too, that the Gauja river in Northern Latvia is in Livonian called the Koiva.

3

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Fig. 11, Zeus on his throne giving birth to Pallas Athene and threatening Hefaistos with lightning in his right hand. The lightning is portrayed as a double-ended and multiforked arrow. Defending his act Hefaistos has struck Zeus on the skull to help the birth of Athene, who is armed with an aegis shield. Black-patterned vase from ca. 500 B.C. (Grant & Hazel 1976.)

1960, 828), and apparently also "bearer of lightning". Keraunós is already mentioned in the Iliad, so it must go back to at least the eighth century B.C. There is evidence of the worship of Zeus Kerá,unios (Fig, 11-13) throughout the Eastern and Central Mediterranean: from the Greek islands and mainland, from Cyprus, Asia Minor, Syria, Italy, Bulgaria (Schwab' 1972, 322 f.; Schwabl 1978), Both according to these authorities and on numerous vase decorations and statues, the attribute of Zeus was a winged bundle of lightning (Fig, 12), apparently borrowed from the East, where it occurs amongst other contexts as the weapon of the Canaanite Hadad-Baal (Schwab' 1978, 1018 f; Tatton-Brown 1984, fig. p. 88; Grant & Hazel 1976, 421; Gray 1982, 51). Zeus's weapon was no longer in the sixth century depicted as a concrete weapon, as a thunderbolt, "Donnerkeil" (Fig, 11-14), but in Italy this concept nevertheless survived longer. In the temple of Jupiter, situated on

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n.

Fig, Zeus Keraunios in the process of striking lightning. Bronze statue from the 5th century B.C. from Dodona. After B. Petrakos.

the Capitol and consecrated in 428 B.C., there has been preserved a flint stone, lapis silex, which has been interpreted as "an image of the thunderbolt" "ein Abbild des Donnerkeils"; according to this the name of the god was Iuppiter Lapis (Thulin 1917, 1128 f.). On the basis of this information, it seems that the notion of stone thunderbolts or undressed "thunderstones" was widespread in antiquity, at least from the beginning of the last pre-Christian millenium. The corresponding Latin name borrowed from Greek, cerauniae, (thunderbolts) occurs, apparently spread by naturalists or humanists, in scientific literature from the 16th and 17th centuries. In Museum Wormianum, the catalogue of the collections of the famous Danish scholar, Ole Worm, they are described as follows:

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Fig. 13. Silver coin of Alexander the Great from the 4th century B.C. Zeus, the ruler of Olympus and Alexander's divine exemplar, is seated upon his throne with a sceptre in his left hand. Zeus also has attributes of the god of thunder in the illustration: in the lower lefthand corner there is a cloud from which a lightning-bird is emerging, and an eagle symbolising Zeus. (Grant & Hazel 1976.) "Cerauniae, so called because they are thought to fall to earth in the lightning flash. They have various shapes, sometimes conical, sometimes hammer- or axe-shaped, and with the hole in the middle" (Fig. 15). "Their origin is disputed; some deny that they are meteorites, supposing from their resemblance to iron tools that they are really such tools transformed into stones. On the other hand, reliable witnesses state that they have observed these stones on the precise spot — in a house or a tree, and so on — where lightning had struck" (Klindt-Jensen 1975, 23). Worm's work appeared in 1655, but the term cerauniae was already current in mineralogical treatises from the previous century: Georgius Agricola, De Natura fossilium, 1546; Conrad Gesner, De Rerum Fossilium, 1565; to mention only a few examples (Rodden 1981). The

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Fig. 1.4. Gallo-Romanic bronze image of Zeus from Châtelet, Haut-Marne. The lightning symbol of the picture has been borrowed from Zeus but the chariot wheel is from the Celtic god of thunder, Taranis. (MacCana 1970.)

word has, however, a much older history. In the form ceraunius it is found in the sources from the first half of the 13th century, and it can be still older (Almqvist 1956-78, 533 ff.). The term ceraunium or ceraunia is a loan from Greek and seems to be uncommon in classic Latin. It is probable, that Agricola (1501?1557) did not came across it before the years 1536-1539 at the Uni-

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Fig. 15. Thunderbolts, cerauniae, found in Sweden. After a picture published by Ole Worm in 1655; the original picture dates back to the 16th century.

versity of Wittenberg, though he understood Latin well ever since the schoolyears at Viipuri (Heininen 1976, 42-49, 56). At Wittenberg he, however, must have learned the term through the language of the humanists or naturalists. It may be mentioned, that Melanchton actually lectured during Agricola's first term on the second book of Ptolemy's De indiciis, which discusses, among other things, the causes of storms (Tarkiainen 1945, 120). The term must have been in common use, as Luther translated the Latin fulmen, 'lightning', as Donnerkeil, 'thunderbolt, ceraunia', in his German Bible (Donner 1966-81, 26), And at Wittenberg, at the latest, Agricola must also have become acquainted with the epithet kerdunios for Zeus, when he acquired his real knowledge of Greek. In Wittenberg at the latest, then, he would have confirmed the link between Ukko and Zeus, as well as the connection between cerauniae and thunderbolts, and accordingly given Ukko the epithet presumably derived from Latin — of Rauni. Rauni-Ukko would thus be Thunderbolt-Ukko or Lightning-Ukko. Agricola would have omitted the unstressed first syllable of the word ceraunia because the stressed second one was much more suitable for the first syllable of the Finnish form. He would also have omitted the last vowel of the word, presumably because words ending in -i are common in Finnish,

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but -ia endings are less frequent except derivatives. According to this hypothesis, Rauni was Agricola's coinage, perhaps an impulse; the etymology, as such, is personal and "historical". It would suggest that Agricola equated the Finnish Ukko with the Greek Zeus, and there are no semantic problems involved. The etymology may also perhaps be phonologically acceptable. It would, in any case, explain why the word, Rauni, does not occur in other reliable sources connected with Ukko, and this absence would have to be explained in some way or another. Further support for a case of personal coinage is found in the fact that not even immediately succeeding generations borrowing from Agricola actually understood what he meant. It is still puzzling, however, that Agricola used an expression which was incomprehensible for most readers. Was the word used in Agricola's circles or did Homer nod? Whether or not the etymology suggested above is correct, there is no doubt that the Finnish Ukko has Indo-European roots. Ukko is thus a migrant! We may therefore ask: are there any traces in archaeological material or in historical linguistics, on the basis of which the length of Ukko's residence in the Finnish sky may be more precisely calculated? Or is there anything enabling us to determine the phases of Ukko's existence? To answer these questions, I propose to examine the myths and attributes of Ukko, together with their archaeological interpretations.

Ukko and Thor's hammers It goes without saying that Ukko dates from at least the Iron Age, the pre-Christian period. The case for this has sometimes been made by references to "Thor's hammers", which occur as pendants in finds from the Finnish Merovingian period (550-800), often fastened to men's large ornamental pins (Krohn 1914, 118; Harva 1948, 92 with suppl. ill. 96 f.; Kivikoski 1973, fig. 448, 480). They are anchor-shaped pendants in one piece or corresponding decorative pincers; Kivikoski assumes that the form is Estonian in origin, They are somewhat reminiscent of the Scandinavian Thor's hammers, but the similarity is, in my opinion, pure coincidence. The original objects are pincers which are becoming or have already become decorations, and the evolution of which leads to the pendant type of the Viking period, the so-called Karkku pendant (Fig. 16) (Kivikoski 1973, fig. 783). The latter is so far removed from the finds of the Merovingian period,

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Fig, 16. Merovingian tweezers, "Thor's hammers" and a Viking pendant from the Finnish National Museum. On the left is a simple iron tweezer from Kansakoulumäki, Laitila; in the middle a similar bronze tweezer from Pappilanmäki, Eura, used as a decorative pendant; to the left of them tweezer broadened into a "Thor's hammer" in the "Kiikka needle"; in the lower righthand corner a massive "Thor's hammer" from the Papinsaari hoard, Kuhmoinen, and in the top righthand corner the Karkku pendant, the final stage of development of the "Thor's hammer", The development of tweezers from their simple iron form to anchor-formed "Thor's hammers" and lace-like pendants indicates that they had no symbolic content; otherwise the symbol would have had to be retained in recognisable form. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

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that an archaeological eye is needed to spot the connection, If the pincer pendants from the Merovingian period had been genuine Thor's hammers or the thunderbolts of Finnish popular tradition, their form would have been consciously preserved as clearly recognizable; they would not otherwise have functioned as amulets or symbols. For this reason, they probably cannot be linked with Thor or Ukko. Because of the typological evolution of the form, they cannot be interpreted either as the anchors popular in Christian symbolism; these objects and the comb-pendants (Kivikoski 1973, fig, 1984) reflect the transformation of utilitarian forms into decorative ones. They would moreover be rather early examples of Thor's hammers: in Sweden and Norway the latter belong predominantly to the 10thcentury or to a slightly later period, when Christianity and its new symbols were also making the symbols of the old faith more relevant (Fig. 17) (Ström 1956-78, 503 H.); it is true, however, that they are known from the end of the Vendel period. Finds on Åland from the Viking period include genuine Thor's hammers, small pendants attached to an iron collar (Kivikoski 1973, fig. 731 with explanations), but since they are Swedish in form and almost unknown on the Finnish mainland, they cannot provide any contemporary links with the Finnish god, Ukko.

Ukko as the striker of fire More successful results may be obtained, in my opinion, from considering objects connected with the striking of fire. The first to examine these, together with ancient runes concerned with the birth of fire, was Jorma Leppäaho (Leppäaho 1949a) in his study "Fire Struck..," containing a number of useful observations on the subject, In some poems Väinämöinen is described as striking fire with a "sea stone", according to Leppäaho a marine stone or strange stone, a flint, which begins to appear as fire steel in burial finds from the Merovingian period. In the descriptions in ancient runes, according to which fire was born from the belt of Väinämöinen or the powerful stranger, even from the "three-part sheath", Leppäaho sees a reference to the splendid belts of the migration period, to which the fire steel was attached. Regarding these interpretations, I would like to point out that tinder was certainly carried at the belt — in the tinder-pouch — at other periods as well as the migratory one, and that some elliptical fire stones could be imported ones and thus also "sea stones",

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Fig. 17. Thor's hammers attached to a ring provide evidence of Thor worship on Åland. A Viking Age find from Syllöda, Saltvik. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Museums.

According to Krohn, the "three part case" was not moreover originally integral to the runes on the origin of fire (Krohn 1917, 94). Inspired by these and other observations, Leppäaho believes that the poems on the mythical birth of fire include in their background many features of the actual making of fire, and that these have become poetically idealised. He is in a sense quite correct: runes and myths must have connections with the real world, In the present context, however, I would emphasize the opposite tendency: the real events of everyday life can also have reflected myths. This is very clearly the case with regard to the technique for the manufacture of fire: the fire-making implements of the Iron Age contain forms which could not be explained solely on the basis of technique, but they also reveal their mythical background. Leppäaho has recognized this in certain respects, but the argument could be developed much further.

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology 121 The point of departure must therefore be the mythical origin of fire: according to magic spells, fire comes from the sky or the air, either cradled at the centre of the heavens, or else released or born by striking; fire thus has two origins, which have nevertheless become confused with each other (Krohn 1917, 100-131). In this context we are only interested in fire created by striking, since the striker of the blow is referred to as the god of thunder, Pitkämöinen (Southern Ostrobothnia) and Ilman Ukko or Ukko of the Sky (Eastern Karelia), although together with Väinämöinen, Ilmarinen, old Ilmarinen, ilma(n)rinta (the bosom of the sky), ilmanranta (the edge of the sky), Ismaro; the three last-mentioned misinterpretations have been explained as referring to Ilmarinen. Whilst Väinämöinen is described as the striker of fire, often only in the refrain and therefore in a secondary role although not always, the original strikers of fire would appear to be Ukko and Ilmarinen. Without considering Ilmarinen at the present moment, I shall examine Ukko as an original striker of fire. According to a poem from Russian Karelia: Iski tulta Ilmanukko, Välähytti Väinämöinen Kolmella kokon sulalla, Viijellä vivutsimella.

Ilmanukko struck the fire Väinämöinen flashed his lightning With three eagle feathers, With the five small rods.

According to Leppäaho's interpretation, fire is struck with an arrow, for the "three eagle feathers" refer to the plumes of arrows described in ancient runes and used by northern hunting peoples, including the Burjats (Fig, 18). More problematic are the "five rods" (in other runes, for example, "the rods of the sparrow"). Vipu may be translated as a "trap springing upwards" or "a handspike for lifting", but the word "vivusin" shows that it was not literally a question of a vipu or "rod", but rather of something "vivun kaltainen" or "rod-like". If "viisi" (five) is the correct attribute in this context — there can be no question here of a sparrow — it could then refer to the hand, to the five fingers needed for striking fire. But these are also needed for shooting a bow, and this is precisely what is meant: Ukko shot his arrows of lightning, from which fire was born; the bow does not seem to be mentioned as Väinämöinen's weapon, and for this reason he cannot be the chief archer. Leppäaho believed that terrestrial fire was struck by an irontipped arrow, which is quite possible, if the tip was made of steel. I regard it as more probable, however, that it was struck with an iron bow.

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Fig. 18. A Buryat arrow with three eagle feathers. According to Jorma Leppäaho's interpretation reference in Finnish runes of how fire was first struck with "three eagle feathers" means that fire was struck from an elliptical fire stone using just such an arrow. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

This hypothesis is based on three bow-shaped fire steels, one of which was found at Gulldynt in Vörå, and the other at Mahlaistentönkkä in Vähiinkyrö, all from the Merovingian period (Leppäaho 1949a, 81 f., fig. 11; Kivikoski 1973, fig, 643). They bring to mind combined or Asiatic bows, as is apparent from their curving points: the points of one, in fact, have actually been shaped into decorative spirals, Since the bow shape is a particularly awkward one for a fire steel, and is not justified by its function of striking fire — in the Merovingian period and above all afterwards fire was struck with more simple fire steels (Kivikoski 1973, fig. 642) — the only reasonable explanation is that the bow-shaped fire steel was a reference to the bow of the thunder god, Striking fire on earth may thus have been regarded as a repetition of fire struck in the sky, and to this end a miniature of Ukko's bow was sometimes used, On this basis, we may therefore date the notion of Ukko's bow and arrow to the Merovingian period, even if we cannot ascribe it exclusively to this era. From the point of dating of Ukko, himself, it is by no means a revolutionary hypothesis. Bow-shaped fire-steels are nevertheless exceptional in Finland, although a process of simplification may be evident in two other fire steels from Gulldynt, three pieces from Luistari in Eura and one from Patraistenmäki in Laitila (Kivikoski 1973, fig. 644; LehtosaloHilander 1982, 72 f.) In these examples, string and bow have been combined in a solid plate, in which the points of the bow are clearly

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Fig. 19, Fire steels from western Finland. At the top bow-shaped fire steels from Mahlaistentönkkä, Vähäkyrö, from Patraistenvainio, Kalanti, and from Gulldynt, Vöyri. At centre right a looped "boat-shaped" fire steel from Gulldynt, Vöyri, At the bottom lyre-shaped fire steels from Kukkojenkivenmäki, Tampere, and Peltokutila, Kalvola. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

recognizable (Fig. 19). But bow-shaped fire steels were nonetheless far more common than these examples suggest, The so-called lyreshaped fire steels (Fig. 19) (Kivikoski 1973, fig, 641, 1008) may also be interpreted as bow-shaped, although the name of this type has prevented us from recognizing the connection with the bow-shaped form. In these examples, the points of the bow have in fact merely been bent forward onto the original arch from and stretched so far that the spiral ends almost touch each other, The bow shape has been distorted, but the central part of the combined bow can still be seen in a number of fire steels in the extension of the original curve; the latter detail is thus a rudiment which cannot be explained in terms of function, but only with reference to its original form. The lyre-shaped fire steels occur in finds from the Merovingian period, but become more widespread in the Viking Age (800-1050) and are

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actually preserved right into historical times. Judging by their wide currency, fire steels have been quite commonly linked with Ukko and the birth of fire. It should however be added that these forms of fire steels are not exclusively Finnish, but were adopted together with the new technique for striking fire from continental Europe, either directly or through Scandinavia, where the use of fire steels also spread during the Merovingian or migratory period (Cleve 1943, 150 ff.); bow-shaped fire steels proper have also been found, for example, in Skåne (Scania), and closed bow-shaped fire steels in Skåne, Uppland, Norway and — apparently — in the British Isles (Strömberg 1981, 54; Lehtosalo-Hilander 1982, 72 f.). If this interpretation of bow-shaped and lyre-shaped fire steels is correct, it cannot therefore be limited to Finland. I shall not go further into the subject at this point, but limit myself to offering an explanation for a Finnish myth; and perhaps, in this respect too, the god of thunder knew no ethnic frontiers. The evidence of fire stones Another object of examination is provided by elliptical fire stones,4 These are, as their name suggests, oval or tapering fire stones, generally 8-10 cm in length, with a gently curving, convex, front side, in the middle of which there is a longitudinal or slanting groove or doublegroove. The sides are convex in the oldest stones, in others more frequently hollowed out (Fig. 20); the hollow groove is explained by a band from which the stone was hung, probably from a belt; in Norway and Sweden, beautiful belts are known from the migratory period, and the fire stone was fastened tightly to these by means of a metal frame. Stones without grooves may have been carried in tinder pouches. With the exception of the very oldest finds or fortuitous, and poorly shaped forms, the elliptical fire stones are completely symmetrical in form and 4 Oval fire stones are considered in greater detail by e.g. Hackman 1905, 241 ff.; Rydh 1917; Moora 1938, 569 ff. Other sources: Salmo 1957, 30 f.; Kivikoski 1961, 136 f,; Salo 1968, 169 f.; Huurre 1983, 132 ff.; Kostrzewski 1919, 178 f.; Kostrzewski 1955, 228 f,; Sjövold 1962, 187 f.; Okulicz 1973, 359 f.; Leube 1975, 33 f.; Tönisson 1982, 291 f. — The boundary line of the oval fire stones in the map fig. 21 is drawn summarily. Great Russia, White Russia, Great Poland, Silesia, Elbe-Saale territory, and East Mecklenburg have been left outside of the area, in spite of some fire stones found there. I have information not enough to estimate, if some of these territories should be included to the proper area of the oval fire stones. Scotland and Ireland lay outside of the map.

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Fig, 20, Elliptical fire stones. The picture shows how carefully they were shaped and finished. Turku Provincial Museum.

both the front and back sides have been completely smoothed out. The sides are also usually smoothed, but sometimes in the grooves there are traces of chiselling; the whole design also requires chiselling technique, the traces of which have however been removed by careful polishing. The material is usually white or yellowish quartzite or sandstone containing quartzite. By the beginning of the 1960's over four hundred elliptical fire stones had been discovered in Finland (Kivikoski 1961, 136 f,): They occur rather rarely in grave finds, and range in time from the early Roman period (50-200; the fire stones of Penttala at Nakkila and Parkkali at Pori) to the end of the Merovingian age, the 8th-century (the RintaUlvinen stone from Isokyrö), They appear to become more widespread in the later Roman period (200-400) and begin to give way in the Merovingian period to fire flints and fire steels (Cleve 1943, 150 ff,), Basically the same time limits are also found in Estonia, Latvia and

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Sweden, but some fire stones which occur in northern Poland date from the end of the pre-Roman era or from the beginning of the new talender; on the basis of this evidence, the type is assumed to have originated from the lower Vistula, from the region of Oksywie culture. From there it seems to have spread around the Baltic, to Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Finland, the Baltic countries themselves and Northern Germany (Fig. 21). Outside this area, elliptical fire stones only occur sporadically, with the exception of the British Isles, where the type was introduced by the Norwegian Vikings. Elliptical fire stories were at first believed to be grinding stones, until it was shown that they were prepared from a kind of stone too hard for grinding, but suitable for striking fire; from these stones one can really strike a spark with a sharp piece of steel, even with the points of scissors, as Leppäaho has shown. In his study of fire stones (Leppäaho 1949a, 79 f,) he points out that in Finland no special fire steels were found together with the fire stones5 ; for striking, other edges may have been used, including the points of old knives, as described in one Southern Karelian verse fragment: Iski Ilman ukko tulta Välähdytti Väinämöinen Veitsellä nykänenällä, Kuraksella kultapäällä. (SKVR 13:3, 8726)

Ukko in the sky struck fire Väinämöinen flashed his lightning With the blunted knife-point With the golden-headed knife,

Elliptical fire stones are nevertheless rare in grave finds; most of them are scattered finds and differ in this respect from other material from the Iron Age. This was noticed by scholars at an early stage and its significance has been discussed. I quote the carefully considered presentation of Alfred Hackman, After describing some of the elliptical fire stones found hi graves, Hackman writes as follows: "Alle anderen Steine, über deren Fundort wir nähere Kenntnis besitzen, Bind Bodenfunde, zum Teil vielleicht Depot- oder auch Votivfunde. Die meisten derselben sind bei der Feldarbeit, auf Ackern und Wiesen, zum Vorschein gekommen. Dies gilt nicht nur von den Steinen, welche in der alten, an Altertumsfunden reicheren Kulturgegenden gefunden worden sind,

5 Leppäaho has described the awl from the early Roman period found at Penttala in Nakkila on the assumption that awls were used to strike fire from oval fire stones. This suggestion may not be valid, as the oval fire stones, like the later fire steels, seem to occur only in men's graves, whilst awls were objects only found in women's graves (Salo 1968, 167 f.; Salo 1984a, 210 f.).

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Fig, 21. Main distribution of elliptical fire stones. The striking of fire in this area was clearly understood in the centuries of the early Christian era to be a hieros gamos rite. sondern auch von den Exemplaren aus abgelegenen Fundorten im Innern des Landes, an welchen weit und breit keine anderen Reste einer gleichzeitigen Ansiedlung angetroffen sind. Es sind daher selbverständlich nicht alle diese Acker schon zur Zeit der weberschiffförmigen Steine bebaut gewesen. Von vielen derselben, und besonders von denen, welche ausdrüchlich als niedrig oder am Ufer eines Sees belegen zu bezeichnet werden, ist wohl anzunehmen,

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dass sie zu jener Zeit noch unter Wasser gestanden oder sumpfiges Terrain gebildet haben. Die an solchen Stellen gefundenen Steine wurden demnach unter dieselbe Kategorie gehören wie die nicht geringe Zahl derer, welche aus einem See, Sumpfe oder Flusse gehoben sind. [....] Da nach dem Zeugniss skandinavischer Funde Gegenstände, welche den Göttern geopfert werden sollten, oft in einem See oder Sumpfe versenkt worden sind, wäre es wohl denkbar, dass wenigstens einige der obengenannten weberschiffförmigen Steine Opfergaben dargestellt haben. Die Sorgfalt, welche auf die Herstellung der meisten dieser Geräte verwandt worden ist, sowie die Verbreitung derselben über weite Teile unsere Landes beweisen denn auch, dass ihr Wert in den Augen der damaligen Finnländer kein geringer gewesen sein kann" (Hackman 1905, 243).

There is no recent research on elliptical fire stones, but Hackman's description seems to be based on such extensive material, that it is still applicable today, Of over 230 fire stones known to him, ten are recorded as having been found in bogs, six in lakes, one in a river, and 17 on the banks of lakes or rivers; among the total number of fire stones this represents only about 15%, but the figure is considerably higher if one only counts stones for whose discovery there is accurate information .6 Some oval fire stones are thought to have been dropped by hunters, because they have been found at great distances from the burial areas. This clearly indicates that the wilderness was used at the time as a region of extensive economy; the number of stones may, however, also include ones used by the Lapps. But it cannot merely be a question of stones that were dropped, for we should then have to assume that the stones were exceptionally liable to fall, which is however difficult to envisage. For this reason, Hackman may be right to suggest that they included sacrifices and votive offerings; most of them may be precisely this. The hypothesis is also reinforced by the shape of the oval stones. Elliptical fire stones, as is well known, have a close enough resemblance to the female pudenda to suggest that they must have represented precisely this, The shape is without doubt intentional; the careful and laborious formation of the oval fire stone makes any other interpretation unlikely. It may be unnecessary to emphasize further that the shape cannot be explained satisfactorily by the technique for striking fire, so it must be related to the myths of this activity, to the atmospheric origin of fire. The point of comparison has already It should be mentioned that the fire stones found in the Tampere area were all water, shoreline or bog finds, in so far as the place of discovery is known.

6

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been made: "Whilst Rauni-Ukko's bride huffed, Ukko puffed greatly from the depths," The lightning flash is thus explained as a sexual act between heavenly and terrestrial deities, and correspondingly, the spark is produced by striking a vulva-shaped fire stone, It is difficult to interpret the shape of the fire stone in any other way; until now, there seems to have been no explanation at all. But if this interpretation is correct, it follows that an anthropological thunder god was worshipped in Finland during the period in which fire stones were used, ca. 100800, It also follows from this that the idea of the thunder god's influence on increasing fertility, as described by Agricola, would go back to this era. The interpretation is supported by the fact that fire stones were normally prepared from light-coloured quartzite, from a material which we not only refer to as quartz, but also as ukonkivi or "thunderstone",

A fire stone community and religion Objects for making fire, both elliptical fire stones and the fire steels which succeeded them were, on the evidence of burial finds, exclusively or almost exclusively male objects.' This may of course be due to the fact that men had to make fire in the open air, often far away, whilst the woman's task was normally limited to kindling the fire from the coal pile on the hearth, from the embers in which the fire was kept overnight and perhaps at intermediate periods during the day, by making air holes in the closed bag. The shape of the fire stone is also male in all its female symbolism, The bow-shaped fire-steels may also of course be characterized as male forms (Lehtosalo-Hilander 1982, 72 f.). Does the adoption of these elements simply mean a change in the technique for striking fire, or does it contain at the same time a modification in notions about Ukko? Regarding the symbolic shapes of objects connected with the striking of fire, I assume that the technical change also had its mythical foundations, We also find equivalent features in earthly fire-making in RussianKarelian runes about the origin of fire, According to these, the spark of fire, struck in the sky (Krohn 1917, 102):

7 At least the fire stones from Koskenhaka at Piikkiö (Kivikoski 1937, 38, fig. 21; Salo 1968, 62), from Parkkali at Pori (Salo 1970, 75 ff.) and Junnola at Sanyo (Salmo 1957, 30 f., fig. 18) are from men's graves or from combinations related to them. Oval fire stones are not found in women's graves.

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Tuo poltti pojalta polvet rikkoi rinnat tyttärellä. or

Vaimo lastansa imetti alla reppänän retuisen. Rikkoi rinnat neitoselta, paloi parmahat emolta.

It burnt the boy's knees, broke the daughter's breasts. Or The wife suckled her child Under the sooty shutter. It broke the maiden's breasts, burnt the mother's breasts alike.

These verses clearly reflect the heavenly origins of fire and the violent nature of the thunder god Ukko. Ukko was dangerous for a women sitting under the open shutter, with her breast bared; she might seduce Ukko into striking with his lightning (Salo 1990). The verses would appear to have a certain didactic or monitory flavour. According to a common folk tradition it was dangerous to sit by the window during a thunder storm. The previous argument does not explain directly, however, why elliptical fire stones were sacrificed or otherwise concealed on the shores of lakes and rivers, or in bogs and meadows, even in shallow waters. In the first place it can, perhaps, be conceived, that by sacrificing an elliptical fire stone man begged for thundery weather, or most often, probably, only rain. A hunter required Ukko's help in catching wild reindeer, as for example in the following verses (Haavio 1961, 27 f.): Ukkoinen, isä ylinen, mies on vanha taivahinen, ota kultainen kurikka hopiaisen orren päästä, komahuta konkeloa, säväytä, säikälettä, pane luut lotajamaan, sääret säikälehtimään.

Ukkoinen, father above, old man of the sky, take the golden club from its silver perch, pound the bending tree, strike fear, make the bones tremble, make the legs move quickly.

Ukko was thus requested to frighten the prey into movement by means of lightning. The clearer of trees, on the other hand, needed rain, if the fire had broken loose in the forest, but rain was also necessary after planting if long droughts were threatening the harvest. Whatever the reason, however, I would suggest that by striking an elliptical fire stone, the hunter or clearer of forest was showing Ukko what was expected of him and why a sacrifice was being made to him. As is clear from the above description, elliptical fire stones and both bow-formed and lyre-formed fire steels are forms borrowed from outside Finland, They may include examples brought here, although

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most of them were locally produced; the origin of every single fire steel has not been explained and it may be too problematical to attempt this, As I have already regarded them as reflecting Finnish myths of the creation of fire and, through them, the Finnish thunder deity, it might therefore be concluded that they are related to similar beliefs in other countries. To a certain extent, at least, this is true; the Swedish askpil and the Estonian Pikse nool, "thunder arrow", together with Perckun nohl (1660), "the devil's arrow", probably a late loan from Latvian, obviously also presuppose the thunder god's bow; thunder arrows are also known in Saami (Lappish) and Votian tradition (Krohn 1914, 118; Harva 1948, 88 f.).

Ukko's cloak I observed above that Ukko has been characterised as wearing a blue cloak. Since viitta (cloak) is old Russian and thus a loan word from the Viking period at the earliest (Kalima 1952, 183), one might suppose that the feature in question is no older than this, It must be remembered, however, that among the emblems of the Mithraic cult the cloak of the sky god is recorded as early as the Roman period, and that in Scandinavia the cloak is a Bronze Age garment. It may also belong to the Bronze Age in Finland — we may recall the brooches and pins from the late Bronze Age, although there is not sufficient evidence about their use. The cloak nevertheless goes back to the early Roman period at least, as indicated by the brooches and pins found in men's graves. For reasons such as these, Ukko's cloak may be older than one might assume from the word itself.

Ukko's nail By Ukon naula, "Ukko's nail", known in southern Häme and the eastern parts of Uusimaa, was meant a sharp-edged stone tool such as Ukon vaaja, "Ukko's wedge" or Ukon kynsi, "Ukko's (finger)nail" (Harva 1948, 88). Ukko's nail as a name for a tool of stone is strange since for the job of a nail, namely that of fastening, a stone edge is useless, Should, then, Ukko's nail be thought of as originally having been made of metal? A wooden nail would have been no good for striking lightning. Is there reason to doubt, furthermore, that nail did not originally indicate a "wooden plug or peg" as has usually been the case (SKES 369). The use of a wooden nail would of course

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necessitate the drilling of a hole, the earliest practice of which can be dated from Finnish finds to perhaps late Roman times or more certainly to the Merovingian age (Salmo 1957, ill, 14; Kivikoski 1973, ill. 626). Since tools of the drill type were rarely placed in graves, it is of course possible to think that the drill was much older in Finland than finds indicate. Nonetheless, it is obvious that a metal nail was much older than the drill, Early Bronze Age swords and daggers had their blade attached by means of metal rivets, as indicated by finds made in Finland (Fig, 22) (Meinander 1954b, tab, 3-5). Nails in imported weapons of the period date back to the beginning of the Bronze Age, to the latter half of the second millenium B,C. However, we have no knowledge of the use in this country of such old metal nails. This does not seem probable on philological grounds since naula, "nail" was clearly borrowed from Old Swedish naghle or, more likely, from its protoScandinavian predecessor; the proto-Germanic original, which can be dated to the Bronze Age, probably does not come into the question (SKES 369; Hellquist 1980, 688). Iron nails, on the other hand, are common in Finnish finds from the early Roman period (50-150/175). They were used for fastening the hilts of sax swords, the bosses and handles of shields, spearheads and sometimes the blades of sickles (Salo 1968, illustration tables). It should be also noted that the nail of a spearhead (Fig, 22) found in the Malmsby hoard from Pernaja, which with good reason can be regarded as a collection of Finnish-made articles, dates from the end of the pre-Roman period, from approximately the beginnings of the Christian calendar (Salo 1968, 48:6; Salo 1984a, 191 f.), The history of the nail can thus be dated at the latest to the start of the Christian era. Adoption of the word naula, "nail", should probably also be dated to this period, not just because the adoption of a new name often occurs in conjunction with the appearance of a new article but also because the oldest iron nails made their appearance together with Germanic/Scandinavian types of shield bosses and spearheads. It should also be remembered that ancient verse fragments identified with the Merovingian period (Äyräpää, 1925, 148 f.)

koira putkessa makasi, The dog lay on the spear socket kasi naukui naulan tiessä. the cat whimpered in the nail's path. indicate that what was used to fasten the spearhead was just a nail, It is therefore obvious that Ukon naula, "Ukko's nail", did not mean

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Fig. 22. Early nails and nail holes, On the left a Bronze Age II period (ca. 13001100) dagger from Långnäs, Dragsfjärd; in the centre a II—III period a tongue-shaft (?) sword from Kasaberget, Kirkkonummi; to the right a spearpoint fastened by means of an iron nail from Malmsby, Pernaja, from about the beginning of the Christian era. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities. just any kind of iron fastener or rivet. Nonetheless, from the dating of the name we have in any case some kind of ultimate date for Ukko's nail, namely the iron nails that were first used from the end of the

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pre-Roman period onwards. The thunderbolts of folk tradition are nevertheless linked with sharpedged stone tools; this, from the point of view of the nail's function, was noted as illogical. The explanation is possibly to be found in cultural or linguistic history. According to the Roman writer Pliny (23-79) it was possible to make a spark from a flint by striking it with a key, clavis, or another flint. According to Feldhaus clavis appears in only one manuscript; in others it is written clavus, "nail", This must be a spelling error since a nail is too soft to create a spark and also unsuitable by reason of its shape, Keys, on the other hand, would have been fine for striking fire since their handles could be made hard enough to strike a blow with them, as is shown by the keys found in the Roman fortress at Saalburg near Mainz; with these it is still possible to strike fire even today. Fire steels proper have been found only rarely in the Roman area (Feldhaus 1914, 319). From this we are led to ask whether the Ukko's nail of Finnish tradition can be explained on the basis of a mistake made by Pliny's scribes. Since thunderbolts originated from the striking of celestial fire, could the well-known name for the fire-striking implement from Latin be applied to it, translated into Finnish by the learned Latinists, of course? This might well be possible and so the riddle of the naulathunderbolt would be solved, Ukko's nail was not, then, originally an attribute of Ukko? There is, however, another explanation: alternative names for thunderbolt include not only thunder nail but also Ukon kynsi, "thunder", (finger)nail, and it is here perhaps that the explanation for thunder nail lies, Old Swedish naghle 'nail', referred to as the possible origin of the Finnish naula, is derived from the Old Swedish word naghl, naghle `finger or toenail' (llellquist 1980, 688). If the Finnish Ukon naula, "thunder nail" is a translation loan, then it may be a question of a misunderstood translation from the Old Swedish nagle. When ancient runes speak of Ukon kynsi, (Ukko's stone fingernail', by which was understood stone 'thunderbolt' it is possible that Ukon naula, 'thunder nail', meaning the same, came about as the result of a mistranslation, Ukko with his fingernails of stone, in turn, refers to the god of thunder in the form of a bird, which is discussed below.

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The thunderbolt and Ukko's hammer More important attributes of Ukko, however, are the thunderbolt and the hammer, and perhaps also the club, Thunderbolts in Finland, as is well known, refer to stone bolts. Equivalents to this term are known in the Germanic languages, as for example the Swedish dskkil and the German Donnerkeil (Harva 1948, 99; Vries 1956-57, 2, 125). Since they correspond to the Greek keraunós, "lightning, thunderbolt", which already appears in the Iliad, it might be a question of an early loan from the culture of antiquity. It is most probable, however, that it contains an original feature of the Indo-European thunder god, a reminder that his weapon was made of stone. Such a concept could also be applied to stone chisels found on the ground after a period when they were no longer recognizable as having been made by man; in Finland this did not perhaps happen before iron began to be used, since stone blades for work purposes were manufactured to some extent at the end of the Bronze Age, as was the case in Baltic countries, too (Salo 1981, 96 ff,, 284 f.; Graudonis 1967, tab. II). Because of their wedge-shaped form they may be described as thunderbolts, perhaps after Scandinavian models, especially chisels; they also form the majority of polished blades from the Stone Age and are common finds in Finland. Only when, after the transition from the Bronze to the Iron Age, shaft-hole axes were no longer made, and their original significance was forgotten, could the stone chisels be explained as wedges to replace them. From this, we assume that the thunderbolts in this sense are no older than the Iron Age. They thus go back, at the earliest, to a preRoman period, but perhaps only to the beginning of the new calender. They are known from graves of the Iron Age, but most of them are apparently fortuitous finds, brought to the graves of the culture layer and thus, in this respect, without significance, It may be affirmed, on the other hand, that the name ukonvaaja (thunderbolt) is evidently a translation loan from the Swedish ei skkil or — less probably — the German Donnerkeil, so we are perhaps dealing with a loan from the west of an attribute particularly suitable for Ukko. As such, it cannot of course be precisely dated on the basis of Finnish material, but since the same principles for dating are valid for Scandinavia as well, the stage between the Bronze Age and the pre-Roman period may there, too, be the terminus post quem for the thunderbolt. At the same time, it is also the terminus post quem for the translation loan in question. An older attribute than the stone thunderbolt was without doubt

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Fig. 23. Thor, holding his hammer Mjölnir in his hand, fighting the Midgard serpent. After A. Ohlmarks. Runestone drawing, Altuna church, Uppland, Sweden. (Ohlmarks 1975). the stone shaft-hole axe or hammer From these are derived the Scandinavian Thor's hammer (Fig. 23), Mjölnir, and the vajra of the Hindu Indra; Indra is known as hammer hand, vajrapani. The axe or hammer of the Lithuanian Perkunas is of the same origin, as is the hammer of Sucellus among the Celts or the hammer of the Saami Haragalles (Harva 1948, 92; Vries 1956-57, 2, 124 ff,; Haavio 1961, 30-36; Moreau 1958, 106 f,). On the other hand, the double-bladed axe placed in the hand of the Danubian Jupiter Dolichenus may have a different origin to that of the actual god (Harva 1948, 92 or 96 f.),

The history of battle axes The battle axe with a hole, a weapon with a stone blade at one end and a long hammer at the other, is one of the leading types of the thousand year funnel-beaker culture (3300-2500/2300?); this culture extends westwards almost to the mouth of the Rhine, eastwards over the Vistula, southwards to Bohemia and the upper reaches of the Vistula, and northwards to Skåne, Sweden (Becker 1969, 1486 ff,; Jazdzewski

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1965, 83--89). The fırst battle axes appeared in Danish finds at an early phase of the funnel-beaker culture (Jensen 1982, 118), according to uncalibrated dating perhaps from the end of the fourth millenium! Their true period, however, dates from the beginning of the third millenium. It is then that the widespread funnel-beaker culture in Central Europe, Denmark and Southern parts of Sweden produces many-edged hammeraxes (Fig, 24, 25) (Stenberger 1964, 64 f.; Brøndsted 1938-39, 1, 155 ff.); much later, i,e. ca. 1500-1200 B.C., hammeraxes of same shape also spread to the Central Volga and the Caucasus (Tallgren 1926, 114 ff,, 131 f., fig. 48 and 68, 6) during the second phase of the Bronze Age, according to Scandinavian chronology. Hammeraxes cannot be explained without assuming metal models. According to general opinion, they are an imitation of copper axes of a type known, for example, in Hungary; from there, one example seems to have reached as far as Skåne (Fig. 24) (Stenberger 1964, 64 f.), Battle axes were even more widely disseminated by the cord-ceramic or battle axe culture in the middle and at the end of the third millenia (according to uncalibrated chronology), From that period, characteristic boat-shaped axes or other forms (Fig. 27) are known from the Rhine to the Volga and the Dneiper, and from North of the Danube to Sweden, Norway, the Baltic countries and Finland (Fig. 26) (Buchvaldek 1969). In these objects one may readily observe signs of metal technique, although it has not been possible to demonstrate direct metal models; neither has it been possible to show that analogous Caucasian copper axes, known at least from the cord-ceramic graves of Dneiper-Desna and from Eastern Russia, are older than the stone ones (Sulimirski 1970, 190 ff.; Ailio 1909, 1, fig. 30). Battle axes, according to received opinion, were weapons and where graves are concerned, occur exclusively in finds from men's graves. Judging by s In datings of the Finnish Stone Age, according to Ari Siiriäinen's chronology, uncalibrated values are used for C14 datings; in these, C14 datings have not been checked according to calibrated revised curves, and for this reason, uncalibrated values have also been used for Scandinavia and Central Europe. As an example of this, it may be pointed out that the beginning of the Swedish Bronze Age pushed back from the previously used estimate of ca. 1550 B.C. to a calibrated value of ca. 1800 B.C. The mid-neolithic period corresponding to the battle axe culture is similarly pushed back from ca. 2600 to 3300. Time estimates for Swedish cultures cannot be accurately transplanted to Finnish culture periods; it may be noted, for example, that the Finnish Bronze Age is not regarded as having begun until the latter half of the second phase of the Scandinavian Bronze culture, perhaps around 1400/1300. On the chronology of the Finnish Stone Age, see Siiriäinen 1969; Siiriäinen 1972; Siiriäinen 1973.

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Fig. 24. Above a southeast European (?) copper axe, probably found in Skåne, Sweden; below a battle axe reminiscent of copper axe models from Södermanland. The axes date back or probably date back to the beginning of the 3rd millenium. (Stenberger 1964).

Fig. 25. Map showing extent of Funnel Beaker culture. (Milisauskas 1973).

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Fig. 26. The distribution of Corded Ware (Battle axe) culture. (Jaanits 1957).

their careful design and finishing, they also revealed the social status of the bearer. The nature of the culture itself is characterized by the fact that the leading types were men's weapons; there are no equivalent leading forms among the special objects of women. The manufacture of stone shaft-hole axes remained extensive in the cord-ceramic area until the late Stone Age and the Bronze Age, i.e. long into the period succeeding the battle axe culture; the term shafthole axe implies that the axes often lacked a separate and distinctive hammer, Shaft-hole axes are widely known from the Bronze Age in the Scandinavian countries, in Holland, the Northern and Central parts of Germany, Poland, Eastern Prussia, the Baltic countries and Finland (Fig, 28) (Glob 1938, 62; Kostrzewska 1953, 239-254; Meinander 1954a, 76-85; Meinander 1954b, 67-84; Stenberger 1964, 132 ff.; Baudou 1960, 47 ff.; Graudonis 1967, 82 ff., 149; Löugas 1982, 132 ff.). The majority of these belong to the late Bronze Age, and the circumstances of some of the finds (Denmark, Poland, Latvia) point towards the pre-Roman period. The use of battle axes and other

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shaft-hole axes which succeeded them thus continues from the end of the fourth millenium until ca. 500/400 B.C. In addition to stone ones shaft-hole axes were manufactured in many areas from copper and bronze, too, These are in part like the simple stone forms, but more often decorative, provided for example with embossed or flattened hammers. They obviously include weapons, but at least some of them were manufactured for cultic use, judging from the great size, the weight, the shape or the slimness (e,g. Stenberger 1964, 173, 189, 193 f, 201, 286 f.). Shaft-hole axes in Finland The battle axes and the other shaft-hole axes spread to Finland, too. A Scandinavian many-edged hammer axe was discovered at the Hämeenniemi settlement at Lapua, which dates from the end of the combceramic period proper to the beginning of the late comb-ceramic time, i,e. 3000-2600 B,C. (Ayräpää 1955; Siiriäinen 1972, 15 f.); it is among the oldest of Scandinavian objects introduced to Finland. An Eastern Russian hammer axe found at Kemijärvi may be dated to the latter half of the second millenium and thus seems to be at least a thousand years younger than the previous example (Huurre 1983, 198 f.). Hammer axes like these are nevertheless exceptional in Finland, but all the greater historical importance attaches to the Finnish boatshaped battle axes, since some 900 examples of them are known up to the present time (Fig. 27) (Edgren 1984a, 78). They brought to Finland a battle axe culture which spread south and west of a line formed by the Gulf of Viborg—Lahti—Tampere—Kokkola (2500-2000) (Ayräpää 1939; Edgren 1984a, 74-87). Tapering battle axes of an Estonian type and the flatter axes which evolved from them, together with Scandinavian forms, were also manufactured after this, during the Kiukais-culture (2000-1400/1200) (Soikkeli 1912; Meinander 1954a, 76-85). Scandinavian and southern shaft-hole axes were also imported and manufactured later, at least until the end of the Bronze Age (Fig. 28) (Meinander 1954b, 66-84), Shaft-hole axes of stone were thus used in Finland for a couple of thousand years.

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Fig. 27. Battleaxes from the Satakunta Museum collection. Second from top the continental I-type; below it a Finnish II-type axe. Satakunta Museum.

Fig. 28. Bronze Age shaft-hole axes. Top left a five-sided axe from Harjavalta; the others are Scandinavian rhomb-shaped axes from Jepua, Kodisjoki, Peräseinäjoki and Närpiö. The last of these is almost certainly an import but the Kodisjoki axe is a poor imitation of a Scandinavian axe as can be seen from the hole made in it. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

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The sky god, the mother goddess and human society The Ukko of the ancient Finns was thus the god of thunder, but at the same time a general deity, the sky god, "at the navel of the sky". Ukko the general deity is regarded, probably with some justification, as having been influenced by Christianity. The matter, however, is by no means self-evident, as the Scandinavian Thor was also more a general deity than a god of thunder during the Viking period — at least in myths — although his divinity with regard to thunder flourishes in popular belief as a kind of subflora in the garden of myth, It may of course be observed in this context that Thor's nature, too, could have been formed under the influence of Christianity, but philological evidence nevertheless suggests that the concept of the overall god was far older, and went right back to the proto-Indo-European period, The Indo-European tradition included the notion of a male deity, regarded as father, giver of light and the day, and — to some extent — as a general deity, although not the creator of the world (Schwabl 1978, 1010 ff.; Wachsmuth 1964-75, 1516 ff.). Evidence for this may be found in the southern names for the gods of the sky, i,e. Zeus, "day, heaven", Jupiter, "father heaven", and the dyauh of the Veda scriptures, all of which are of proto-Indo-European origin, Equally old, or perhaps older, is the sky god's consort and fertility goddess, Ukko's wife, Demeter, Ceres and Siv, although this idea cannot be established on the basis of similarities in names, The heavenly couple, in which the sky god/thunder god was clearly dominant, reflects a common conception of human society with a patriarchal family structure. Early neolithic communities in Southern and South Eastern Europe, however, have been and still are interpreted as matriarchal. In this context, reference is made both to the prevalence of matriarchy in primitive agricultural societies, and to the sexually explicit female figures, idols known from, the Balkans and other parts of South-Eastern Europe from the fifth millenium onwards (Filip 1969, 754). Similar concepts are suggested by the Minoan figures of goddesses dating from the first half of the second millenium, particularly when corresponding figures of male gods do not occur. No images of mother goddesses are known, however, from the neolithic cultures of Central Europe and Scandinavia (Nuřiez 1986, 17), for which reason the worship of the Magna Mater may not have been so dominant there. The areas north of the Danube would thus seem to have provided greater potential for the emergence of a paternal sky deity.

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Among the established features of male dominance are the hammer axes of the funnel-beaker culture. The patriarchal structure of society is reflected even more clearly in finds from the battle axe culture: men's weapons, battle axes, are central to the culture, whilst equivalent general forms do not occur among women's objects, as was previously pointed out. It is perhaps also symptomatic that, in the initial stages of the culture, men in graves from Central Europe and Denmark were often placed on their right hand side and women — in a nıirror image — on their left (Buchvaldek 1969; Brøndsted 196162, 1, 254 f.). In the history of semantics it may be observed that the German languages and Finnish, for example, regard "right" in relation to "left" — as meaning "better, morally irreproachable, straight". Thus the emergence or dominance of a sky father would appear to correspond to the social structure north of the Danube, in Central Europe and Southern Scandinavia, at the end of the fourth and throughout the third millenium. Further evidence for tracing the notion back as far as the third millenium, at least, is the fact that Zeus — supposedly of proto-Indo-European origin — must have been brought to Greece by the Acheans round about 2300-1900 B.C,; the name of Zeus is found at Knossos in about 1400 B,C. and at Pylos in about 1200 B,C. (Hiller 1978, 1001-1009). For these reasons, I presume that the Indo-European sky god originated, or at least acquired his dominant position, at the end of the fourth millenium and during the third millenium in the funnel-beaker and battle axe cultures of Central and Northern Europe, i.e, in an area extending roughly from the Rhine to the Vistula and the Dneiper, and from the Danube to Scandinavia and perhaps even to Finland. This is also suggested by the Jupiter Lapis in Rome and Zeus Keraunios in Greece. This is not to say, that the anthropomorphic sky-god should be original or fırst-born in Europe; considering the similar semitic or other weather-gods in the Near East I will leave the question open, The evolution of the sky god was certainly not a straightforward process, The period of the many edged hammer axes is followed in the Scandinavian mid-neolithic phase by a period of double axes and passage graves. Passage graves are collective graves built of large stones (Fig. 29), a form which — on the evidence of structural features — is a cultural loan from France or Spain (Kaelas 1966), It is interesting to note that in Spain, Portugal, France and the British Isles they are connected with a female divinity, as is apparent from the female figures and symbolic forms carved there (Fig, 30) (Piggot 1965, tab. 6; Pittioni 1949, fig, 46; Riordain & Daniel 1964, 126-131):

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Fig. 29. The monumental Ekornvallen passage grave at Hornborga, Västergotland, excavated from a mound which was originally at least 35 m in length. The grave has been dated to the middle of the 3rd millenium. (Kaelas 1962). another guise of the life-giving mother, the taker of life, the ruler of the underworld, known in Scandinavian mythology as Hel. Symbolic representations of her, understandably enough, generally lack a mouth in both Western Europe and the Mediterranean, but the eyes have been drawn all the more emphatically; the same dumb eyes stare out at us from several Danish clay vessels, from the face-shaped emblems on its side (Fig. 31) (Brøndsted 1938-39, 1, 245); Brøndsted admittedly claimed that the pattern had no significance, but the real nature of an eye-goddess has been better sensed since the second World War. The goddess of death in these images sometimes has a decorated belt and clearly a necklace, the same attributes that are found on certain female figures of the Bronze Age; the goddesses of life and death would thus seem to have a certain communality of attributes. Another occasional sign of the goddess of death in the megalithic graves of Western Europe is a T-shaped weapon, apparently a sym-

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(4)

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(3)

Fig. 30. Pictures of female deities from cave and tunnel graves. The figure with the double-bladed axe and neck ring carved in the wall of the Cour-jeounet grotto grave (1) may be recognised on the basis of corresponding carvings as a diagrammatic human form, possibly a female form, as shown in a similar picture from the PetitMorin cave (2) or the Coizard, Marne, figure (3). The face of the same goddess or just the eyes are also seen in Irish tunnel graves (4). (Dechelette 1908-14; Piggott 1965; Riordain & Daniel 1964).

metrical shaft-hole axe (Fig. 30). It may be the same double axe which in Scandinavia is chronologically linked with the passage graves (Fig, 32) (Brøndsted 1938-39,1,184 ff.; Kaelas 1957; Stenberger 1964, 181 ff,). These double axes succeed the many edges hammer axes of the funnel-beaker culture and also spread to the pitted ware culture. They are skilfully formed and finished weapons, undoubtedly men's weapons; since the same form is also widespread in amber-pendants or pearls, Stenberger is inclined to believe that the axe shapes are

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Fig. 31. "Eye goddess" pictured mi Danish clay pot finds from the third millenium. National Museum, Copenhagen.

Fig, 32. Danish double-bladed axes from mid-Neolithic times after J. Brøndsted. The axes in the middle and on the right are poor examples of axes but rather exaggeratedly aesthetic and symbolic weapons. Double-bladed axes seem to have been brought to Denmark from the Atlantic seaboard of Europe as were passage graves. (Brøndsted 1938-39, 1).

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symbolic and linked to Mediterranean cultures (Brøndsted 1938-39, l, 184 ff,; Stenberger 1964, 80 f.). Ile is surely referring, above all, to the double axes of the Minoan and Mycean Bronze Age culture, the labrys, a name which must be associated with the maze-like figure (Fig. 33), the labyrinth, and which — both for these reasons and in other archaeological contexts — proves to be a symbol of the mother goddess (Fig. 34) (Davaras 1976, 71 ff.). It may be added, that the labrys was, according to the Greek myths, the special weapon of the Amazons and in this case also connected with females. The blades of the double axe — one of them may be a genuinely blade-shaped edge — are often curved, sometimes even semi-circular or scoop-shaped (Brøndsted 1961-62, 1, 269). The latter shapes are, in view of the stone material, extravagant, and cannot have been usable as weapons, especially the examples made from the easily formed but brittle sandstone. These at least, therefore, must have been cult objects or some kind of symbolic forms, although the same symbolism may be contained in those simpler double axes suitable as weapons, as Stenberger assumed; the evolution of the shape is otherwise difficult to understand. The supposition of symbolism is, however, unsatisfactory without any interpretation; I therefore propose that the double axes with strongly curved blades (Fig. 32), but also other forms more suitable as weapons, are a reference to the crescent of the moon and, through the stages of the moon, to female physiology; there must be some reason for the fact that double axes in the Eastern Mediterranean are so strongly linked to the mother goddess. By analogical inference, the worship of the mother goddess experienced a renaissance in Scandinavia after the knobbed hammer axes during the mid-neolithic period, It was short-lived, however, because the double axes were superceded by boat-shaped battle axes, which may have been associated with the renewed supremacy of the sky god.

The origin of the god of thunder Scholars have drawn attention to the fact that the Indo-Europeans had no common name for the god of thunder. For this reason it is probable that thunder gods evolved after the common Indo-European period. The background may have been provided by a slash and burn culture spreading to Central Europe after the fifth millenium and to Southern Scandinavia at the end of the fourth century, Communities were now more dependent than before on fire and water, the natural

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Fig, 33. Bronze Age miniature labrys of gold from the Arkalochori cave on Crete. (Davaras 1976).

4

2

6

7

a

Fig. 34, The name labyrinth for a maze is undoubtedly derived from the name of the double-bladed axe labrys. The drawing shows how the labyrinth idea could be evolved from the stone mason's simple representation of a labrys (1). (Davaras 1976).

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology 149 elements for the control of which a god of thunder was necessary. A distinctive thunder god certainly emerged from the sky god; the weather, i.e. clouds, winds, rain and thunder, all came under the influence of the sky god. The range of Zeus and Jupiter reflects the special activities derived from a general divinity, but at the same time, these and many other sky gods show that the function of the general deity was preserved side by side with the role of thunder god. If the emergence of the Indo-European sky god is dated to the end of the fourth millenium or to the beginning of the following one, the period of the hammer axes, the evolution of the thunder god would have to be placed later than this, probably during the battle axe period; in this case it is worth noting that by the end of the third millenium, regional forms of the widespread A-battle axes have evolved, and the original uniformity has been split into divergent tendencies. In any event, the god of thunder must have originated at a period when shaft-hole axes were yet being used as weapons; the change begins to take place towards the end of the third millenium, when the main form of weapon in Central Europe and Scandinavia became the dagger. I have started from the old notion that the weapon of the thunder god once corresponded to a weapon in general use, the stone hammer axe and the battle axe. It cannot be shown, however, that battle axes of the third millenim, merely by their general nature as a weapon, were the special arm of the thunder god. The same may be true of the lateneolithic shaft-hole axes, although daggers had already arrived, But during the Bronze Age, particularly in its latter stages, the shaft-hole axe of stone had remained — to my mind at least — as the weapon of the thunder god. At that time, shaft-hole axes were already obsolete forms in Scandinavia, not to mention Central Europe. They have admittedly been regarded as working tools, but the arguments are not convincing. Many axes — and this true of those found in Finland, too — are of poor quality stone, which is not suited for working tools; others are of a decorative porphyrite material, which is beautiful when polished, but which was never used in the stone age for proper blades. In some axes the hole is too narrow for adding a shaft, whilst in others only an attempt was made to begin drilling; in a few, there is no hole at all. It is difficult to regard them as work tools, because the working axes of the Bronze Age — the shoulder axe and the socketed axe evolved from the flat, holeless copper axes, and not the shaft-hole axes. Another argument against the working axe interpretation is that the Stone Age predecessors of the Bronze Age shaft-hole axes were not working axes, but weapons. Since bronze was used extensively in

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Scandinavia, and even more so in Central Europe, why were stone axes still manufactured in these areas at the end of the Bronze Age, when far superior metal axes were simultaneously being used? As I understand it, they were not manufactured for this purpose, but the stone shaft-hole axes were used for cult purposes, as hammers of the thunder god, perhaps as votives of the thunder god or to protect people and their homes from lightning. As such, they did not need to be perfect, and the kind of stone used was not important. The conservative character of religious ideas makes the occurrence of stone shaft-hole axes in the Bronze Age quite understandable: they were manufactured from stone because the hammer or axe of the thunder god was also made of stone.' On the basis of the argument presented above, I infer that the stone shaft-hole axes of the Bronze Age may indicate the worship of a thunder god who was Indo-European or of Indo-European origin. The spread of these axes seems to indicate his remarkably broad sphere of influence, in actual fact only its northerly extension; this seems roughly to have covered the former battle axe area and thus to have ranged from the Rhine to the Dneiper and the Volga, and from a zone north of the Danube to Scandinavia, the Baltic countries and Finland. In some places, such as Finland and the northern region of the Black Sea, it spread beyond the original battle axe area, In the northern Black Sea region, sumptuous ornamental axes (Fig. 35) have been found, and one of these — discovered in a mound grave at Horozheno — was decorated with four lightning symbols, at least if they are interpreted in accordance with contemporary notions of symbolism (Sulimirski 1970, 270-275, tab, 37), It thus appears to confirm the proposed link between stone perforated axes in the Bronze Age and the god of thunder, although the axes in question have been interpreted as weapons, It should, however, be added that one single axe in itself is not overwhelming evidence; it represents an exceptional form. It is difficult, however, to provide direct evidence of an anthropomorphic thunder god going back so far. The figures in rock drawings interpreted as Thor (Vries 1956-57, 2, 125; Ohlmarks 1975, 190 ff.) do not take the Scandinavian god back to the Stone Age and do not reveal him as any older than the shaft-hole axes of the Bronze Age, In addition, it appears that at least some enormous images of On the shaft-hole axes of the Bronze Age see Glob 1938; Meinander 1954b, 66-84; Bandon 1960, 47-54; Stenberger 1964, 194 ff.

9

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Fig. 35. Ornate Bronze Age shaft-hole axes from the Ukraine. At centre the Horozheno axe, the adornment of which seems to contain the lightning symbol. After A. M. Tallgren. (Sulimirski 1970).

Thor and Odin carved on rocks are more recent than the miniature Bronze Age figures surrounding them, and may not therefore date from the Bronze Age (Hasselrot & Ohlmarks 1966, 24, 34), The lack of any image of Thor older than the Bronze Age, and perhaps even from the Bronze Age, itself, may be explained by the fact that Scandinavia and Central Europe in the Bronze Age — and as late as the time of Tacitus, too — seem to have been dominated by a noniconic religion, as Bertil Almgren (Almgren 1962) has in many respects convincingly shown. Instead of the gods themselves, the rocks showed their symbols; ships, shields, axes, suns, and sometimes small human figures carrying them. These symbols would have been representatives of the gods and therefore holy, as were — according to Almgren — the pictures of the horseless and riderless chariot, or the footprints carved in the rocks, or their symbols. Non-iconicity would thus appear to explain many features of the Scandinavian rock drawings, This may not be categorical, however, since Danish and Swedish finds from the end of the Bronze Age (periods V and VI) in particular, but even from the first half too, include bronze idols, figures interpreted as anthropomorphic gods (e.g. Brøndsted 1961-62, 2, 223 ff., 237 ff.; Stenberger 1964, 202, 298303); corresponding images and divine myths — including the sacred

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marriage — have also been depicted in rock drawings (e,g. IIasselrot Ohlmarks 1966, 86-101). If the interpretation of the original noniconicity of the religion is correct, the bronze idols and the corresponding rock pictures would appear to reveal a foreign, presumably Mediterranean influence, Clear evidence of the possibility of such an influence is provided by the miniature bronze statue from Šernai in Lithuania, a picture of the Hurritic thunder god Teshub, or some analogous Hittite deity (Fig. 36): A Syrian or Anatolian god on Baltic soil (Bezzenberger & Peiser 1909, 424 ff.; Kulikauskas & Kulikauskiene Tautavicius 1961, 100 ff.; Okulicz 1973 182 f.). As an isolated find, it does not of course justify any binding conclusions: it is at most a sign that religious beliefs from the Levant or Anatolia could have extended their influence as far as this. The figure is regarded as dating from about 1500-1400 (Tallgren 1938, 59 f.; Sulimirski 1970, 276), and is therefore apparently the oldest image of an anthropomorphic thunder god in the Baltic area.

Ukko's arrival in Finland The Indo-European god of thunder began to gaze towards the Finnish skies, from the west in the form of Thor and from the Baltic area in the form of Perkunas. As long as the Finnish economy was based primarily on fishing, sealing, hunting and gathering, there was no need for a god of thunder; a god of rain and thunder in human guise was needed only when the Finns started to burn and clear the forest for agriculture, Such burning operations began during the battle-axe period (2500--2000 B.C.), as excavations of the Perkiö settlement at Hauho have revealed (Alhonen 1970), Since the accumulated strata do not contain grain pollen and there are no traces of ears of grain in the clay pottery uncovered, either, burning and clearing the forest in Finland does not seem originally to have been practised for agriculture, not widely at least, but for pasture (Edgren 1970, 53-6; Edgren 1984b; Siiriäinen 1982); to what extent we do not know. As far as pasturage was concerned, a god of thunder was not particularly important, and for hunting such a god was needed even less. Nonetheless, the battle-axe people probably worshipped him; at least they carried his weapon. The indication provided by battle-axes is confirmed by the fact that the battle-axe people who migrated to Finland from the south are generally believed by archeologists to have been proto-Balts (Moora 1958; Salo 1984c), They could well have

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Fig, 36. Small Bronze Age statues of the Hurritic/Canaanite god of thunder, Teshub/Baal. On the left a fragmentary statue from Sernai, Lithuania; the right hand lacks the lightning symbol. On the right a statue found near Tyros dating from 1300 B.C. (Bezzenberger & Peiser 1909).

brought a god of the sky to the Finnish skies. Moreover, it would seem fairly natural that the loan of the proto-Balt taivas 'sky' is the best explanation for the emphasis on the word itself, although there can be no certainty of the the reason for the loan. The comb-ceramic people, who may be regarded as early protoFinns, would have become acquainted with the cult of these new arrivals in the actual battle-axe area of southern and western Finland, where some of them remained and settled. The Finns would also have come to know the new cult outside the core areas, in central, eastern and northern Finland, where they continued their former life style undisturbed. This co-existence in Finland does not seem to have left any marked traces on comb-ceramic culture in the battleaxe area of Finland although it is occasionally seen in pottery remains

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Fig. 37. Cult axes of hunting culture. Bearhead axes from above) Papinniemi, Heinävesi and below) Kaisatholma, Antrea, Karelian Isthmus, USSR. The axes show that the influence of battle-axe culture also extended into the area of late comb-ceramic culture. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

(Meinander 1939; Vikkula 1984). Nor is the close proximity of the two cultures reflected in battle-axe culture. More obvious influences of the new culture can be seen outside the battle-axe area in the wellknown copies of battle axes found in the interior of Finland and its eastern parts. Here the axe part was sometimes carved in the form of an elk's or bear's head (Fig. 37) (Ayräpää 1952). In fact, stone bear and elk heads continue the tradition of animal weapons derived from Suomusjärvi culture, continuing it with even greater vigour (Carpelan 1974; Carpelan 1975). The elk and the bear, the images used, were obviously animal deities of hunting culture or else totem animals, Since the influence of the battle-axe period is reflected in these objects, it could not have been entirely superficial. Traces of the battle-axe period are seen at their strongest, however, only during the following phase, the Kiukais culture (2000-1400/1200 B,C.) that followed the late comb-ceramic and battle-axe periods, in its battle axes and other shaft-hole axes, in some of the decorations on its pots and its cultivation of barley (Meinander 1954a; Pihlman Seppä-Heikka 1985, Siiriäinen 1982). This is, however, a question of a legacy since the Kiukais period has been interpreted as a fusion of the comb-ceramic and battle-axe cultures in which comb-ceramic

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Fig. 38. Tapering headed Esthonian-type battle-axe from Reitkalli, Vehkalahti. National Museum, Helsinki. Photo: R. Bäckman, National Board of Antiquities.

features predominated and which thus signifies the preservation of the proto-Finnish et hnos. The whole legacy of battle-axe culture does not, however, seem to have derived from Finnish origins; it also had Scandinavian and southern Baltic links (Meinander 1954a, 168-84). And it was also influenced by a new wave of battle-axe culture from Estonia. Some late forms of Estonian battle axes, tapering axes, reached Finland and were even brought to areas outside the old battle-axe area (Fig. 38). These late forms were relatively common (by 1922 some 80 had been found) and apparently reached Finland at the end of the battle-axe period or after it (Soikkeli 1912; Ayräpää, 1922, 106 f.). As there is no reason to assume that the local Finnish battle-axe people adopted the Estonian style and relinquished their own, it would seem natural to conclude that the new type was brought by a new wave of immigrants, The southern origin of the new axes is attested by the fact that many of them are made of uralite-porphyrite, a type of stone often used in Estonia, or other similar kinds of stone, in other words from materials not used by Finnish makers of battle axes. The depths at which these tapering axes were found do not, according to Aarne Ayräpää, correspond to burial levels of the battle-axe period proper nor have they been discovered with cord pottery, The differences in form, material, distribution and conditions in which the find were made led Ayräpää to conclude that tapering axes did not belong to the "Finnish battle-axe period proper". From them, nevertheless, developed the flat shaft-hole axes of the Kiukais period even though finds of these are not very common (Meinander 1954a, 76 ff.), It is possible that this

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final wave of battle-axe culture also spread to Finland other features of proto-Baltic culture, If the immigrants were proto-Balts, they may have assimilated to some extent with comb-ceramic people when still in Estonia but they may just as well have been comb-ceramic people who adopted features of battle-axe culture, They do not at least appear to have been isolated from the old population, as was the case with earlier immigrants, not at least judging by the evidence provided by the distribution of tapering axes. Proto-Baltic loanwords in Balto-Fennic languages correspond in both their southern origin and their meaning so closely with battle-axe culture that they can actually be identified with it, as Harri Moora was the first to point out. Furthermore, I would like to draw attention to the fact that no archeological features of any other period can be so clearly linked with Baltic loanwords even though some of the loanwords are of course of later date. The archeological development as a result of which battle-axe culture disappeared in Estonia and Finland while the comb-ceramic tradition was preserved, albeit modified by the influence of the battle-axe period, corresponds completely to philological developments. This shows that the proto-Finnish ethnos was preserved, not admittedly unchanged but enriched with protoBaltic loanwords and the cultural features to which they attest, This correspondence between philological and archeological features can be illustrated with a number of examples. Battle-axe features are indicated by the proto-Baltic loanwords (Kalima 1936; Koivulehto 1979; Suhonen 1984) kirves 'axe', which may have been used for battle axes or for straight-bladed working axes — both forms unknown previously to the comb-ceramic people — and vaaja `wedge', which may have been the name for the shoulder axe or cleaver. Several loanwords for domestic animals and their care, e.g. oinas 'ram', vuohi 'goat', villa 'wool', harja 'mane', karva 'hair', vuota 'hide' and paimen 'herdsman' have direct equivalents or background in the bone finds of the Estonian battle-axe period and immediately following era (Jaanits 1982, 101-20). The Baltic loanword ohra 'barley' means the grain with which the history of agriculture in Finland began during the Kiukais period. Many other Baltic loans would seem to have been borrowed in connection with the raising of crops, such terms for natural phenomena as halla 'frost', heinii 'hay', luhta 'marsh' and routa 'ground frost'. Of particular interest in this context is the word taivas 'sky' since its analogues in the the Baltic languages mean 'god' (Kalima 1936, 163). Scholars have long known that this word have the same origin as the Greek Zeus or the first part of the vocative form

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of Jupiter *dieu pater 'heavenly father'; as mentioned above they also have their equivalents in Sanskrit (Wachsmuth 1964-75, 1516 ff.). If the Finnish taivas is of Baltic origin, then in the Baltic languages the meaning of the word would, as in certain other languages, have moved on from the meaning 'sky' to that of 'god', The Baltic origin of taivas has been questioned, however, because the Baltic equivalents do not have the meaning of 'sky', a meaning which is unique in the Balto-Fennic languages. It has therefore been considered possible that the word derives from one of the Arian languages, in which this meaning has been preserved (SKES 1202 f.), The purely BaltoFennic distribution of the word does not, however, accord very well with such early borrowing; consequently, a proto-Baltic origin would appear more plausible. This presupposes, however, either that the word also had the meaning 'sky' in proto-Baltic and that the protoFinns had adopted only that meaning or that the transition from 'sky' to 'god' took place in the Baltic languages only after the word had been borrowed by the Finns. From this it would in any case seem to follow that Ukko could probably not have been of such old southern origin if taivas had also meant 'father from the sky' at the time it was borrowed. It may suffice as explanation that the gods of agriculture still had no significance in Finland during the battle-axe period, perhaps not even during the early stages of the Kiukais period. The Finnish word perkele and its equivalents in Karelian, Votic and Estonian can admittedly be linked with the Baltic god of thunder, Perkunas (Kalima 1936, 147; SKES 523 f.) but as the word does not mean 'god of thunder' but only `enemy of the soul' or 'hell', it was probably not borrowed by the Estonian and Finnish languages until the early Christian era. The dualistic nature of Christianity, in which respect it differed from the early Finnish religions, naturally needed to personify evil even in its missionary stage, Thus it was perhaps safer to adopt for this purpose the foreign Perkunas than the local derivative Ukko, who was feared and respected, The distribution of the word perkele is too restricted as an old loan and, besides, it seems to have been borrowed by Karelian and Votic from Finnish and Estonian. A second possible provenance for the weather god Ukko is the west; this theory will be studied below. Krohn and Harva were the first to demonstrate that there are close equivalents to several of Ukko's characteristics in the Scandinavian linguistic areas and in Scandinavian culture. For example, the names Ukko, Ukkonen, Isä and Isänen can be compared in meaning with Gamaltor in Norwegian, Gamle

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Oldfader in Danish and Godfar in Swedish (Krohn 1914, 118; Harva 1948, 87). The variants in nomenclature can therefore be explained as translation loans, and the Tuuri of ancient runes may well be a late loan despite its probable prehistoric character. Moreover, many attributes link Ukko with the Scandinavian god of thunder, as Harva has pointed out. How long Ukko has been a Finnish deity, however, is not clear from these similarities even though Ukko clearly has older features compared with the Thor of the viking period. Even in late popular tradition Ukko struck lightning, rained and made the earth fertile whereas in sagas about Thor the first two functions had been largely forgotten. Archeological evidence, however, provides us with certain indications of the time of Ukko's arrival or his existence. If Ukko came from the west, the earliest possible point — terminus post quem — is the date at which sea links started between Finland and Sweden in late comb-ceramic times, during the third century. The first indication of such links is the many-edged hammer axe found at Hämeenniemi, Lapua, for example, but evidence of more numerous contacts in the latter half of the century is reflected in some battle axes, battle-axe graves and Pyheensilta pottery (Salo 1988). Firm proof, however, comes only with the Kiukais period in the early second century. Is it possible that Ukkonen had already crossed the Gulf of Bothnia by then? Support for such a theory might be found in the start of barley cultivation (Turku, Niuskala) and grinding stones found in the area between the Kokemäki and Aura rivers (Meinander 1954a, 85-92). Unfortunately we do not have sufficient knowledge of the extent and importance of agriculture during this period, and the Baltic origin of the word ohra 'barley' would seem to contradict the possibility of its cultivation coming from the west. Kiukais culture, moreover, had clear contacts with the Baltic area, too. On the other hand, we know that in Kiukais circles the making of sacred figures — elk-head clubs and axes — typical of hunting culture was still common (Meinander 1954a, 85-92). From this it may be concluded that the new god had not yet won over the people even though he might already have arrived on the scene. More probable, however, is that the Scandinavian god of thunder did not arrive until the Bronze Age, after the middle of the second millenium B,C. At this time culture along the littoral changed so markedly as a result with contacts with the west that it became the most Scandinavian of all Finnish prehistorical cultures. Scandinavian influence is reflected not just in artefacts but also in the structure

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of society and in religion; this can be concluded from the adoption of Scandinavian long houses and, above all, of Scandinavian stone burial mounds. It is generally accepted that the cultural change derived from proto-Germanic immigrants who settled along the coast of Finland in the latter half of the second millenium, principally in the archipelago and in areas between proto-Finnish settlement (Salo 1981, 424-37). They may well have brought their anthropomorphic god of thunder with them; certainly the intensification of agriculture during this period compared with the Stone Age provided fertile ground for his introduction. For similar reasons the anthropomorphic god of thunder can really be linked with the Scandinavian and also southern shaft-hole axes which were brought to Finland during the Bronze Age and also imitated there (Fig. 39). Best-known in the region between the Kymijoki and Kyrönjoki rivers, i.e. the area of coastal culture, like stone burial mounds they also spread to the Lakes Region, and less frequently as far as the shores of the upper course of Päijänne. Some such axes have even been found in Karelia but they seem to be lacking from the southern core area of the Vuoksi water course, where the old rock art was preserved (Meinander 1954b, 66-77; Salo 1981, 285-96). Against this background it may be assumed that the god of thunder with its Scandinavian origin has struck lightning and thunder and brought rain in Finland for at least three thousand years. At the same time Ukko obviously began to replace the old animal deities of hunting culture since animal-head weapons and utensils seem no longer to have been made during the Bronze Age even though rock art from the hunting period continued farther east along the Saimaa chain of lakes, a region which in my view must be characterised as Saami, almost to the beginning of the new chronology (Salo 1984a, 178). Agricola's portrayal of the Karelian character of Ukko does not, however, agree with the western character of Ukko, in favour of which the Scandinavian shaft-hole axes of the Bronze Age seem to speak. Nor does it agree particularly well with the fact that Ukko is to some extent common to the whole country and that the names ukonilma, ukkosenilma, ukkonen 'thundery weather' are general throughout the Finnish language (SKES, 1524 f,). In the light of this and later also the similarity between Ukko's and Thor's features and the semantic correspondence of their names it has long been customary to reject the idea that Ukko was of Karelian origin. This view is further confirmed at first sight by the evidence of this study: the Scandinavian shafthole axes of the Bronze Age and the elliptical fire stones of the Iron

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Fig. 39, Distribution of stone shaft-hole axes in southern Finland in the late Bronze Age after Unto Salo. The circles indicate Scandinavian forms, the triangles southern forms reminiscent of Lausitz culture. The rhombs indicate sharp-edged rhomb axes, some of which are double-bladed, however, and not perhaps the weapons of the god of thunder.

Age have been found pre-dominantly in western Finland so that the idea of Ukko originating from Karelia seems improbable. Nonetheless, we should consider the reasons why Agricola believed that Ukko came from Karelia even though we cannot of course arrive at any definite conclusion. Agricola's characterisation can be explained in different ways. First of all, it is clear that the custom of drinking Ukko's cup, to which Agricola attached chief interest, had been preserved in the 16th century more strongly in eastern Finland than in the west; there are numerous reports from Savo and Karelia in the 16th and 17th centuries and one from Hauho in 'läme is even dated as late as 1662 (Harva 1948, 103-22; SKES, 1524 f.). The custom of drinking Ukko's toast continued at Rautalampi and Kurkijoki right up to the 19th century.

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology 161 The geographical distribution of Ukko's toast may well have indicated an eastern Finnish provenance in Agricola's time, Agricola perhaps also knew that the word ukko in the sense of 'old man', 'married man', 'grandfather' was not used in south-western dialects nor in the language spoken in Satakunta. For this reason ukko as a name for the god of thunder seemed to point to the east, the area where the word ukko was in widespread use (SKES, 1524). Agricola may therefore have had a rational basis for believing that Ukko was of Karelian origin. Although the eastern distribution of the custom of drinking Ukko's toast at Agricola's time may not be of importance as far as the early stages of Ukko's history are concerned, there remains the name, Ukko. According to SKES ukko is known as a name for the god of thunder in Finnish, Karelian and Veps. It also appears in Votic and, rarely, in Estonian; in both cases it is believed to have been borrowed from Finnish. That it is restricted in its distribution to the northern half of the Balto-Fennic area indicates its philological lateness and agrees well with the theory of Ukko's provenance given above: it can probably be dated to one and a half thousand years after common proto-Finnish time, Philologically Ukko is, then, late proto-Finnish or Finnish, geographically Fenno-Karelian. It would seem natural that the common name for the god of thunder should come from the general area where the word ukko was used, i.e. the whole of Finland with the exception of Satakunta and the southwestern dialects (SKES, 1924), This would presuppose that the Ukko of the Karelians was at some time very expansive. There is, however, no reason to believe that the name spread to the southwest of the country in historical time, Ukko's possible spread does not fit in with the Iron Age or the late Bronze Age, either, since the distribution of early evidence of Ukko, namely elliptical fire stones and Bronze-Age shaft-hole axes, is concentrated to the west of Finland; Karelia clearly constitutes a marginal area in this respect, Such considerations lead to the conclusion that the spread of the name Ukko must have occurred so early that it had no rivals. The name Ukko for the god of thunder must therefore go back to the beginning of the Bronze Age at least, This in turn would presuppose that Ukko was older in Karelia than the existence of a god of thunder in western Finland, Can such an idea find support in archeological evidence? The first and at the same time most interesting indication is a shaft-hole club found at Kiuruvesi in northern Savo (fig. 40), The club is made of uralite-porphyrite and is a carefully made artefact reminiscent of

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Fig. 40. Cult club from Kiuruvesi, northern Savo. National Museum, Helsinki. The club, which is made of uralite-porphyrite, a material seldom used in Finland, is without like. The object is obviously connected with the old animal-head weapon tradition but was probably dedicated to an anthropomorphic god of thunder. Photo: E Laakso, National Board of Antiquities.

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a shaft-hole axe but it has no cutting edge (Meinander 1954a, 90; Lehtosalo-Hilander 1988, 106 ff.), The most astounding feature of the club is a round idol-like head carved in the neck, complete with a broad nose and eye hollows but lacking a mouth, Although no such similar objects are known, it may be concluded that the club is a cult object and, judging by its form, related to animal-head weapons but connected with an anthropomorphic deity. It would seem to continue the tradition of animal-head axes or clubs the core area of which was Finland and the Aunus (Meinander 1954a, 85-93; Carpelan 1974, 1975). The idea that immediately springs to mind is that the club portrays the god of thunder, and the club has indeed been suggested to be a cult object dedicated to him (Gelling & Ellis Davidson 1969). If this interpretation is correct, then it would probably be the oldest representation of the god of thunder in northern Europe. The incomplete form of the face neither supports nor contradicts such an interpretation. The object was found at a depth of one metre, in the bottom sediment of a former lake. It may have been thrown into the water intentionally, (Lehtosalo-Hilander 1988, 107 f,). Elliptical fire stones have often been found in similar locations, as was mentioned earlier, and likewise shaft-hole axes (e,g. Salo 1981, 285-96), both of them objects associated with Ukko. However, since other kinds of objects were also thrown into the water as a form of sacrifice in Stone Age times, the similarity cannot confirm the theory with any certainty. The club cannot be dated exactly. The hole bored in the shaft militates against a dating prior to the battle-axe period but even the battle-axe period seems early. The advanced level of stone technology indicates that the club cannot be younger than the late Bronze Age but a late Bronze Age dating might well be too late. The club is probably from the second millenium before Christ, perhaps more exactly from the time of Kiukais culture, to which Meinander and Lehtosalo-Hilander believe it belong, Such a dating finds some support in the fact that the material of which the club is made, uraliteporphyrite, was used very rarely for Finnish artefacts during the Stone Age. However, it was used for the tapering axes that spread from Estonia to Finland during the early Kiukais period, or even the end of the Finnish battle-axe period. In other words, the use of uraliteporphyrite may reflect Estonian influence but the club can hardly have been Estonian since the tradition of animal-head weapons suggested by the club did not exist in Estonia. The material of the club is probably Finnish as uralite-porphyrite is found in southern and central Finland

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(Meinander 1954a, 92), If the above interpretations are correct, then the Kiuruvesi club would suggest the existence of an anthropomorphic god of thunder in Finland as early as the beginning of the second millenium before Christ. No such evidence of this age has been found in western Finland, but even the dating of the Kiuruvesi club cannot be regarded as certain. Attention may also be directed to straight-backed battle axes and sharp-edged rhomb-shaped axes. Straight-backed axes (Meinander 1954a, 84 f.) spread to Finland and the Baltic countries from eastern Russia. If they were the weapons of the god of thunder there, it is possible that they also served the saine purpose in Finland, too. The material, stone, is no proof, however, of the correct date as the oldest axes go back to the end of the battle-axe period and to Kiukais times, when stone was still the most commonly used material for cutting edges and weapons. The cult axe interpretation can only be applied to degenerated examples which, according to Meinander, belong to the Bronze Age. It is interesting in this context that six of the seventeen straight-backed axes known to Meinander were found in Karelia and Savo while only five were found in the battle-axe area proper. Sharp-edged rhomb-shaped axes, which Evert Baudou claims are from the early Bronze Age, differ in their distribution from the shafthole axes of the Scandinavian Bronze Age. Although known throughout the whole of Finland, including Karelia and along the Kymijoki watercourse, most of them have been found in coast culture areas (Meinander 1954b, 80 ff.; Bandon 1960, 287 f.; Salo 1981, 287-96), They may have been cult, and consequently Ukko's, weapons but that is not sufficient to prove that Ukko was of older date in Karelia than along the coast. Thus, with the exception of the Kiuruvesi club, there is probably no archeological evidence to support the idea that Ukko was of Karelian origin. And the importance of the club is reduced by the uncertain dating, which can be based only on general conclusions, However, the possibility that Ukko is of greater age in Karelia can also be studied from the philological perspective, on the basis of early proto-Finnish non-Germanic words for agriculture and cattle raising. These words must be at least as old as proto-Germanic loanwords. They include the Fenno-Ugrian uuhi 'ewe', the FennoPermian jyvii 'ear (of corn)', the Fenno-Volgan jauhaa 'grind', vehnä `wheat', lehmil 'cow' and lypsää 'milk' and the Baltic ohra 'barley', oinas 'ram', vuohi `(she) goat', vohla 'kid', villa 'wool' and paimen `herdsman' (SKES 115 f, 129, 284, 318, 422, 459, 1559-60, 1683, 1766 f,, 1802, 1814 f.; Koivulehto 1979; Koivulehto 1983a; Koivulehto

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1983b; Suhonen 1984). The latter group goes back to the battle-axe period or, at the latest, to Kiukais culture, as mentioned above. The others could be dated on the basis of the philological interpretation given above to the comb-ceramic period proper but such an early cultural background in Finland does not really fit. Nor do they fit in with the late comb-ceramic period since the livelihood of the Finns at that time was based on hunting and fishing. For this reason they were probably not borrowed by proto-Finnish until later, from the direction of the Upper Volga. The common features of Pyheensilta, Pöljä and Kierikki ceramics, of Tamula pottery from Estonia and Volosov pottery from Oka-Volga (Meinander 1984, 37 ff.; Meinander 1983) are probably indicative of new contacts with the Volga area, i.e. later than the actual combceramic period. This is the end of the third millenium B.C. The influence of an economy based on agriculture, however, cannot be seen until earliest textile-ceramic times, which spread from the direction of the Volga to Kiukais culture (2000-1400/1200), apparently in its early stages, and to east and north Finland to the Pöljä group in the later stages (Meinander 1954a, 139-40, 165). It provides evidence of the spread of weaving, the raw material of which was probably fibres from the wild nettle; this material was used in Central Europe at least in the Middle Ages and in the Fenno-Ugrian area much later (Sirelius 1921, 58), It is not too far-fetched, however, to imagine that sheep raising and with it the Fenno-Ugrian uuhi reached Finland at this time. An equally ancient dating is probable for the loan of oinas and villa from proto-B altic. The following wave of an agricultural culture seems to have come with new textile ceramics, during the Sarsa ceramic period, in the middle or latter half of the second millenium (Meinander 1954b, 1829). It seems to have originated from the territory southeast of Ladoga, from Aunus and the Karelian Isthmus. From the Isthmus it spread in a narrow wedge in the direction of the Salpaus ridge to southern Häme and the Kokemäki water-course; the most westerly settlements are known to have been in Vammala, Laitila and Karjaa (Salo 1981, 10313; Meinander 1984a, 41 ff.; Heikkurinen & Suominen 1982). A second stream led via the eastern margins of Finnish Karelia and perhaps even farther east to northern Finland and Lapland (Huurre 1983, 24651). This wave of emigration was probably small in size (Salo 1981, 377 f,). The Sarsa ceramic period is known only from settlements along lakesides suited to fishing; no other objects associated with this period have been found. However, as the textile-ceramic people living along

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the Volga derived their livelihood from agriculture, I have regarded it as possible that the same kind of economy was also associated with the Sarsa ceramic period in Finland (Salo 1981, 377 f.), More recently Meinander has linked the earliest finds of grain pollen — either cereal pollen in general or in some cases barley and wheat pollen — with the arrival of textile-ceramics as they cover roughly the same time and same area (Meinander 1983). The interpretation seems natural and agriculture seems to have spread along the Kokemäki watercourse from the east, in approximately 1500-1300 B.C. (Meinander 1983, tab. p. 12). The oldest terms associated with agriculture and cattle raising have, on the whole, followed the same route. Vehnä has its direct equivalent in the oldest pollen grains and lehmä in the "bull's tooth" of Uotinmäki, Kiukainen (Ailio 1909, 19). The verb jauhaa corresponds to the grinding stones found at Kiukais settlements from the mouth of the Kokemäki river to the Aura. They provide a dating for the word and what it signified to the middle of the second millenium B.C. at the latest but differ from Sarsa ceramic finds by reason of their concentration to coastal locations, On the basis of their distribution they might perhaps better be associated with the first wave of textile-ceramic immigration and dated to the beginning of the second millenium. However, there is no indication of the direction from which grinding stones reached Finland; if it was Scandinavia or the Baltic countries, there does not seem to have been any corresponding loanword associated with them. Nor do we have any pollen evidence of such early cultivation, either from the inland or from the coast, but this may be a matter of lack of evidence since barley was grown on Åland in pit-ceramic times as early as the end of the third millenium (Lindqvist 1988). On the basis of the philological evidence described here it seems reasonable to conclude that a grain-growing economy began in southern Finland under the influence of impulses from the Volga and the Baltic countries apparently even before contacts with proto-Germanic peoples during the Bronze Age and the probable immigration of the protoGermans, Against this background may be set the god of clearing and cultivating, Ukko, for cultivation did not in all probability begin without the religious beliefs that accompanied it. Such a chronology and diffusion would also explain how the eastern Finnish name Ukko reached the west of Finland. Despite its Volgan background the original source of Sarsa ceramic culture was the Ladoga region, perhaps even the Karelian Isthmus, as I mentioned earlier; it was there that

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the Indo-European god of thunder got his general Finnish name, Ukko was an honorary title but at the same time a euphemism and does not reveal from where the deity had come to Karelia. A Volgan, textileceramic origin would seem natural, in fact, but since the most closely related Finnish tribes of the Upper Volga, the Merjans and Muromans have disappeared, the problem remains unsolved. The fact that the Mordvinians and the Mari (Cheremis) know no such god gives rise to suspicion. For this reason the possibility of a Baltic provenance for Ukko must be taken into account, If, in accordance with this hypothesis, Ukko was first worshipped in western Finland during the time of the Sarsa ceramic people, then he was confronted along the coast and in the archipelago by another, western, god of thunder who had presumably arrived with the immigrants from the west. The two gods of thunder obviously merged with each other; Ukko retained his name but over the centuries came to liken the Scandinavian Thor. Not entirely, however; he did not drive a chariot drawn by goats nor was a colourful hoard of myths spun about him like about Thor for around Thor, there revolved priests and poets, Odor (Norse priest-chieftains) and skalds. Iron-Age Finland did not boast the same kind of hierarchical society as existed in Scandinavia; here it was peasant storytellers who recited Ukko's myths. In their verses they asked for Ukko's help in purely practical matters: to make fire, to burn and clear the forest, for the fruitfulness of the soil, for rain, for hunting spoils, for birth, or in their fear they bade Ukko strike elsewhere, Ukko remained the natural violent thunder god of the clearers and burners of the forest although in other contexts he also exhibited the refined characteristics of a heavenly deity. As such Ukko was probably more reminiscent of the Thor of the Swedish peasantry than the heroic god of the sagas.

The Sky Bird In his study of Ukko Uno Harva writes that "according to the beliefs of the northermost tribes of Asia and the North American Indians thunder is represented as a giant bird which makes a mighty roar as it flies, The Tungusi believe that the thunder bird lias stone claws with which it shatters the trees of the forest and which can sometimes be found on the ground" (Harva 1948, 74, 90 f.). According to Harva the Finns may have had similar conceptions since the parallel name for the thunderbolt, well-known of old, ukonkynsi, ukkosenkynsi,

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`Ukko's nail or claw', of which there are records from Karelia, Savo, Kainuu and southern Lapland, does not seem to be appropriate for an anthropomorphic god of thunder. "Did the Finns, in whose beliefs may be detected strata from different periods, also preserve such a primitive concept for the producer of thunder? In considering this", writes Harva, "we should also bear in mind the words of the ancient poem 'ukko the oldest bird in the sky' or 'struck fire from his claws'" (SKVR 1:4, 277, 291). He also quotes the old verse Tule Ukko ottamahan, kivikynsi kiskomahan kivisillä kynsilläsi.

Come Ukko, and take with your stone claw, with your talons of stone.

Seen from the perspective of Finnish prehistory that existed at that time, the concept was a bold one, and Harva did not proceed to examine this idea more closely; perhaps he did not know any other keys to the problem in the source materials. However, certain references may be presented. I shall direct attention to the verses about the origin of fire given above (Leppäaho 1949a, 71 ff., 87): Ukko of the air struck fire, Iski tulta Ilmanukko, Välähytti Väinämöinen Väinämöinen flashed Kolmella kokon sulalla, With three eagle's feathers, Viiellä vivutsimella. With five talons. or With three eagle's feathers, Kolmell' on kokon sulalla, Viijell' on vivuttimella, With five talons, Kajahutt' on kallivoho. He struck the rock with a clang. (SKVR 1: 4, 236) or Sulitti tulisen nuolen He made ready the fiery arrow Kokon kaikilla sulilla, With narrow eagle feathers, Varpusen vipusimilla. With sparrow talons. (SKVR 12:2, 5526) or Itse vanha Väinämöinen Old Väinämöinen himself Iski tulta kyntehensä, Struck fire from his fingernails, Järkytti jäsenehensä.. Shook his limbs. (SKVR 1: 4, 270, 272; 9:4, 1057; 12:1, 4487, 4555; 12:2, 8511). The view based on Jorma Lepp äaho's interpretation was given above that the kolme kokon (kotkan) sulkaa (three eagle feathers) in the

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verses mean an arrow, I further explained that viisi vipusinta or vivutsinta (five certain levers) refer to the five fingers needed to draw the bow when firing a fire arrow or lightning. But the verses may contain much more, First of all, there is the matter of striking fire from the claw. Leppäaho interprets this as follows: "Striking one's own nail and shaking one's limb ... probably means striking a flint. The small piece of flint between the finger tips really brings to mind that striking of nail" (Leppäaho 1949a, 87). The explanation is natural but nevertheless provokes the question whether it is a question of something reminiscent of a thunder bird. A further factor is whether the references to varpusen vivustimet, "the sparrow talon" in the verses quoted have been completely mixed up. A sparrow hardly fits in this context. Could it possibly be that what is meant are varpaat, 'the toes' as the certain levers, the toes of the thunder bird? In order to solve these problems and the whole question of the thunder bird an detailed analysis of the verses is necessary, This is probably the only possibility since Finnish archeological finds cast no light on the problem. Consequently, I can approach the question only from the perspective of the history of religion. Harva is almost certainly correct in assuming that it is a question of a deity in bird form that preceded the anthropomorphic god; the epithet air 'ilma' when referring to the bird indicates in the same way thundery weather as the connection with Ukko of the air. It is, then, a matter of a thunder bird characterised by stone claws, It is not too far-fetched to believe that the eagle was looked upon as the bird of the air, The connection with an eagle is revealed in the verses quoted, kotkan sulista (eagle's feathers), if we can rely on the fact that context is not just random and simply explained by the arrow significance, More reliable evidence can be found from beyond Finnish frontiers. An Assyrian boundary stone has an eagle carved on it; the eagle is sitting on a column and reaching out towards a double fork of lightning striking the ground (Fig. 41) (Gray 1982, 22 ff.), The lightning, it is true, does not appear to emanate from the eagle but the connection between the two is nevertheless clear and the eagle can, with a fair degree of certainty, be interpreted as a thunder bird. The carving was probably made to mark the boundary with the eagle threatening to strike down with lightning anybody who dared to move the stone. The stone dates from the reign of Marduk-Nadin-Ahne, ca. 1102-1084 B.C. (Soden 1961-65, 62-9). At this late date the god of thunder was usually portrayed in human form in the Levant. However, it may be a question of an old stratum preserved in folk beliefs or of a god of thun-

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Fig. 41, Double fork of lightning of the Assyrian god of thunder, Adad, and beside it an eagle standing on a pillar, obviously a bird deity connected with thunder. Boundary stone from Marduk-nadin-ahne's time. (Gray 1982).

der that deviated from the usual, Such is known from the Romans. There also exist references to the thunder eagle of the Indo-Europeans for the eagle was the bird of Zeus, Jupiter and Indra (Haavio 1961, 22)'°. The eagle appears quite often in connection with Zeus both on 1° It should be pointed out in this context that in the rock drawings from Lövås in Bohuslän (Glob 1971, 115) the battle axe god, doubtless the thunder god Thor, is depicted — to judge from the curved shape — as having a bird's head, presumably therefore that of an eagle. A bird's head in Scandinavian rock drawings is nevertheless a fairly common feature and not limited to the god of thunder, so there may perhaps be no reference to a thunder bird.

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Fig. 42. Zeus' eagle bearing Ganymede to Olympus. Floor mosaic, clearly the finest representation of this theme from the house of Dionysos at Paphos, Cyprus. Mosaic dated second century A.D.

Fig. 43. Permian bronze ornament from Juupajoki. National Museum, Helsinki. Eagle and Ganymede theme shown on the ornament in triplicate in the tradition of Permian art. Only the face of Ganymedes is portrayed. Photo: E. Laakso, National Board of Antiquities.

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Fig. 44. Summanus, the Roman god of nightly thunder, portrayed as a combination of human being, bird and serpent, and holding a fork of lightning in the fashion of Jupiter. The original bird-shaped god of thunder in the form of Summanus seems to be united in part in an anthropomorphic god of thunder, coins and vases, also in myths connected with Zeus although usually without any reference to lightning, it is true, Zeus' eagle carries the beautiful Ganymede to Olympus, for example, as shown in many ancient pictures" (Fig. 42, 43) (Grant Sı Hazel 1976, 153 ff,). The myth of Prometheus also places the eagle into some kind of relation to celestial fire. Prometheus stole fire from Olympus and brought it to man, so breaking with Zeus. The god chained Prometheus to a rock and sent an eagle to tear out his liver (Grant & Hazel 1976, 346 ff.). Here, too, however, the link between eagle and lightning is very indirect, but quite clear in some symbols, where eagles, indeed, are carrying lightning (Cirlot 1988, 91 ff,). So the eagles of Jupiter can have lightning in their nails (Cooper 1986, 8-10). Jupiter's eagles were held in high esteem as symbols in imperial Rome and even earlier when 11 This motif extended as far as the Karna river in northern Russia and originated

in Permian art. One of its products, an adornment in the shape of an eagle, has travelled as far as the Juupajoki in Häme (Kivikoski 1973, ill. 596). According to the manners in Permian art the eagle and Ganymedes are represented with three heads, Ganymede with just his face. Despite the fact that the wings are broken it is impossible to mistake the bird for anything other than an eagle. The adornment cannot be dated exactly; Kivikoski assigns it to articles of the Merovingian period.

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Jupiter was the protector and principal god of the realm (Perowne 1975, 17 ff,), The legions marched into battle carrying eagles, and it was a great disgrace if they were lost to the enemy. If Jupiter's eagles could probably be a loan from Zeus, however, and they do not have the same value as evidence of a god of thunder in bird shape. Much more important in this context is that the Roman Summanus, the god of nocturnal thunder, seems clearly to have descended from the thunder bird (Fig, 44). Nocturnal lightning cannot be linked with Jupiter, the god of the bright sky, but was considered to have been sent by Summanus. Since Summanus does not correspond to Zeus, the iconography of the noble features of Greek representations of Zeus cannot be applied to him as they can to Jupiter, He is usually portrayed as an archaic monster with a human head, body and hands but with the wings of an eagle and a forked serpent's tail (Perowne 1975, 36 f.), Here, then, we have a fusion of the god of thunder in human form, in snake form and in eagle form. Ls such Summanus fıts well into the typology that began with portraying the thunder bird as an eagle and ended with an anthropomorphic god of thunder. I will return to the serpent theme later, It is not entirely impossible that Thor, too, had a bird of prey associated with him in some cases, I refer to certain hammer pendants found in Skåne and at Hiddensee near Rügen; these are adorned with the head of a bird of prey, admittedly most probably that of a hawk. The pendants can be dated to the 10th and 11th centuries (Fig. 45) (Paulsen 1956, 210 ff.). The feature seems to be limited, however, both temporally and geographically, and can perhaps be explained as an influence from antiquity, It is in any case difficult to link it with traditional Thor mythology. In the light of what has been said above the eagle of the IndoEuropean god of thunder goes back to an older thunder eagle preserved from the period when hunting culture still predominated, as revealed in hazy references in Finnish folk poems. If the thunder eagle was in fact the "oldest bird of the air", it is perhaps a question of the same mythical bird which in Finnish runes has a number of tasks. In the second poem of the Kalevala (II : 265-86) the eagle is presented as the igniter of the first clearing fire; this accords well with the history of the god of thunder and of agriculture in Finland. However, this is Elias Lönnrot's reconstruction since the verses he used did not originally include verses about cultivation but only runes concerning the origin of fire. In them it is not a eagle that strikes fire but Ukko (Kaukonen 1956, verses 281-4).

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Fig. 45. A Thor's hammer from Skåne with the head of a bird of prey. (Stenberger 1964).

Since folk tradition makes no mention of a bird's claw or nail but only of Ukko's nail, the deity in bird form has been obscured behind an anthropomorphic god. At first sight the idea of Ukko's stone nails does not seem to be any older than that of striking fire from a fire stone, There is no firm proof of striking fire in Finland until the Bronze Age; finds from the latter half of this period contain fire flints (Salo 1981, 301 f.), In this connection it may be asked whether the striking of fire cannot be an older feature since the word taula 'tinder' is of Baltic origin and, judging from its distribution, an early loan (Kalima 1936, 167; SKES 1246), But the word is not sufficient to prove for the taula was in fact used for making fire by friction, too. In my opinion we really need no proof of that, either, for lightning is so rapid a phenomenon that it invokes the concept of striking. The metaphor of striking fire can, then, be much older than the fire flints of the Bronze Age. And older it should be, as, too, the thunder bird. The thunder bird corresponds to the animal-like deities of the Stone

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Age, and it is in the Stone Age, according to the history of Ukko, that it should also belong.

Snake lightning Jorma Leppäaho in his notable study notes, with reference to Kaarle Krohn that, judging from ancient runes, lightning was portrayed in the form of a serpent (Leppäaho 1949, 90-96). He quotes the verses: Tulta iski ilma kaikki, Väinämöinen välkytteli Keskellä meri-kiviä, Kiilt ävästä k ärmehestä, (SKVR 11, 1773)

The entire air struck fire, Väinämöinen caused to flash Amid the sea-stones, From a shining serpent.

Instead of a shining serpent there often appears a multicoloured serpent, The serpent theme is known in Ingermanland, Savo, northern Karelia and along the border between Finland and Russia, in northern Häme and southern and northern Ostrobothnia. In the verses there is also sometimes reference to a black worm, a creeping worm of the earth, a burning worm of the earth. A crooked flash of lightning corresponds, of course, to the coils of a snake but Leppäaho also publishes a picture of lightning split into two lengthwise and so resembling a snake or serpent. Nowadays a z-shaped angled line is used as a symbol of lightning. This obviously continues an ancient tradition which portrayed lightning as an angled or crooked line. Such an illustration of lightning is used in connection with Zeus' lightning, as on the 4th-century B.C. coin portraying Alexander the Great as Zeus or the Assyrian thunder eagle on the frontier stone, Fig. 13 and 41. The Assyrian god of storms is also portrayed holding a triple bunch of forked or crooked lightning (Gray 1982, 51). Angled and wavy lines have been common forms of adornment since as far back as Paleolithic and Mesolithic times, Reference can be made, for example, to the angled decoration found on ball clubs and other shaft-hole weapons from Suomusjärvi culture (7000-4200 B,C.) (Edgren 1974). According to Edgren's assumption at least some of these clubs were made as cult objects; it is difficult to find any other explanation for them. Angled lines are also commonly found on Neolithic pottery, in Finland from early comb-ceramic times onwards, In most cases they are probably only decoration; even if there is

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Fig. 46. Two cord-ceramic beakers from 1) Lieto, Finland Proper, and 2) Lempäälä, Satakunta. The cord decoration and the angel lines never appear on one and the same vessel, at least not in Finland. This follows perhaps from the symbolic character of the motifs. Drawn by Kristiina Korkeakoski-Väisänen after Edgren 1982.

some symbolism in them, there is scarcely sufficient evidence to make interpretation of it possible. In some cases, however, the context indicates lightning, as for example on the Bronze Age shaft-hole axe found at Horozheno in the Ukraine, Fig, 35, Especially interesting in this respect are the Danish eye-goddess utensils, Fig. 31. Along their upper edge there are horizontal groups of angled lines or hanging triangles from which vertical angled lines, so to speak, "strike" in some cases downwards between the eyes. They may indicate lightning. The vertical decorations extending downwards from the eye figures are perhaps symbols of rain; certainly there are more of them elsewhere in the same ornamentation zone. This complex of motifs might be interpreted as the marriage of the god of thunder and his wife, the myth of the sky, clouds, thunder, rain and fruitfulness of the soil. I would point out that the eye decorations indicate that the objects served some cult purpose, that the eye pots date back to an early phase of agriculture in Danish prehistory and that agriculture was dependent on fire, water and soil, i.e. burning and clearing, rain and harvest. No such motifs are to be found on Finnish Neolithic pottery objects, I pointed out above that the cord decorations of cord-ceramic and

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angled-line decorations never appear on the same beakers, at least in Finland (Fig. 46). Nonetheless, it is perhaps possible to assume on the basis of a grain-growing economy of battle-axe culture — there is no evidence of this in Finland — that the mutual exclusivity of these motifs might be explained by the symbolism of the Ukkonen deity and the mother deity. It may be asked whether the vertical angled lines could be symbols of lightning and thus of the god of thunder, could the cord decorations symbolize the mother goddess, Magna mater, alluding, maybe, to her girdle? It can be asked, but hardly answered, I can only say that the mutual exclusivity of these motifs needs an explanation, and add that that given above could be a probable one. It is, however, possible to entertain justifiable evidence, at least to some extent, for the elliptical fire steels of the late Iron Age which in a way continue the symbolism of elliptical fire stones (Salo 1990). In some elliptical fire steels there are, within the frame, loops of thin wire forming a dense lace-like pattern. This would seem to be an obvious symbol of lightning in mediam rem. This interpretation is naturally based on context. According to Kivikoski (Kivikoski 1973, ill. 1009) such fire steels have been found at Mustalaismäki, Hattula, and Hiukkavainionmäki, Huittinen, both of them from the viking period. They are probably not of Finnish origin, for the same type is also known in Scandinavia, e.g. Birka (Arbman 1940, tab. 144 :3a). Corresponding wavy-line decoration was also used on Viking tongueshaped and, later, other fire steels in Sweden and Norway (Keyland 1916, 208, ill, 10b--c, 218, ill, 17a). Mention should also be made of the fact that the handle of certain Norwegian fire steels is sometimes in wavy or serpent form (Keyland 1916, 212, ill. 13: 28-9), The thunder eagle on the Assyrian boundary stone, fig. 41 is portrayed with a double fork of lightning; the forks of lightning reach upwards from the ground, The same illustration is found, surprisingly, on pottery articles from Dnieper-Donetz culture, probably from the early part of the period, from the 5th or 4th millenium B.C. (Fig. 47) (Häusler 1966, 291; Sulimirski 1970, 86 f.; Siiriäinen 1973, 15 f.). It is found on the side of one object three times (Edgren 1982, fig. 22 :1), and it is possible that this triple representation depends on the threefold so common in mythical connections. A task often only succeeds after being repeated three times. The similarity with the Assyrian representation of lightning is astounding and even though there is no eagle, the forks of the motif point towards the sky; they may indeed be lightning, The decorations may well refer to the importance of lightning and the rain that follows it and be indicative of a grain-

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Fig. 47. In the lower row forked symbols of lightning. From left to right: a figure on a Mesopotamian boundary stone, a decoration on pottery of Dnieper-Donets culture, and a bone figure found at Tamula, Esthonia. The Tamula figure has two serpent heads, very similar to the head of the real serpent figure from Tamula, right in the lower row. Above Zeus with lightning, after a figure on a Greek 5th-century vase. Drawn by Kristiina Korkeakoski-Väisinen after Edgren 1982, Grant & Hazel 1976, Gray 1982, Jaanits 1957.

growing economy or at least contacts with agricultural economies. According well with the lightning interpretation is also the fact that the bunches of forked lightning of Zeus and the thunder deities of the Levant can be derived from the double fork of lightning symbol, fig. 47. For this a third fork of lightning has to be added between the existing double fork; here we can refer to the illustration on a 5th-century vase in which the outer forks of lightning held by Zeus are rather similar to those described above (Fig. 47) (Grant & Hazel 1976, ill. p. 153). However, I cannot go into the origin of Zeus' lightning symbol in more detail here; it probably goes far back into Neolithic time. The symbol of the double fork of lightning is brought near to Finland, or at least seems to have been brought, by a fragmentary double-

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Fig. 48. Serpent figure on the Peri Nos cliff on the eastern shore of Lake Onega. The serpent is formed of an angled line which continues in two parts upwards and of a broad triangular head recalling a sharp-pointed arrow. These abnormal characteristics suggest lightning in the form of a serpent.

headed bone design from Tamula, Estonia, (Fig. 47) (Jaanits 1957, ill. 4 :20). It is very reminiscent of the pottery decorations referred to earlier, However, it differs from these in that the double fork of lightning seems to be transformed into a double-headed serpent. The heads of the serpent are rather similar to the serpent figure of the same burial ground, (Fig. 47) (Jaanits 1957, ill. 4 :10); its necks are portrayed in snake form and even the "body" seems to continue as an angled line. The former object is a find from a woman's grave and has been dated to late comb-ceramic times, the latter half of the 3rd millenium B.C, (Jaanits 1957; Meinander 1984a, 38). This possibly provides a bridge for the serpent-lightning in Finnish myths of the origin of fire; the Tamula design could be interpreted as the forerunner of these. If this interpretation is correct, then the early proto-Finnish heritage of late comb-ceramic times lives in the lightning serpents of spells. It is possible, of course, that it goes back even farther. The proof of this provided, in my opinion, by the serpent drawings on the rocks of Peri Nos, a promontory in Lake Onega in Russian Karelia (Fig, 48). The protuberant "hooks" or "thorns" of the angular

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lines of the serpent bodies and the head in the shape of an arrow tip are an unnatural feature and seem to indicate that the figures does not portray a real serpent but a serpent as a symbol of lightning, In this connection I would point to the similar protuberances of the lightning image on the 4th-century Greek coin (Fig. 13), even though the similarity is no conclusive proof, of course, According to Russian archeologists, the rock drawings on Lake Onega belong to Pitcomb ware culture and thus probably to a Fenno-Ugrian people. They have been dated to the 5th or 4th millenium B.C.12 The double-forked nature of lightning and the lightning serpent, attested to by the Tamula figure and similar lightning designs, does not appear in spells. But it has a surprising equivalent in the double serpent of Summanus' tail (Fig. 44). If this is a primary feature of Summans' iconography, then double-forked lightning was apparently given living form as a twin serpent as early as Indo-European times. This feature need not neccessarily be genuine, however; it could as well be explained as a loan from Greek iconography. Triton in Greek mythology was characterised by a split serpent's tail as early as the 6th century B,C. (Grant & Hazel 1976, 408). The giants, the children of Gaia, the mother Earth, had serpent legs, as shown in numerous illustrations (Grant & Hazel 1976, 154-61). These serpent legs are probably evidence of the earthly origin of the giants, gegeneis, and are probably unconnected with serpent lightning, even though the giants were the opponents of Zeus (and other gods), Conclusions

What has been said above can be summed up in the following theses and hypotheses: 1. Finnish epic poetry has preserved dim memories of a thunder bird, a deity known among the hunting peoples of Siberia and northern America. It had stone nails with which it struck lightning and when it flew, it created a mighty rumbling sound. The thunder bird lived on as the eagles of the Indo-European thunder gods, and it is conceived of as an eagle here, too. If the eagle in question was the great mythical bird of Finnish epics, as I assume, then it also had other tasks. It may well go back to pre-agricultural times, to the Stone Age, where it fits in well with the animal deities of that period. The author had an opportunity to study the rock drawings of Lake Onega in July 1989,

12

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2. Finnish runes about the origin of fire have also preserved the idea of lightning portrayed as a serpent. Serpent-lightning probably goes back to early proto-Finnish times, the latter half of the 3rd millenium B,C., perhaps even farther, and was linked with the animal deities of the Stone Age. Iconographically it seems to continue the doubleforked lightning symbols apparently known even in the 5th and 4th millenia B,C. From it there seems to derive another trend leading to the lightning held by Zeus and Levant gods of thunder. 3. The Indo-European god of the sky/god of thunder goes back to proto-Indo-European times, at the latest to the 3rd millenium B.C. but probably even earlier, His weapon was a hammer or battle axe, a shaft-hole axe. Consequently, this god must have existed or originated during the period such axes were in use, ca. 3300/3000-500/400 B.C. Stone axes, it would seem, made their appearance north of the Danube in central and northern Europe, the area of funnel-beaker culture, at the end of the 4th or beginning of the 3rd millenium B.C. The patriarchal nature reflected in the marriage relationship between the god of the sky and Magna Mater corresponds to the social structure of the funnel-beaker and battle-axe cultures since no clay idols connected with mother goddesses are known in the area concerned as they are in southeastern and southern Europe. The emphasis on man's status is also reflected in the hammer axes and perhaps in burial customs of the period. At the beginning of the 3rd millenium B,C. the worship of a mother goddess/death goddess spread from the Atlantic seaboard of Europe to the funnel-beaker people, However, it gave way rather rapidly to battle-axe culture and apparently to worship of a god of the sky/god of thunder. 4. The Indo-European god of thunder, who had no proto-IndoEuropean name, evolved from a god of the sky at the latest during the 3rd millenium B.C., evidently during the battle-axe period. The god of thunder reigned over lightning and rain, i.e. fire and water, central elements in a clearing and burning economy. The stone shaft-hole axes of the Bronze Age, which had become old-fashioned as weapons, seem to have been manufactured for the god of thunder. Earlier battle-axes cannot be shown to have been the special cult weapons of the god of thunder although they may have been his emblems. In Scandinavian rock drawings the god of thunder goes back to the Bronze Age, and in Lithuania a bronze image of a Hurritic god of thunder has been found which dates back to the early Bronze Age. The human-headed club found at Kiuruvesi, apparently from the Kiukais period, can also probably be explained as a cult object of the god of thunder. This

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human head is probably one of the oldest representations of the god of thunder in northern Europe. 5. The Indo-European god of thunder became known in Finland perhaps during the time' of battle-axe culture as taivas 'sky' was borrowed from proto-Baltic. However, the god of the sky probably did not serve any particular purpose during late comb-ceramic times when the economy was still based on hunting and fishing. It may have been connected from the very beginning with the Kiukais period (2000-1400/1200 B.C,), however, when agriculture became important in the economy. During Kiukais times shaft-hole axes, weapons of agriculture society, were imported and made as weapons but perhaps for cult purposes, too, but so also were the bear-head and elk-head clubs and axes characteristic of a hunting economy. From this it may be concluded that it was a time of both the old animal-shaped gods of the Stone Age and the new anthropomorphic god of thunder. Since the god of thunder went by the name Ukko, which points to a possible eastern Finnish origin, throughout the whole of the country, it is possible that Ukko came to western Finland from the direction of Karelia, probably with a wave of Sarsa ceramic immigration at about the middle of the 2nd millenium B.C. Some of the oldest protoFinnish terms in agriculture and cattle raising also came from the same direction so that both may have arrived with the same textile-ceramic current, if not the first textile-ceramic phase at the beginning of the millenium, At the beginning of the Bronze Age, after the middle of the millenium, there arrived on the western and southern coasts of Finland a Scandinavian god of thunder. The two thunder deities merged with each other and Ukko adopted myths and attributes, albeit not all of them, of the new western god of thunder, starting with the shafthole axes that came from the west (and south), He also preserved his early proto-Finnish name. From the shaft-hole axes it appears that this anthropomorphic god of thunder spread to the centre of the country to join the Saame deities. During the Bronze Age it seems to have thrust aside the animal deities of the hunting era in most of the southern and central parts of Finland. 6. Ukko spread to Finland as the god of the burning and clearing economy and peasant society, His functions included assuring the fertility of the soil, the growth of the crops and the yearly harvest. This took place in the holy marriage of Ukko and his spouse: in flashes of lightning, the rumble of thunder and thundery rain. Ukko may have celebrated such holy marriages from his very arrival but no firm evidence of them appears until the Iron Age with the coming of

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology

183

elliptical fire stones (ca. 50-700) and the elliptical rimmed fire steels that followed them. Since the use of these continued from Merovingian times (550-800) until the advent of matches it is understandable that the hieros gamos myth was still a living folk belief during Agricola's time. Similar beliefs were also preserved among the Swedish-speaking population of Ostrobothnia until recent times, apparently as a tradition going back to their medieval arrival in Finland, The symbolic shapes of the fire stones and fire steels indicate that the secular striking of fire was looked upon as a rite repeating the myth of the origin of celestial fire. Elliptical fire stones were probably associated primarily with clearing and burning and indicate, partly at least, the geographical extent of this economy. Fire stones were apparently used in sacrifices to show what was expected of Ukko. Ukko, like Thor, had the general duties of a father god but they are not discussed in this context. 7. The bow and lyre fire steels of Merovingian times are explained by the myth of the origin of fire told in ancient epics. In these Ukko of the sky fires a fire arrow, i.e. lightning, from his bow. The myth may derive from Asia but the bow and lyre fire steels seem to indicate that the myth extended over the whole continent of Europe. The myth together with Ukko's bow and arrow formed part of common belief among the people during the viking era and after it right up to late historical time. However, it has not succeeded in replacing the hieros gamos myth. Is this evidence of a myth of hunting people in particular? 8. The international notion of stone thunderbolts does not seem to have been current in Finland until the Iron Age when the use of stone to make cutting edges had been forgotten. Nails did not begin to be used until the beginning of the present chronological era; this probably places a temporal limit for the term thunder nail. Thunder nail, however, is probably based on a mistranslation of the protoScandinavian or early Swedish naghl 'fingernail' as 'nail'. Ukko's cloak cannot philologically be older than the Viking period but the history of of the garment itself goes back much further in time. Viking finds on Åland include Swedish rings with Thor's hammers hanging on them but such pendants do not seem to have been used on the Finnish mainland, as was previously believed, 9. The author agrees with Martti Haavio's view that Rauni was not the name of Ukko's spouse but an epithet for Ukko himself. But even as an epithet for Ukko it does not seem to derive from genuine folk tradition but may well be Mikael Agricola's corruption of the Latin or

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Greek. With this epithet, the significance of which remains unknown, Agricola may have been trying to incorporate the idea that the Finnish Ukko was the parallel of the Zeus Keraunios of the Greeks. 10. Perkele, 'the enemy of the soul', in the Finnish language and its Balto-Fennic equivalents are probably derived philologically from Perkunas, the name of the Baltic god of thunder. Since their only meaning in Balto-Fennic dialects, however, is 'enemy of the soul', `hell', they may well not have been absorbed until the early stages of Christianity when a name was needed to personify evil, Such a personality was not included in the heathen terminology of the BaltoFennic peoples.

Bibliography Ailio, J. 1909. Die steinzeitlichen Wohnplatzfunde in Finnland 1-2. Helsingfors. Alhonen, P. 1970. En pollenanalytisk undersökning vid stenåldersboplatsen Perkiö i Hauho socken, Södra Finland. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 72. Helsinki. Almgren, B. 1962. Den osynlige gudomen. Proxima Thule, Stockholm. Almqvist, B. 1956-78. Torvigg. Kulturhistoriskt lexikon för nordisk medeltid 18. Helsingfors Arbman, H. 1940. Birka 1. Die Gräber. Tafeln. Uppsala. Baudou, E. 1960. Die regionale und chronologische Einteilung der jüngeren Bronzezeit im Nordischen Kreis, (Acta Universitatis Stockholmiensis. Studies in North-European Archaeology 1.) Stockholm. Becker, C. J. 1969. Trichterbecherkultur. Enzyklopädisches Handbuch zur Urund Frühgeschichte Europas 2. Hrsg. von J. Filip. Prag. Bezzenberger, A. & Peiser, F. E. 1909. Die Bronzefigur von Schemen, Kr. Memel. Prussia 22, 1900-1904. Königsberg. Brøndsted, J. 1938-39. Danmarks Oldlid 1-2. København. — 1961-62. Nordische Vorzeit 1-2. Neumünster. Buchvaldek, M. 1969. Schnurkeramische Kulturen. Enzyklopädisches Handbuch zur Ur- und Frühgeschichte Europas 2. Hrsg. von J. Filip. Prag. Carpelan, Chr. 1974. Hirven- ja karhunpääesineitä Skandinaviasta Uralille. Suomen Museo. Helsinki. — 1975. Alg- och björnhuvudföremål från Europas nordliga delar. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. Cirlot, J. E. 1988. A dictionary of symbols. London. Cleve, N. 1943. Skelettgravfälten på Kjuloholm i Kjulo. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 64. Helsinki.

Agricola's Ukko in the light of archaeology 185 Cooper, J. C. 1986. Illustriertes Lexikon der traditionellen Symbole. Leipzig. Davaras, C. 1976. Guide to Cretan antiquities. New Jersey. Dechelette, J. 1908-14. Manuel d'archéologie préhistorique celtique et galloromain 1-2. Paris. Donner. 1966-81. Brockhavs Enzyklopädie 5. Wiesbaden. Edgren, T. 1970. Studier över den snörkeramiska kulturens keramik i Finland. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 72. Helsinki. - 1974. De ristade klubbhuvudena av sten och deras datering. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. - 1982. Formgivning och funktion. Iskos 3. Helsinki - 1984a. Kivikausi. Suomen esihistoria 1. Espoo. - 1984b. On the economy and substance of the battle-axe culture in Finland. (Fenno-ugri et Slavi 1983.) Iskos 4. Helsinki. Feldhaus, F. M. 1914. Die Technik der Vorzeit, der geschichtlichen Zeit und der Nalurvölker. Leipzig. Filip, J. 1969. Enzyklopiidisches Handbuch zur Ur- und Frageschichte Europas 2. Prag. Frisk, H. 1960. Griechisches etymologisches Wörterbuch 1. Heidelberg. Gelling, P. & Ellis Davidson, H. 1969. The chariot of the sun and other rites and symbols of the Northern Bronze Age. London. Glob, P. V. 1938. Stenredskaber fra Bronzealderen. Winther- Festskrift. Kobenhavn. - 1971. Högarnas folk. København. Grant, M. & Hazel, J. 1973. Lexikon der antiken Mythen und Gestalten. München. Graudonis, J. 1967. Latvija v epohy pozdnei bronzy i rannego zeleza. Riga. Gray, J. 1982. Near Eastern Mythology. (Library of the world's myths and legends.) London. Haavio, M. 1959. Karjalan jumalat. Porvoo. - 1961. Ukko ylijumala. Kalevalaseuran vuosikirja 41. Helsinki. Hackman, A. 1905. Die ältere Eisenzeit in Finnland. 1. Helsingfors. Harva, U. 1943. Sammon ryöstö. Porvoo. - 1948. Suomalaisten muinaisusko. Porvoo. Hasselrot, P. & Ohlmarks, A. 1966. Hällristningar. Stockholm. Heikkurinen, T. & Suominen, E. 1982. Karjaan Magnäs II:n ja Östergardin kaivaukset. Studia minora 29. (Helsingin yliopiston arkeologian laitos. Moniste 29.) Helsinki. Heininen, S. 1976. Nuori Mikael Agricola. (Suomi 120, 3.) Helsinki Hellquist, E. 1980. Svensk etymologisk ordbok 1-2. Lund. Hiller, S. 1978. Zeus 2. A. Sprachgeschichte und mykenische Belege. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertums Suppl. 15. München. Huurre, M. 1983. Pohjois-Pohjanmaan ja Lapin esihistoria. P ohjois-P ohj anmaan ja Lapin historia 1. Kuusamo.

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Häusler, A. 1966. Dnepr-Donec-Kultur. Enzyklopädisches Handbuch zur Urund Frühgeschichte Europas 1. Von J. Filip. Prag. Jaakkola, J. 1935. Suomen varhaishistoria. Suomen historia 2. Porvoo, Jaanits, L, 1957. Neue Gräberfunde auf dem spätneolitischen Wohnplatz Tamula in Estland. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/ Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 58. Helsinki. - 1982. Noorem kiviaeg. Eesti esiajalugu, Tallinn. Jazdzewski, K. 1965. Poland. London. Jensen, J. 1982. The prehistory of Danmark. New York. Kaelas, L. 1957. De dubbeleggade yxorna i Sverige. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 58. Helsinki. - 1962. Stenkammargravar i Sverige och deras europeiska bakgrund. Proxima Thule. Stockholm. - 1966. The megalithic tombs in South Scandinavia -migration or cultural influence. Paleohistoria 12, Groningen. Kalima, J. 1936. Itämerensuomalaisten kielten balttilaiset lainasanat. ( Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 202.) Helsinki. Kaukonen, V. 1956. Elias Lönnrotin Kalevalan toinen painos, (Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 247.) Helsinki. Keyland, N. 1916. Primitiva eldgörningsmetoder i Sverige. Fataburen. Stockholm. Kirkinen, S. 1967. Oliko Sampsa historiallinen henkilö?. Kalevalaseuran vuosikirja 47. Helsinki Kivikoski, E. 1937. Suomen vanhinta rautakautta. Suomen Museo. Helsinki. - 1961. Suomen esihistoria. Suomen historia 1. [Ed. by] J. Jaakkola. Helsinki. - 1973. Die Eisenzeit Finnlands. Helsinki. Klindt-Jensen, O. 1975. A history of Scandinavian archaeology. London. Koivulehto, J. 1973. Germanisch-Finnische Lehnbeziehungen 3. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 4. Helsinki. - 1979. Phonotaktik als Wegweiser in der Lehnwortforschung: fie osfi. -strWörter. (Finnisch-ugrische Forschungen 43.) Helsinki. - 1983a. Seit wann leben die Urfinnen im Ostseeraum? Suomalais- Ugrilaisen Seuran toimituksia 125. Helsinki. - 1983b. Suomalaisten maahanmuutto indoeurooppalaisten lainasanojen valossa. Suomalais-Ugrilaisen Seuran aikakauskirja 78. Helsinki. Kostrzewska, M. 1953. Wyroby kamienne kultury luzyckiej w Wielkopolsce brazowej i wczesnozelaznej. Les outils en pierre de la civilisation lusacienne de lage du bronze et du premier age du fer en Grande Pologne. Przeglad archeologiczny. Poznan. Kostrzewski, J. 1919. Die ostgermanische Kultur der Spätlatènezeit. (ManusBibliothek 18). Leipzig. - 1955. Wielkopolska w pradziejach. Warszawa.

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Krohn, K. 1914. Suomalaisten runojen uskonto. (Suomensuvun uskonnot 1.). Porvoo. - 1917. Suomalaiset syntyloitsui, (Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 157.) Helsinki. Kulikauskas, P. & Kulikauskiene, R. & Tautavicius, A. 1961. Lietuvos archeologijos bruozai. Vilnius. Lehtosalo- Hilander, P.-L. 1982. Luistari 2. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 82:2. Helsinki. - 1988. Esihistorian vuosituhannet Savon alueella. Savon historia 1. Kuopio. Leppäaho, J. 1949a. Iski tulta ... Kalevalaseuran vuosikirja 29. Helsinki. - 1949b. Viikinkiaika (N. 800-1050). Suomen historian käsikirja 1. Porvoo. Leube, A. 1975. Die römische Kaiserzeit im Oder-Spree- Gebiet (Veröffentlichungen des Museums für Ur- und Frühgeschichte Potsdam. Berlin. Lindqvist, Ch. 1988. A carbonized grain (Hordeum sp.) and faunal remains of e.g. Harp Seal (Phoca groenlandica), Cod (Codhus morhua) and Herring (Clupea harengus) from the Kolsvidja upper stone age habitation site on Åland. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. Löugas, V. 1982. Pronksiaeg. Eesti esiajalugu. [By] L. Jaanits et al. Tallinn. MacCana, P. 1970. Celtic Mythologi. London. Meinander, C. F. 1939. Pyheensilta stenåldersplats. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. - 1954a. Die Kiukaiskultur. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 53. Helsinki. - 1954b. Die Bronzezeit in Finnland. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 54. Helsinki. - 1969. Dåvits. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. - 1984. Kivikautemme väestöhistoria. Suomen väestön esihistorialliset juuret. (Bidrag till kännedom av Finlands natur och folk 131.) Helsingfors. Milisauskas, S. 1973. European prehistory. New York. Moora, H. 1938. Die Eisenzeit in Lettland bis etwa 500 n. Chr. 2. (Verhandlungen der Gelehrten Estnischen Gesellschaft 29.) Tartu. - 1958. Zur etnischen Geschichte der ostseefinnischen Stämme. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 59, 3. Helsinki. Moreau, J. 1958. Die Welt der Kelten. Grosse Kulturen der Frühzeiten. Stuttgart. Nordman, C. A. 1942. Schatzfunde und Handelsverbindungen in Finnlands Vikingerzeit. (Acta Archaeologica 13.) København. Nufietz, M. G. 1986. Clay figurines from the Åland Islands and mainland Finland. Fennoscandia Archaeologica 3. Helsinki. Ohlmarks, A. 1975. Fornnordisk ordbok. Kristianstad. Okulicz, J. 1973. Pradzieje ziem pruskich od poznego paleolitu do VII w, n. e, Wroclaw.

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Paulsen, P. 1956. Axt und Kreutz in Nord- und Osteuropa. Bonn. Perowne, S. 1975. Roman mythology. London. Piggott, S. 1965. Ancient Europe from the beginnings of agriculture to Classical Antiquity. Edinburg. Pihlman, S. & Seppä-Heikka, M. 1985. Indication of Late-Neolithic cereal cultivation of the Kotirinne dwelling site at Niuskala, Turku, SW Finland. (Memoranda Soc. Fauna Flora Fennica 61.) Helsinki, Pittioni, R. 1949. Die urgeschichtlichen Grundlagen der Europäischen Kultur. Wien. Riordain, S. P. Sı Daniel, G. 1964. New Grange and the Bend of Boyne. London. Rodden, J. 1981. The development of Tree Age System: Archaeology's first paradigm. Towards a history of archaeology, Ed. by G. Daniel. London. Rydh, H. 1917. S.k. eldslagningsstenar från järnåldern. Fornvännen. Stockholm. Salmo, H. 1957. Ein neuentdecktes römerzeitliches Gräberfeld in Südwestfinnland. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. Salo, U. 1968. Die frührömische Zeit in Finnland. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja/Finska Fornminnesföreningens Tidskrift 67. Helsinki. - 1970. Muinaisjäännökset ja muinaislöydöt. Metallikautinen asutus Kokemäenjoen suussa. 1. [Ed. by] U. Salo & P. Lahtiperä. Pori. - 1981. Satakunnan pronssikausi. Satakunnan historia 1, 2. Rauma. - 1984a. Pronssikausi ja rautakauden alku. Suomen historia 1. Espoo. - 1984b. Esihistoriallinen asutuksen jatkuvuudesta Suomen rannikolla. Suomen väestön esihistorialliset juuret. (Bidrag till kännedom av Finlands natur och folk 131.) Helsinki. - 1984c. Pyyntikulttuurista maan viljelyyn. Sukupolvien perintö 1. Helsinki. - 1987. Suomen kristillistymisen varhaisvaiheista. Studia historica in honorem Vilho Niitemaa. (Turun historiallinen arkisto 42.) Turku. 1988, Kontakter tvärs över Bottenviken under förhistorisk tid. Iskos 7. Helsinki. - 1990. Rautakautiset tulentekovälineet ja suomalaiset tulensyntymyyttit. Iskos 8. Helsinki. Schwabl, H. 1972. Zeus 1. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft X A. München. - 1978. Zeus 2. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft Suppl. XV. München. Setälä, E. N. 1910. Ukko, "hattaroiden Finnisch-Ugrische Forschungen 10.) Helsingfors. - 1912. Aus dem Gebiet der Lehnbeziehungen. (Finnisch-Ugrische Forschungen 13.) Helsingfors. Siiriäinen, A. 1969. Uber die Chronologie der steinzeitlichen Küstenwohn Finnlands im Lichte der Uferverschiebung. Suomen Museo. Helsinki.

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Siiriäinen, A. 1972. A gradient/time curve for dating Stone Age shorelines in Finland. Suomen Museo. Helsinki. - 1973. Studies relating to shore displacement and Stone Age chronology in Finland. Finskt Museum. Helsingfors. - 1982. Recent studies on the Stone Age economy in Finland. Fennoscandia antigua 1. Helsinki Sirelius, U. T. 1921. Suomen kansanomaista kulttuuria 2. Helsinki. Sjövold, T. 1962. The Iron Age settlement of Arctic Norway. (Tromsø Museums skrifter 10, 1) Tromsø. SKES Toivonen, Y. H. et al. 1955-81. Suomen kielen etymologinen sanakirja 1-7. (Lexica Societatis Fenno-Ugricae 12, 1-7.) Helsinki. SKYR Suomen kansan vanhat runot 1-14. 1908-14. (Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 121-151.) Helsinki. Soden, W. v. 1961-65. Der Nahe Osten im Altertum. Propyläen Weltgeschichte 2. Berlin. Soikkeli, K. 1912. Suippokantaiset kohoteräiset kirveemme. Suomen Muinaismuistoyhdistyksen Aikakauskirja 26. Helsinki. Stenberger, M. 1964. Det forntida Sverige. Stockholm. Streng, A. V, 1975. Latinalais-suomalainen sanakirja. (Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 196.) Helsinki. Ström, K. 1956-78. Torshamrar. Kulturhistoriskt lexikon för nordisk medeltid 18. Helsingfors. Strömberg, M. 1981. Järn i österlenska forrıtidsfynd. Simrishamn. Suhonen, S. 1984. Lainasanat balitilais-itämerensuomalaisten kontaktien kuvastajina. (Bidrag till kännedom av Finlands natur och folk 131.) Helsinki. Sulimirski, T. 1970. Prehistoric Russia. New York. Tallgren, A. M. 1926. La pontide prescythique apres l'introduction des metaux. Eurasia septerionalis antigua 2. Helsinki. - 1938. A bronze statuette from Lithuania. Senatne un maksla 2. Riga. Tarkiainen, V. 1945. Mikael Agricolan opiskelu Wittenbergissä. Suomalaisen Tiedeakatemian Esitelmät ja Pöytäkirjat 1945. Helsinki. Tatton-Brown, V. 1984. The archaic period. Footprints in Cyprus. Ed. by D. Hunt. London. Thulin, [C. O.]. 1917. Iuppiter. Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft X. Stuttgart. Tönisson, E. 1982. Keskmine rauaaeg. Eesti esiajalugu. [By] L. Jaanits et al. Tallinn. Valonen, N. 1944. Sämpsä ja sämpsänmätäs. Kalevalaseuran vuosikirja 2324. Porvoo. Vikkula, A. 1984. Pyheensilta ceramics - facts and theories. Iskos 4. Helsinki. Vries, J. de 1956-57. Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte 1-2. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 12, 1-2.) Berlin. Wa[chsmuth], D. 1964-75. Zeus, Der kleine Pauly 5. Bearb. u. hrsg. von K. Ziegler & W. Sontheimer & II. Gärtner. München.

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Singing of Incantations in Nordic Tradition BY ANNA-LEENA SIIKALA

In 1678 Tuomo Jaakonpoika, a crofter, was questioned at the Liminkä Assizes on the subject of witchcraft and the worship of idols, for out in the forest he had constructed and erected a wooden image. At the hearing, Tuomo spoke as follows: He was so seriously ill that he found relief by bathing seven or eight times a day in steam so hot that the women bathing him were forced to wear mittens. He then requested a certain Simo Pulloinen from Siikajoki to come and bath him — a man often resorted to in cases of serious illness. Before Pulloinen embarked on his task, Tuomo's wife said: 'Cross yourself with iron first in order to seek the Lord's protection.' Then Pulloinen took his sheath, containing two knives, and crossed this thighs and his body three times round in order to prevent himself from catching the disease. Then he cast a lot, placing his cap on the floor and flint therein; thereafter he cast a silver coin on the flint three times. The coin fell thrice with the same side showing, thus indicating the source of the disease. At the same time, sometimes mumbling, sometimes in a loud voice, he recited prayers and incantations, including the Lord's Prayer and the Creed and the following chant: `Neighty Maria emoinen, puhdas muori puhtukainen tule mulle turvaksi tisä työsäni, anna mulle apua viskaa metinen löyly niin kuin löyly saunan löyly.'

Virgin Mary, Holy Mother, purest of maidens watch over me in this my task, give me help and honey steam as the steam in the sauna.

During the bath Pulloinen went outside for a moment, and said on returning that the disease had come from the forest. Then, in the sauna, Tuomo and Pulloinen made a wooden image about 15 centimetres high, clothed it and then gave it to Tuomo's sister-in-law, ordering her to take it into the forest and tie it with red woollen thread to an alder tree, This she did one thursday, and then departed without looking back. These words are in Finnish, though the rest of the court records are in Swedish.

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It further appeared that Pulloinen had, while curing Tuomo, sung (laulanut): `nosta pilvi pohjaselta tuo sulka sulalta maalta, Marian makia maito, kipiöitä voitelemaan, pahoja parantamaan.' (Juvelius 1930, 58 ff.).

raise a cloud from the north bring a feather from ice-free earth Mary's sweet milk, to soothe the pain, to cure the evil

This report of the court proceedings published by Einar M. Juvelius in the Chronicles of the Finnish People is one of the earliest accounts of the behaviour of a Finnish tietäjä or sage. Thanks to the liberalmindedness and close observations of Tuomo Jaakonpoika, detailed information on the events of a healing rite have been preserved for subsequent generations. Of special interest are his observations on the delivery of the incantations. We see that the Finnish tietäjä at the end of the 17th century had recourse to several incantations and prayers during a single healing event, and that he delivered them in different ways, sometimes mumbling under his breath, sometimes chanting or singing in a loud voice. The spoken incantation The above account is significant in the sense that spoken recitation later became established as the mode of delivering the Finnish incantation, The ordinary incantations connected with everyday life in agrarian society were recited with little ceremony, in a mumble, a whisper, as if "rattling it off inside the mouth" (Wartiainen 1926, 78) Christian Lencqvist drew a parallel between the mumbling of incantations and Christian influence in a description of Finnish folk belief published in 1782: "They are known in Finnish by the name of lugnt. They were uttered not by singing and not in a loud voice, but in a subdued mutter, with great piety and with heads bared, especially incantations, which bore the influence of Christianity and which mention Christ or the Virgin Mary or other saints" (Porthan 1982, 100). Bengt af Klintberg claims that Swedish incantations developed under the influence of the formulae which spread from the Catholic monasteries in translations from Latin into the vernacular in the 10th and 11th centuries, and the chants for the banishing of demons and

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the blessings later officially favoured by the Church. The clergy began, for example, to recite them in the vernacular in order to drive out the incantations inherited from the pre-Christian era. Following the Reformation, the exorcisms and blessings favoured by the clergy were prohibited. By that time, however, they had already exerted a profound influence on both the popular contents of incantations and their mode of delivery (Klintberg 1980, 13 f.). In more recent centuries Sweden, too, witnessed a tendency towards low-voiced muttering in sharp contrast to the pompous grandiloquence of the Catholic era (Klintberg 1980, 11). Following the example of Lencqvist, Finnish researchers of folk belief have described the incantation as a genre characterised by spoken delivery and a verbatim adherence to a traditional scheme (Hautala 1960, 21). The European incantations noted down in the past few centuries are indeed formulae with a seemingly mechanical effect. The performer aims not at personal contact with the other world or an opponent, but believes rather that he will achieve his goal through his command of secret knowledge and magic techniques, Anyone is capable of reciting an incantation, and the mode of delivery is of no vital significance. This description, however, only partially corresponds to the essence of the Finnish incantation tradition. F. A. Hästesko states that the incantations of Eastern Finland differ from those of the western tradition in their breadth and wordiness. They have also been characterised by a wealth of variation (Hästesko 1910, IV), These characteristics are reinforced by the tietäjä institution which persisted late in the area. From what we know of the tietiifii's behaviour, the incantation uttered in a normal speaking voice is a late phenomenon. It also appears that the Eastern Finnish and Karelian tietäjä institution in particular retained elements of the pre-Christian, Scandinavian belief tradition longer than any other. The tietäjä ecstatic

The tietäjä tradition that still existed in Eastern and Northern Finland and Karelia even this century was once known in all parts of the country. Proof of this, for example, is the following account from South-west Finland published by Lencqvist in 1782: If some complaint is to be induced or banished, the task is embarked on with horrifying and almost preposterous gestures, by means of the voice and movements of the body. A certain nobleman from the parish of Taivassalo

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suffering from a complaint of the foot was audaciously approached some years ago by a quack doctor who promised to heal him if he had faith in his hands. The sick man consented. The quack heated up the sauna and got together a number of sauna swithces made from the banches of many trees, As they entered the sauna, the quack first drove away with hideous gestures and sounds all the demons and evil spirits, brushing the ceiling, the walls and the floor with the switches. Then he heated the switches a little and, in the Finnish fashion, set about flaying the sick man's body, muttering his own incantations. This done, he cut the switches into very small pieces with a knife, gripped by tremendous wrath, dug a hole in the sauna floor and hid them from view. The nobleman often spoke of this later to his friends, with a laugh. For some days after the sauna he did in fact feel better, but the complaint did not disappear (Porthan 1982, 102).

The hideous gestures and "wrath" that astonished the nobleman were no random phenomenon. A tietäjä has to be "inspired", "possessed by spirits" or "in ecstasy" in order to wage a successful battle against a disease. Maura Marttini of Vuokkiniemi said that "when curing you have to leap in ecstasy, the greater the ecstasy, the better and more effective the spell" (SKS Marttini 1911). In a lexicon published in 1786 Christfrid Ganander explains the expression "to leap in ecstasy" as meaning being in the grips of a special spirit, a state akin to ecstasy, In his work Mythologia Fennica, Ganander describes the state of the witch (noita) in a trance in colourful words: "No one dares to disturb these omniscient gentlemen, for they rage, clench their teeth, their hair stands on end, they leap about in excitement, mutter some words, stamp their feet and behave as if consumed by rage, and they are accordingly called Ecstatics" (Ganander 1789, 21). The most detailed account of the behaviour of a tietäjä is contained in the doctoral thesis of Elias Lönnrot: a tietäjä 1) rages, 2) his speech becomes loud and frenzied, 3) he foams at the mouth, 4) he clenches his teeth, 5) his hair stands on end, 6) he rolls his eyes, 7) he scowls, 8) he often spits, 9) he twists his body, 10) he stamps his feet, 11) he leaps up and down and 12) he makes many other such gestures (Lönnrot 1832, 11). The attention of observers has also been caught by the convulsions that set his body trembling (Hako 1954, 61; Kopponen 1973, 34) and the glassy stare that follows the rolling of his eyes (Koivu & Tuovinen

1980, 178; Salminen 1931, 632). These descriptions give some idea of the state of ecstasy entered into by the tietäjä — one astonishingly similar to the states of altered consciousness induced by violent movement and rhythmic music achieved by the shamans of Central and Eastern Siberia. These motoric trances,

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as they are called, take the form of hyperactiveness, and they do not necessarily infer loss of consciousness, In Siberia and Asia such states, also known as possession trances, are reached at séances at which the shaman's spirit helper enters his master's body. The shaman is then in a position to journey to the other world, though he does not always do so, The prevalent explanation for disease in the possession trance regions is that a disease demon has entered the patient's body, and in order to cure the patient, it is therefore sufficient to banish the demon, Possession trance differs from altered states of consciousness induced by hysteria or hypnosis alone in that neurophysiological changes take place which can be measured by EEG. These changes are indicated, for example, by muscular jerks and tremors of the head and limbs (Siikala 1978, 43 f.; Prince 1968). The tietäjä's convulsions and the tremors that beset his body can in fact be interpreted as neurophysiological changes accompanying trance. Another characteristic of possession trance is a reduction in sensory perception, which explains the shaman's ability to handle burning and sharp objects. The Finnish tietäjä was also capable of corresponding feats (Paulaharju 1981, 221). Like the shaman, the tietiijći preparing for his task would summon his supernatural powers by collecting his requisites and dressing for the rite, The tietäjä's shirt (SKS Lahtinen 1889), cap and belt have been regarded as vestiges of the ancient witch's costume (Honko 1960, 88). Sewn into the lining of the cap there might be a piece of leather from a diver (SKS Pulkkinen 1937) a squirrel (Paulaharju 1929, 178) or some other animal. The pouch hanging from his waist contained bones, bear's teeth and other such accessories required for healing, protection, etc. There is proof that the somewhat rare references to the tietäjii's dress really do apply to an ancient tradition in the Icelandic saga, Eiriks saga rauôa, noted down in the late 13th century, but probably composed in the 12th century (Strömbäck 1935, 50-55), Threatened by starvation, the people of Greenland sought help from a seer by the name of Lillvglva, who set up a witch's séance, In addition to a cape and a staff he had a head-dress lined with white cat's fur, gloves of cat's fur and a belt from which hung a witch's pouch, Since the symbols attached to the witch's head-dress in the Northern Asian tradition represent helping spirit beings, it may be assumed that the skins sewn into the head-dress in both the Karelian-Finnish and the Icelandic traditions referred to helping spirits in the form of animals. Sometimes a snake might be sewn into the belt of the Archangel Karelian tictiijii for the same purpose.

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The tietäjä embarking on his task thus began by calling upon his spirits. This he did by means of various formulae and chants invoking his spirits and requesting help: Nouge luontoni lovegta, Havon alta haltiani, Havon alta hattupiägga. Kiven alta kinnag kiagga!

Rise, my guardian, from thy lovi, Wake, my spirit, once again,

(SKVR 1: 4. 11)

a mitten on your hand!

From under your tree, a hat on your head,

From under your stone,

We may deduce from the Icelandic description given above what these mysterious words mean. The ancient Scandinavian sein séance held by Lill-vglva links the behaviour of the tietäjä more closely with that of the shaman in the sense that contact with the spirits was obtained by means of songs, and supporting the witch was a band of assistants, On the seer's request, one of the women present sang a varölo(k)kur song so beautiful that it attracted many spirits (nattúrur). Thus we also encounter the concept of "spirit" in connection with the Scandinavian seiö séance. Its synonym, yard, indicates a guardian spirit of an individual person, household or family, a keeper or invisible companion imagined as having e.g. human form. The vardlo(k)kur song invokes the companions guarding the witch, her guardian spirits, and at the same time conducts him to a state of altered consciousness, Like Lillvglva, the tietäjä calls forth his spirit companions from their dwelling place somewhere in the other world. Like its master, the guardian spirit is fitted out with potent mittens and a hat. The behaviour of the tietäjä is in many ways reminiscent of shamanic ecstasy, But the shaman appears in public, supported by an assistant and a chorus, and instead of spoken incantations resorts to rhythmical music and singing. Since the recitation of incantations as a means of attaining a state of trance is exceptional rather than general, we should give further thought to what the observations of Tuomo Jaakonpoika on singing at a healing séance really meant. Were incantations sung?

Elias Lönnrot explains in his lexicon (Lönnrot 1874-80, 1-2) that the word laulaa (to sing) was also used in connection with incantations: "uppläsa en trollformel, förtrolla genom trollformels uppläsande, signa; laulettu lakana, genom signeri försäkradt lakan." Y. H. Toivonen has

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further pointed out that in certain sayings singing has the meaning of `exerting mysterious, magic-like influence', as in "päivä laulaa voin" (Toivonen 1944, 193 f.), The verb laulaa is used specifically to describe the delivery of incantations in the report of a court case at Kuolajärvi in 1671. The 80-year-old Aikie, son of Aikie from Kuusamo had tried to ensure a man luck in salmon fishing by drumming and singing (förmedelst Trumma och Laula eller Sjunga). Martti Haavio noted that the same verb was used by Gabriel Tuderus in the 1670s in describing the séance of some Lapp witches (att laula och sjunga; laulande; laulandet) (Haavio 1967, 323), The link between the words laulaa and loitsia would indicate that incantations were sometimes sung. In chapter 13 of De poesi fennica H. G. Porthan points out that incantations are not poems in the conventional sense. They are called lugut because they are uttered more in a speaking voice than in song. It seems, therefore, that Porthan also knew something about the singing of incantations, although, like the other folklore scholars in the 18th century, he stresses that incantations were specifically recited in a speaking voice, It appears likely that incantation singing was no longer found in the western tradition areas in the 18th century. The concept that incantations are always spoken became established among folklore scholars. There is, however, conflicting evidence from Karelia and especially Archangel Karelia. Reports of collecting in the 19th century very often mention the singing of incantations (e.g. Niemi 1921, 1121). In describing a meeting with Huotarini Kostja A. A. Borenius says; "In singing to me his incantation poems he did, in the manner of a tietäjä, always keep a few 'words' (or lines) at the end of the poem for himself, so that the power of the incantation would not pass from him to me" (Niemi 1921, 1091). The omission of the lines indicates that the tietdjei really did conceive of his song as an incantation, That incantations were sung is also indicated by the term tieto- or konstivirsi (information or means song) (Niemi 1921, 1108), It is possible that incantations were sung in the manner of epic poems, with a chorus following a leader, Gottlund reports on how he got Samuel Nykytti of Vuokkiniemi to sing for him at Kuhmoinen in 1859: "And since there were several rune singers present, after the meal I got one of them with an accompanist, to sing the long poem (incantation) about the origin of the snake, to give the people of the region a chance to hear a song of this type" (Niemi 1921, 1178). Was the singing of an incantation with an assistant merely a unique occurrence set up by Gottlund? It appeared at the assizes in Elimäki

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and Vehkalahti in 1643 that Erkki Matinpoika, accused of witchcraft — who while he was asleep could learn news of another parish had sung a "magic song" with another man while drunk at a St. Stephen's Day feast. It is very unlikely that this was one of the rituals, poems recited on the day after Christmas to bring luck to the horses, because the host and the other guests angrily drove the singers out. The lines recalled by the host (Mäntylä 1969, 109) indicate that this was a variation of the St. Stephen's Day song devised with a view to mockery. We know from the parish of Heinola, for example, of the St, Stephen's Day song being sung "backwards" (SKVR 9: 1, 284). There are also reports in incantations of chants being sung by a solo singer and a seconder. The song of Shimanaini Kipri, a Patvaska (tietäjä or matchmaker) from Archangel Karelia (SKVR 1: 4, 1873), tells how Väinämöinen harnessed a colt and rode to Lapland. There he meets a Lapp, who asks for a ride in the sleigh. The Virgin Mary brings the two of them some beer, after which the Lapp suggests that they "put their hands together". Placing a kantele or "song box" across his knees, he announces the purpose of the incantation: "Let us sing a bird from Lapland." The Patvaska's song does in fact give a realistic description of the way runes were sung. On the other hand, it also contains the important external features of a shamanistic séance: anyone wishing to fall into a trance needed an assistant to bring him round again, an instrument as his medium and some stimulating substance to work him up into a state of frenzy. K. F, Karjalainen reports that the Ostyak witch had recourse not only to a drum but also to an instrument reminiscent of a five-stringed kantele (Karjalainen 1918, 565 f.). According to the shamanistic way of thinking the instrument bearing the shaman to ecstasy is a vehicle; in the Altaic regions the drum is called a horse, in the Arctic regions a boat. Calling the kantele a "song sleigh" (SKVR 1: 4, 481) reflects the same idea. In what sorts of situations were incantations sung? Leea Virtanen, studying the Kalevala mode of singing, observed that it is difficult from written notes alone to draw any distinction between the spoken and the sung incantation, the epic song in Kalevala metre. She claims that singing in the function of an incantation is part of the preparatory stage of work (Virtanen 1968, 27). One factor helping to solve the problem of the sung incantation is its public or community nature. The ritual songs performed at the annual occupational festivals or various events in the course of work were part of the common heritage and their performance was not discouraged. The activities of the

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tietäjä, on the other hand, were founded on the secret knowledge at his command and encroached, what is more, on a region of the Christian faith that still shunned the public eye. On the other hand, seeking protection and appeasing the benevolent spirits, which assume the form of a song in various situations, featured among the special skills at the shaman's command, The above examples, like many of Virtanen's findings, further indicate that the poems of origin that were among the tietäjii's tools vere commonly sung. Turning to a song of origin in an attempt to resolve a crisis is also indicated in an incantation noted down by D, E, D, Europaeus at Ulitua, before a healing rite (SKVR 14: 1, 481). Also giving some idea of the mode of performance are the names for incantation poems. Incantations of origin were very often called virsi; they were, therefore, sung. Luku suggests the spoken voice. Sanat poses something of a problem in that it can apply to both spoken delivery and to "verses" or holy words. Huotarini Kostja, among others, kept a few words or lines of his incantation to himself. The most direct proof that incantations were originally sung is to be found in folklore itself. The tietäjä of narrative poetry and incantations is a "singer" who crushes his opponents by singing incantations (cf. Haavio 1967, 324 f,). The most descriptive accounts of sung incantations are given in Lemminkäinen's Adventures and the singing competition between Väinämöinen and Joukahainen, There are counterparts to this competition between masters on mythic knowledge in international folklore, the closest example being the quiz between Odin and Vaftrudner in ancient Scandinavian poetry (Siikala 1986). Like Odin, Väinämöinen proves himself superior in his knowledge of the birth or origin of phenomena, because he himself took part in their creation. The victorious Väinämöinen then sings Joukahainen into the swamp. Singing here means specifically the exerting of magic influence. It is not, however, a spoken luku; it is specifically a sung incantation such as that known by the Skolts as a levt, In 1926 Uno Harva noted down a story told by the Skolts of Petsamo in which some sons turned their mother into a stone by means of a levt song. He notes that although Genetz, in his lexicon of the Lapp dialects of the Kola Peninsula, describes a levt as a wordless song, he does recollect hearing words, too, though the melody was more important (Harva 1935, 42 f,), The laulu or song of the Finns and the levt of the Skolts probably resembled the incantation singing known by the ancient Scandinavians as galdr. Odin was galdrarnas fader, i.e. the father of incantation

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singing, just as he was also the finest expert on poetic inspiration, magic arts and mythical knowledge, The galdr resembled the shamanistic song in the way it was performed. It was sung in a high register, in a voice reminiscent of the sound of a diver or a bird of prey, as was witnessed by the Roman Emperor Julianus on hearing Teutonic soldiers singing on the Rhine in the year 360 A.D. (Ohlmarks 1963, 40). Gala specifically meant influencing through singing: the Swedish word galen, meaning crazy, originally referred to the state of a person bewitched by singing (Klintberg 1980, 11), Since the verb gala also means shouting and shrieking and the sound made by a bird, such as the crowing of a cock, it has been assumed that the galdr was performed something in the manner of a joiku (Klintberg 1980, 11). Few galdrs have been preserved in proportion to other ancient Scandinavian poetry; people tried to keep them secret in order to preserve their potency. Snorre Sturlason has, at Ilattatil, nevertheless described their poetic metre, which was extremely complex and incorporated three types of rhyme. Alliteration, for example, was used to enhance the magic potency. The context in which galdrs were sung is indicated by the poem Grogaldr, in which a boy called Svipdag fetches the words of an incantation from his witch-mother already in her grave. The theme as such is reminiscent of Väinämöinen's visit to the grave of Vipunen. The poem gives several hints that the roots of both the invocation of the spirits by the tietäjä and the ecstatic words of the singer lead back to early incantation singing. The witch teaches her son the fateenticing song (ödets locksång), which helps him wherever he goes. This is a summoning of the spirit similar to the vardlo(k)kur sung at the seid mentioned above (Ohlmarks 1948, 307). The lack of a spirit of happiness is likewise bemoaned by the singer in this Ingrian poem: Minun on onneni ojassa lykkyni lylyssä puussa, haon alla haltiani... (Salminen 1943, 210).

My happiness is in the ditch My fortune far off in a tree, My guardian spirit hidden beneath a trunk

Although Väinö Salminen did not believe that the Finns once sang incantations, he nevertheless points out the link between the 'singer's words' and the incantations invoking the spirits (Salminen 1943). lie is right in assuming that the common factor is the pursuit of ecstasy: both the reciter of the incantation and the singer of the rune had to be in a state of ecstasy. Thus the singer's words also include lines

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invoking the spirits (Salminen 1943, 210). The singer also boasts of being able to sing incantations, of achieving wonders with his singing (SKVR 1: 3, 1315). The singer's words do not speak of true magic influence: their light, merry style expresses the singer's joy. They do, however, have a surprising number of similarities with the invocations of spirits, boasting and protection charms of the tietäjä, One of these is a description of the place of performance; both the chanter and the singer take up their position on a stone, "a low stone", "a joyful stone", etc, The dead witch in Grogaldr tells her son the correct performance of the galdr: "When singing galdrs I stood on a stone in the ground, just inside the door," This was not just any stone; it was a stone beneath which the guardian spirits resided. According to Reichborn-Kjennerud there were similar beliefs attached to the threshold (Reichborn-Kjennerud 1928, 1, 4). Later Scandinavian incantations also mention chanting on a stone set in the earth. We also know that in Norway blood was staunched while sitting on a stone such as this (ÅA Knuts 1974, 39). Magic stones are also encountered in later Swedish folklore as the place for driving out diseases, "under sten och stock", Reichborn-Kjennerud explains that this derives from the guardian spirits attached to the stone. These were believed to take possession of the disease and make it harmless. We now see why the tietäjä called forth his spirits from "under a stone" or "under a tree", or why a gate or a threshold were typical places for seeking protection in North European folklore. We also see that the ancient Finnish tietäjä achieved ecstasy by singing.

The tietäjä and the shaman In examining the way in which incantations were performed I came to the same conclusion as Kaarle Krohn: incantations delivered in a speaking voice are part of the tradition that became established in the Middle Ages. Short incantations were presumably used even before this, but in the pre-Christian era the singing of incantations demanding an ecstatic delivery was among the tietäjä's tools. In function, this resembled the ancient Scandinavian galdr. On the other hand, the tietäjä's requisites, the chants summoning the spirit and his ecstatic behaviour call to mind the ancient Scandinavian seid institution, even though the trance technique of the tietäjä differed from the events of the seid.

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Was the singer-tietäjä also a shaman? Was he able to travel to the other world? Like Finnish narrative poetry, ancient Scandinavian poetry and the fornaldrasaga tradition prove the existence of shamanistic phenomena differing from the Lapp noaide or witch tradition in Northern Europe in the Viking era and at the time of the Crusades. Martti Haavio has presented considerable evidence on behalf of Finnish shamanism. I shall not go into this here; I would, however, mention that the concepts noita or witch (which has a counterpart among e,g. the Voguls), langeta lovsen, meaning to go into a trance or to lose consciousness, and kannus meaning a witch's drum demonstrate that the Finns do have their own names for the chief shamanistic phenomena. I will turn, instead, to a point only touched on by Haavio. Elias Lönnrot says in the foreword to his collection of the Incantations of the Finnish People: Sitting on a stone, the tietäjii's were said to travel across rivers and lakes, and their souls, detached from their bodies, travelled in other remote places, obtaining knowledge and then after some time were again united with their bodies. They prepared for such voyages of the spirit by quietly humming some magic poem, thereupon falling into a trance, and while the soul was travelling independently, the body, like a spiritless body at least, lay as if dead, to recover again on the return of the soul from its journeys (Lönnrot 1880, VII).

Since the origin of this information is not clear, Haavio assumes that Lönnrot was misled into describing the trance of a Lapp noita witch. This does not seem very likely, for Lönnrot particularly mentions that the Finns were not known to use a drum. Since the information in the foreword is in other respects well in keeping with reality, why would he have made a mistake over just this? The image of witches travelling on a stone are to be found both in the legend tradition and in narrative poetry. It is founded on the beliefs and practices surrounding reciting on a stone that are described above. The witch chanting on a stone fell into a state of ecstasy; during his ecstasy his soul might leave his body. In cases where the origin of a disease was not obvious or codified by the poetic tradition, the witch would undoubtedly travel in a trance to the other world to discover it, In Lapland, as in Siberia, dream may have taken the place of loss of consciousness as a means of acquiring knowledge. The means of ecstasy employed by the Finnish noita was singing. He probably also used some kind of musical instrument. At the earliest stages this was, in keeping with the hunting cultures of northern

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Eurasia, undoubtedly a drum. The use of a drum in fact continued to be common among the Finns for a long time. In 1663 the northern witch Antti Tokoi told the court that he possessed a drum that had once belonged to a Lapp (Luho & Luukko 1957, 495). A type of drum with a name only in Finnish has also been found in the area of Lapland around Kemi. In the pre-Christian culture described in the Kalevala epic and familiar to us from archaelological research in Karelia and Western Finland, the shaman's medium was a kantele (and possibly also a drum). As the poem about Väinämöinen's playing says, the sound of the kantele conjured forth not only people but also the spirits of the forest and the water. Stringed instruments were used as a means of attaining ecstasy not only in Europe but in Western Siberia, too. More important to the shaman than his instrument, however, was his assistant, who reiterated all he said and took over the singing when he fell unconscious. The original meaning of the word runo (which today means a poem) was 'magic sign, incantation'. Originally rune singing thus literally meant the singing of incantations. It appears that, like epic poems, incantations were sung with an assistant. Thus the delivery of both the epic and the incantation would have common roots that ultimately lead back to the shamanic séance.

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Salminen, V. 1943. Sanan voima ja laulajan intoutuminen. (Suomi-kirjan eripainoksia 12, Uusi sarja.) Helsinki. Siikala, A.-L. 1978. The rite technique of the Siberian shaman. (FF Communication 220.) Helsinki. — 1986. Shamanistic themes in Finnish epic poetry. Traces of the Central Asian culture in the North. [Ed. by] I. Lehtinen. (Mémoires de la Société Finno-ougrienne 194.) Helsinki. SKVR Suomen kansan vanhat runot 1-14. 1908-48. (Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 121-151.) Helsinki. Strömbäck, D. 1935. Sejd. (Nordiska texter och undersökningar utg. i Uppsala av Bengt Hesselman 5.) Stockholm. Toivonen, Y. H. 1944. Sanat puhuvat. Porvoo. Virtanen, L. 1968. Kalevalainen laulutapa Karjalassa. Helsinki. Wartiainen, E. 1926. Taikainaitten kansaa. Sortavala.

Opferbeschreibungen in christlichen Schriften VON JÓN HNEFILL AZALSTEINSSON

I

In altisländischen Schriften gibt es viele Notizen über Opfer und an einzelnen Stellen wird über die Durchführung der Opferung ausführlich berichtet. Alle diese Berichte sind von christlichen Autoren geschrieben worden, Der älteste Sagaschreiber Islands, Ari der Gelehrte, hat als erster über Geschichtliches in "nordischer Sprache" geschrieben, wie es hieß, Ari war Priester, und seine schriftstellerische Tätigkeit wurde von beiden isländischen Bischöfen beaufsichtigt. Das frühe Sagaschreiben in Island wurde also von den Ansichten der isländischen Kirche sehr beeinflußt, In meiner Vorlesung werde ich nur einen kleinen Teil der erwähnten Opferbeschreibungen behandeln, Meine Auswahl beschränkt sich auf die Beschreibungen in dem Landnahmebuch (Landnáma, oder Landnámabók) und in einigen Isländersagas. Die Landnahme Islands begann kurz nach 870 und um 930 war das Land als voll besiedelt anzusehen. Diese sechzig Jahre werden meistens die Landnahmezeit genannt. Ab der Landnahmezeit war der herrschende Glaube in Island die nordgermanische Religion, aber als 999/1000 das Christentum eingeführt wurde, wurde jegliche Opferung abgeschafft, nur die Geheimopfer waren noch eine Zeitlang erlaubt, wenn es keine Zeugen dabei gab. Einige Jahre später wurden aber auch die Geheimopfer abgeschafft, und ab dann war jegliche Opferung in Island durch Gesetz verboten (Aôalsteinsson 1978, 79 ff.). Das Landnahmebuch — Landnámabók — ist eine Quellenschrift über die Besiedler Islands, In diesem Buch werden rund 400 Siedler aufgezählt und das Landgebiet, das jeder sich angeeignet hat, wird abgegrenzt. An die Hälfte dieser Siedler wird näher beschrieben, und es wird vermerkt, daß die Mehrheit aus Norwegen gekommen sei. Ungefähr 50 sollen von den britischen Inseln gekommen sein, manche nach kurzem Aufenthalt in Irland oder Schottland. Es zählt zur Ausnahme, wenn die Religion der Siedler erwähnt wird. Über einige der Siedler, die aus Schottland oder Irland gekommen waren, wird allerdings mitgeteilt, daß sie als Christen nach Island gekommen seien.

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Es wird aber hinzugefügt, daß unter ihren Nachkommen, die die nordgermanische Religion angenommen haben, die christliche Religion sich nicht gehalten habe. Desweiteren steht im Landnahmebuch, daß die nordgerrmanische Religion "einhundert Winter" in Island geherrscht habe, also ungefähr 120 Jahre (Landnámabók 1968, 396). An einigen Stellen im Landnahmebuch befinden sich besondere Aufzeichnungen über Opferungen. Die älteste Fassung des Landnáma stammt von ungefähr 1100. In einem Belegmaterial wird erwähnt, daß Kolskegg der Gelehrte Mitverfasser dieses ältesten Landnahmebuches gewesen sei. Es wird auch allgemein angenommen, daß Ari der Gelehrte an diesem ältesten Landnahmebuch gearbeitet hat (Jóhannesson 1941, 221 ff.) Die Möglichkeit, daß die Initiative zu diesem Werk von dem Bischof Islands ausgegangen ist, wird nicht ausgeschlossen (Pétursson 1986, 213). Diese älteste Fassung des Landnáma ist verschollen, aber der Inhalt ist in den späteren Fassungen bewahrt worden. Auf deren Grundlage werden aber nur mehr oder weniger glaubhafte Hypothesen darüber aufgestellt, was in diesem ältesten Landnahmebuch gestanden haben mag. Rund 100 Jahre, nachdem das erste Landnahmebuch geschrieben worden war, stellte Styrmir Kárason der Gelehrte ein Buch über die Landnahme zusammen, das "Styrmisbuch" genannt wurde. Diese Fassung ist auch verschollen, aber durch die neueren Fassungen kann man sich den Inhalt einigermaßen vorstellen. Diese späteren Fassungen sind das Sturlabuch, geschrieben von Sturla IDórôarson, aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach 1263-1271, das Melabuch von ca. 1300, das nur zum Teil bewahrt geblieben ist, und das Hauksbuch aus den ersten Jahrzehnten des 14. Jahrhunderts, geschrieben von Haukur Erlendsson. Schließlich kommen das Skarôsárbuch und das Poróarbuch aus der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts. Jón Jóhannesson hat (Jóhannesson 1941, 226) über den Zusammenhang der einzelnen Landnahmefassungen geschrieben, Seine Vorstellung über diesen Zusammenhang wird durch die Skizze auf der folgenden Seite beleuchtet. Sveinbjörn Rafnsson hat im Jahre 1974 über den Zusammenhang einzelner Landnahmefassungen geschrieben, und er hat einen etwas komplizierteren Zusammenhang zwischen den einzelnen Manuskripten aus dem Mittelalter angenommen (Rafnsson 1974, 81). Der Unterschied zwischen den Ansichten von Jóhannesson, Rafnsson und anderen, die sich mit dem Zusammenhang der Landnahmefassungen beschäftigt haben, spielt keine große Rolle bei der Untersuchung, die

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Aris Landnahmebuch Styrmisbuch Sturlabuch

Melabuch

1 Hauksbuch

Skarósárbuch

fDóraarbuch

hier durchgeführt wird. Am wichtigsten ist hier, wie viele der Erzählungen, die die Besiedlung des Landes nicht direkt berühren, in der ältesten Fassung des Landnáma vorhanden waren. Hier geht es vor allem um Opferbeschreibungen, aber ihr Quellenwert hängt natürlich davon ab, wann sie in den Stoff des Landnahmebuches aufgenommen wurden. Sollte begründet werden können, daß die erwähnten Opferbeschreibungen in der Fassung von Ari vorhanden gewesen sind, wird deren Quellenwert viel größer, als wenn die erwähnte Beschreibung aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach erst in die jüngeren Fassungen des Landnahmebuches aufgenommen worden sind. Beginnen wir mit den Aufzeichnungen über Opfer im Landnahmebuch (Landnáma). Im Hauksbuch wird folgendermaßen von Flóki Vilger8arson erzählt, der noch vor der eigentlichen Landnahmezeit nach Island gesegelt war: Hann fekk at blóti miklu ok blatadi hrafna ßrjd, fid er honum skyldu leid visa (Landnámabók 1968, 37). (Er veranstaltete ein großes Opfer und ofperte dreien Raben, die ihm den Weg weisen sollten).

Als Flóki auf das offene Meer zwischen den Färöern und Island heraus-

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gekommen war, liß er die drei Raben los, einen nach dem anderen. Der erste flog zu den Färöern zurück, der zweite flog hoch in die Luft und dann zum Schiff zurück, aber der dritte flog über den Bug des Schiffes in die Richtung, wo sie später das Land gefunden haben, Es ist viel geschrieben worden über Flóki und seine Raben, und einige Forscher haben den Überlieferungswert dieser Erzählung bezweifelt. Es wurde wiederholt behauptet, daß ein Zusammenhang bestünde zwischen der Geschichte, als Noah den Raben aus seiner Arche wegfliegen liess und der Geschichte über die Raben von Flóki. (Landnámabók 1968, 37 und Zitate). Es besteht nicht die Möglichkeit, diesen Mutmaßungen hier nachzugehen, es sollte aber darauf aufmerksam gemacht werden, daß es in der Bibelerzählung keine Zeremonie ist, wenn der Rabe freigelassen wird. Das Opfer, von dem im Hauksbuch erzählt wird, ist einmalig. Außerdem soll betont werden, daß es laut Hauksbuch für Flóki günstig war, die Raben geopfert zu haben. Die Raben, die durch das Opfer geweiht wurden, haben direkt dazu beigetragen, daß er das Land gefunden hat (Lange 1968, 356). Von dem ersten Siedler Islands, Ingólf, und seinem Pflegebruder Hjörleif, wird folgende Geschichte über die Zeit vor ihrer Abreise von Norwegen erzählt: Penna vedr fekk Ingólfr at blóii miklu ok leitadi sér heilla um forlög sin, en Iljörleifr vildi aldri blıSta (Landnámabók 1968, 42).

(In jenem Winter veranstaltete Ingolf ein großes Opfer und bat um Heil für sein Schicksal. Hjörleif aber wollte nie opfern). Diese Erzählung wird von der Hand des Landnámaschreibers her unparteiisch vermittelt. Die Bemerkung, daß Hjörleif nicht hat opfern wollen, ist nur gemacht worden, um den Bericht von seinem Schicksal vorzubereiten, und sie weist auch auf Ingólfs Bemerkung hin, als er seinen Pflegebruder ermordet sieht: sé ek svd hverjum veråa, ef eigi vill bl6ta (Landnámabók 1968, 44). (... so sehe ich es jedem ergehen, der nicht opfern will.)

Diese Bemerkung Ingólfs besagt zweierlei: erstens, daß es tadelnswert sei, nicht zu opfern und zweitens, daß es für jedermann eine Notwendigkeit sei, zu opfern, wolle er sich ein langes und glückliches Leben sichern. Es soll darauf hingewiesen werden, daß Ingólf, der diese weisen Worte spricht, als erster Siedler in den Überlieferungen äußerst hochgeschätzt war. In dein Islendingabók sagt Ari der Gelehrte, daß Ingólf wahrscheinlich der erste gewesen sei, der Norwegen verlassen

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und sich in Island niedergelassen habe, und im Landnámabuch steht, daß Ingólfs Nachkommen waren im Lande noch viele Generationen hindurch mächtig (Landnámabók 1968, 46-47). In dem Landnámabuch wird über Glauben und Opfer von Thorolf Mostrarskegg (Mosterbart) folgendermaßen berichtet: 136rólfr [...] Mostrarskegg [...] var Mama& mikill ok trai á Pór. [...] skaut hann fyrir bora öndvegissúlum sínum; bar var skorinn á Pórr. Hann mælti svá fyrir, at I36rr skyldi Par á land korna, sem hann vildi ao Pórölfr byggói [...] bat heitir nú 1D6rsnes [...] Par á nesinu [...] hafoi 136rölfr (Mma alla, ok bar var sett heraôsbing meo rabi allra sveitarmanna (Landnámabók 1968, 124 f.). (Thorolf [...] Mostrarskegg [...] war ein großer Opferer und glaubte an Thor [.. .] warf er seine llochsitzsaulen über Bord; darin war Thors Bild geschnitten. Dazu sprach er den Wunsch aus, Thor solle dort an Land kommen, wo er wolle, daß sich Thorolf ansiedeln solle, [...] sie hieß jetzt Thorsnes [.,.] Dort auf dem Vorgebirge [...] fällte Thorolf alle Urteile, und es wurde dort ein Bezirksthing mit Zustimmung aller Männer der Nachbarschaft errichtet).

Bei diesem Thing ist es später zu blutigen Auseinandersetzungen gekommen, und der Thingplatz wurde durch Blut des Hasses entweiht. Für den Thing wurde dann ein neuer Ort gefunden, und so wird die neue Thingstätte beschrieben: [...] Var Jar bcí helgistaör mikill, ok far stendr enn Pórssteinn, er keir brutu bd menn um, er ]eir bl6tudu, ok Jar hjd er sd dómhringr, er menn skyldu til bats dæma (Landnámab6k 1968, 126). (Dort war damals eine große Friedensstätte, und es steht dort noch der Thorsstein, auf dem sie den Menschen, die sie opferten, das Rückgrat brachen; und dabei ist der Gerichtsring, in dem die Menschen zum Opfertode verurteilt wurden).

Diese Beschreibung im Landnámabuch ist einfach und unparteiisch. Thorolf Mosterbart wird als mächtiger Häuptling beschrieben und sein Stamm durch Generationen bis zu den Zeitgenossen der Landnámaschreiber geführt, Die Schreiber des Landnáma machen keine Bemerkungen zu dem Opfer an der Thingstätte und die Menschenopferung wird als selbstverständlich beschrieben (Landnámabók 1968, 126). Aus den Erzählungen des Landnama über Thorolf Mosterbart wird deutlich, welch enge Beziehung zwischen dem Opfer und den Aufgaben des Häuptlings im Thing bestand (Aôalsteinsson 1985, 33). Aus den Erzählungen des Landnima wird ganz klar, daß das Thing und die

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Opferstätte gleich heilig waren, und daß Opfer genauso im Thing wie im Tempel veranstaltet wurden. Und als das Thing mit dem Blut des Hasses entweiht worden war, gab es keine andere Möglichkeit, als das Thing auf einen anderen, reinen Ort zu verlegen. An einigen Stellen in dem Landnahmebuch wird erwähnt, daß man auch Gegenständen, Bäumen, Steinen oder Wasserfällen Opfer gebracht habe. So steht z, B. über Thorir: Nrir [. .] bjó at Lundi; hann blaadi lundinn (Landnámab61( 1968, 270 f.). (Thorir [...] wohnte in Lund (d.h. Hain); er brachte dem Hain dort Opfer dar).

über Eyvind: Eyvindr [. .] nam Flateyjardal upp til Gunnsteina ok blótaöi fici (Landnámab6k 1968, 273). (Eyvind nahm Flateyjardal zu den Gunnsteinen und brachte den Steinen dort Opfer dar).

über Thorstein Rotnase: Porsteinn rauönefr var blamaör mikill; hann blataöi forsinn ok skyldi bera leifar altar d forsinn (Landnámabók 1968, 358). (Thorstein Rotnase war ein großer Opferer. Er opferte einem Wasserfall, in den er alle Speisereste trug).

Früher waren die Forscher der Meinung, daß die oben erwähnten Aufzeichnungen den Abgang des germanischen Glaubens bezeugten. In der letzten Periode des germanischen Glaubens hätten die Menschen nicht mehr nur noch die Götter, sondern auch Gegenstände und übernatürliche Phänomene angebetet, denen auch Opfer gebracht worden seien (Ilelgason 1925, 377; Olsen 1900, 8). Die Erklärung zu dieser Annahme kann man zum Teil in den christlichen Gesetzessammlungen aus den ersten Jahrhunderten nach der Christianisierung suchen, in denen ganz besonders verboten wird, verschiedenen "heidnischen Schutzgeistern", wie sie dort genannt werden, Opfer zu bringen. In den Gesetzen werden Opfer an diese heidnischen Schutzgeister dem Aberglauben und unerlaubten Zauberkünsten gleichgestellt, Jüngere Forscher haben die Aufzeichnungen über Thorir, Eyvind und Thorstein Rotnase nicht so wortwörtlich genommen, wie das früher der Fall war. Diese jüngeren Forscher hielten für wahrscheinlicher, daß es hier um verblaßte Überlieferungen geht. Diese Notizen enthielten dann nichts weiter, als daß die erwähnten Individuen ihr Opfer an den genannten Stätten veranstaltet hätten. Thorir habe seinem Gott im

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Hain Opfer gebracht, Eyvind an den Gunnsteinen, und als Thorstein Rotnase Reste in den Wasserfall getragen hatte, dann sei das nur eine der vielfältigen Gottesanbetungen eines großen Opferers gewesen, ein Teil von seiner Gesamtanschauung, wo das Natürliche und das Übernatürliche ein Ganzes gebildet hätten (Aôalsteinsson 1978, 29 f.), In einigen Opferberichten des Landnáma steht, daß Opfer manchmal mit einem bestimmten Zweck veranstaltet worden seien. So steht dort z. B. über Hallstein: Hallsteinn son Pórólfrs Mostrarskeggs [...] bjó d Hallsteinsnesi; hann bidtadi par til fiess, ad D6rr sendi honom öndvegisstílur ok gaf fiar til son sinn. Eptir fiat kom tré d land hans, fat var sextigi ok firiggja dlna ok tveggja fadrna digrt; fat var haft til öndvegissilna, ok eru kar af görvar öndvegisstilur nær d hverjum bæ um fiverfjörduna. Dar heitir ni Grenitrésnes, er tréit rak á land (Landnámabók 1968, 163 f.). (Hallstein, ein Sohn des Thorolf Mostrarskegg, [.. .] wohnte auf Hallsteinsnes. Er opferte Thor seinen eigenen Sohn, daß er ihm Hochsitzsäulen sende. Darauf trieb ein Baumstamm ans Land, der war dreiundsechzig Ellen lang und zwei Faden dick. Der wurde zu Hochsitzsäulen verwendet, und es sind daraus die Hochsitzsäulen fast auf allen Gehöften in den Querfjorden gemacht. Die Stelle, wo der Baumstamm an Land trieb, heißt jetzt Grenitresnes (Fichtenbaumkap)). Der Text hier oben wurde dem Hauksbuch entnommen. Im Sturlubuch befindet sich diese Notiz zum größten Teil übereinstimmend, nur und das spielt schon eine Rolle — fehlen dort die Worte "opferte seinen eigenen Sohn", die aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach in dem Styrmisbuch vorhanden waren. Es ist nicht völlig klar, was diese Worte bedeuten, aber hier sind sie so verstanden worden, daß Hallstein seinen eigenen Sohn geopfert habe. Andererseits gibt es die Erklärung, daß Hallstein seinen Sohn dein Thor ganz besonders gewidmet habe. (Malsteinsson 1971, 33 und Zitate). Aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach hat Sturla diese Worte aus seinem Buch weggelassen weil sie ihm irgendwie anstößig erschienen. Es gibt eine andere Opfernotiz, die weder im Sturlubuch noch im Hauksbuch verzeichnet ist, und es wird demnach angenommen, daß es sie auch im Styrmisbuch nicht gegeben hat. In den MelabuchUberbleibseln (Melabókarslitrin) heißt es nämlich über Thorolf Höllenhaut: 1)drafr heljarskinn nam Forserludal [...] hann blataöi mönnum (Landnámabók 1921, 94; Landnámabók 1958, 94; Landnámabók 1925, 98).

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(Thorolf Höllenhaut nahm Forsæludal (Schattentale) [...] er opferte Männer). Der Schreiber des Landnáma macht keine Bemerkung zu dieser Notiz, aber wir können annehmen, daß sie aus den späteren Fassungen verchwunden ist, weil sie deren Schreibern anstößig vorgekommen war. In der Erzählung des Landnáma über Hrolleif und Ljót, seine Mutter, wird ein Opfer erwähnt, und es wurde angenommen, daß dieses Opfer mit besonderem Zweck veranstaltet wurde. Hrolleif hat den alten Siedler Ingimund umgebracht. Thorstein, Ingimunds Sohn, und seine Brüder überfielen Ljót und Hrolleif. Sie hatten einen Kundschafter zum Gehöft geschickt, der soll angeklopft und dann zwölf Strophen vorgesagt haben dort, bis die Tür geöffnet wurde, Dann heißt es: [...] ok sd fatahrigu d bröndum, ok kom undan rautt klee6i, Porsteinn kvad Par verit hafa Hrolleif, — "ok mun Ljót hafa blötat til langlıfis honum" (Landnámabók 1968, 221 f.). [...] und sah einen Kleiderhaufen neben dem Herd und ein rotes Gewand darunter hervorkommen. Thorstein meinte, da sei Hrolleif gewesen, "und Ljot werde für sein langes Leben geopfert haben."). Thorstein und seine Brüder gingen nun zum Gehöft und töteten Tirolleif. Und es wird fortgesetzt: Pd var Ljöt út komin ok gekk öfog; hon hafdi höfuclit millam fóta sér, en klæcjin d baki sér, Jökull 146 höfuö af Hrolleifi ok rak í andlit Ljótu, kvazk hon of sein or6it hafa, mundi um snúask jöróin fyrir sjönum minum, en JJér mundud allin arzk hafa" (Landnámabók 1968, 222). (Inzwischen war Ljot herausgekommen; sie schritt verkehrt einher, den Kopf zwischen den Beinen und die Kleider auf dem Rücken. Jökul hieb Hrolleif den Kopf ab und warf ihn Ljot ins Gesicht. Da rief sie, sie sei zu langsam gewesen: "Sonst würde sich jetzt der Erdboden umgedreht haben bei meinem Anblick, und ihr wärt alle toll geworden."). In dieser Erzählung wird zu verstehen gegeben, daß die Opferzeremonie der Ljót viel eher Zauber als eine Glaubenszeremonie gewesen sei. Es ist bemerkenswert daß es Ljót ist, die Mutter von Hrolleif, die das Opfer veranstaltet, Die Sympathie des Landnámaschreibers gehört aber ganz Thorstein Ingimundarson und seinen Brüdern. Zauber und Magie werden wir aber auch in anderen Opfernotizen des Landnáma gewahr. Es wird von Vebjörn erzählt, der bei seiner Landung in Island ein Opfer veranstaltete. Landnáma berichtet davon folgendermaßen:

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Dd fekk Vébjörn at bláti miklu ok kvaó Hákon jarl blöta Janu dag heim til *altar, En er hann var at blótinu, eggjudu brcear hans hann til brottfarar, ok gádu heir eigi blötsins, ok létu heir lit. Deir brutu hinn sama dag skip sitt undir hörnrum miklum í illvidri (Landnámabók 1968, 189). (Da veranstaltete Vebjörn ein großes Opfer; er meinte, Jarl Hakon opfere an diesem Tage zu ihrem Verderben. Aber als er beim Opfer war, trieben ihn seine Brüder zur Weiterfahrt an, und er ließ das Opfer im Stich, und sie gingen in See. Denselben Tag scheiterte ihr Schiff bei schwerem Sturm an großen Klippen).

Die Aufzeichnung über Vebjörns Opfer ist nicht deshalb bewahrt worden, weil es so bedeutend sein sollte, daß er dieses Opfer veranstaltete, sondern das, was dem Opfer folgte, war so interessant, daß es in Erinnerung behalten wurde. Und da diese Ereignisse in direkter Beziehung zu der Opferung stehen, ist nur selbstverständlich, daß auch das Opfer mit in die Erzählung aufgenommen wurde. Der Schiffbruch und die Lebensgefahr, in die Vebjörn und seine Leute geraten waren, ist zweifellos als direkte Folge dessen, ausgelegt worden, daß er seine Opferung nicht zu Ende geführt habe, er Ließ das Opfer im Stich, wie es dort heißt. hätte Vebjörn sein Opfer nicht im Stich gelassen, hätte erwartet werden können, daß der Gott ihn in seiner Antwort auf das Opfer vor der Gefahr gewarnt hätte, die ihn an der Küste erwartete, In dem Bericht von Vebjörns Opfer gibt es noch etwas Interessantes, und zwar die Behauptung von Vebjörn, daß Jarl Hakon in Norwegen an demselben Tag zu ihrem Verderben opfere. Diese Bemerkung erscheint sowohl im Hauksbuch als auch im Sturlubuch. Aber in dem dritten Belegmaterial, in dem Geirmundarthattur das Vebjörns Opfer und Seenot auch beschreibt (Sturlunga saga 1906-11, 1, 5), kommt diese Bemerkung nicht vor. Es ist nachgewiesen worden, daß Geirmundarthattur das älteste der Belegmaterialien ist, das von Vebjörn erzählt (Aôalsteinsson 1986, 35), Die Notiz über das Opfer ist also in den jüngeren Belegmaterialien gewissermaßen zu einer Erzählung von Zauberkünsten geworden, am wahrscheinlichsten im dreizehnten Jahrhundert. Aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach erschien es zu der Zeit notwendig, zu erklären, warum die Siedler Opfer veranstaltet hatten, als sie ans Land gekommen waren, Soviel wir wissen, war ein solches Opfer nach den ältesten Schriften selbstverständlich.

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II Ich wende mich jetzt den Opfernotizen in den Isländersagas zu. Zuerst untersuche ich einige Erzählungen über Personen und Ereignisse, die wir in den Erzählungen des Landnáma kennengelernt haben. In der Eyrbyggjasaga wird von Thorolf Mosterbart erzählt und von seinen geistlichen und weltlichen Beshäftigungen. Thorolf wird in der Eyrbyggjasaga im großen und ganzen sehr ähnlich beschrieben wie in Landnáma, und die Einstellung zur nordgermanischen Religion ist fast die gleiche in beiden Schriften. In der Eyrbyggjasaga steht: NI-Mr Mostrarskegg fekk at bldii miklu ok gekk till fréttar vid Pór [. ,.] en fratin vísa& Nr61fi til Islands [...] Par sem Nrr haföi d land komit, d tanganum nessins, la hann hafa (Mina alla ok setti Par heradsking; var svd main helgistadr, at hann vildż med engu móti láta saurga vollinn [...]Nrafr gerdisk rausnarmadr[...]Par sér en dómhring kann, er menn vdru dermdir ı' til bias; ı' fieim hring stendrNrs steinn, er keir menn váru brotnir um, er til blöta vdru haföir, ok sér enn bldöslitinn 6 steininum. Var d abvi kingi inn mesti helgistadr [...] (Eyrbyggja saga 1935, 7, 10, 18). (Thorolf Mosterbart veranstaltete ein großes Opferfest und fragte Thor [...] des Gottes Bescheid aber wies Thorolf nach Island [...] Dort aber, wo das Thorsbildnis ans Land gekommen war, auf dem schmalsten Ausläufer der Landspitze, ließ er alle Gerichtsversammlungen abhalten und legte dorthin ein Bezirksthing. So heilig aber war ihm die ganze Stätte, daß er das Feld daselbst auf keine Weise besudeln lassen wollte [...] Thorolf hielt ein prächtiges Haus [...] Dort ist noch der Gerichtskreis zu sehen, in dem die Männer zur Opferung verurteilt wurden. In diesem Kreis steht der Thoisstein, an dem den zum Opfer bestimmten Männern das Rückgrat gebrochen wurde, und noch ist die Blutfarbe an dem Stein zu sehen. Dieser Thingplatz war eine sehr heilige Stätte

Forscher waren sich schon lange im klaren darüber daß zwischen den Erzählungen über Thorolf Mosterbart in dem Landnáma und in der Eyrbyggja eine enge Beziehung bestand. Sie waren sich nur nicht einig darüber, welche von den beiden Schriften Material aus der anderen übernommen hatte (Jóhannesson 1941, 93 f.; Landnámabók 1968, 124 und Zitate; Malsteinsson 1985, 24 ff ,), Es wird allgemein angenommen, daß die Eyrbyggjasaga Mitte des dreizehnten Jahrhunderts geschrieben wurde, und es ist nachgewiesen worden, daß sie vieles aus anderen Schriften übernahm, z. B. aus der Heimskringla (Malsteinsson 1985, 24 ff. und Zitate). Wenn man die Einstellung zu Opfer und zu nordgermanischer Religion untersucht, ergibt sich die logische Schlußfolgerung, daß das Material über Thorolf Mosterbart

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aus dem Landnáma in die Eyrbyggjasaga übernommen wurde. Was diese Einstellung betrifft, unterscheidet sich die Eyrbyggjasaga von anderen aus dem dreizehnten Jahrhundert stammenden Isländersagas, was später noch näher erläutert werden wird. Die einfachste Erklärung dafür wäre, daß die aus dem Landnáma übernommenen Erzählungen aus dessen ältesten Fassungen stammen, und daß die Eyrbyggjasaga in ihren Erzählungen dem Landnahmebuch näher kommt als andere Isländersagas. In der Vatnsdælasaga, wahrscheinlich um 1279 geschrieben, gibt es eine Aufzeichnung über Hrolleif und seine Mutter. Dort steht folgendes: Hann kvazk sét hafa hrúgu eina mikla ok koma undan fram rautt kleedi. Dórsteinn mælti: "Dar muntu sét hafa Hrolleif ok blótkleEdi hans [...] Deir sd hıís standa lítit fyrir dyrum ok hhd ı' milli ok heimaduranna. Pórsteinn "Detta mun vera blóthıís, ok mun Hrolleifi hingat (end, btí er hon hefir fullgört sitt efni ok allan sinn fjdndskap [...]" [...] mælti Högni: "Hvat fjdnda fer hér at oss, er ek veit eigi hvat er?"1•6rsteinn svarar: "Dar ferr Ljót kerling ok hefir breytiliga um bıiizk;" — hon hafdi rekit fötin fram yfir höfud sér ok fór öfug ok rétti höfudit aptr milli Manna; ófagrligt var hennar augnabragd, hversu hon gat heim trollsliga skotit [...] Hon kvazk hafa ætlat at snıía fiar um landslagi 611u, — "en fiér derdizk allir ok yraid ad gjalti eptir d vegum úti med villidýrum (Vatnsdaela saga 1939, 68 ff.), (Er sagte, er habe einen großen Packen gesehen und unten ein rotes Kleid herauskommen. Thorstein sprach: "Da wirst du Hrolleif und sein Opfergewand gesehen haben [...]" [... ] sie sahen ein Häuschen vor der Tür stehen und einen freien Raum zwischen ihm und der Haustür. Thorstein sprach: "Das wird das Opferhaus sein, und Hrolleif wird hier hineingehen sollen, wenn die Alte ihre Sachen und ihr Teufelswerk erledigt hat [...] sprach Högni: "Was für ein Teufel kommt dort auf uns zu? Ich weiß nicht, was es ist." Thorstein erwiderte: "Da kommt Ljót, das alte Weib, und hat sich sonderbar geputzt." Sie hatte sich die Kleider vorn über den Kopf zwischen den Beinen nach hinten. Greulich war der Blick ihrer Augen, wie sie ihn wie die Trolle zu schießen wußte. [... ] Sie sagte, sie habe das ganze Land umstürzen wollen: — "und ihr wäret alle toll geworden und verrückt draußen bei den wilden Tieren geblieben [...]").

Vatnsdælasaga erzählt außerdem von Thorolf Höllenhaut, der laut Melabuch im Schattental gewohnt und Menschen geopfert haben soll. In der Vatnsdælasaga steht, daß Thorolf zuerst im Schattental gewohnt habe, aber später zum Friamundarfluß umgezogen sei, und sich dort eine Burg gebaut habe. Dann heißt es:

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Dórólfr (heljarskinn) lagdisk d fé manna ok geröisk hinn mesti Pjófr; hann dtti blOgrafar, ]'ví at menn hugdu at hann blótaöi biedi mönnum ok fé (Vatnsdæla saga 1939, 82). (Thorolf (Höllenhaut) machte sich an das Vieh der Leute und wurde der schlimmste Dieb; er hatte auch Opfergruben, denn die Leute glaubten, daß er Menschen und Vieh opferte).

Thorstein Ingimundarsson hat mit seinen Brüdern Thorolf überfallen, und Jökull Ingimundarsson ist es gelungen, in die Burg zu gelangen. Und es wird weitererzählt: DóróIfr kom upp ór blOgrof sinni ok kW', ór virkinu, en Jökull eptir honum [. .] En er Dórólf sd, at hann myndi eigi komask undan, Pd settisk hann niör í mýrinni ok gra [. ..] Jökull kom Pd at honum ok kvai5 hann vera mikla mannfýlu ok illmenni, en Pó engan Próttinn ı', Jökull hjó hann bd banahögg [.. ,] Peir fóru heim br&ör eptir Petta ok HAI unnit mikla heraösbát í drdpi Dórólfs heljarskinns (Vatnsdæla saga 1939, 83 f.) . Thorolfr tauchte aus seiner Opfergrube auf und sprang aus der Burg, aber Jökul ihm nach [...] Aber als Thorolf sah daß er nicht entweichen konnte, da setzte er sich im Moore nieder und weinte [...] Jökul trat zu ihm und schalt ihn einen Schurken und Bösewicht und einen Kerl ohne Mut. Jökul versetzte ihm den Todeshieb. [...] Darauf zogen die Brüder heim und hatten dem Gau grosse Hilfe gebracht durch die Tötung Thorolfs Höllenhaut). Es ist interessant, die Beschreibungen des Landnáma von Thorolf Mosterbart und von Thorolf Höllenhaut mit den Beschreibungen der Eyrbyggjasaga und Vatnsdælasaga von denselben Personen zu vergleichen. Laut Landnáma besteht kein großer Unterschied zwischen der Handlungsweise und den Taten dieser zwei Menschen. Beide waren Opferer und beide opferten Menschen gemäß Landnáma, weil wir doch annehmen müssen, daß Thorolf Mosterbart an den Opferungen teilgenommen hat auf dem Thing, das er in Thorsnes gegründet hatte. Aus den Erzählungen verschiedener Isländersagas über dieselben Personen wird folgendes deutlich: in der Eyrbyggjasaga ist Thorolf Mosterbart derselbe große Opferer wie in Landnáma, aber die Saga sieht nichts Anstößiges an seinem Opfer. Er ist ein großer Häuptling und geachtet von seinen Zeitgenossen und Nachkommen trotz seiner Opfer, und der Autor der Eyrbyggjasaga macht keinen Versuch, die Opfer des Thorolf Mosterbart zu vertuschen. Aus den Erzählungen der Vatnsdælasaga über Thorolf Höllenhaut kann man etwas ganz anderes herauslesen. Dort wird Thorolf Höllenhaut als großer Dieb beschrieben, u.a. wegen seiner Opfer. Weiterhin wird er als Schurke

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und Bösewicht gestempelt, und zugleich als ein Kerl ohne Mut, mit dessen Tötung man dem Bezirk ein Gefallen tun würde. Wie schon früher erwähnt, wurden Eyrbyggjasaga und Vatnsdælasaga zu ähnlicher Zeit geschrieben, um 1250-1270. Es ist nicht sehr wahrscheinlich, daß in diesen 10 Jahren die Einstellung zu Opfer und Opferern sich grundlegend geändert hätte. Mir scheint deshalb alles darauf hinzuweisen, daß die Erzählungen der Eyrbyggjasaga über Thorolf Mosterbart aus einer alten Landnamafassung von der ersten Hälfte des 12, Jahrhunderts dorthin gelangt sind, wogegen die Erzählungen der Vatnsdælasaga über Thorolf Höllenhaut durch die Ideologie der kirchlichen Geschichtsschreibung des 12. und des 13. Jahrhunderts geprägt sind (Nordal 1973, 103-131; Larusson 1967, 80 ff.). Abschließend kommen hier Zitate aus zwei der jüngsten Isländersagas, aus der Njálssaga und aus der Hrafnkels Freysgodasaga; wahrscheinlich stammen beide aus den letzten Jahrzehnten des 13. Jahrhunderts. In der Njálssaga wird folgendermaßen davon berichtet wie Thangbrand der Missionar von den Ostfjorden zum Althing ging: Madr hét Galdra-Hedinn ok bjó í Kerlingardal. Dar keyptu heidnir menn at honom at hann skuldi deyda Pangbrand ok föruneyti hans, ok fór hann upp d Arnarstakksheidi ok elfdi blót vikit. Pd er Pangbrandr reid moan, Jní brast sundr jordin undir hesti hans, en hann hljóp af hestinum ok komsk upp d bakkann, en jöröin svalg hestinn[...] (Brennu-Njáls saga 1954, 259). (Es war ein Mann namens Zauber-Hedin, der hatte seine Wirtschaft im Altweibertal: den bezahlten die Heiden dafür, daß er den Tod Thangbrands und seines Gefolges bewirken sollte. Er zog hinauf auf die Örnsrockheide sie von Osten beritt, da barst die Erde unter seinem Pferd, er aber sprang vom Pferde und gelangte auf den Klufstrand hinauf, aber die Erde verschlang das Pferd [...]).

Zauber-Hedin trägt seinen Namen offenbar mit Recht, und das große Opfer, von dem erzählt wird, ist eindeutig und vor allem eine Zauberzeremonie. Es ist in diesem Zusammenhang noch interessant zu bedenken, daß diese Erzählung möglicherweise eine Erklärung einer alten Geschicte ist, die tatsächlich stattgefunden hat (Porarinsson 1968, 21; Nordal 1928, 113). Der Ursprung der Geschichte ändert aber nichts an der Einstellung zu Opferungen, was ja in der Untersuchung, die hier durchgeführt wird, am wichtigsten ist. Die Glaubenskultur des 13. Jahrhunderts hat die Opferung, von der in der Njálssaga erzählt wird, in Zauber umgeändert, In dem zweiten Teil der Hrafnkels Freygodasaga wird die Einstellung der Hauptperson zum Opfer folgendermaßen geschildert:

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Hrafnkell spur& (lush' í FlPítsdal, at 1,,j6starssynir höfau týnt Freyfaxa ok brennt hofft. 1Ni svarar Hrafnkell; "Ek hygg fat hégóma at tría d god'," ok sagdisk hann padan af aldri skyldu d god trúa, ok Pat efndi hann sídan at hann bl6tadi aldri (Hrafnkels saga 1950, 124). (Drüben im Fließtal hörte Hrafnkel, daß die Thjostarsöhne Freyfaxi ertränkt und den Tempel verbrannt hatten. Da sagt er: "Dummes Zeug der Glaube an die Götter," und erklärte, von jetzt an nicht mehr auf Götter zu vertrauen. Er handelte auch danach, opferte niemals mehr). Es ist eindeutig, daß der Autor der Hrafnkelssaga Hrafnkels Entscheidung, mit den Opferungen aufzuhören, sehr positiv bewertet. Laut der Erzählung gelingt ihm auch alles von da an, Hier ist die christliche Einstellung zum Opfer ganz eindeutig, es ist dieselbe Einstellung, die in den Sagaschriften vom 12. und 13, Jahrhundert überall zum Ausdruck kommt Diese Einstellung ist besonders auffallend in den Schriften, die unter der Aufsicht der Kirche zusammengestellt wurden.

III Bis jetzt habe ich mich mit Opfernotizen im Landnáma und einigen Isländersagas befaßt. Im Landnáma habe ich die meisten Stellen untersucht, wo ein Opfer erwähnt wird, aber aus den Isländersagas habe ich nur einige Geschichten zum Vergleich ausgewählt. Ich habe versucht, die Erzählungen nach geschätztem Alter zu orden, und setzte dabei ganz nach vorn die Erzählungen, die aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach am ältestel\ sind, Hier muß man aber selbstverständlich mit Vorbehalt vorgehen, da es schwierig sein kann, das alter einzelner Erzählungen zu schätzen, Bei der Altersbestimmung einzelner Glaubensgeschichten kann man sich am ehesten danach richten, ob bestimmte Religionen sie offensichtlich rechtfertigen oder verurteilen. Mir scheint eindeutig, daß die Erzählungen, in denen die Bedeutung des Opfers besonders betont Wird, im zehnten Jahrhundert entstanden sein müssen, genau wie die Erzählungen, die das Opfer verurteilen, zur Zeit des Christentums entstanden. Auf Grund dieser Hauptregel habe ich anderswo Beweise dafür erbracht, daß die Geschichten über Flóki, Ingólf und Vebjörn alle im zehnten Jahrhundert entstanden sind (Aoalsteinsson 1989). Einige der Erzählungen im Landnáma sind, was Religionen betrifft, vollkommen neutral und erzählen von Opferungen wie von selbstverständlichen Vorgängen. Diese Erzählungen scheinen geschichtlich Wissenswertes zu beinhalten, und daher kann man eigentlich die Schlußfolgerung ziehen, daß sie sehr früh in der Sagazeit

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geschrieben worden sind oder noch bevor die Kirche angefangen hat zu veranlassen, daß die Opferungen als solche, und ganz besonders die Opferer, verurteilt werden sollten. Zu dieser Gruppe gehören die Erzählungen des Landnáma über Thorolf Mosterbart, Thorir, Eyvind, Thorstein Rotnase, Hallstein Thorolfsson und Thorolfr Höllenhaut. In die dritte Gruppe kämen dann die Opfernotizen, in denen die Opferungen als negativ, und diejenigen, die sie veranstalten, als tadelnswert angesehen werden. Von den Erzählungen des Landnáma kann man die Aufzeichnung über Ljót und Hrolleif, ihren Sohn, zu dieser Gruppe zählen, und das gleiche gilt für die Stellen, wo die Schreiber des Landnáma Sätze oder Satzteile, in denen Opfer erwähnt wurde, weggelassen haben, Diese Eigenart kommt aber in den Isländersagas viel deutlicher zum Vorschein, ausgenommen in der Eyrbyggjasaga. Aus anderens Isländersagas sind Beispiele für die sehr negative Einstellung Opferungen und Opferern gegenüber, und zugleich Beispiele dafür, wie positiv die Aufgabe der Opferungen bewertet wurde, geliefert worden. Diese Beispiele zeigen alle eine natürliche religionsgeschichtliche Entwicklung, können aber gleichzeitig als Vergleich verwendet werden, wenn es darum geht, das Alter einzelner Erzählungen in den Schriften zu bestimmen. In Betracht dessen, was hier vorgetragen wurde, möchte ich zum Schluß klarmachen, daß eine grundsätzliche Revision der Landnam auntersuchungen meiner Meinung nach äußerst dringend ist. Ich denke hier vor allem daran, daß bei den Untersuchungen neue Methoden angewendet werden sollten, Landnamaspezialisten haben bis jetzt vor allem mit philologischen Untersuchungsmethoden gearbeitet, und auf solcher Grundlage ruhen die Resultate, die über den inneren Zusammenhang einzelner Landnamafassungen und über den Quellenwert einzelner Schriften vorgelegt wurden. Bei den Landmimauntersuchungen wurden bis jetzt keine folkloristischen und religionsgeschichtlichen Untersuchungsmethoden verwendet, die, meiner Meinung nach, viel wahrscheinlicher zu brauchbaren Resultaten führen würden, als die Philologie, wenn es um ein Werk wie Landnáma geht, Es gibt sichere Belegmaterialien dafür, daß um 1100 in Island allgemeine Wißbegierde geherrscht hat und vor allem Interesse an Menschen und Familien. Ari der Gelehrte erzählt, als er von der Materialsammlung für das Isländerbuch berichtet, daß er seine Nachrichtenquellen aufgesucht und aus ihren Reihen diejenigen ausgewählt habe, die "kundig aber nicht lügnerisch und äußerst weise" gewesen seien, Aris des Gelehrten Einschätzung der Bezugsquellen zeigt uns, daß die mündliche Überlieferung seiner Tage gleichzeitig sicher und unsicher

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war, und daß man dort mit größter kritischer Vorsicht auswählen mußte. Das aber, daß Ari selber so anspruchsvoll sein konnte, weist auch darauf hin, daß die mündliche Überlieferung zu der Zeit in Island äußerst lebendig war. Es ist äußerst dringend, diese lebendige mündliche Überlieferung von ungefähr 1100 zu untersuchen und so verschiedenen Problemen auf den Grund zu gehen, die mit der Entstehung des Landnáma in Zusammenhang stehen sowie mit der Bewahrung verschiedener früher Erinnerungen, die das Landnámabuch enthält. Wahrscheinlich würde gerade eine solche untersuchung neues und besseres Licht auf die Opfernotizen werfen, und dadurch würden wir ihre Bedeutung noch besser als früher schätzen lernen, sie zum Verständnis der Beziehungen zwischen der nordgermanischen Religion und des Christentums verwerten können.

Lit erat urverzeichnis Aôalsteinsson, J. H. 1971. Kristnitakan á Íslandi. Reykjavík. — 1978. Under the cloak. Uppsala. — 1985. Blöt and Ping. Temenos 21. Turku. — 1986. The position of freed slaves in Medieval Iceland. (Saga-Book 22.) London. — 1989. 900-talssägner i Landnimabok. Folklore & Folkkultur. Reykjavík. Brennu- Njdls saga. 1954. [Hrsg. von] E. Ól. Sveinsson. (Islenzk fornrit 12.) Reykjavík. Eyrbyggja saga. 1935. [Hrsg. von] E. (51. Sveinsson. (Islenzk fornrit 4.) Reykjavík. Helgason, J. 1925. Kristnisaga islands frá öndvercju til vorra 'lima 1. Reykjavík. Hrafnkels saga Freysgoda, 1950. [Hrsg. von] J. Jóhannesson. (Islenzk fornrit 11.) Reykjavík. Jóhannesson, J. 1941. Gerdir Landnámabókar. Reykjavík. Landnimab6k. islendingabök. Landndmabdk. 1968. [Hrsg. von] J. Benediktsson (islenzk fornrit 1.) Reykjavík. Landndinabák islands. 1925. [Hrsg. von] F. Jönsson. København. Landndmabök Melabók AM 106. 1921. 112 Fol. [Hrsg. von] F. Jönsson. København. Landndmabók Skardsárbák. 1958. [Hrsg. von] J. Benediktsson. Reykjavík. Lange, W. 1968. Flókis Raben, (Studien zur europäischen Vor- und Frühgeschichte.) Neumünster. Lárusson, M. M. 1967. Fródleikskttir og sögubrot. Hafnarfir8i.

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Nordal, S. 1928, Pangbrandur á Mýrdalssandi. Festskrift til Finnur Jönsson 29, maj 1928. KØbenhavn. — 1973. Snorri Sturluson. Reykjavík. Olsen, B. M. 1900. Um kristnitökuna d Islandi dri5 1000 og tildrög hennar. Reykjavík. Pétursson, E. G. 1986. Efling kirkjuvaldsins og ritun Landnámu. Skírnir. Reykjavík. Rafnsson, S. 1974. Studier i Landndmabok. (Bibliotheca Historica Lundensis 31.) Lund. Storlunga saga 1-2.1906-11. [Hrsg. von] Kr. Kålund. København. IDórarinsson, S. 1968. Heklueldar. Reykjavík. Vatnsd(ela saga. 1939. [Hrsg. von] E. öl. Sveinsson. (fslenzk fornrit 8.) Reykjavík.

Acceptance of Christianity in Iceland in the Year 1000 (999) BY JÓNAS GfSLASON

An attempt at explanation It is difficult to provide a comprehensive analysis of the acceptance of Christianity in Iceland in a short essay and therefore, only a short précis of the Christianization of Iceland and its pre-history will be given here, The main aspects of the history of the formal acceptance of Christianity will be included, together with an appraisal of whether the commonly adopted interpretation of the pre-history of Christianity will stand. Finally, an attempt will be made to explain how the conclusions recorded by history came about. (In this paper, the year 1000 will be accepted without regard to the school of thought which accepts the year 999 as the year that Christianity was promulgated in Iceland.)

1. The beginnings of settlement in Iceland The history of the acceptance of Christianity in Iceland has often caused astonishment, and the question has been posed: How is it possible that Christianity was promulgated in this way in the Althing (the early Icelandic parliament), when heathens were in the majority. The only response has been to place a mysterious x over this event, Obviously, something is lacking in this explanation; it will not withstand critical analysis. The brevity of the Scandinavian mission in Iceland in no way accounts for the strong position of Christianity in the country at the close of the tenth century. It is not known with any certainty what the population of Iceland was at this time, but it has often been estimated that is was about one fourth that of Norway. There is no possibility that an extremely small group of men could have converted a population of this size in such a short period of time, It has been customary to consider the settlement of Iceland to have begun with the arrival of the Norsemen, starting in 874, although this date is, mildly stated, doubtful, There are various indications that

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the Nordic settlement began shortly after 800, although this assertion will not be given greater consideration here. What is certain, is that the earliest Nordic settlers encountered Irishmen when they first set foot on Iceland; these Irishmen were hermits and monks, 'papar' (islendingabac 1968, 5; Landnámabók 1948, 1). It is impossible to say how long these men had been living in Iceland. Various sources mention voyages to the islands and countries in the far northern seas; the most ancient is that of Pythias of Marseilles in France, although it is uncertain which lands and islands he visited, Then there are reports of voyages by the Irish in the northern seas, including Iceland (Navigatio 1973; Dicuilus 1967). Various circumstances could have brought the Irish north to Iceland. They seem to have had, in common with other island peoples, a strong desire to journey abroad. This urge to travel accorded well with their interest in missionary work, as did the interest many of them had in pursuing the anchorite life in isolated places where they could concentrate on the worship of God; and, of course, anchorism and asceticism were widespread in Ireland. During this period, the Irish Church flourished and carried on intense missionary activity on the continent. This could explain the voyages of the papar to Iceland. It may be considered likely that they began to settle in Iceland shortly after the Faroe Islands were colonized, or early in the seventh century, though it was hardly likely to have been a large group of anchorites at the beginning. A period of decadence in Irish monastic life, characterised by increased concern with worldly matters, seems to have occurred in the eighth century, and this led to a decline in religious observance. Subsequent to this period of decline, there developed a new kind of Irish anchorite which placed greater emphasis on asceticism than on learning. These monks were called nildear' (Céli Dé) or 'servants of God'; it is to be noted that these reformers sought seclusion on isolated islands, With the Viking invasions of Scotland and Ireland around 800, flight to distant places where the populace could be more secure from the incursions of the Vikings doubtlessly occurred. It is probable that the papar retreated to Iceland and established settlement based on the Irish model. There are various indications that such Christian settlements continued despite Nordic colonization.

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There are two written sources which mention the stay of the papar in Iceland: One is fslendingabók, which states: At that time Iceland was covered with woods between the mountains and the sea. There were Christians here, those the Norsemen call papar, but they left later, because they didn't want to be here with heathen men, and they left behind Irish books and bells and croziers; from this it can be concluded that these men were Irish (Islendingab6k 1968, 5). In the introduction to the Sturla version of Landnáma is the following: But before Iceland was settled from Norway, there were men there that the Norsemen call papar; they were Christians, and it is thought they had come here west across the ocean because of Irish books, bells and croziers and other things which led people to believe they were Westmen (i,e., Irish). It is also mentioned in English works, that, at that time, there was travel between the two lands. (Landnámabök 1948, 1). Ancient texts mention nothing further about the first inhabitants of the country; and this is surprising, because the author of islendingabók, Ari frodi (Ari the Learned), was a priest and could have been expected to have had greater interest in these early settlers. islendingaba was composed at the behest of the Icelandic bishops during the twelfth century, and the Roman church seems to have been interested in proving that Christianity in the West had come directly from Rome and at the instigation of the papacy; thus it would be expected that the Roman church had little interest in protecting the memory of a church which had, for a period of time, competed with it for the leadership of Christianity in Western Europe. It does matter that Ari does not seem to have been faithful to events in his account of the papar where he mentions that they left Iceland. It would be surprising if the Nordic settlers had, without objection, allowed them to leave at the same time that they were harrying Ireland in order to obtain slaves. Wouldn't it have been easier to enslave the papar already on Iceland? And, where could the papar have gone if they left Iceland? Hardly to Ireland which was to a great extent under the control of the Norse vikings. The only lands to which they could have fled were Greenland and America, but there is no known voyage to these places from Iceland so early on.

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What is more likely is that the Irish in Iceland were variously killed, captured and enslaved, or that they fled the Norsemen and settled in isolated parts of the country or in those places where a Christian community already existed, The books, bells and crosiers which they left behind must have been essential to their daily religious observance. Men who had to leave such belongings behind hardly had time to prepare their departure, but of course, the papar were most likely fleeing the vikings, It is probable that some of them fled to the west Fjords which scarcely seem to have been settled then by the Norse; many place names are found there which reflect Christian influence, In addition, very few heathen graves have been found there,

2. Nordic Settlement in Iceland As was mentioned above, the Norse settlement of Iceland most likely began in the early part of the ninth century, The main source of information about it is Landnárnaba, written in the thirteenth century, and place names seemingly had a significant impact on the text, In addition, the authors of the work had direct interests to protect, as they did not wish to demonstrate the likelihood that their ancestors played a significant role in the settlement of the island. A very specific delineation of the limits of settlement is given for each settler. It is important to remember that the colonization of Iceland was an uncoordinated individual initiative and that chance often dictated where land was taken. It was the custom of the Norsemen when they appropriated land to allow the original inhabitants to continue to live on the land, subject to the direct control of the Norse. Generally they sailed only to already settled lands where there was likelihood of gain. Most of the first settlers had Nordic names, although there are examples of Celtic names. It is interesting to note that most of the latter were of the same lineage, decendents of Ketill flatnefur (Flatnose), the son of Bjarni buna (the Spurt), who had lived in the Shetlands, though others are named as well. When attention is paid to where they (those with Celtic names) took land, it seems clear that this is in the same area where the fewest heathen graves have been found; it seems likely that the kernels of Christian settlements developed at these locations. The chief of these were:

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1. Akranes, Kjós and Kjalarnes, 2. Dalir. 3. Pappýli at Sída in the east In addition, there are various indications that Christians lived on the southern part of the east fjords and in the west fjords, as both locations have place names with Celtic equivalents. Two explanation are worth considering for the existence of these Christian districts: 1. Christian colonists settled there along with their retinue; papar and other Irish could have removed to these areas when they were forced to flee the heathens encroaching on their previous dwelling places, 2. The other possibility is that these were Christian communities before the Norse settlement and that they continued to exist, possibly because the Christians were sufficiently powerful to defend their control, or because these were districts which were settled at a later time by Christians or heathens who practised a blend of the two religions and were, consequently, more lenient toward practitioners of Christianity. It is mentioned that heathens were not permitted to live at Kirkjubær at Sída, and all attempts by the heathens to take control of that area met with defeat; attacks which conclude with the successful defence of Kirkjubær by the Christians are described. Undeniably, it would be surprising if the heathen settlers had been more lenient in their treatment of Christian colonizers than they were toward other Christians. And it is clear that at the Althing of 930 the entire power structure of the country was intended for practitioners of heathen beliefs, and that the Christians obtained no part in the governance of the country. The position of Christians in the governing structure of tenth century Iceland was, therefore, quite weak. a. Pagan Belief in Iceland during the tenth century An attempt to elucidate the position of the pagan religion in Iceland during the tenth century must be made. Landnámabók states that Iceland was completely heathen for nearly 120 years (large 100) (Landnámabók 1948, 396). According to this then, Iceland ought to have been completely heathen far into the tenth century.

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Such an assertion can hardly stand. Sorne of the first colonists survived into the tenth century and it would be unbelievable that the sons of these Christians denied their faith, although the possibility of power doubtlessly tempted some of them. Christianity spread throughout northwestern Europe, and the Icelanders had significant contacts with those countries; there are allusions to various Icelandic chieftains who allowed themselves to become catechumens, without being baptized, during their voyages in order to be able to have complete intercourse with Christians, This applied to whole crews of Icelandic vessels and these men must have been under Christian influence to a greater or lesser extent. Then there is mention of various Icelanders who accepted Christianity during the tenth century; and, it is added this was done abroad. It is probably highly likely that this explanation was offered to prove the assertion that the country had been totally heathen at that time. Finally, it ought to be mentioned that the Norse Mission to Iceland began in 980. On the other hand, it seems clear that power was in the hands of the heathens and the nickname Ketill the Fool indicates that his missionary activity was considered foolish. Only the Icelandic chieftains have been considered here, and of course the Icelandic sagas are the literature of chieftains; ordinary people and slaves were not considered, except as foils for the story of the chieftains. Whether the Irish were more or less numerous before the Norse settlement, there was at that time a substantial group of Irish slaves, male as well as female, who were Christian. And, it bears mentioning that it was the traditional function of slaves to supervise, to a greater or lesser extent, the upbringing of the children of the chieftains; that would have had its influence on the decline of the role of heathendom in the tenth century and would also have prepared for the change of religion in the year 1000. Information about heathen beliefs in the tenth century is extremely scarce; and, of course, most of the sources for these beliefs were written down by Christians and at a later date, or they were written by men who were under strong Christian influence, It seems clear, however, that the ásatni was first and foremost a "kultus", the performance of specific religious ceremonies. Men seem to have made some sort of agreement with the gods; specific services and deeds would be performed for the gods in return for their protection and reward. If either of the parties to the agreement failed to fulfill his obligations, the other was absolved of all responsibility. This so called ásatrti can

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hardly have had as developed a religious doctrine as has sometimes been maintained. A more doubtful matter is how strong an influence the ásatrli had among the ordinary folk; there are many indications that all kinds of superstition and belief in spirits were widespread, Christianity is the religion of the book, of the Bible. It is not merely the performance of outward religious observance, but first and foremost the profession of belief in Jesus Christ and the observance of his teachings. It is, however, necessary to point out that it is difficult to determine the content of Christian missionary activity at this time, although there are certain indications that the people were taught various primary tenets of Christian belief. The main emphasis was doubtless placed on assuring the people that Christ was more powerful than all the old gods; Christ the victorious was taught, the Christus victor who had destroyed the power of evil. It is no less clear that the Christian mission was aimed above all at the chieftains as was the custom among the Germanic groups; the family and retinue followed the example of the Chieftain. It was the Icelandic chieftains who made the decision at the Althing that all Icelanders should accept Christianity and be baptized; the desires or the attitudes of the people were not consulted or considered. Most scholars agree that the position of heathendom in Iceland was relatively weak at this time. It is difficult to move locally dependent beliefs between countries, as ghosts are considered to exist in a particular stone or cliff and would most likely be loath to follow their worshippers. It may be concluded that this was, in general outline, the position of pagan belief in Iceland in the tenth century, Christianity existed in limited areas of settlement and among a part of the lower classes of society, Among these must have been ordained priests because Christianity could not have survived without the necessary ecclesiastical services, though this is not mentioned by any of the authorities. But, the Christians were a politically powerless minority in a country where all such power was in the hands of the heathens,

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3. The Nordic Mission in Iceland

a. Thorvaldur vidförli (the Widely Travelled) Kodránsson There is no mention in the sources that the papar or other Christians made any direct attempt at missionary activity among the Norse in Iceland before 980. Neither did the Roman church make any effort at missionary activity in Iceland. The first endeavour at direct conversion by the Norse in Iceland was, according to the authorities, the personal initiative of one individual. Thorvaldur, the Widely Travelled, Kodránsson went abroad as a young man, campaigning according to the custom of the Norsemen and winning fame for his abilities, He went south to Germany, where he became acquainted with the Saxon missionary bishop, Frederic, who converted him. Thorvaldur then wanted to return home to Iceland to proclaim the new belief to his kin and friends, and Frederick accompanied him (Kristnisaga 1905, 1). They arrived in Iceland during the autumn of 981 and spent the winter with Kodrán, Thorvaldur's father. At first Kodrán wanted to know nothing about their religion, and he kept firmly to his ancient pagan beliefs. Kodrán was, however, present at the celebration of Mass on a feast day, "more out of curiosity" and he was moved by the ceremony of the Christians which he found surpassed the religious practices of the heathens. Father and son spoke together and Kodrán said that Bishop Frederick seem to be Thorvaldur's soothsayer: ...because I know that you receive from him all those things that you preach to us on God's behalf; but I have another soothsayer that is very useful to me... He lives a short distance from my farm in a stone both great and noble.

Thorvaldur answered: You call your soothsayer very strong and say you have great trust in him; the bishop, whom you call my soothsayer, is not of great strength; but if he through the might of the God of the heavens that we believe in, is able to drive your soothsayer from such a stronghold, then it is right that you abandon him and turn to the strongest God, your creator, who is the one true God over whom no power can be victorious (Páttr Porvalds 1905, 65 f.).

Kodrán agreed to this. The next day the bishop blessed the stone by sprinkling holy water on it. This action was repeated for three days;

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the soothsayer in the stone came to Kodrán each night and complained about this behavior. Finally he said: `Now we must sever both our association and our ties of friendship, as you have rewarded me evil for good.' Kodrán answered: 'I have worshipped such a strong and useful god, while I was unaware of the true God, but now that I have proved you deceitful and very helpless, it is right for me to desert you without any impropriety on my part and to flee to the protection of that godhead, which is much better and stronger than you' (1)Attr Porvalds 1905, 67).

Kodrán then had himself and all his people baptized except his other son. Though this account carries a considerable air of pious legend, one can suppose that the main outlines conform to actual events. Thorvaldur and the bishop preached belief in Christ the victorious, who was mightier than the old gods. They remained in the country four years, travelling throughout the north and west, and converted several chieftains to Christianity; others became catechumens and could, in this way, have intercourse equally with both Christian and heathen men. They also went to the Althing and preached Christianity there, but met with great resistance. The pagans lampooned them: Children have been borne/of the bishop nine/of them all/ is Thorvaldur father (Páttr Porvalds 1905, 73).

Thorvaldur became angry and killed two men who had composed the ditty, but the bishop objected to this action since Christians ought not to seek revenge. The group went to the district Thing at Ileganes to proselytize, but were forced to leave. They were probably banished from Iceland at this time, as they left the country the following spring. With their departure, this attempt at Christianizing Iceland ended and Bishop Frederick vanishes from Icelandic history. Thorvaldur never returned to Iceland. He went to the Holy Land and from there to Constantinople where he entered the service of the emperor. He was said to have been made the supreme monarch of Russia; Christianity was accepted in the Ukraine in 988. It is mentioned that Thorvaldur died in a monastery which he established in Russia and was buried there (Patti' Porvalds 1905, 78 f.).

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The story of Thorvaldur raises various interesting questions to which it is difficult to find answers, At about this time, the disagreements which led directly to the schism of 1054 arose between the eastern and western branches of the Church, It is conceivable that Bishop Frederick was a missionary bishop from the eastern Church. He did not speak a Nordic language, so Thorvaldur had to interpret for him; Norse was spoken over the whole of northwestern Europe at that time. If this is correct, then it is more understandable that Thorvaldur should go east, which was however the direction generally taken by the Nordic vikings, particularly the Swedes. Reasonable connections with the "Armenian bishops" who travelled to Iceland after the middle of the eleventh century could also have developed in this way, These men "preached more feeble Christianity than the others and became popular because of this among bad men" (Hungrvaka 1905, 92). This assertion cannot be proved with evidence currently available, The same year that Thorvaldur and the bishop were expelled from Iceland, there is mention of other expulsions. Erik the Red removed to Greenland with a large group of people in a total of twenty five ships. Ónly fourteen of the ships arrived in Greenland. The others either had to turn back or were lost (Landnámabók 948, 126). Is there a possible connection between these two events? There is no way to answer this question, but it is possible to indicate certain particulars which lead to this conclusion. 1. Thjódhildur, the wife of Erik the Red, was a Christian and had a church built upon her arrival in Greenland. 2. With the acceptance of Christianity, little is made of those who had accepted the faith from Thorvaldur and his companions. What happened to them? 3. Was it primarily Christians who moved to Greenland? It is interesting to note that no heathen graves have been found in Greenland although history maintains that Christianity first appeared there fourteen years later, or in the year 1000, It is known that many ships and a large number of people were lost on the voyage, Were all these Christians? If such were the case, then both situations probably applied: those who had accepted the faith from Thorvaldur and the representatives of his type of Christianity which had existed in the country from the time of the papar, It might also well be that men other

Acceptance of Christianity in Iceland 233 than Thorvaldur and Bishop Frederick suffered persecution and had been driven out of the country. 4, Breidafjördur was the point of departure for the voyage to Greenland and one of the sites of the Christian community in Iceland had been in Dalir near Breidafjördur,

If a group of Christians from this area were forced to flee the country, the Christian chroniclers of a much later date would hardly have had any interest in preserving the memory of such persecution. It is of course difficult to draw this conclusion from available evidence, and other explanations are conceivable. It is possible, for example, that this group left in order to avoid the problems of overcrowding; Iceland is considered to have been almost fully populated by this period, The hypothesis that Greenland was settled later than has been considered, or just a few years before the formal acceptance of Christianity has also been put forward (Halldórsson 1978, XV). There is, at present, no answer to these questions, but it seems impossible to avoid posing them. It should be mentioned that at the archaeological research site at Herjólfsnes signs of Celtic burial rites have been discovered, and this indicates that followers of Irish Christianity buried their co-religionists there. b. Stefnir Thorgilsson After the departure of Thorvaldur and his companions, there seems to have been a hiatus of a decade before missionary activity was renewed on Iceland. And, it was no longer the attempt by an individual acting on his own. A new actor had entered the story of the conversion of the Icelanders, Ólafur Tryggvason, the King of Norway; he could augment his influence on Iceland if its inhabitants accepted Christianity. After the manner of the Vikings, King Ólafur directed his interest to those islands which the Norse had occupied; and of course, he considered himself to have specific obligations to fulfill with regard to these people. In addition, he no doubt had dreams of establishing a powerful kingdom, which would include, in addition to Norway, the islands of the North Atlantic, An Icelander, Stefnir Thorgilsson, was a member of King Ólafur's retinue; he was considered the self evident choice to undertake a mission to Iceland, He was reluctant to take on the work, but was moved to comply after an exchange of words with the king (Ólafs saga 1958-61, 1, 309 f,),

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Stefnir must have arrived in Iceland during the summer of 996 and immediately begun his missionary activity, but his mission was badly received, This angered him and he attacked with severity; it is said that he travelled around the country with ten men and took "to harming temples and the altars of stone, and breaking idols" (Kristnisaga 1905, 17). This behaviour was, as is to be expected, badly received by the heathens who took up arms. Stefnir immediately realized the hopelessness of his situation and fled to the protection of his uncles at Kjalarnes, At the Althing the following summer, a law was passed which stated that a man was to be outlawed if he blasphemed against the gods or harmed them. Christianity was called an offence against the family or clan, and was to be prosecuted by relatives between the third and fifth degrees of kinship. This legislation is interesting and shows that the heathen considered themselves hard pressed when they were attacked at the root of the clan (family). Missionary activity alone can hardly explain so severe a reaction. A likelier explanation is that Stefnir had other commissions in additions to his mission of conversion and that he attempted to submit the Icelanders to the power of the king. When neither errand met with success, Stefnir reacted with intense anger and took to "breaking up temples and places of worship". Stefnir was later outlawed in accordance with this law. He returned to Ólafur's court and reported that it would be slow work to convert the Icelanders to Christianity. There do not seem to have been any particular results from Stefnir's journey; but, on the other hand, one might conclude that the Icelanders realized that a new leaf had been turned in the Christian mission to Iceland. The king of a foreign country had attempted to influence Iceland, and he was unlikely to allow the situation to rest with this one attempt.

c. Thangbrandur the Priest King Ólafur did not give up. He sent a new missionary to Iceland that same summer: Thangbrandur, a German adventurer, who had been in the service of King Ólafur in England. He had become a priest in Norway, but took to harrying the heathens in order to plunder them. Consequently, the king no longer wanted to have him in his service. Thangbrandur requested asylum and offered to take on a difficult task

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for the king as a penance, and the king sent him to Iceland (Kristnisaga 1905, 17), Thangbrandur landed in the eastern fjords in the midsummer of 997 and went directly to meet with Hallur at Sída, one of the most important chieftains in the east, who invited him to winter at Sída. It is mentioned that Thangbrandur celebrated mass as early as the second day after his arrival: Hallur went and his domestics with him to see their actions and they heard the ringing of bells and detected the perfume of incense and saw men decorated with fine woven material and purple. Hallur asked his domestics how they liked the actions of the Christians and they approved. Hallur was baptized the Saturday before Easter and all his people there in the river, which has been called Thvottá (the River of the Cleansing) ever since (Kristnisaga 1905, 21).

Hallur of Sída became one of the major participants in those events which two years later led to the acceptance of Christianity at the Althing. It is likely that Hallur's acquintance with Christianity was greater or of longer duration than is depicted in the sources, and it is unlikely that Thangbrandur could have been his spiritual father, so deep an understanding Hallur seems to have had of the Christian religion according to the sources — a much deeper understanding than Thangbrandur himself had — is also unlikely. Hallur is practically described as being a holy man; this could undoubtedly be the result of the influence of the tradition of saintly legends, in addition to which, Ari the Learned, the author of Íslendingabók, was a fourth generation descendent of Hallur as will be mentioned later in this essay. The following summer, Thangbrandur began his travels around Iceland; and, in the manner of King Ólafur, he brandished his sword in pursuing his mission. The accounts of his jorneys are somewhat confused and it could sometimes be supposed that they were set down from place names, These records can hardly be credited, as his stay was shorter than the records account for, or only two years, 997-999. Thangbrandur seems to have ridden in the company of Hallur to the Althing, They had given themselves more than enough time for their journey, and stopped often to preach the faith; and the results were astonishingly great. The sources maintain that he baptized four chieftains on his way and that two others became catechumens (Brennu-Njáls saga 1954, 258 ff,). It is likely that these converts were friends of Hallur. Despite this, such achievements must be considered incredible just one year after

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Christianity was made a legal offence against the clan. Óne would expect that Thangbrandur had achieved these results in an even shorter period than mentioned, that he succeeded in accomplishing this during a relatively speedy trip to the Althing, as they could hardly have stopped for any length of time at each farm. Nowhere is it mentioned that Thangbrandur revisited these men to inform the converts more thoroughly of the tenets of the faith or to secure them in their faith; but such has been the universally acknowledged method of Christian missionaries from the days of the Apostle Paul to our time. This achievement must be considered nearly unique in the history of Christian missionary activity, if what is chronicled is accurate. The sources mention that Thangbrandur visited a number of places and that he met great opposition among the heathens, some of whom he killed. It is stated that once some heathens got a magician to take Thangbrandur's life; as a result of the magician's assistance, the earth is supposed to have swallowed up Thangbrandur's horse, but he himself escaped completely unharmed (Kristnisaga 1905, 21), The basic elements of this story could easily be true. In violent rushes of glacial runoffs in the sands of the Skaptafell region, large floes of ice are often borne down onto the sands where they are covered by the sand, They then melt and subsequently form hollows under a shellthin covering of sand, When a rider travels over these areas, the shell breaks under the heavy weight of the horse which then drops into the hollow. Thangbrandur's progress to the Althing was therefore to some extent strewn with blood, and it is amazing that such a peace-loving man as Hallur of Sída seems, according to descriptions of him, to have accepted such conduct. In addition, one might have expected the heathens to react violently to such overbearing behaviour. Quite to the contrary, Thangbrandur was allowed to preach his religion at the Althing, and many must have accepted Christianity there. The heathens, on the other hand, were forestalled from avenging themselves on Thangbrandur for manslaughter because of the strength of those who supported him, especially Hallur of Sída and Njall of Bergthorshvoll, those peace loving chieftains who always wanted to adhere to the law (Brennu-Njáls saga 1954, 264). It is undeniably odd how much men had altered their opinions from the preceding summer. After the close of the Althing Thangbrandur travelled east and then he continued north all the way west to the river Skjálfandi. Later in the autumn, he seems to have gone to the south by sea all the way west to Borgarfjördur where he was badly received, so badly that

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he even had to steal provisions (Kristnisaga 1905, 26). In the end, he went to Skalholt (Kristnisaga 1905, 27), where he wintered; he is said to have baptized Gissur the White as well as his people including, expectedly, his son-in-law, Hjalti Skeggjason — during the winter. Thangbrandur had most likely met Gissur at the Althing and accepted at that time Gissur's invitation to visit at Skalholt. From this point on, Gissur and Hjalti become responsible for leading the Christians, along with Hallur of Sída. The following summer Thangbrandur seems to have travelled in the western part of the country, all the way up to Bardaströnd (Kristnisaga 1905, 28 f.). He left the country early in the summer, before the opening of the Althing. Óne would have expected that Thangbrandur was tolerably satisfied with his missionary journey to Iceland and its results, but quite the opposite was the case. He had nothing good to say of the Icelanders and "said there was no hope that Christianity would be accepted there" (Kristnisaga 1905, 34), This assertion by the sources significantly diminishes the credibility of the accounts of his journey. The question then arises whether the story of Thangbrandur isn't an attempt to explain the antecedent causes of the introduction of Christianity with two aims in mind: 1. to prove that Irish Christianity had had no concrete influence in Iceland 2. to show that King Ólafur had had the sole honour of bringing Christianity to Iceland, Apparently, the account of Thangbrandur's travels does not at all withstand scrutiny. It is undeniably curious that he is made to pass precisely through those districts where Christians were most likely to be found. All those men who play an important role in the formal acceptance of Christianity are said to have been baptized by Thangbrandur. As was mentioned earlier, nothing is made of those who had been converted as a result of the work of Thorvaldur and Bishop Frederick. Finally, the negativity of Thangbrandur's report of the situation among the Icelanders when he returned to Norway is, if true in other respects, completely incomprehensible. The reaction of King Ólafur indicates that he believed Thangbrandur's report and that he intended to take revenge on those Icelanders who were in Trondheim, as will be discussed later; King Ólafur considered it absolutely necessary to take drastic action against the Icelanders. It is clear that the achievement

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of Gissur and Hjalti, as well as that of Hallur, gains with the story of Thangbrandur as background; it could well be this which led to the story being recorded in the way that it was. 4. The Acceptance of Christianity in Iceland a. The transition to formal acceptance of Christianity After the departure of Thangbrandur, the leadership of the Christian community at the Althing of 999 was in the hands of Hallur, Gissur and Hjalti; discussion focussed, as was to be expected, on belief and men were very much divided in their positions. Now, the opposition of the pagans was much greater than it had been the previous summer; it seems to have been not unlike that of the summer of 997, when Stefnir was found guilty of blasphemy and outlawed from the country. Hjalti went the furthest of the Christians and lampooned the gods: Vil ek eigi god geygja/grey thykki mér Freyja (I have no desire to bark at/mock the gods/but Freyja (the goddes of beauty) seems to me a bitch/poor thing) (Kristnisaga 1905, 30; Íslendingabók 1968,

15). This caused an uproar at the assembly. The heathens wanted to try Hjalti in accordance with the law of 997, but their attempt to prosecute him met with the resistance of the Christians who seem to have become sufficiently numerous both to foil the intentions of the pagans and to hinder the Althing in its work; in fact, for a long time, no pagan was able to start proceedings, The pagans finally succeeded in getting their way by use of force; Hjalti was judged an outlaw and thus forced to leave the country or forfeit his life. It almost seems that the Christians had instigated an insurrection at the Althing and had attempted to hinder the legal proceedings of that body, although, in the end, they failed. The pagans realized that they had to take more extreme measures in order to ensure their continued control of the country, They decided, for example, to delay the opening of the Althing by a week to ensure that there would be sufficient growth to feed the horses; because of the inexactness in determining dates, the setting of the Althing had, little by little, been moved forward so that it was often difficult to find grazing land for the horses of the thingmen who came on horseback to Althing; this affected most those who had to travel the greatest distance across the wilderness.

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The pagans were in the majority precisely among those men; the Christians seem, on the other hand, to have been relatively strong in those districts which were closest to the location of the Althing. The Christians also seem to have consulted with one another and prepared themselves for an anticipated attack at the next parliament, where a final decision could be expected as to who would control the country, the Christians or the pagans. Although the Christians were a minority among the chieftains, they were, nonetheless, so numerous that they could no longer be excluded from all participation in the governance of the country. The Christians seem to have reached agreement on two matters, 1. They intended to get together that year at a specific time and place right outside the meeting site just before the opening of parliament and to ride from there in a body, accompanied by their supporters, to the Althing. 2. In addition, they seem to have decided to send a representative to Olafur, the King of Norway. They were doubtlessly looking for his assistance in establishing Christianity in the country; his interest could hardly be questioned after the missions of Stefnir and Thangbrandur to Iceland, It is also possible that they considered it necessary to put their case to the king, particularly if Thangbrandur had explained the situation in Iceland and had represented them in not too kindly a light; considering what Thangbrandur had in fact told the king about the situation in Iceland, the Icelanders must have known about the king's harsh attitude toward their fellow countrymen, This indicates that Thangbrandur and the Christians in Iceland had quarrelled and that had, without doubt, hastened Thangbrandur's departure from the country before the convening of parliament, though, of course, such assertions are unprovable, Hjalti was forced to quit the country as a consequence of the judgement against him: Gissur, his father-in law, decided to go with him. When they arrived in Trondheim, the king was very angry with the Icelanders because of Thangbrandur's report and was considering taking revenge on those Icelanders who were in Trondheim; included in this group were the sons and brothers of some of the leading Icelandic chieftains, among them, Kjartan Ólafsson, the son of Ólafur the Peacock, Svertingur Runolfsson of the Dale, his father was one of the foremost heathen leaders in Iceland, Kolbeinn Thordarson, the brother of Flosi at Svinafell, Halldor Gudmundsson, the son of Gudmundur the Rich from Mödruvellir, Thorarinn Nefjolfsson, Hallfredur the Troubled Poet

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and Boni Thorleiksson, the foster brother of Kjartan Ólafsson. Both Gissur the White and Hjalti met with the king; Gissur was in fact related to him. They told the king a completely different tale about the situation in Iceland than Thangbrandur, and they spoke of Thangbrandur's wicked behaviour that he had "there as here, rather unwisely, killed several men and people found it hard to accept the faith from a foreigner" (Kristnisaga 1905, 35), and that they considered it more promising if an Icelander should undertake the mission, and this they offered to do themselves. It is notable how significantly their report differs from that of Thangbrandur; and it is no less notable how badly they spoke of him, especially if he had been their spiritual father and had baptized them, When the king had heard Gissur and Hjalti, he listened to reason and offered them the mission; he then took four hostages from the ranks of the Icelanders dwelling in Trondheim, whom he intended to detain until Christianity was legally accepted in Iceland, otherwise the hostages would be killed, Doubtless Gissur and Hjalti had a say in the choice of hostages; all of them were from the ranks of the chieftains, one from each quarter of the country: Kjartan Ólafsson, Halldor Gudmundsson, Kolbeinn Thordarson and Svertingur Runolfsson, After this all the Icelanders in Trondheim accepted the faith and were baptized. Gissur and Hjalti remained with the king during the winter and were well treated. b. Christianity legally accepted as the of if cial religion of Iceland at the Althing In the spring of the year 1000, Gissur and Hjalti returned to Iceland with the king's commission and a considerable amount of money which the king had given them in order better to be able to influence the chieftains. They arrived on June 19th and landed at the Westman Islands where they left timber for the construction of a church. From the Westman Islands, they proceeded to Landeyjar, but received no assistance there as they were in the country of Runolfur the Godi of Dalur who was one of the main pagan leaders; they then continued over Thjors River up into Laugardal until they reached the Christians at Vellankatla, where they had planned to meet the previous summer The Christians then proceeded as a unified group to Thingvellir, sending word to their friends and relatives to meet them on the way.

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A large group rode to meet them. Among these were Asgrimur Ellidagrimsson and Thoroddur the Godi, who were both chieftains of the Arnes region; it is therefore clear that all the Godi from Arnes were supporters of Christianity. It is hardly necessary to doubt that it came as a surprise to the pagans how great the number of Christians was, and how many had joined together on the way to the Althing; the conclusion may be drawn that the difference in size between the two groups was not overly great at this point, though the pagans were doubtless in the majority. It is not difficult to believe that many a man spent an uneasy night at Thingvellir; it is not improbable that messages went among many of those present, although this is not mentioned in the sources. The story goes that the Christians, on the morning of June 23rd, went to the eastern end of the Almannagja, to the place later called Krossskard, Cross Gap, where they celebrated Mass; from there, they went to Lögberg (the Law Rock) where all the members of the assembly had gathered. There, Gissur and Hjalti stated their mission; there was much discussion and the heathens spoke against them. Gissur and Hjalti also spoke of their commission from the king; the contents of this mission are not mentioned in the sources, but they certainly spoke of the hostages which the king had taken at Trondheim. It is clear that there was a great deal of noisy dissent when Hjalti, a condemned man, took the word; it is said that men, Christian as well as heathen, had disrupted the unity, Then there was disagreement about the eruption which threatened the farm of Thoroddur the Godi; Kristni saga states: Then a man came running and said that an eruption had begun at Ölfus and that it would run to Thoroddur's farm. Then the heathen men spoke: 'It is no wonder that the gods have been angered by such speech.' Then Snorri the Godi spoke: 'What angered the gods then when the lava here under our feet burned?' (Kristnisaga 1905, 38 f.).

The two groups then gathered separately and the Christians chose Hallur of Sfda as their law sayer and entrusted him to recount all the laws for the Christians in Iceland; the sources state that Hallur then met with Thorgeir the Godi of the Ljosvetnings who was at that time the official law sayer and requested that he pronounce the law for everyone, heathen as well as Christian (Kristnisaga 1905, 39). The wording (`keypt ad', literally 'bought to') is surprising, and the meaning seems not too clear; Hallur could have agreed that Thorgeir

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should say the law for the Christians and would be paid a fee for this office; it is also possible that it was agreed that Thorgeir would retain his position as Speaker of the Law, for the Christians as well, and would declaim one law for all Icelanders, The story continues that Thorgeir returned to his tent, lay down under his fur cloak and remained there until the following morning. Thorgeir's actions as he lay under his cloak are disputed: some maintain that he conducted a heathen ritual to seek the answer of the gods (Aòalsteinsson 1971, 140 f.); others assert that he lay there and thought matters over, as he had to 'say' the laws the next morning and needed to take great pains about his speech if a split among the various groups were to be avoided (Aòalsteinsson 1971, 140 f.). Perhaps he isolated himself merely in order to get some peace to prepare his speech and free himself from the assiduous efforts of the arguing factions, Then, it has also been maintained that Thorgeir had other matters more important than lying down under his fur cloak to attend to: that he had, in the manner of diligent politicians everywhere and at all times, used this time to talk to people and build up support for his decision (Arnórsson 1941, 101 f.). Óf course, it is no longer possible to determine which conclusion is most near the mark. The pagans also met and egged one another on; The sources mention human sacrifice (Kristnisaga 1905, 39 f.), but there is no indication that such sacrifice actually took place. The sources also mention a solemn promise made by the Christians at their meeting to the effect that they promised to devote their lives to Christ (Kristnisaga 1905, 4 f,), although there is no sign later that any such special vow was actually fulfilled, Ón the morning of Monday June 24th, Thorgeir rose from under his fur cloak and invited those present to go to Lögberg and listen to his report; Kristni saga continues: — (Thorgeir) said that unexpected matters had arisen in the country, that it was maintained that men should not have only one system of law, and he bade men not to do this, that such division would bring about battles and war and that would in turn open the way to laying waste of the land [...] `And I think it reasonable not to allow those to decide who are most contentious, and offer as compromise therefore among them that each side has points in its favor, but we all must have one law and a single faith, because as it will be agreed: if we dissolve the law, we break the peace.'

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Thorgeir concluded that each side should agree that those laws which he spoke would be unanimously accepted. Then Thorgeir decreed that all Icelanders should be baptized and that they should believe in one God. That the ancient laws about the exposure of children and consumption of horse meat should obtain; men could offer heathen sacrifice in secret if they wished, but would be outlawed under pain of death if such sacrifice were witnessed (Kristnisaga 1905, 41 f.), Not all of the participants of the Althing agreed with these decisions of Thorgeir's, but they bowed to them. They did not want to be baptized in the cold waters of Thingvellir's lake; they were therefore baptized in hot pools on their way home (Kristnisaga 1905, 42.), In this way Christianity was accepted by law as the national religion of Iceland. 5. Why did the Icelanders accept Christianity? As has been maintained elsewhere in this essay, the records of the events which led to the decision of the parliament to accept Christianity will hardly stand as they have been reported; it is absolutely clear that something is missing from them. In what follows the most likely sequence of events will be traced, First, it is necessary to try to explain as clearly as possible the structure of Icelandic society at the time of these events. a. Icelandic political structure The parliament, Althing, was established at Thingvellir in 930, It was decided that the highest power of the society should be in the hands of 36 chieftains who were called godi; their power was not merely bound by specific geographic districts; men could place themselves under the legal protection of the godi whom they wanted and whom they best trusted to protect their interests; the authority (godord) of the chieftain was therefore first and foremost leadership among men; the power of the godi was thus dependent on the size of his following; one could, in the same way, nullify one's agreement with a godi one did not like. The godord were evenly distributed among the different parts of the country, such that there were nine in each quarter of the country. Before the convening of the Althing, three godi from the same district held a spring parliament for their own followers; the county system

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of modern Iceland is, to a significant extent, built on these spring parliamentary districts. The godord were inherited, but they could also be bought and sold. As time went on, one and the same man could control more than one godord. The godord seemed, furthermore, to have had some sort of priestly function connected with it; the godi was responsible for holding sacrifices to the gods. It is clear then, that Christians were from the beginning locked out of all participation in the work of the Althing and consequently from participation in the governance of the country, and of course the upper class was almost completely heathen, when this governmental structure was put into effect. If a godi was baptized and became a Christian, he then, most probably by his own decision, gave up his seat in the legal council. The Christians must have been extremely unhappy about this political structure from the very beginning. Óthers than the Christians must also have been unhappy with this division of power. There is no doubt that more than a mere 36 chieftains who sat at the law rock (Lögberg) had claims to power; they had been passed over because there was not sufficient room for them in the division of government; this fact is widely related in the Icelandic sagas, whatever value they have as sources in other matters. The dissatisfaction seems to have been greatest in the northern part of Iceland, which was natural, as that was the most populous section of the country. The northerners had urged that the number of godord be increased in the north, but other godi stood strongly against them because more chieftains then could make demands for power. In addition, they wanted to keep the proportions of power distribution equitable among the various sections of the country. In about 960, there was an attempt to solve this problem by a change in the legislative structure. Iceland was divided into four quarters: three of them had nine godi each and they were sub-divided into three districts, each with three godi. The fourth quarter, the north, received three new godi so that the number of godi in the north was twelve; this was natural as the north was the most populous and divided naturally into four districts. The number of godi thus became thirty-nine, but in order not to disturb the balance of power among the quarters, the total number of godi was increased from 36 to 48; the godi from the three other quarters nominated three men from each section to sit at the Lögberg with them, without their obtaining a godord, however. In this way, the most serious problem, that concerning the northerners was remedied, but difficulties remained in other respects. There doubtless

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were many chieftains who considered themselves and their families to have been passed over in the division of power; and, of course, the Christians received no additional rights through this political solution. Thus, it is clear that there was, from the beginning, great dissatisfaction among some of the chieftains with the division of political power; this discontent increased during the course of the tenth century. The dissatisfaction of the Christians must have increased particularly as their numbers grew around the end of the century, It seems clear that some of the chieftains who leaned towards Christianity became catechumens and did not take baptism, because, in this way, they could mingle with both groups, Christian as well as heathen, and retain their political power. A few years after the acceptance of Christianity, another change was made in the political structure, when the so-called fifth court was legalized; it was decided that the old godi should sit on four-fifths of the court, but that one-fifth should be administered by those who were called the 'new' godi (Jóhannesson 1956, 90 f.), It seems obvious that this was some sort of compromise between the old and 'new' godi, and probably came about as a direct result of the events at the Althing on the acceptance of Christianity. It may be mentioned in conclusion that there are various sources extant about different district parliaments which fall outside the framework of those assemblies which were established by the ancient division; perhaps, the 'new' godi had attempted to mark off spheres of influence and power outside the actual system of government. It may therefore be considered almost certain that a complete breakup had occurred in the Icelandic system of government shortly before the year 1000 and that there were disagreements between these two special interest groups, the old and 'new' godi. The group of the 'new' godi probably included almost all Christians excepting those from the group of the old godi who were converted just prior to the formal legal acceptance of Christianity; in addition, there were various pagans in this group who considered themselves to have been left out in the cold. The old godi, on the other hand, wanted to protect their ancient rights; the Christian godi had doubtless supported them on this issue. They would have wanted to retain the main aspects of the former structure, though they of course wanted to obtain changes such that Christians could take full part i n the government of the country; for this it was necessary there should be a complete distinction between the political structure and heathendom. It may therefore be considered clear that quarrels existed between

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these two special interest groups without consideration of religious positions. This makes for an essential difference when one evaluates what happened at the Althing in the year 1000. It may also have been the case that Christians had even chosen Christian chieftains as godi; in this way some sort of 'religious godord' could have developed outside the political structure or alongside it. This could have had significant political influence, especially as the godord were not limited geographically.

b, How was heathendom structured? Sources concerning the actual content of the heathen beliefs (ásatrú) which the Norse in Iceland professed are very few, as was previously explained. It is clear that the ásatrú was not a belief 'of the book' as Christianity is; it seems to have consisted first and foremost in specific religious customs and in the performance of certain religious functions; in other words, it was a 'kultus', Ón the other hand, there are many indications that the real belief of the people was what might be called `heimatrú', or 'home belief', that is, it consisted of all sorts of spirits and folklore, which seems to have been very highly developed among the Icelanders. An example of this kind of beliefs is found in the story of the conversion of Kodrán, Thorvaldur's father. The pagans seem to have generally been rather liberal in their religious attitudes as is commonplace among those who have a pantheon of gods; they had no difficulty in bringing new gods into the pantheon; they undoubtedly had difficulty in understanding the 'narrowmindedness' of the Christians who were allowed only one God. Ón the other hand, the pagans held fast to their demand that the people participate in the public religious festivals if they wanted to take part in the power of the political system; they also refused to tolerate blasphemy toward the gods, Their attitudes in religious matters seem to have been similar to those of the ancient Romans; they did not bother about the religious ceremonies of the Christians, but demanded that they demonstrate their loyalty to the government by participation in the emperor worship, which was, in reality, much more a political ceremony than a religous one. For this reason, it could hardly have been as difficult for heathens to accept Christianity as has sometimes been maintained; it is often forgotten that the ásatrú did not demand specific religious convictions as does Christianity.

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Heathen opposition to the Christian mission did not have merely religious roots. Christians were dangerous to the proper functioning of the government; they were outsiders who did not fit into the framework of the society and could therefore become dangerous revolutionaries who could threaten the peace and freedom of the country. Therefore, it was imperative to react sharply to their mission and increased influence, not least after a foreign monarch began to interfere. The events, at the Althing in the final years before Christianity make this obvious; actual attempts were made to rebel against the ruling administration. These attempts at revolution were even more dangerous as it became clearer that the influence of the heathen beliefs was evaporating and religious dissolution increasing, not the least because of Christian influence; in this regard mention may be made of the poem "Völuspá", which was possibly composed at this time by a poet who had been significantly influenced by Christianity, The twilight of the gods seemed to be approaching and unrest made itself felt; people must have felt that fateful changes were imminent.

c. What happened at the Althing in the year 1000? The Christians made vigorous attacts on the Icelandic political system at the parliaments of 998 and 999, and every one was aware that a decisive crisis between Christians and pagans was approaching, The number of Christians was steadily increasing and their position growing steadily stronger. There is no doubt that both groups, Christian as well as heathen, had carefully considered plans of action. The voyage of Gissur the White and Hjalti Skeggjason abroad lias already been mentioned and there is little doubt that they were the representatives of the Christians, sent to meet with King Ólafur Tryggvason, who had shown great interest in the Christianization of Iceland, whether his primary concerns were religious or political; probably they were both. (Adam of Bremen is undoubtedly exaggerating when he says that some maintain that King Ólafur had, in the end, apostatized (Adam 1984, 93).) The Icelandic Christians could hardly have been very pleased with the behaviour of the two missions which the king had sent to work in Iceland; they did not consider their methods reasonable. For this reason, they sent their representatives to meet with the king in order to come to terms with him as to how Christianity could best be brought to Iceland.

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Gissur and Hjalti concluded an agreement to this effect with King Ólafur during their winter in Trondheim; they most probably promised the king support in increasing his influence in Iceland, and it is quite natural that they wished to have help from the king in their dealings with the pagans; they therefore presented the king's cause at the Althing of the year 1000. Unfortunately, we have no idea what these errands were, but one hypothesis is that the king had demanded some sort of control in matters other than those merely religious. May it not be considered fortunate from an Icelandic political point of view that King Ólafur drowned off shore of Svoldur island that same autumn? It never came to the point that the Christians had to prove their loyalty to the king and the advancement of his political aims. There is little doubt that the king's support of the Christians was greatly influential at the Althing. Icelanders were in close contact with Norway at this time. This is clearly indicated by, among other things, the number of important Icelanders who were staying in Norway that winter. The Icelanders realized after the voyages of Stefnir and Thangbrandur that the king would not stop until he had attained his goals in Iceland; in the end, the hostages in Trondheim doubtless took the heart out of the opposition of many toward Christianity, not the least among the friends and relatives of the hostages. Undoubtedly, the pagans considered their position just as carefully as the Christians did; this is indicated, among other things, in the decision to delay the convening of parliament by one week in order to make it easier for those from outlying districts to arrive; they were consequently able to meet in great numbers. It is tempting to hypothesize that cautious men among the godi of both groups groped for possible compromise which could successfully avoid complete political dissolution, or even civil war, within the country; the danger seems to have been overwhelming as subsequent events indicate. The members of the assembly came well prepared to the parliament that summer of 1000. The division into groups was somewhat unclear beforehand, however. Doubtless the number of people who sided with the Christians came as a surprise to the heathens as they rode onto the site of Althing; in the group which sided with the Christians were many godi, and it was obvious that the old government structure had been thrown into disarray. Ón the first day of parliament, June 23rd, violent and fomenting factions of both groups held the upper hand; they behaved in a bel-

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ligerent manner and seemed to be very ready to take up arms. Subsequently, however, more reasonable men from both sides seem to have taken control, and they attempted to reach a compromise without a breach of the peace. In stead of Hjalti, who did most of the talking the first day, Hallur of Sída took control of the Christians, doubtless with the full support of Gissur the White and others of the godi who supported the Christians in these matters. The Christians entrusted Hallur declaiming the laws for them and establishing in effect a separate state of Christians in Iceland. What would have been the consequences of this move? Unavoidable battles which would have slowly led to civil war in Iceland. Here it is necessary to point out that Christians and pagans lived, to a greater or lesser extent, among one another in most sections of the country, so that no natural borders could have been drawn between these two states; the situation could have become very like that which is currently found in Northern Ireland or in Lebanon. It is not surprising, then, that the circumspect men who had control wanted individually to work to avoid such a chaotic possiblity; it was their united concern to keep the old power structure, if this was possible, In this they disagreed with the 'new' chieftains who felt left out and who worked diligently for change; the interests of Hallur and Gissur on the one hand and of Hjalti on the other by no means coincided on all matters, Hallur met with Thorgeir the godi of the Ljósvetnings, the parliamentary speaker of the law and one of the foremost leaders of the pagans; there are various indications that they had previously discussed matters and tried to reach an agreement on what could be done to avoid total disorder. Hallur relinquished the position of speaker for the Christians and empowered Thorgeir to proclaim one law for all Icelanders, Christian as well as heathens; it is impossible that Hallur would have done this without knowing in advance what Thorgeir's decision was to be, It must have been obvious to all that the Christians would never agree to give up their religion and join the heathen; they were solemnly bound to Christ, who would never tolerate belief in any other gods, The more moderate godi must have realized that the one way to keep the peace and the old order was for all of them to become Christians. This was a relatively easy decision for most of the chieftains, as can be seen from what has been previously mentioned about the nature of the heathen believes at this time; the devoted followers of the heathen gods were without any doubt in the distinct minority,

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Accordingly, the conclusion of these matters at the Althing was reached by the moderate leaders from both groups, those who wanted to work to protect the main aspects of the ancient political structure, besides wanting to keep the peace within the country and avoiding civil upheavals and bloody conflicts. Christian influence in the country had become so great by this time, that few could have been totally untouched by it, The Norse mission which the authorities mention can in no way in and of itself fully explain the strength of the religion in Iceland, which is obvious in the way Christianity is legally accepted. Doubtless also included are the influences from the Christianity which existed in the country previous to the Norse settlement. It is on the other hand conceivable that those who wrote down the history and who were loyal servants of the Roman Church had been greatly concerned to show that Christianity in Iceland in no way owed its origins to the Irish Church, which wanted to show that the Icelanders had been converted in the same way as the Norwegians; they were also concerned with crediting the king, Ólafur Tryggvason, with the conversion of the Icelanders,

d. Critique of the sources The chief source for events leading to the conversion of the Icelanders and the legal acceptance of Christianity as a national religion is the priest Ari the Learned Thorgilsson, who has been considered a trustworthy source for these events because of his proximity to them and because of his connection with all those men who played a significant role in the events; he mentions some of his own sources; e,g., Teitur Isleifsson, who had in turn spoken with some of those who were present at the acceptance of Christianity at the Althing; Teitur was the grandson of Gissur the White; Ari himself was a fourth generation descendant of Hallur of Sída. Ari seems, undeniably, to be a particularly one-sided source; he mentions mostly his own forefathers, and he doubtless heard primarily of them and their deeds; he particularly delineates sources from the south, but seems to be unknowledgeable about the history of others, Ari's bias could be unconscious; on the other hand, it can be maintained from his reports that he has specific points to make; e,g,, in connection with the Roman Church, whether this stems from his own opinion or that of others,

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It is particularly notable that those chieftains who had accepted Christianity through the efforts of Thorvaldur and Frederich hardly play any role at all, as was mentioned previously.

6. An attempted explanation

Finally, a superficial explanation of the situation at the Althing that summer will be attempted here. Is it known who were the most powerful chieftains in the year 1000? Attempts have been made to draw up a list of those men who belonged to the legislature that year; some are known, others have been named on the basis of probability. In this way 40 chieftains have been proposed, who either had a godord or part of one, because these were sometimes divided among the chieftains (Arnórsson 1941, 83 ff.). In addition, the names of other Icelandic chieftains have been mentioned in reports of the acceptance of Christianity; and although not all of these owned a godord, they doubtless had influence in the parliament of that fateful summer. In this manner, the names of 52 chieftains who, in all probability, were or could have been at the Althing have been determined. Fourteen of these were from the eastern part of the country, 12 from the southern quarter, nine from the western part of the country and 17 from the north, How did the parties divide into groups that summer? There were of course two main groups, pagans and Christians. But that was not the only division, because two other parties, unconnected with religion, also existed; on the one hand, there were those circumspect and peace-loving leaders from the group of the godi who sat in the legislature and had the power and wanted to insure peace. Ón the other hand, there were those zealots who wanted to go to extremes and some of these were godi; still others stood outside the power structure and wanted to bring about changes in it. How did these 52 chieftains who are thought to have been or who could have been at the parliament distribute themselves? It is instructive to attempt to trace this division. First, the Christians will be considered: a. The circumspect Christians were: Hallur of Sída, Ingjaldur of Myrdal, Kolur Thorsteinsson, Ónundur the Christian, Njall, Surtur, Gissur the White, Gestur Óddleifsson, Thorkell the Paw, Hlenni the Óld and Thorvaldur Spakbödvarsson, Altogether 11 men.

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In addition to these there was a group of chieftains who were between Christianity and paganism and this group sided with the Christians at the Althing: Óssur of Broad River, Asgrimur Ellida-Grimsson, the nephew of Gissur the White, Thoroddur the Godi and Haildor Illugason of Inner Holm, altogether four chieftains. b. There was at least one Christian zealot, Hjalti Skeggjason, the son-in-law of Gissur the White. So, 16 chieftains supported Christianity at the beginning of the Althing. The pagans probably had a large majority at the opening of parliament, or as many as 36 supporters, but they were also divided into those who were cautious and those who were fanatics, even though this division is not absolutely evident. a, Circumspect heathens: Among these were the following influential leaders: Flosi Thordarson, Snorri the Godi, Ólafur the Peacock, Asgeir the Hot Head, Kjartan Ólafsson's father-in-law, Gudmundur the Rich Eyjolfsson, Einar of Thver River, his brother and Thorgeir the godi of the Ljosvetnings; there was, of course, a much larger number of these men, but we know for certain the names of these seven men, who were among the most powerful men in the country, Five of these men hade close relatives among the hostages in Norway and probably joined forces with the Christians when they were informed of the taking of hostages. The other two, Snorri and Thorgeir, also tended in the same direction. At last we hear of Órmur, brother of Thorvaldur the Widely Travelled, who joined the Christians. Altogether eight men, Zealots among the heathens: Among these we are certain of Runolfur Ulfsson of the Dale, who seemed at first to have been the leader in the opposition of the pagans; Valgardur, his uncle, supported him. They both undoubtedly relinquished their opposition when they learned that Svertingur Runolfsson was one of the hostages in Trondheim; this without doubt altogether lessened the power of the opposition to the Christian message. Here we have ten who changed parties; then we have 26 chieftains who seem to have been Christian or had changed position and supported Christianity, and this is approximately one half of those chieftains who could have attended the Althing that summer.

Acceptance of Christianity in Iceland 253 The position of the other chieftains is not known, although it is most likely that most of them were heathen, as was noted above; people hardly had interest in keeping alive the memory that their ancestors had been opposed to the legal acceptance of Christianity at the Althing. It is likely, however, that the majority of these were godí, and many of them doubtlessly belonged to the group of moderate chieftains who wanted above all to protect the division of power and the peace of the country. Some of them may therefore have changed party. The number of godi was 39; at least 26 chieftains named above, not all of them godi, supported the Christian cause. There is little possibility of doubt where the main strength of the power lay at the Althing; it was in the party of the old and circumspect chieftains, many of whom were Christian or on the border between Christianity and heathenism, and some hade lifelong beloved friends who had already made up their minds, The advice of Thorgeir the Ljosvetningagodi was followed at the Althing: it was agreed among them, that each side had valid points, but we have one law and a single tradition, because it is true: if we dissolve the law, then we destroy the peace (Kristnisaga 1905, 41).

—

It was the good fortune of the Icelandic nation that it went this way. Let us conclude here the discussion and enumeration of the events of the Althing in connection with the acceptance of Christianity, 7. Conclusions

The conclusion of this essay are, briefly, the following: The first Icelandic settlers were Irish monks, papar but it is not known when they came to Iceland, There is also nothing known about their number, though this probably increased when the Norse began to harry the British Isles. The Nordic settlement began then around 800, and increased during the ninth century; the Norsemen subjugated the land, but a few Christian settlements continued to exist. The Norse exercised complete political control and had many Christian slaves in their service. When the governmental structure was agreed upon in 930 at the founding of the Althing, it was closely tied to the heathen beliefs and Christians had no part in the governance of the country.

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No Christian mission was pursued among the Norse in Iceland before the latter part of the tenth century, and the ruling body of the Church took no part in this work. In the beginning, missionary activity was the private initiative of an Icelander, and the concluding chapter was supported by the Norwegian crown. Christian influence increased steadily then during this heathen period. Christian slaves were often in charge of raising the children of chieftains, and there is little doubt that they had great influence of the religious attitudes of succeeding generations. In addition, it is very difficult to move local folk beliefs to a new country, Therefore it has been maintained that the position of heathen belief here in Iceland was too weak and feeble to defend itself against increasing Christian influences. The greatest hindrance to the propagation of Christianity among the Icelandic chieftains during the tenth century was undoubtedly the fact that Christians were denied seats in the legislative assembly; therefore it was not easy for the sons of the chieftains to be converted. Although pagans enjoyed a majority at the Althing in the year 1000, the Christians had increased their numbers significantly and some godi were converted. There was great danger of war in the land if agreement were not reached at the assembly. The choice consequently was either to reach an agreement or have a civil war, which would have led to the abrogation of the legal political and power structure. Ólder and peaceable chieftains wanted above all to protect the peace and they consequently accepted baptism and professed Christianity. No other option was possible. This indicates that Christianity has had a great influence on Icelandic national life and that the formal conversion was not simply a political decision, In the course of a few years, concessions at the time of conversion were revoked. During the latter part of the eleventh century, a cultural flowering, lastings for more than two centuries and producing, among other things, the Icelandic sagas, occurred in Iceland. The Christian conversion at the Althing in the year 1000 was, thus, both a religious and a political decision.

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Bibliography Aôalsteinsson, J. H. 1971. Kristnitakan á Íslandi, Reykjavík. Adam of Bremen. 1984. Historien om Hamburgstiftet och dess biskopar. Stockholm. Arnórsson, E. 1941. Kristnitökusagan áriô 1000. Skírnir 119. Reykjavík. Brennu-Njáls saga. 1954. [Ed. by] E. Ól. Sveinsson. (Íslenzk fornrit 12.) Reykjavík. Dicuilus. 1967. Liber de Mesura Orbis Terræ, Dublin. Halldórsson, O. 1978. Greenland í micIaldaritum, Reykjavík. Hungrvaka. 1905. Kristnisaga,NtirPorvalds ens vídfqrla [.. .]. Hrsg. von B. Kahle. (Altnordische Saga-Bibliothek 11.) Halle. Íslendingabók, Íslendingabók. Landnámabók, 1968. [Ed. by] J. Benediktsson. (Íslenzk fornrit 1.) Reykjavík. Jóhannesson, J. 1956. Saga Íslendinga 1. Reykjavík. Kristnisaga. 1905. Kristnisaga, Nth' Porvalds ens m'afgrla [...]. Hrsg. von B. Kahle. (Altnordische Saga-Bibliothek 11.) Halle. Landnámabók Islands. 1948. Reykjavík. Navigatio Sancti Brendani. 1973. (Lives of the Saints 10.) Middlesex. Olafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta. 1958-61. [Ed. by] O. Halldórsson. (Editiones Arnamagnæana. Ser. A, 1-2.) København. Dittr Porvalds ens viôf9r1a. 1905. Páttr Porvalds ens viófgrla [...]. Hrsg. von B. Kahle (Altnordische Saga-Bibliothek 11.) Halle.

The Study of the Christianization of the Nordic countries. Some Reflections BY RAGNHILD BJERRE FINNESTAD

The study of changes in religion generally involves theoretical and methodological problems which have not been satisfactorily solved, or even received the attention they deserve. In this paper I wish to draw attention to some problems in the study of the transition from old Norse religion to Christianity, which requires further reflection, The problems may be said to arise from the need for clearer and more pragmatic definitions of analytical categories and, also, for more precise explications of the object of study. My intention is to proceed a step further towards an answer to the overruling methodological question: how shall we deal with our source material, if we wish it to yield information about a transition to Christianity? The question obviously requires a discussion of what we mean by the concepts involved, particularly religion, Christianity, old Norse religion, and transition itself, Óur delineation of these entities will determine our conception of relevant source material, and will also determine what questions we may ask of it — and what questions there is no basis for asking. I Clarifying the conceptual premises

The definition of religion, then, is not a matter of "purely" theoretical interest, but has important methodological consequences, Among other things, it is decisive regarding what can be considered as relevant source material to a transition from one religion to another religion. When defined according to ideological criteria, religion may be said to constitute a special kind of faith, expressed in various ways and by various means, and characterized by referring man and his world to a superior authority, which can be mythologically represented as gods or other personal figures, although this is not always the case; it can also be conceived of as an impersonal instance. Thus defined, religion is a phenomenon belonging to the "spiritual" traditions of human culture.

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Seen in its functional contexts, religious faith appears to be integrated into culture as a whole and exist in a mutually conditioning relationship with the "material" traditions of culture, The religious total views of life and the world contribute to the frame of reference for value systems, thought, and political decisions; they therefore belong to the preconditions of practical living — pertaining to the institutions of private life as well as to those of official life. There are connections between religious faith and everyday life, affecting even the most pragmatic and material cultural expressions like food customs and clothing — which can be justified and maintained through references to religious views of life. Social institutions, economical systems, industry and trade, can enter into a reciprocally conditioning relationship with religious faith, Since religious faith is thus integrated into the whole culture, the whole culture can serve as source material for our knowledge of it — directly or indirectly it can provide information about religion, In theory, no expression of human culture is without interest in the study of a change of religions, when religion is viewed within its conceptual and functional contexts. Its relevance will be more or less explicit, but all expressions belong to the concept of faith as integrated into the total cultural organism. Óf course, nothing prevents us from investigating religion as pure ideology — abstracted from its functional contexts, and explaining the change of religions solely as a change of ideology. But there is the danger of being speculative, or of projecting the religious values of our own time and culture on to the source material, and this danger is particularly imminent when we exclude from our interpretation the wider cultural setting of the ideological traditions. There is also one particular aspect of religion, which should be considered in the discussion of what is to be regarded as relevant source material for a change of religions: religion is not the religion of priests and theologians alone, but also of other members of society. The religion adhered to by the first-mentioned group is generally called "normative", while that of the last-mentioned group is called "popular" by historians of religions.' In today's studies of the history of religion, popular religion attracts a growing interest. This has not always been the case, and descriptions For an instructive exemplification of the relationship between popular and normative religion, see Waardenburg 1979. — Even though his analysis relates to Islam, its general inferences are not limited to this particular religion.

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of religions are still published which pretend to be representative, but which cannot be applied to the majority of believers. The description only pertains to a relatively small group of believers — priests, theologians and other specialists, and even then this is sometimes only theoretically the case; while the dominant traditions, or those that are most widely adhered to, have been disregarded. The description of "authentic" tradition is based on the normative view of what are authentic traditions. There are many reasons for this situation. It is due, partly, to the authority which is claimed by the religious specialists, an authority often accepted even by the outside observer. In part, the normative presentation of religion derives from practical advantages. The theologians' discursive explanations of the contents of faith are on the whole easily accessible because of their explicitness and also because they are often written, and can thus be studied at the student's desk. This is seldom the case with popular faith; it is not available in the same manner. The student has to leave his study in order to get hold of it. Sometimes all means of access are barred; this is the case when the materials belong to past cultures. For in the words of W. Th, M. Frijhoff, "in history popular religion is virtually visible only through the institutional lens of repression" (Frijhoff 1979, 79). This is the deplorable situation of our study of religious life in medieval times in Northern Europe, But irrespective of the fact that sources to popular religion in medieval times are on the whole conspicuous by their absence, popular religion should be accounted for in our research by our not claiming universal validity for the conclusions we make on the basis of the normative sources. The two other central concepts in the study of the transition to Christianity are Christianity and old Norse religion, Óne of the most popular concerns of the study has been to ask whether a particular idea or custom or value is "Christian" or "old Norse", Óften the question tacitly, but evidently, presupposes that "Christianity" and "old Norse religion" refer to well-defined sets of ideas, customs, and values, fixed within their respective systems, But, in the first place, Christianity did not come as a homogeneous entity to the North, but as differing versions, There are grounds for presuming that "old Norse" religion displayed a heterogeneous picture, as well. Secondly, no living religion is fixed, but is continually changing; this also holds good for Christianity and old Norse religion. Among the most influential factors in this dynamic process are what a religion adopts from other religions, and in this respect Christianity and old

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Norse religion have influenced each other over a long period of time, a fact which complicates the question of identity. As early as the 18thcentury, Finnur Jónson occupied himself with the question of Christian influence on the Edda-literature (Jónson 1772). Later, A. C. Bang's study of Voluspa was published (Bang 1879), followed by E. S. Bugge's work on Christian and Greek-Roman influence on Norse mythology (Bugge 1881-89), This kind of research is difficult, but important. The religion of Northern Europe was not isolated from the rest of Europe, neither before nor after the official take-over of Christianity. Christianity, on the other side, changed continually during the centuries it existed in Europe before it was officially accepted in the North, as well as during the relatively long period from its first introduction here to its final take-over, and it has been changing ever since, From its very beginning, Christianity incorporated European religious traditions; it thus adapted first to Hellenistic Europe, and as it spread northwards, to Northern Europe, The adoption of religious traditions of Northern Europe could receive normative approval and actually be used intentionally as a political means for advancing missionary goals. Thus Pope Gregory I instructed missionaries in England to sanction pre-Christian sacred places and rites, and to adopt pre-Christian feasts by dedicating them to the martyrs (Beda 1930, 1, 30).2 In this way, even normative English Christianity by the early medieval period contained traditions from old English religion; and thus the version of Christianity which Norsemen encountered in England contained traditions which had equivalents in their own Norse religion. Against this background it can be a complicated task to settle what are "Christian" and what are "pre-Christian" components of medieval religion. The question is so closely associated with the view of religions as static entities that it functions as a strait jacket — it cannot capture the characteristic continuous exchanges and reciprocal influences. In short, the analytical categories of Christian and pre-Christian can be too simplified and rigid for our study of religion as a process. Óne should not underestimate the long drawn out process of reciprocal influences, stretching over centuries. From this it follows that efforts must be made to find analytical tools adequate for the study of such a process. To illustrate how inadequate the unvariegated Christian and pre-Christian categories can be, I will choose, at random, W. Baetke's analysis of the Islandic sagas in his

2

In a letter of July 18th, 601, to the abbot Mellitus.

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article "Christliches Lehngut in der Sagareligion" (Baetke 1952). The intention of the article is to point out how problematic it is to use the sagas as sources for Norse religion, by drawing attention to the fact that they were written by Christians, This intention is of basic importance; and Baetke's analysis contains many apt demonstrations. But all his demonstations of Christian projections on pre-Christian religion are not equally convincing, because of his somewhat simplified conception of "christliches Lehngut". He does not take sufficiently into consideration the complicated consequences inherent in the fact that "christliches Lehngut" may have originated in pre-Christian Northern European traditions and been integrated into the Christian worldview represented by the saga-writer, may be unreflectingly taken for granted, as belonging to undisputed customs and truths about life. Moreover, our methods should make room for the fact that Christianity in Europe adopted pre-Christian European traditions even before it made itself felt in Northern Europe, where these originally preChristian traditions, incorporated and modified by continental forms of Christianity, might meet similar ones in old Norse religion. Therefore, when Baetke points out that a particular custom presented by the saga writer as Norse "hat seine Entsprechung in" Roman Catholic medieval Christianity, he cannot, on this basis alone, conclude that the custom is a secondary Christian projection on the pre-Christian Islandic religion. But he does this, for instance, in his commentary to the story in Svarfdælasaga, about the berserk Moldi, who declined a duel during Yule-time, "um die heilige Götterzeit nicht zu entweihen". To this piece of information Baetke comments: "Eine solche Äusserung, noch dazu aus diesem Munde, hat natiirlich keinerlei Quellenswert, sondern projiziert nur die christliche Feiertagsheiligung ins Heidnisches hinein" (Baetke 1952, 27). It is here no longer a question of providing necessary correctives to an uncritical acclamation of the historical value of the sagas by demonstrating that the latter have been influenced by Christian traditions, but of going into the other extreme, in an unwillingness to grant an equally important röle to "heidnisches Lehngut" in Christianity. We would like to proceed somewhat further with the tricky question of the commonly shared traditions of medieval Christianity and pre-Christian Islandic religion. In conclusion to these reflections on the categories of religion, Christianity, and old Norse religion, I would suggest that the study of the transition to Christianity in Northern Europe might profit from taking as its theoretical point of departure a theory of religion which

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explains it as a dynamic entity, in continuous interaction with other religions; and from adopting analytical categories which correspond with this theoretical view and which can, consequently, better register the protracted reciprocal relationship between the old and the new faiths. Their meeting was a long process, Actually, the old religion has not vanished completely; parts of it live on, accomodated to the new traditions. But the religion which incorporated them has been altered by them. The Christianity that "conquered" the old Norse religion, has been formed by the "conquered" religion. In line with this we should ask: What was it like to be a Christian in Northern Europe in the 10th century, in the 11th century, in the 12th century? The portray will vary, not only with regard to insignificant details, but also with regard to features we are accustomed to regard as constituting the essential and fundamental characteristics of Christianity. For instance, how are we to regard the fact that people might convert to Christianity almost automatically in consequence of the king's conversion, or that mass-conversions might even be forced upon the people by royal decree; is it possible to become a Christian in this way? Not according to a theology which underlines an individual conception of the self and stresses the importance of individual choice, But according to a theology involving a different conception of self and identity, coerced mass-conversions might appear in a different light. Defining one's self with reference to a group (family, people etc.) and understanding oneself primarily as a member of that group, and approaching religion on the basis of this identity, is not the rule in the Christianity belonging to the modern culture of Northern Europe. But our individually orientated conception of the self is not so universal and deep-rooted that there are grounds for excluding from our study ideas of a collective Christian identity. But here I have touched upon circumstances which have proved problematic for research into the transition to Christianity. I shall illustrate the problem by referring to the view of J. Delumeau, who maintains that Europe was never really Christianized. Not until the 16th century did Christianization actually commence, and then on a different basis to that of the medieval forced conversions of populations that went on being heathen. To Delumeau, the proof of this is to be found in the totally magical world view maintained by medieval Christianity3. Leçon inaugurale (au) collège de France, chaire d'Histoire des mentalités religieuses dans l'Occident moderne; Paris 1975. Ref. by Frijhoff 1979, 96.

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In other words, his definition of Christianity has a modern world view as a criterion. But thus defined, Christianity will not have originated until present times. Assertions similar to those of Delumeau have also been made by Scandinavian historians. In their opinion, the Medieval Age was not "quite", or "wholly", or "properly", or "essentially", or "strictly speaking", Christianized, Cultic forms changed, but religious world views persisted. And proof of this is furnished by the "magical", or "material" power that medieval man attributed to this world — to saints, reliquies, sacraments — having originated in pre-Christian times, a fact which is often in itself taken as a criterion of traditions which cannot be regarded as "Christian". It is hardly pertinent in a historical study of Christianity to define Christianity as a fixed, conclusively delimited religion that is raised above history, country, people, and other religions, a transhistorical and trans-cultural entity against which all the various, concrete "claimants" to Christianity can be measured, When this theological ideal norm is treated as if it were a historical phenomenon, a need arises for reflection about the very premises laid down for the study. Historically and culturally, there exist only the varying concrete instances denominating themselves as "Christianity". The historian should not be exclusive or inclusive on the basis of ideal, normative criteria — whether of early Mediterranean Christianity, or medieval Roman —, or Protestant —, or modern Christianity. The historian must employ a formal concept of Christianity which can do justice to the diversity, the continuity, and the change of traditions documented by his material. Sometimes the category of transitional religion is applied in analyses of the religion at the time of change of religions. From our perspective on religion, which understands religion as an alterative phenomenon, in interaction with other religions, this category is not necessary, It does not capture any more than what is already captured by our dynamically defined category of religion: all living religion is at any given time "transitional".

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II Analysing the transition to Christianity 1. It is not without consequence to our analysis of the transition to Christianity whether one understands Christianity and old Norse religion as static entities or as dynamic ones in continuous alteration and influencing each other. When these religions are understood in the latter sense, it follows that the transition is seen as a process. Many historians of religions actually see it as such. E. Sharpe has provided a characterization of this process which may be taken as representative: "It was, of course, not a monolithic take-over that took place but a gradual modification of cumulative traditions in a Christian direction" (Sharpe 1973, 246 f.). "Modification" is a weak characterization; in other words, Sharpe expresses himself rather strongly on this point. But what are the signs indicating that the procession of change has ended with an exchange of religions — when has the gradual modification of accumulative traditions reached a point when such a designation may seem apposite? I have already mentioned that some scholars are of the opinion that this point was not actually reached until our own times. Most scholars, however, would say that an exchange took place, even if it happened gradually. It may be that pre-Christian traditions lived on, but they did so in new ideological and functional contexts which transformed their meanings and values. What happened was, moreover, beyond a mere "modification" of cumulative traditions in a Christian direction. In this I think Sharpe, and others, may have laid too much stress on the accumulation at the expense of the significance of the losses of traditions. Important traditions were broken or died — not everything lived on in a modified fashion, and this fact has its own source value. We have to ask: What factors determined the choice of traditions that were allowed to accumulate, in the normative or in the popular areas of Christianity? There is every reason to talk of an exchange of religions. There were continuities; but there were breaks in continuity, too; and even the continued traditions were broken in the sense that the incorporated pre-Christian components underwent metamorphoses as regards intention, meaning, and importance. 2. The analytical categories most often used by historians of religions in studying the transference of traditions following the encounter

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between religions are not wholly satisfactory for our study of the Christianization of Northern Europe. They are either too broadly defined to be able to catch the finer interplay of change and continuity underlying the religious take-over; or they are too narrowly defined to meet the requirements of the study of what took place in Northern Europe; as can be said of the popularly used category of syncretism. Syncretism has one very broad definition, enabling the concept to include almost any combination of elements originating in diverse religions. As such, the category has also been applied in research on the transition to Christianity in Northern Europe. For instance, it has been used for casual transferences of attributes and epithets belonging to old Norse deities, to the Christian God, the Virgin Mary, Christ, or the saints, or the angels. Used in this manner, the category actually has no analytical power — it is just another label. The other definition of syncretism delimits it considerably, and reserves it for the particular kind of combination of elements from various religions which constitutes the formation of a new religion — decisively different from the contributing religions. The disparate elements are subjected to a re-interpretation that is based on a new revelation of religious truth. Such developments cannot be documented in Northern Europe; and the differences between the Christianity that came and the one that finally took over were not so great that they would legitimate the designation of "new religion" for the latter, But of course, it may sometimes be difficult to apply this concept of syncretism consistently, We may encounter cases where the borderlines between syncretism and similar phenomena are well-nigh impossible to draw. Religions expanding to new regions may move into lines of development remote from their point of departure, and grow into versions differing widely from the original ones. What usually happens, however, is that the adopted components are submitted to the interpretations and legitimations authorized by the prevailing authorities of the expanding religion. The components are not moulded into a new religious truth about life, as we can see happened in the Hellenistic period when syntheses developed which were so radically different from the original, contributory religions with regard to concepts of god, man, world, and salvation, that they turned matters upside down. In research, these syntheses are often termed "syncretistic religions". But when Pope Gregory I exhorts English missionaries to incorporate pre-Christian holy places and rites into Christianity, the result of this policy is not "syncretism" in the narrower sense of the word, because the incorporated elements are

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submitted to Christian re-interpretations and re-motivations perceived as normatively authorized, and not presented as expressions of a new religious revelation, The fact that this incorporation of non-Christian elements had as a consequence that the religion was altered is another matter, and even if it is a related matter, there is good reason to make a distinction here; we are dealing with differences large enough to be reflected terminologically, Sometimes the category of mixed religion would seem apposite in analyzing the religious developments in the Nordic countries. When traditions belonging to different religions are paralleled, we may talk of mixed religion. Thus, while in syncretism the heterogeneous traditions are not paralleled, but harmonized by a particular principle of interpretation, and the pluralistic character is in effect reduced or abolished, the pluralistic character is maintained in mixed religion, Ón this point, mixed religion and syncretism refer to opposite developments. Examples of mixed religion can be documented in the Nordic countries, An often-cited example is the story of Helgi the lean, who named his farm Kristnes, but called on Thor when he was at sea, or in other dangerous situations (Landnámabók 1968, 253). Mixed religion is also documented for England. According to Bede, King Redwald had in his sanctuary an altar for Christ as well as an altar for "the demons" (Beda 1930, 2, 15). Neither of these categories, however, can satisfactorily grasp the interplay between break and continuity that characterizes the ongoing traditions, and which gives them a marked indistinctness as regards origin and an ambiguity as regards meaning. With the abovementioned analytical tools one is driven to make a choice between Christian origin or old Norse origin. But this is a wholly inadequate solution, which both disregards the nature of the source material, and probably also the historical process that is being analyzed, There is a need for a category capable of demonstrating that both the meeting religions contribute to the genesis of the ongoing traditions, and able to assess the aspect of ambiguity as a natural criterion — thus making it clear that the question of whether a particular tradition comes from a particular religion is too rigid to capture the mutual, interdependent contribution to the religious development. With this requirement in view, I would suggest that the category of assimilation be paid more attention — it might serve as a far better tool of analysis than the all too widely or narrowly applied syncretism, By assimilation I mean the kind of continuation of traditions that

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takes place when concepts or customs belonging to the old religion are reactualized by being fused with analogous concepts or customs belonging to the new religion, and it is impossible to say if the resulting product has originated in one religion or the other. It has originated in both and is itself, strictly speaking, a new creation. Actually, this kind of metamorphosis of similar phenomena, which is effected through their coming together, is a basic occurrence in the process of continuity. The concept of assimilation has therefore a wide application and might rightfully occupy a central place among our analytical concepts. The introduction of Christianity in Northern Europe implies a largescale assimilation with old Norse traditions. Important ideas and customs associated with the gods of the Norse religion fuse with analogous ideas and customs associated with the Christian God, the Virgin Mary, Christ, the saints and angels. The result is that these ideas and customs are emphasized in a new way, and perhaps receive greater attention than before, which again may facilitate the development of new features and meanings. Already existing traditions in Christianity, then, can be brought to the fore by being fused with analogous traditions in old Norse religion, because the latter were important, perhaps so important that it might be difficult to erase them. Thus they are allowed to live on — "Christianized", as it were, by normative decree or by popular adherence. I shall demonstrate how the category of assimilation can be applied to the material of the change of religions, and I choose as an example a well-known topic of scholarly debate: the question of whether the conception of Christ which was so popular during the introductory centuries of Nordic Christianity is virtually a picture of Thor under the name of Christ. It was not the suffering and dying saviour that was emphasized, but the powerful crusher of all destructive forces in society and the cosmos, an actively victorious hero. The question that has often been asked is: Have prominent features of Thor here been transferred to Christ? Were the features so popularly cherished and highly valued by the dwellers of Northern Europe in their hard struggle for life, that they could not be relinquished? It has nevertheless been pointed out, by G. Aulén among others, that the dramatically conquering cosmic saviour can already be found in the oldest sources of Christianity, namely the letters from St, Paul; and that it was a current theme of the Church fathers (Aulén 1930). Also, Christ as the young hero, victor over all evil, is an image that can be documented in early medieval Southern Europe, long before it

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appeared in Northern Europe. It appears, then, that this cosmically victorious Christ was not adopted from Thor. But it might be worth trying to find out whether this already extant Christian theologumenon was assimilated with an old Norse tradition and emphasized on account of this, and whether such an assimilation in its turn may have influenced the theological exegesis of the existential meaning of the Christ victorious and the identification of the powers of evil over which Christ gained victory. The Pauline-Christian world-view was different from the Norse-Christian one; the contents of the meaning of Christ victorious cannot have been the same. From what we can deduce, on the basis of available sources for the religion in the Nordic countries, the most important existential struggle for which the need of a saviour was felt was the struggle for life. This was the situation long into "Christian times". The farmer called on his saviour when he performed his work; and he marked his plough, his cattle, his buildings with the sign of this saviour. The important question, then, when viewed from the perspective of assimilation, is not whether this cosmic aspect of salvation was first introduced into Christianity after its meeting with Nordic religion, but what consequences it had for the development of Christianity, when it was met by a religion where cosmic salvation in this world was emphasized, and which defined the saviour's victory primarily with reference to the life-threatening forces in this world. There are many indications that Thor-traditions and Christ-traditions could enter a relationship of assimilation, as for instance, in the usage of the hammer/cross as a powerful means of protection against the life-threatening powers of Utgard, Folkloristic studies show that such usages of the cross can be documented down to modern times. The kind of salvation associated with the cross in Nordic everyday life had earthly aims; it was believed to support life against disease, famine, death. There are grounds for presuming that these usages were the result of an assimilation between the cross and the hammer of Thor. In addition to similarities in meaning and usage, there is also a certain formal similarity between the hammer and the cross, as many students of Nordic religion have pointed out. Formal assimilations between the hammer and the cross can be documented (Turville-Petre 1964, pls, 16, 17, 18). Through assimilations of meanings, usages and forms the old Norse concept of salvation might have influenced the Christian one. There are signs that Thor and his hammer were deep-rooted in the minds of many Christians in North Europe, An iconic example can be seen on

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the baptismal font from Óttrava in Sweden, where there is portrayed a figure like Thor, with hammer in hand, alongside representations of Christ and the cross (Stephens 1878). An interesting literary example can be found in Tveggia postola saga Jons ok Jacobs 14, 11-12; where Christ descends to Hell meô hvellűm hamri sins almattigs anda: with the resounding hammer of his almighty spirit 4 . Another question which has been raised by scholarship is whether there existed some kind of exchange of traditions associated with Christ and those connected with Balder. There is no explicit documentation of this. But there is an English text that has often been brought into the discussion, i.e, the poem known under the title of "The Dream of the Rood". "Representative of the golden age of Anglo-Saxon culture drawing on both visual and doctrinal motifs, it provides a ready introduction to its own intellectual and artistic milieu", writes M, Swanton (Swanton 1970, v; my quotations from the poem from this ed.). Some of those visual motifs are reminiscent of Balder traditions, and there has been a debate concerning a possible link here. I shall give a brief summary of the part of the poem which is of interest to us. The poem contains a dream about the tree on which Christ was crucified. The tree is embellished with jewels and gold, but underneath this embellishment the poet discerns marks of the crucifixion and of blood, The cross then describes what it has undergone, from the time it was cut down in the woods to be erected on the hill and Christ hurried to mount it, until it was taken down from the hill after the crucifixion and thrown into a ditch — where it was found and raised and honoured and covered with gold and silver. In this poem there are certain motifs which faintly resemble motifs in the New Testament stories of the crucifixion, but which seem to be fused with motifs stemming from other traditions; and the question which has been asked is, what other traditions? Óne might take, for instance, the motif that the whole of creation wept and lamented the death of Christ ( Wëop eal gesceaft, cwi-clon Cyninges fyll). It has been pointed out that this motif is well-known in classical European tradition, and was also made use of in Eastern Christianity. But it was known in Northern Europe, as well, as the I owe this piece of information to Odd Einar Haugen. In codex CXVII of the Cathedral library of Vercelli, dating from 950-1000; and in fragments on a cross, presumably older, in Ruthwell Church, Dumfriesshire. CLV Codex CXVII. 4

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Balder traditions show; and even if our medieval Balder sources might have been influenced by European classical traditions on this point, as E. S. Bugge suggests (Bugge 1881-89), this does not exclude the possibility that the motif was also made use of in pre-Christian Norse traditions and had developed Northern variants — that predisposed for this particular selection from a classical repertoire. My interest here, however, is not to discuss where the motif in the Balder sources came from originally, even though this question is interesting enough as regards our overall view of continuous culturalreligious exchanges in Europe6 . My interest is, not to exclude the possibility that the motif may have existed in Norse culture at the time when the poem was written, and may even have formed part of the Norse contribution to English culture, if it did not have its own place in Anglo-Saxon traditions, independent of Norse influence. In addition to the motif of the lamentation of all creation, there are other motifs in the poem suggestive of Balder traditions, as, for instance, that the cross was wounded by missiles — darts, or javelins: strælum; the word denotes a weapon which is thrown or cast. This feature is not found in the NT-traditions; while a central motif in the Balder mythology is that Balder was surrounded by men throwing weapons at him. Swanton's guess that the word strælum "simply represents an heroic metaphor for 'nails' " (Swanton 1970, 122), is not convincing; and anyway it remains to be explained why this particular "heroic metaphor" has been chosen. A third motif that might be seen to suggest the Balder tradition is that of the men coming from afar standing around Christ (Hwæder bær füse feorran cwöman to ikim cuklinge). The discussion of these motifs has run along the well-trodden path on which so many of the discussions concerning the identity of traditions have run; it gathers pros and cons in order to decide for or against a link with the Balder mythology, or the South European mythology. There are other motifs in the Balder mythology, which have analogies in traditions about Christ; for example, the oath sworn by all nature not to harm Balder. This motif appears in Jewish legends. According to the medieval pseudo-history of the life of Jesus, Toledot Yeshu, Jesus, who knew the verdict that he was to be hanged, made all trees swear that they would not carry him. But Judas brings a herb-stalk from his garden, which has not sworn the oath, and it carries him. Cf. Krauss 1902, 106 f. The reference to Jewish medieval sources was made by G. Stephens, The Ruthwell Cross, Northumbria, from about A.D, 680, with its Runic Verses by Cædmon and Cædmon's complete cross-lay "The Holy Rood, A Dream", from a South-English Transcript of the .10th Century. Stephens 1866, 29. Stephens refers to Eisenmenger 1711, 179 f.

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But for all the motifs, no straight line of connection can be ascertained in any particular direction, whether northwards or southwards. Their connotations are simultaneously linked with different cultures, leaving the poem with the characteristic ambiguity shown by most of our sources. The surest thing that can be said is that there seems to have existed in the poet's milieu a cultural preparedness for his choice of motifs — and for his presentation of them — which gives them a north Europe colouring. In other words, we here once again face the tricky question of a commonly shared heritage, or of similar traditions shared by different cultures, and the necessecity for the scholar to adopt analytical categories that can deal with these circumstances. It is circumstances like these that the category of assimilation may be designed to deal with. How the ongoing influences back and forth down the centuries have actually taken place, we shall never know, But this fact should not make us despair; we should rather include it as a criterion in our definition of assimilation. It will make the latter into a category that admits resignation, without causing study to halt, as it is open to both supplementary as well as corrective results from future scholarship. It is therefore a realistic and adaptable category. This category of assimilation will help us to focus the attention on the coming together of disparate but similar traditions, some of which have developed from the same source, but which interact on each other at a later stage of development. The category makes one observant of both breaks and continuities in the process, as well as of transformations into something new. There is one area of study, in particular, for which this model of assimilation can create interesting openings and prove to be an effective analytical tool, namely the study of the old Norse synonyms in translations of Christian concepts and texts. The question is: What do the old Norse words inherently imply as regards contents of belief? What implied meanings are contained in words like god, frelsa, friar, which connect them with the old Norse religious outlook on life? To return to The Dream of the Rood: in the poem, Christ is called Frea with the meaning "Lord". What implications for the Christbelief does this have? Does the designation turn Christ into a north European Lord? Certainly, "Frea" and "Kyrios" do not have the same connotations. What I am implicitly disputing here is the point of view which has been currently presented, among others by H. Ljungberg, that the accomodation of Christian traditions to old Norse traditions never

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affected the contents of Christian belief, only such elements as were of no decisive significance as regards the message of salvation: Ackommodationen gäller aldrig trosinnehållet eller övriga centralt religiösa element av kristendomen utan endast de delar, som icke hava avgörande betydelse för frälsningsbudskapet (Ljungberg 1938, 209).

This view must be refuted on the basis of the theory of religion which this article has adopted, and according to which Christianity is studied as a dynamic, processual entity, culturally and socially differentiated into a complex web of normative and popular traditions, including expressions of the message of salvation.

I would like to summarise the conclusions that may be inferred from these reflections in two points; 1. The first concerns the kind of questions we ask of the source material. Some of the questions most frequently raised by scholarship are too schematically formulated to be able to procure elucidating answers. To ask whether this or that tradition is Christian or preChristian, cannot account for the polygenetic and processual aspects of the religions involved. A large part of the material only apparently possesses a clear and unambiguous identity; actually, this appearance is due to an oversimplified frame of historical reference. Ón the other hand, there is material that through both its apparently and actually ambiguous character evades any conclusion, New questions might carry us past these blind alleys, 2. My second point is that it might be profitable to reflect more closely on our analytical tools, so that we can define more precisely what we are actually searching for and what we have found, and can make subtler use of the information provided by the material. For the fact remains that the source material is not automatically informative it will not in itself inform us about a transition to Christianity. We must wrest from it the information we need, with the help of carefully designed analytical concepts that can categorize it and interpret it as pertinent data. It is true that the available source material for the study of the Christianization of the Nordic countries is scanty and has been collected more or less by accident, Nevertheless, it will most likely yield more if the object of our study — the change of religions — is approached from new angles and using new ways of characterizing its historicalreligious significance.

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272

Bibliography UNPUBLISHED SOURCES AND LITERATURE

Vercelli CLV Cathedral Library of Vercelli Codex CXVII

PUBLISHED SOURCES AND LITERATURE Aula, G. 1930. Den kristna försoningstanken. Stockholm. Baetke, W. 1952. Christliches Lehngut in der Sagareligion. (Berichte über die Verhandl. der Sachs. Akad. d. Wiss. zu Leipzig. Philol-hist. Klasse 98, 6.) Berlin. Bang, A. Chr. 1879. Vøluspaa og de Sibyllinske Orakler. (Christiania Videnskabsselskabs Forhandlinger 1979, 9.) Christiania. Beda. 1930. Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum. Baedae, Opera historica 1-2. Ed. J. E. King. London. Bugge, S. 1881-89. Studier over de nordiske Gude- og Heltesagns Oprindelse 1, 1-3. Christiania. Eisenmenger, J. 1711. Entdecktes Judenthum 1. Königsberg. Frijhoff, W. Th. M. 1979. Official and popular religion in Christianity: The Late Middle-Ages and Early Modern Times (13th-18th centuries). Official and popular religion. Ed. by P. H. Vrijhof & J. Waardenburg. (Religion and Society 19.) The Hague. Jónson, F. 1772. Historia ecclesiastica Islandiae 1. Hauniæ. Krauss, S. 1902. Das Leben Jesu nach juedischen Quellen. Berlin. Landnámabók 1968. Íslendingabók, Landnámabók. [Ed. by] J. Benediktsson. (Íslenzk fornrit 1.) Reykjavík. Ljungberg, II. 1938. Den nordiska religionen och kristendomen, (Nordiska texter och undersökningar utg. i Uppsala av Bengt Hesselman 11.) Uppsala. Sharpe, E. 1973. Salvation, Germanic and Christian. Man and his salvation. Ed. by F. S. Brandon. Manchester. Stephens, G. 1866. The Ruthwell Cross, Northumbria, from about A.D. 680 [.. .]. London.

— 1878. Tordneren Thor, fremstillet på en Skandinavisk døbefont fra omtrent dr 1000. Copenhagen. Swanton, E. 1970. The Dream of the Rood. Manchester. Turville-Petre, E. O. G. 1964. Myth and religion of the North. London. Waardenburg, J. 1979. Official and popular religion as a problem in Islamic studies. Official and popular religion. Ed. by P. H. Vrijhof & J. Waardenburg. (Religion and Society 19.) The Hague.

Der Runenstein von Tanum — ein religionsgeschichtliches Denkmal aus urnordischer Zeit VON OTTAR GRØNVIK

1. Der Fundort 1.1. Der Runenstein von Tanum (KJ 61) ist der wissenschaftlichen Welt schon seit dem Anfang des vorigen Jahrhunderts bekannt; er wurde zum ersten Mal 1823 publiziert (vgl. Stephens 1866-84, 1, 196).' Damals lag er mit anderen Steinen zusammen als Steg über einem kleinen Wasserlauf mit der Inschriftseite nach oben, an einem kleinen Weg zwischen den Gehöften Kalleby und Trättelanda im Kirchspiel Tanum im nördlichen Bohuslän (vgl. Boije 1886, 259; Friesen 1924, 130), Im Jahre 1866 wurde er etwa 6 km nordwärts auf den Platz vor der Kirche von Tanum überführt. 1.2. Die ursprüngliche Lage des Steines ist nicht sicher zu ermitteln. Anders Bæksted sprach die Vermutung aus, daß der Stein ursprünglich gerade dort errichtet worden sei, wo er später gefunden wurde, "am Schnittpunkt zwischen Weg und Wasserlauf" (Bæksted 1951, 83).2 Dabei dachte er an einen Gedenkstein ohne Verbindung mit einer Grabanlage (Bæksted 1951, 87), Andere glauben dagegen, daß der Stein an oder über einem Grab gestanden hat, wobei sie sich vor allem auf ihre sprachliche Deutung der Inschrift berufen (Friesen 1924, 134; Nordén 1934, 103; Marstrander 1952, 202). Archäologisch ist die Frage nicht zu entscheiden (Krause 1966, 139); die Theorie von einer Grabanlage hat aber eine gewisse Stütze darin, daß viele urnordische Runensteine gerade an, auf oder in Gräbern gefunden worden sind,

KJ 61 gibt die Nummer der betreffenden Inschrift in Krause 1966 an. Dieses und alle übrigen in dieser Abhandlung angeführten Zitate von nordischen Verfassern sind von mir (O. G.) ins Deutsche übertragen.

2

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2. Die Runen 2.1. Der Stein ist ein mächtiger Block, fast 3 m hoch, ungefähr 1,5 m breit und 13-40 cm dick, Die Vorderseite hat die Form eines plumpen Vierecks, dessen Óberseite unregelmäßig nach links oben ansteigt (siehe Fotos bei Friesen 1924, 128 f,; Marstrander 1952, 197; Krause 1966, Tafel 27). Die Runen gehen linksläufig von unten nach oben und bilden zusammen eine ungefähr 1,25 m lange Zeile, die sich längs der Mittelachse des Steins bis an die Steinkante oben hinzieht, Die Runen sind sämtlich vorzüglich erhalten und können mit Sicherheit gelesen und transliteriert werden: krawijan.haitinaRwas Dies sind drei Wörter in urnordischer Sprachform. Die beiden letzten Wörter können ohne weiteres als das Prädikat des Satzes bestimmt werden, als urn. haitinaR was = awn. heitinn vas (var), eine im Altwestnordischen wollbekannte Fügung. Das erste Wort lırawijan kann mit seiner Endung -an jeden obliquen Kasus eines schwachen Maskulinums oder aber den Infinitiv eines Verbs vertreten. 2.2. Die Frage, ob die Inschrift in ihrem erhaltenen Zustand vollständig ist oder ob einige Runen oben weggeschlagen sind, ist mehrmals diskutiert worden (vgl. Stephens 1866-84, 1, 196; Wimmer 1887, 156; Boije 1886, 260; Friesen 1924, 130; Marstrander 1952, 198; Krause 1966, 139). Sten Boije untersuchte den Stein im Jahre 1883 und stellte fest, daß einige Teile der Óberseite "eine hellere Farbe haben und eine schärfere Kante gegen die Vorderseite bilden, was nach meiner Meinung auf eine Absplitterung deutet. [.,. ] Was am ehesten den Eindruck macht, eine Abspaltung erfahren zu haben, ist der Sektor unmittelbar rechts und danach vielleicht oberhalb der Inschrift." Er neigte deshalb zu der Annahme, daß einige Splitter während des Transportes von Kalleby nach Tanum abgeschlagen sein könnten, glaubte aber nicht, daß nach der Einritzung der Runen und vor dem Bekanntwerden der Inschrift ein umfangreicherer Abschlag erfolgt sein könnte (Boije 1886, 260). Die Inschrift als solche weist mehrere Züge auf, die auf Vollständigkeit hindeuten. (1) "Während nämlich die Runen in krawijan ziemlich groß und spatiös gestellt sind, werden sie in haitinaR stark gekürzt und zusammengedrängt, um auf dem übriggebliebenen Teil des Steines Platz zu finden. Erst als der Ritzer am Schlusse des Wortes haitinaR erkannte, daß für das letzte Wort genügend Raum

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übrig war, durften die Runen wieder etwas anschwellen" (Friesen 1924, 130; vgl. Moltkes Foto bei Marstrander 1952, 200). (2) Die vierte Rune von hinten, sr R, hat der Runenmeister so hoch gemacht, daß die Seitenzweige vollständig über die umgebenden Runen hinaufragen; "in this way he saved the distance of nearly a whole letter" (Stephens 1866-84, 1, 201; danach Boije 1886, 261; Friesen 1924, 130). (3) Die s steht dicht an der Steinkante, ist aber groß und letzte Rune wohlgeformt und in keiner Weise beschädigt. (4) Die Inschrift endet mit einem vollen Wort, und es wäre in Wahrheit ein seltsamer Zufall, wenn eine Bruchlinie genau zwischen zwei Runen und zwei Wörtern verlaufen sollte (vgl. Marstrander 1952, 200). (5) Hinzu kommt ein formales sprachliches Argument, Die Inschrift endet mit einem finiten Verb, und Sätze mit dem Verbum finitum in Endstellung sind ein wohlbekannter Wortstellungstyp im Altgermanischen, Aus diesen Gründen darf man wohl mit Vollständigkeit der Inschrift rechnen, vorausgesetzt natürlich, daß die drei Wörter sich zu einem syntaktisch korrekten Satz vernünftigen Inhalts verbinden lassen. Das ist denn auch die herrschende Auffassung unter den Runologen seit der Beschreibung des Steins durch Boije 1886. Die Ausnahmen sind Marstrander (Marstrander 1952), der aus sprachlichen Gründen mit dem Verlust eines Wortes nach was rechnete, und Antonsen (Antonsen 1975).

3. Kritisches Referat der bisherigen Deutungsversuche

3,1. Sophus Bugge 1866 Sophus Bugge meinte (Bugge 1866, 248 ff.), das sprachlich nicht ausgedrückte Subjekt des Satzes müsse 'der Stein' sein, und übersetzte: "Er (der Stein) wurde des Thravinge genannt" (indem man damals Rune 6 .6 als ng bestimmt hatte). Gegen diese Deutung können mehrere Einwände erhoben werden. (1) Der Ausdruck haitinaR was findet sich in jüngerer Sprachform sowohl auf nordischem wie auf westgermanischem Gebiet, vgl, Beispiele wie awn. Knéfroör var sá heitinn Akv 1, as. Zacharias unas hehEtan Hel 76, ahd, in thero steti thin Abilena unas heizzan Tat 13, 1, aengl. se yldesta wæs Jared Mien Gen 1063, wæs his ealdfæder Ecgkeo häten Beow 373. Das Prädikat dieser Sätze hat die durativ-präteritale Bedeutung 'hieß', d.h, 'trug den Namen'. Demnach wäre für unsere

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Inschrift eine Bedeutung 'Er (der Stein) hieß des Thravinge' anzusetzen. Problematisch daran ist das Präteritum, denn man erwartet ja, daß sich eine Inschrift auf die jeweilige Gegenwart bezieht und in diesem Fall den aktuellen Namen des Steins und nicht seine frühere Benennung angibt. (Vgl, Igijem hallaR Stenstad KJ 81 `Igjas Stein', das als 'Dies ist der Stein der Igja' zu paraphrasieren ist.) Um dieser Schwierigkeit zu entkommen nahm Sophus Bugge an, daß haitinaR was nicht 'war genannt', sondern 'wurde genannt' zu übersetzen sei, und daß die Konstruktion dem griechischen Aorist Passiv entspreche (Bugge 1866, 251). Die Bedeutung des Runensatzes wäre demnach: 'Er (der Stein) wurde des Thravinge genannt', d.h. 'er bekam den Namen "des Thravinge (Stein)" '. Von Grienberger machte später (Grienberger 1900, 290) darauf aufmerksam, daß man "im sinne dieser erklärung [...] auf einen besonderen benennungsact schließen [müßte], dessen inhalt und ergebnis in der inschrift mitgeteilt wäre." Die hier vorgeschlagene Übersetzung ist aber kaum zulässig. In Greins Sprachschatz der angelsächsischen Dichter findet sich nur ein einziger Beleg mit wæs gehäten (mit präfigiertem Partizip) in punktueller (aoristischer) Aktionsart, und diese Bedeutung ist offenbar kontextbedingt: Crist wæs on Pg eahtodan (dæge Hælend gehäten Menol 4 'Kristus wurde am achten Tag Heiland genannt' (Grein 1912). In den übrigen recht zahlreichen Belegen hat aeng. wæs heiten deutlich durative Bedeutung, und das ist somit auch für das Urnordische als die normale aktionale Interpretation vorauszusetzen. Eine solche Bedeutung paßt aber nicht in den Runentext hinein: Es ist nach wie vor nicht einzusehen, warum der ehemalige Name des Steins bekanntgegeben werden sollte. (2) Ein weiterer Einwand gegen die Deutung Sophus Bugges besteht darin, daß in den zahlreichen Belegen mit der Fügung aeng, wæs laiten, as. uuas hetan usw. das Prädikativ immer im Nominativ steht; niemals steht es (elliptisch) im Genitiv. (3) Bugges Deutung setzt eine zweimalige Interpolation des Wortes `Stein' voraus, erstens als Subjekt, zweitens als Subjektsprädikativ. Ein solcher Satz mit doppelter Ellipse hat keine Parallele in den alten Inschriften, ja kaum noch im ganzen altgermanischen Schrifttum.

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3.2. Carl Marstrander 1952 3.2.1, Marstrander übernimmt die von Bugge befürwortete Bedeutung der Fügung haitinaR was und versucht, die oblique Form des Wortes firawijan anders zu erklären. Er betrachtet nämlich die Inschrift als unvollständig und ergänzt sie wie folgt: firawijan haitinaR was [namne] `Ich wurde mit dem Namen Prawija benannt'.

Syntaktisch ist ein solcher Satz vielleicht möglich. Im Gotischen, Althochdeutschen und Altwestnordischen wird der Dativ des Wortes `Name' mehrmals so (d.h. instrumental) verwendet, vgl. Marstrander 1952, 202 mit Beispielen wie sah Jan haitans was namin Malkus Joh 18, 10 'und dieser hieß mit Namen Malkus', then ther anderemo namen hiez Petrum Tat 22,6, Ægir, er odru nafni hét Gymir Lok. Prosa, eino nafni hétomk aldregi Grí 48. Die Form abrawijan wäre dann als definitiver Genitiv zu erklären (vgl. Nygaard 1905, § 123 mit Belegen wie gáfu &km honum Qnundar nafn Hkr). Die Verwendung eines definitiven Genitivs bei dem Verb heita ist jedoch eine Seltenheit, die Marstrander nur mit einem Beispiel belegen kann: ok hétom jıd hjóna nafni Sigsk 68 `und wir hießen dann mit Namen Eheleute'. Ein Personenname steht jedoch in solchen Fügungen niemals im Genitiv. Im Gotischen steht er immer im Nominativ (drei Belege bei Marstrander 1952, 202), und dafür weist auch das Altwestnordische einen Beleg auf (Lok. Prosa), Die angenommene urnordische Konstruktion ist deshalb nicht unproblematisch. 3.2.2, Marstranders Deutungsvorschlag ist auch mit anderen Schwächen behaftet. (1) Das unausgedrückte Subjekt des Satzes ist nach Marstrander ek `ich', d.h. "der Runenmagiker". Seine wichtigste Begründung dafür ist der Name Prdwija, dem er die Bedeutung 'der heftige Sehnsucht (awn. prá) verursacht' beilegt. Ein solcher Name könne, meint er, "nur von einem Magiker oder einem übernatürlichen Wesen getragen werden" (Marstrander 1952, 202). Das Wort soll ein Nomen agentis sein; es kann aber nicht unmittelbar von dem Substantiv awn. brá f 'Sehnsucht' < germ. *Prawö abgeleitet sein, denn das würde ein Nomen agentis mit der Bedeutung `der Sehnsüchtige, jemand, der sich heftig sehnt' ergeben. Um die erwünschte Bedeutung zu erreichen, postuliert Marstrander ein von

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*ibrawö `Sehnsucht' abgeleitetes Verb urn. * fireiwijan `Sehnsucht bewirken', "eine Art Kausativ vom Typ svæfa", wozu ein Nomen agentis urn. *fira-wija m `jemand, der Sehnsucht verursacht' gebildet worden sei. Der Ansatz eines solchen Wortes ist jedoch sehr fraglich: Erstens ist kein Verb awn. *firæfa `Sehnsucht verursachen' belegt; zweitens ist die Wortbildung (mit Dehnstufe) problematisch, und drittens werden die Nomina agentis auf germ, -jan in ältester Zeit gewöhnlich von Substantiven und nicht von Verben abgeleitet (vgl. Kluge 1926, § 1213; Meid 1967, § 92, 1), Marstranders Erklärung dieses Wortes ist deshalb abzulehnen (so auch Krause 1966, 139). (2) Dadurch ist an der Grundlage seiner These, daß die Subjektperson ein Runenmagiker ist, stark gerüttelt. Hinzu kommt, daß der Runenmeister, wenn er in den alten Inschriften als eigene Person hervortritt, sich klar und deutlich mit dem Pronomen ek und einem Namen oder Epitheton im Nom. Sing. präsentiert (vgl. ek hlewagastiR Gallehus, ek guclija Nordhuglo, ek erilaR Järsberg). (3) Marstrander beurteilt die Zeitreferenz der Fügung haitinaR was falsch, wenn er die Inschrift mit "Ich wurde mit dem Namen Prawija benannt" übersetzt und daraufhin behauptet, daß dies "in Wirklichkeit" mit Drciwija haite 'ich heiße Prawija' gleichwertig sei (Marstrander 1952, 202). Wie oben gezeigt, hatte die Fügung im Altgermanischen normalerweise durative Aktionsart, bedeutete 'ich/er hieß (so und so)' und mußte sich auf die Vergangenheit beziehen. Diese Inschrift ist somit keine Parallele zu Inschriften mit dem Verb haite im Präsens, wie Miiha haite Kragehul, Hariuha haitika Seeland-Br. II. (4) Marstranders Deutung setzt voraus, daß oben am Stein ein Stück abgeschlagen sei (mit dem Worte namne). Das ist unbeweislich (vgl. oben § 2,2), und "nur eine evidente Deutung" könnte eine solche Annahme wahrscheinlich machen, wie es Marstrander selbst ausdrückt (Marstrander 1952, 201). 3.3. Von Grienberger 1900 und Adolf Noreen 1903, 1923 Von Grienberger (Grienberger 1900, 294) schlug vor, bei der Deutung dieser Inschrift das Verb awn. heita in der Bedeutung uocari beiseite zu lassen und lieber von dem Verb awn, heita in der Bedeutung `to promise, vow' auszugehen. Demnach wäre die Inschrift `Thrauingani devotus sum/est' zu übersetzen, und der Personenname würde im Dativ stehen. Diesen Vorschlag nahm Noreen in die 3. und 4. Ausgabe seiner Grammatik auf (Noreen 1903, 344; Noreen 1923, 389; Noreen

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1970, 389) und übersetzte; "Dem Prefinge/Dem Præfe wurde (der Stein) verheißen (oder gewidmet)". Marstrander hielt das für möglich: "Man kann auch übersetzen: 'er (der Stein) wurde dem Prawija versprochen (oder gewidmet, A, Noreen)', d.h. der Stein mit allem, was er vertritt, den Kult und das damit verbundene Ópfer" (Marstrander 1952, 201). Wenn er sich trotzdem für eine andere Interpretation entschied, geschah das, weil der Name Präwija nach seiner Auflassung von einem Runenmagiker zeuge, der als solcher als Subjektperson auftreten müsse, Religionsgeschichtlich scheint von Grienbergers und Noreens Deutung akzeptabel zu sein. Wir haben gute Gründe für die Annahme, daß der Grabstein als eine Art Altar fungierte, an dem die Kulthandlungen für den Toten verrichtet wurden (vgl. Grønvik 1981, 174 f,) und der deshalb dem Toten gewidmet war.3 Sprachlich gibt jedoch diese Deutung zu Bedenken Anlaß: 'einem etwas versprechen' heißt im Altwestnordischen immer heita e-m e-u mit sowohl Personen- wie Sachobjekt im Dativ. Im Passiv ergibt das eine unpersönliche Fügung vom Typ honum var heitit steini. Eine grundlegende Regel der germanischen Syntax besagt nämlich, daß bei der Umbildung eines Aktivsatzes zu einem Passivsatz das Akkusativobjekt des Aktivsatzes zum Nominativsubjekt im Passivsatz wird, während die Genitiv- und Dativobjekte unverändert bleiben (vgl. die Belege aus der altwestnordischen Dichtung bei Grønvik 1985, 125; weiter Behaghel 1923-32, 2, 211; Dal 1962, 130, 168). Diese Regeln für die Aktiv-Passiv-Konversion haben für alle altgermanischen Sprachen Gültigkeit. Dennoch hat niemand bisher an der Syntax des hier besprochenen Deutungsvorschlages Anstoß genommen. Wahrscheinlich hat man stillschweigend angenommen, daß das Verb urn. *haitan in der Bedeutung 'versprechen' sein Sachobjekt im Akkusativ nahm, wie die entsprechenden präfigierten Verben im Westgermanischen (as. gilt e- lan, ahd. giheizzan, aengl. geheetan). Unter dieser Voraussetzung wäre natürlich eine Passivfügung mit 'er (der Stein)' als Subjekt ohne weiteres möglich. Hier stehen wir somit der grundlegenden Frage gegenüber, ob wir in den alten Runeninschriften des Nordens eine gemeinsame nordund-westgermanische Sprache suchen dürfen, deren Sprachformen und Fügungsregeln in späterer Zeit sowohl im Westgermanischen wie im Nordischen vertreten sind, oder ob wir davon auszugehen haben, daß Insofern könnte diese Inschrift meine Interpretation und Ergänzung der TuneInschrift unterbauen: (bi-fal)h-k WödurFöe staina, vgl. Grønvik 1984, 51-56.

3

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die Runensprache des 3.-5, Jahrhunderts eine nordische (urnordische) Sprache ist, Diese letztere Hypothese fordert, daß wir überall dort, wo zwischen dem Westgermanischen und dem Nordischen alte Unterschiede bestehen, in der Runensprache spezifisch nordische Sprachformen und Gebrauchsweisen suchen. Ich habe früher nachzuweisen versucht, daß die Runensprache phonologisch, morphologisch und lexikalisch mehrere nordische Sonderzüge aufweist (Grønvik 1981, 57-69), und finde es deshalb wenig glaubhaft, daß urn. *haitan eine spezifisch westgermanische syntaktische Regel befolgen und das Sachobjekt im Äkkusativ zu sich nehmen sollte, um so mehr als die egentümliche altwestnordische Konstruktion mit zwei Dativobjekten unbedingt alt sein muß, Auch deswegen halte ich es für notwendig, von Grienbergers und Noreens Deutung abzulehnen. 3,4. Von Friesen 1924 und Arthur Nordén 1934, 1940 3.4.1. Einen ganz anderen Weg als die bisher genannten Forscher schlug von Friesen ein. In krawijan sah er eine Schreibung für den Infinitiv urn. *firaujan > awn. fireyja `sich sehnen', eine Äbleitung von awn. firá f < urn, *abrawd- in der Bedeutung "Sehnsucht, sehnsüchtiges Verlangen, unruhiges Drängen" (Friesen 1924, 131). Weiter behauptete er, daß das Verb urn. *haitan Äkkusativ der Person und Infinitiv regieren konnte, und zwar in der Bedeutung 'einem gebieten, etwas zu tun'. Äuf diese Weise gelangte er zu dem Passivsatz 'sich zu sehnen wurde er geheißen (wurde ihm geboten)'. Dies ist nach von Friesen als ein feierlicher Fluch gegen den Grabschänder zu verstehen (Friesen 1924, 134). Die Verwünschung soll bewirken, "daß derjenige, der davon betroffen wird, von Sehnsucht, Mißgedeihen, Unruhe heimgesucht wird [. ,.] und vor mystischen Mächten keine Ruhe findet" (Friesen 1924, 132). Seine endgültige paraphrasierende Übersetzung lautet: "Seine Ruhe und sein Gleichgewicht zu verlieren, in Ängsten zu leben und zu verderben wurde ihm (d.h. dem möglichen Grabschänder) auferlegt" (Friesen 1924, 134). 3.4.2. Nach von Friesen soll das Verb urn. * firaujan > awn. fireyja (Prát, firáda, wozu analogisch firá, firáan) hier in einer Bedeutung stehen, die man sonst bei den Verben thra und thrana im Mittelschwedischen finden kann, nämlich 'aus Sehnsucht hinschwinden, verschmachten, verderben' (Friesen 1924, 132). Dies fand Nordén unwahrscheinlich: "Diese Bedeutung von isl. kreyja muß jedoch mit

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gutem Fug als welliger gebräuchlich bezeichnet werden als die gewöhnliche, die noch heute in dem schwedischen Verb trd hervortritt: `1. sich sehnen, wonach sehnsüchtig verlangen, Heimweh haben [.,.]' (Rietz). Die Grundbedeutung 'unruhige Sehnsucht' scheint bei trá viel zu stark zu sein, als daß man sich vorstellen kann, daß die Bedeutung linschwinden, verderben' [,..] in einer formelhaften Änwendung des Wortes am Anfang des 5. Jahrhunderts die wesentliche gewesen ist" (Nordén 1940, 321 f.). Nordén schlägt deshalb vor, daß der Fluch gegen den Toten gerichtet ist und ihn hindern soll, das Grab zu verlassen und als Wiedergänger herumzuspuken. Seine Übersetzung lautet: "Sehnsucht (nach dem Grabe zurück) sei [sic, schwed, vare] ihm (dem Beerdigten) auferlegt" (Nordén 1934, 103). Dieser Deutung haben sich später von Friesen (mündlich) und etwas zögernd auch Krause angeschlossen (Krause 1966, 140): "sich zurückzusehnen (nach dem Grabe) war er (der etwaige Wiedergänger) geheißen", 3.4.3. Gegen diese Deutung erheben sich allerlei Zweifel und Einwendungen. (1) Die Schreibung brawijan für erwartetes *braujan ist sonderbar und hat keine gleichwertige Parallele in harija Skåäng (KJ 85) für sonstiges harja. (2) Das Verb awn. heita steht mit einem persönlichen Äkkusativobjekt in einigen Redewendungen, die von Friesen herangezogen hat: heita e-n tít, á brott, hedan, af vist, at rúnum usw, Das Verb hat hier die Bedeutung `jemanden herausrufen, wegrufen usw.', d.h. `jemanden bitten oder auffordern herauszukommen, wegzufahren usw,' (vgl. Fritzner 1954, 1, 777). Die Bedeutung des Verbs kommt hier der von von Friesen angegebenen Bedeutung `einem etwas gebieten' sehr nahe. Voraussetzung dafür ist aber, daß das Verb von einem adverbiellen Glied Ilt, á brott, hedan oder dgl, begleitet ist, was in dem urnordischen Satz nicht der Fall ist. Äuch kann awn. heita in diesen Fügungen mit keinem Infinitiv verbunden werden. Wenn awn. heita durch einen Infinitiv ergänzt ist, steht das Personenobjekt im Dativ und die Bedeutung ist immer 'versprechen (promise)', vgl, nisi, heita e-m ad gera e-t (Blöndal 1920-24, 314), awn. Njáll het at fara Nj 49, hétusk keir af haudri Hákon reka Jómsv 12. Um eine Konstruktion *haitan + Äkkusativ der Person -I- Infinitiv mit der Bedeutung 'einem gebieten, etwas zu tun' für das Urnordische begründen zu können, muß von Friesen deshalb aengl. &Wan heranziehen (Friesen 1924, 133, mit zwei Belegen aus Beowulf), das häufig

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so verwendet wird, vgl. hebt his engel On Än 365 'er hieß seinen Engel gehen'. Ähnliches gilt für as. hëtan (nu hiet he më an thesan sTa fa ra n Hel 122) und ahd, heizzan (er hiaz inan irwintan Ótfr II 9, 52 'er hieß ihn umkehren'). Ein Durchgang des westgermanischen Materials bringt jedoch an den Tag, daß die entsprechende Passivfügung in alter Zeit nicht belegt ist, und das ist kein Zufall. Diese Konstruktion gehört nämlich zu dem bekannten Typ "Äkkusativ mit Infinitiv", der dadurch gekennzeichnet ist, daß der Äkkusativ das logische Subjekt des Infinitivs ist. Für solche Fügungen gilt seit alters folgende Regel: "Die Fügungen mit Äkkusativ und reinem Infınitiv können im Ällgemeinen nicht ins Passiv umgesetzt werden" (Dal 1962, 104). "Der Äkkusativ in der Verbindung Äkkusativ mit Infinitiv kann nicht zum grammatischen Subjekt gemacht werden" (Dal 1962, 153). Daraus folgt, daß die Konstruktion, die von Friesen, Nordén und. Krause für das Urnordische vorausgesetzt haben, syntaktisch nicht möglich ist. Die in der ältesten literarischen Zeit geltende Restriktion in der Anwendung dieses Verbs muß auch für das Urnordische gegolten haben. 3.5. Elmer H. Antonsen 1975 Äntonsen versucht, das Problem der obliquen Form des Wortes Prawijan durch die Ännahme zu erklären, daß die Inschrift unvollständig ist und zugleich in zwei Sätze zerfällt: firateijan, haitinaz was

Trawija's (monument). (I,he) was commanded/called Die elliptische Formel mit dem Namen des Toten im Genitiv (ohne daß ein Wort für 'Stein' oder 'Grab' damit verbunden wäre) findet sich auf den Steinen von Saude (wandardclas) und Belland (kefian), vgl. Krause 1966, 188 f. Hier steht aber der Personenname als einziges Wort auf dem Stein, so daß dem Leser unmittelbar klar wird, daß die Inschrift elliptisch ist. Ein wort in obliquer Form steht niemals elliptisch, wenn die Inschrift mit anderen Wörtern weitergeht, Ein Personenname im Nominativ kann dagegen syntaktisch isoliert vor einem folgenden Satz stehen, wie etwa InfiingaR Reistad und flaclulaikaR Kjølvik (sc, 'liegt hier'). Der darauf folgende Satz hat dann immer sein eigenes, sprachlich ausgedrücktes Subjekt, so daß auch hier deutlich angezeigt ist, daß der vorangehende Name einen eigenen Satz bildet,

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Bei dieser Sachlage scheint es mir nicht berechtigt, das erste Wort der Tanum-Inschrift als elliptisch abzutrennen, um mit dem folgenden Wort einen neuen Satz beginnen zu lassen. Übrigens ist die Ännahme vom Verlust mehrerer Runen nach dem Worte was sehr unsicher, vgl. oben § 2.2 und § 3,2.2,4. Über die Übersetzung 'I, he was commanded' siehe oben § 3.4.3,2, über `1,he was called' oben § 3.1,1 und § 3.2.2,3.

4, Eigene Deutung 4.1. Nach dieser Übersicht über die syntaktischen Probleme, die die Inschrift firawijan haitinaR was bereitet, stellt sich von selbst die Frage: Gibt es etwa im Ältwestnordischen Spuren von einer persönlichen Passivkonstruktion mit heita, die vom Typ Knéfrodr var sá heitinn Äkv 1 (§ 3.1,1) verschieden ist? Im Neuisländischen ist tatsächlich eine solche Fiigung im Gebrauch, ist aber auf ein sehr spezielles Verwendungsgebiet beschränkt: 871 kona [, ..] er iickum manni heitin (Blöndal 1920-24, 314) 'diese Frau ist mit einem anderen Manne verlobt', Diese Fiigung beruht offenbar auf einer Sonderanwendung des Verbs heita in der Bedeutung 'versprechen'. Vielleicht ist sie schon in einer Skaldenstrophe belegt: fivit eldgrundar Endils áttgócYri mér trdolu betr unnum nít nýtri nær an heitin væri. Hfr lv 3

`denn ich liebe jetzt die aus edlem Geschlecht stammende, tüchtige Frau (eldgrundar Endils traclu) fast mehr, als wenn sie mir versprochen wäre' (vgl. die Übersetzung von Finnur Jónsson in SKJ 1912, 1, B, 158). Dieser Teil der Strophe ist jedoch schlecht überliefert, und die oben angeführte Rekonstruktion Finnur JÓnssons ist in mehrerer Hinsicht problematisch. Im altenglischen ist aber eine genau entsprechende Fügung sicher belegt, vgl. sio gehäten (is), geong goldhroden, gladum suna Frödan Beow. 2024 'sie ist, jung und goldgeschmückt, dem fröhlichen Sohn Frodes versprochen'. Die Übereinstimmung zwischen dem neuisländischen und dem altenglischen Äusdruck deutet auf hohes Älter. Innerhalb des Nordischen steht diese Äusdrucksweise isoliert da, denn im Aktiv fordert das Verb awn. heita zwei Óbjekte im Dativ, auch wenn beide Óbjekte Personen sind, vgl. Hefir minn fadir meyjo

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sinni grimmom heitit Granmars syni RH 1, 18 'mein Vater hat seine Tochter dem grimmigen Sohn Granmars versprochen', Im Passiv wäre deshalb eine unpersönliche Konstruktion zu erwarten, und dafür kann man in der Prosa auch Belege finden, wie kom svá, at Bárai var heitit meyjunni Eg 7. Wenn nun eine persönliche Passivfügung mit spezialisierter Bedeutung daneben steht (nisi, hón var öörum marmi heitin), muß diese eine ältere Konstruktion vertreten (heita + Äkkusativ der Person -F Dativ der Person), die im Äktiv früh aufgegeben wurde und sich nur in passivischen Partizipialkonstruktionen erhalten hat, In der Inschrift von Tanum haben wir es offenbar mit einer derartigen Passivfügung zu tun. Diese muß ein personanzeigendes Subjekt haben und kann nur bedeuten: 'Dem Prawija war (ich/er) versprochen'. 4.2. Was bedeutet denn firawija, -an m? Das Wort läßt sich unschwer als eine Äbleitung zu awn. firá f < urn. *firawö- 'Sehnsucht' erklären, Es ist mit einem Suffix -jan gebildet, das zur Bildung von Nomina agentis diente und gerade im ältesten Nordischen produktiv war (vgl. Kluge 1926, § 12-13; Meid 1967, § 92, 1). Die Suffixvariante -ijan trat hier ein, weil dadurch die phonemische Struktur der Wurzel unverändert bleiben konnte. Die Bildung ist also vom Urnordischen aus gesehen durchsichtig und klar; das Wort kann nur bedeuten `jemand, der sich (heftig) sehnt, der Sehnsüchtige'. Zu bemerken ist, daß das Wort awn. firá f häufig von der Sehnsucht des Mannes nach einer Frau verwendet wird, vgl. fir() muna oss of ævi eldask Korm lv 2 'meine Sehnsucht (nach dir) wird niemals veraltern' (ähnlich Mhkv 13, 27, Sigsk 7, Fj 50). Wenn die Inschrift statt haitinaR die Form *haitinu gehabt hätte: firawijan *haitinu was, würde die Subjektperson eine Frau sein: `(sie) war dem Sehnsüchtigen versprochen'. Ein solcher Satz würde den oben § 4.1 zitierten isländischen und altenglischen Belegen genau entsprechen und einen netten Sinn haben: Zeugnis einer glücklichen Verlobung. Die Form haitinaR setzt aber voraus, daß die Subjektperson männlich ist, wie auch Jrawija, Äuf welche Situation zeigt dies hin? Wird im nordischen Kulturkreis ein Mann jemals einem anderen Mann oder einem Wesen männlichen Geschlechts versprochen? 4,3, In Saxos Erzählungen, in Fornaldarsagas und in Märchen hat Ótto IIöfler (116fler 1952) Spuren einer alten Glaubensvorstellung gefunden, die darin besteht, daß ein Ehepaar vor der Empfängnis oder vor der Geburt ihr Kind einem Gott versprechen (geben, weihen) konnte, Dieser Gott würde seinen Verehrer im Leben schützen und ihn nach

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dem Tode zu sich nehmen. Besonders von Ódin wird dies berichtet. Er half seinen Schützlingen im Leben, ließ sie aber gnadenlos fallen, wenn ihre Zeit zu Ende war, um sie in sein Totenreich aufzunehmen. Dies nennt Höfler "die germanische Individualweihe" und hält es für eine wichtige Institution der altgermanischen Religion. Ein so kritischer Forscher wie Hans Kuhn rechnet auch mit einer solchen religiösen Praxis: "Neben der Weihung von Feinden an den Kriegs- und Totengott hat es auch die ganz andere gegeben, mit der man einem Gotte Freunde zu eigen gab, um ihnen seinen besonderen Schutz zu sichern [,. .]. Diese Weihung lebt in der Überlieferung hauptsächlich in der Schicht der Sage und ist deshalb nicht ernst genommen, doch hat jetzt Ótto Höfler ihre Bedeutung stark herausgearbeitet" (Kuhn 1954, 427; Kuhn 1971, 372). Anne Holtsmark sieht ebenfalls hier "mehr oder minder vage Erinnerungen an heidnischen Kult" (Holtsmark 1953, 145), und sogar lIöflers Äntagonist in dem Streit um die Rök-Inschrift, Elias Wessén, gibt zu, daß dies "religionsgeschichtlich sicherlich von bedeutendem Interesse" ist (Wessén 1953, 173). 4,4. In einem Äufsatz von 1983 habe ich zu zeigen versucht, daß diese religiöse Praxis der dunklen Schlußpartie der Rök-Inschrift zugrundeliegt. Einleitend werden (in der Form von minni 'Erinnerungen', d.h. `Gedächtnissprüche') zwei Fragen gestellt, die ich hier in normalisierter altwestnordischer Sprachform wiedergebe, zuerst: hverr Ingoldinga vceri goldinn at kvánar hisli? `wer von den Nachkommen Ingvalds bei der Opferhandlung der Frau (einem Gotte) gegeben' wäre?'

und danach: hveim sé borinn niör drengi? `welchem tapferen Burschen ein Verwandter (awn. niar) geboren

sei?' Die Äntwort auf diese letzte Frage verteilt sich auf zwei Äussagen (minni), Zuerst wird die Identität des tapferen Burschen durch seine Heldentaten angedeutet:

Den Ansatz dieser Bedeutung des Verbs awn. gjalda, Part. goldinn werde ich in einer späteren Arbeit näher begründen.

4

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*Villi *nis (es-a) fiat, knúa knátti Man; *villi *nis (es-a) fiat, né at *ólni rýdr `Das ist kein Irrtum, er konnte den Riesen quetschen; das ist kein Irrtum, auch nicht, daß er den Verderber rötet (d.h. tötet).' Danach wird sein in komplizierten Runen verborgener Name wörtlich ausgedrückt und von hymnischen Ättributen begleitet, die zugleich den Höhepunkt und den Schluß der Inschrift Dórr, *sifi, véa *veri 'Thor, Versöhner (der Familien)5, Schützer der Tempel'. Die Äntwort auf die Frage, wem ein Verwandter geboren sei, ist also; dem Gotte Thor. Und die Äntwort auf die erste Frage, wer bei der Ópferhandlung der Frau (dem Gotte) gegeben worden sei, kann nur sein: der Sohn Væmod, zu dessen Verehrung und Ändenken die ganze Runeninschrift hergestellt wurde. Weil er bei der Ópferhandlung "der Ehefrau" (d.h. der Ehefrau Varins, des Runenritzers) dem Gotte Thor gegeben (versprochen) wurde, wird er als dessen Verwandter, als Dórs nidr geboren. Ähnlich ist wohl auch die Tatsache zu erklären, daß Hákon jarl als Yggs nidr (Vell 20) und ragna konr (Vell 32) und daß Könige und Häuptlinge in Ynglingatal und Häleygjatal als Freys oder Týs Ottungr bezeichnet werden: Vor ihrer Geburt waren sie schon durch ein religiöses Rituale einem Gotte zugeeignet. Bei dieser Deutung erweist sich die Rök-Inschrift als ein wichtiges religionsgeschichtliches Dokument, das die in Frage stehende religiöse Praxis für die frühe Wikingerzeit sicherstellt.° Sifi' läßt sich besser so erklären denn als 'Gatte der Sif' (Grønvik 1983, 128). Das Wort ist wohl, wie auch *veri (1.c. 127), ein Nomen agentis, kurzsilbig und deshalb analogisch gebildet. Es gehört zu einem später verlorenen Verb, das als got. gasibjon, aengl. (ge)sibbian 'versöhnen' gut belegt ist, vgl. aber auch awn. sifjadr 'durch Schwägerschaft verbunden, verwandt'. Ursprünglich bedeutete es offenbar 'zwei Familien durch Heirat verbinden und dadurch versöhnen'. Eine solche Funktion kann ohne Schwierigkeit dem Gotte Thor zugetraut werden, vgl. seine Weihefunktion in der DrymskviZa. 6 Die durchgehende und alles verbindende Formel sakumukmini = sggam'k minni `ich sage einen Gedächnisspruch (eine kurze Gedenkrede) auf' und ihre Beziehung zu dem jüngeren Ausdruck moela fyrir minni, drekka minni (e-s) werde ich in einem späteren Aufsats näher erörtern.

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4,5, In einer vor kurzem erschienenen Ärbeit (Grønvik 1987) habe ich den Änfang der Inschrift von Stentoften (KJ 96) behandelt und darin die epische Einleitung zum folgenden Grabschutzformular gesucht. Nach erneuten Uberlegugen zur Lesung und Deutung der z. T, beschädigten Runen lege ich hier eine etwas modifizierte Deutung vor, die mit der traditionellen Lesung der Runen besser iibereinstimmt7 : niu hA-borıuR niu ha-gestumR hAku-wolAfR gAf A(h) hAriwolAfR ruAg(i)

usnu

hle

`Neun hd-Söhnen, neun hd-Gästen Hálfr opferte (sc. Beigaben); gab Herjolfr dem Sohne einen Grabhügel aus Feuer.'

Einige Sprachformen bedürfen eines kurzen Kommentars, Da das Verb awn. gefa in sakraler Verwendung in der Bedeutung 'opfern, weihen' belegt ist (Beck 1967, 124; Diiwel 1984, 148), kann es auch hier in dieser Bedeutung (aber ohne Óbjekt) stehen, In dem Worte /ah/ sehe ich nicht mehr (wie Grønvik 1987, 125) eine alte Konjunktion, sondern das Präteritum des starken Verbs urn. *jehan, jah (= as., ahd. jehan) mit lautgesetzlichem Schwund des anlautenden j-. Eine neugebildete Präsensform iAr = jiiI? liegt auf der Spange von Formas vor und zwar in der Bedeutung 'geben, übertragen' (Grønvik 1987, 41); dort wie hier regiert das Verb Dativ der Person d- Dativ der Sache. In mAgi steckt das Wort /mægi/ = awn. megi 'dem Sohne'; nach der u-Synkope um 550 war das die lautgesetzliche Dativform (< urn. *magiu). In hle sehe ich eine Schreibung für /hlæ/ = awn. hlæ < urn. hlaiwa (Bø, KJ 78), got. hlaiw usw. 'Grab, Grabhügel'. In literarischer Zeit ist dieses Wort vermutlich in den Ódinsnamen Ill.fefgar und Hlæfreyr belegt (Noreen 1923, § 97, 3; Vries 1962, 236), sonst nicht. (In dieser Inschrift bezeichnet die Rune M e somit nicht nur die Phoneme /e,e:/, sondern auch /æ,æ:/: ein kurzes /æ/ in gestumR = /gæstumR/ und ein langes /æ:/ in hle = /hlæ:/. Vor dem erhaltenen Umlautsfaktor wird dagegen /æ/ als )I( Ä notiert, vgl. mAgi = /mægi/ und hAri = /hæri/ wie auch hAbu = /h4gbil/.) In einem Brief vom 15. Dezember 1987 teilte mir Marie Stoklund mit, daß sie nach Autopsie im Sommer 1987 die herkömmliche Lesung von Rune IV 11 als N in bevorzuge und meine Lesung der Rune IV 13 als r k nicht akzeptieren könne; die erhaltenen Spuren liessen eher auf eine Rune X g schließen. 7

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Das nur hier belegte Wort usnu = /ysnu/ kann nur Dat, Sg, Ntr. eines Ädjektivs awn. *ysinn < urn. *usinaR sein, in dem man ein mit dem Suffix -ina- gebildetes Stoffadjektiv zum Substantiv awn. ysja f. `Feuer' < urn, *usjö erkennt (vgl. Vries 1962, 636). Das Syntagma ysnu hleTe (Dat. Sg,) bedeutet somit 'ein Grabhügel aus Feuer'; so kam ihnen der hoch emporflammende Scheiterhaufen mit den Leichen der Verstorbenen und den vielen Beigaben vor.8 Die Inschrift berichtet, daßlfr und Herjolfr neun Männer ehrenvoll beerdigt haben, Von diesen neun wird einer als der Sohn des Herjolfr bezeichnet; vermutlich war er der Anführer der neun Männer. lfr wird ein naher Verwandter des verstorbenen Häuptlings Auch gewesen sein, etwa der Großvater, der Ónkel oder der Bruder. Einen Änhaltspunkt für eine nähere Beschreibung der neun Männer haben wir in ihrer Bezeichnung als 'hä-Söhne' und `hci-Gäste'. Nehmen wir an, daß das Adjektiv awn, há-r 'hoch' hier in der Bedeutung `sozial hochstehend, vornehm' steht, geraten wir in große Schwierigkeiten. Die neun Männer können ja nicht zugleich die Söhne und die Gäste des Herjolfr sein — seine Söhne würde Herjolfr nicht zugleich als Gäste bezeichnen; übrigens scheint er nur einen Sohn unter den Gefallenen zu haben. Bei der Ännahme, daß die übrigen acht Männer die Söhne des Ilálfr sind, versteht man nicht, warum nicht auch seine Vaterschaft angedeutet wird; und wie erklärt man dann die `Gäste'? Daß die Benennungen 'Söhne' und `Gäste` sich auf respektive Iferjolfr und 8 Daß es sich hier um die Weihe eines Grabes handelt, bestätigen die folgenden Worte hideRrunono = hTdeR riinoni5 'das Lager der vertrauten Freunde', die ich jetzt (anders als Grønvik 1987, 128) als den Anfang der folgenden Grabschutzformel betrachte. Das Wort riinonõ ist der regelmäßige Gen. Plur. eines schwachen Maskulinums, das als awn. reini m 'vertrauter Freund' weiterlebt; seiner Herkunft nach (< germ. *ga-rianan-) bezeichnet es eigentlich Männer, die Geheimnisse miteinander teilen, was ja für diese neun Männer vortrefflich paßt, vgl. unten über ihre OdinWeihe. Das Wort hT6eR ist ein ursprünglicher es-Stamm, der später sein -R analogisch verloren hat (vgl. awn. hiJ n 'Tierlager, Bärenhöhle' und GrOnvik 1987, 69); es scheint hier in einer älteren Bedeutung 'Lager, Ruhestätte (für Menschen)' vorzuliegen, von der es auch im Altwestnordischen Spuren gibt (Grønvik 1987, 128). Neben dem alten es-Stamm run. hi-deR (> awn. hi 0) stand eine j-Ableitung urn. *h[dija n, seit etwa 500 *hi ői (> awn. hídi, altschw. hUıe). Es ist nun möglich, daß finn. hiisi, obl. hiide-, dessen älteste Bedeutung 'burial place' ist (Koski 1977), als Lehnwort auf dieses nordische Wort zurückgeht, vgl. den Beitrag von Mauno Koski in diesem Band der SIDA. Das wäre eine starke Stütze für die oben angesetzte Bedeutung des runischen Wortes. Die Lehnwort-Theorie ist jedoch nicht ganz sicher, da für das finnische WCirt auch eine andere Erklärung in Betracht kommt, siehe Koski 1977.

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Hálfr beziehen sollte, ist syntaktisch unmöglich. Um von diesen Schwierigkeiten loszukommen, müssen wir die Bezeichnungen `hd-Söhne' und 'hä-Gäste' mit dem Ódinsnamen *Hávi, obl. Háva 'der Hohe' (Hávm 109, 111, 164) verbinden; urn. *hauha> hd- ist die alte Kompositionsform sowohl der starken wie der schwachen Form des Ädjektivs. Die neun Männer werden also zuerst 'hd-Söhne' = 'Ódins-Söhne' genannt. Das besagt wohl, daß sie schon vor ihrer Geburt dem Ódin zugeeignet waren und deshalb als seine Söhne angesehen wurden, ganz wie Væmod in der Rök-Inschrift als der Verwandte Thors galt. Demzufolge haben wir es hier mit Ódin-Kriegern zu tun, die vermutlich gleichzeitig im Kampf gefallen waren und hier eine gemeinsame Grabund Kultstätte bekamen. Wenn sie danach 'hd-Gäste' = 'Ódins-Gäste' benannt werden, kann das nur bedeuten, daß sie jetzt Ódin in Walhall besuchen werden. Die Bezeichnungen hd-borumR und hd-gestumR sind es also, die — in dieser Reihenfolge — der Inschrift ihre religiöse Perspektive verleihen. Hier spürt man die feste Überzeugung der Ódin-Verehrer, daß die ihm geweihten Krieger nach dem Tode in sein Totenreich aufgenommen werden. Diese zentrale Glaubensvorstellung der altnordischen Religion kommt hier zum ersten Mal in einem schriftlichen Denkmal zum Äusdruck. 4.6. Äuf die beiden Inschriften von Rök und Stentoften gestützt, können wir jetzt auch den Sinn der Tanum-Inschrift begreifen: firawijan haitinaR was `dem Prawija war (er) versprochen'. In Prawija muß der Name eines Gottes stecken, und das unausgedriikte Subjekt des Satzes kann sich wohl nur auf den Toten beziehen, dem der Stein errichtet wurde.9 Hier ist also ein heidnischer Grab- oder Gedenkstein, der von dem innigen Verhältnis des Toten zu seinem Gotte zeugt. 4.7. Prawija ist also das heiti (der Deckname) eines Gottes, der durch Setzt man versuchsweise den Runenritzer (ek 'ich') als Subjekt an, stört das Tempus Präteritum. Denn von einem lebendigen Menschen erwartet man ja, daß er von sich selbst sagt: `Ich bin einem Gotte versprochen (geweiht)'. Mit Präteritum würde der Satz besagen, daß er sich jetzt von seinem Gottesverhältnis losgelöst hätte. Dagegen kann eingewendet werden, daß Passivfügungen mit vas (var) im Altwestnordischen oft mit 'wurde' übersetzt werden können, und ein Satz wie 'ich wurde einem Gott versprochen' könnte auch von einem lebendigen Gottesverehrer ausgesprochen sein. Bei der Annahme eines 'ich' als Subjekt würde also der Satz gerade im Hinblick auf das Gottesverhältnis doppelsinnig sein, und das paßt doch sehr schlecht auf einem Grab- oder Gedenkstein. 9

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diesen Namen als 'der Sehnsüchtige, der sich (heftig) Sehnende' bezeichnet wird. Gibt es einen frühnordischen Gott, der wegen seiner (heftigen) Sehnsucht so bekannt ist, daß ein solcher Name ihn charakterisieren und identifizieren würde? Eine in literarischer Zeit wohlbekannte Mythe handelt von dem Gotte Freyr, dem Sohn des Njgrar, der eines Tages eine überaus schöne Frau in den Jotunheimar erblickte; das war Gerar, die Tochter des Riesen Gymir. Par af fekk hann hugsóttir miklar heißt es in der Prosaeinleitung der Skírnismál, und in dem Gedicht wird berichtet, daß er ofreidr 'sehr zornig' war, weil er sie nicht haben durfte. Tagelang saß er allein in seinem Haus med mikinn m6ötrega 'mit großem Kummer im (aufgeregten) Sinn' (Skí 3), Sein Diener Skírnir fährt dann nach den Jotunheimar, um für ihn zu werben, und durch Drohungen erzwingt er ihr Gelübde, innerhalb von neun Tagen dem Gott im Hain Barri zu begegnen: "dort wird Gerar dem Sohn des Nkror Freude gönnen." Äls Freyr dies erfährt, antwortet er mit den berühmten Worten: Lyng er nótt, langar ero tver, hvé um fireyjak fir*?

Skí 42

'Lang ist eine Nacht, länger sind zwei, wie halte ich drei aus?' Von Änfang bis Ende ist also Freyr in diesem Gedicht als der von sehnsüchtigem Verlangen nach der Riesentochter erfüllte Gott dargestellt. Es ist zwar möglich, daß gewisse alte mythische Elemente in diesem Gedicht literarischen Zwecken angepaßt sind; wahrscheinlich ist jedoch, daß das Motiv der leidenschaftlichen Sehnsucht altererbter Mythenstoff ist und zum traditionellen Bild des Fruchtbarkeitsgottes gehörte — es paßt sehr gut zur Vorstellung von einem männlichen Fruchtbarkeitsgott . "Hinter der Mythe von Freyr und Geror liegt wahrscheinlich ein rituelles Frühlingsfest, in dem die 'heilige Hochzeit' zwischen dem Gott und der Erdgöttin mit Prozessionen gefeiert wurde, wie sie Tacitus in seiner Schilderung der Erdgöttin Nerthus und ihres Kults beschreibt" (Halvorsen 1980-82, 4, 618). Die Vorstellung von dem Fruchtbarkeitsgott und seiner leidenschaftlichen Sehnsucht nach der Erdgöttin bzw. der Riesentochter wird deshalb eine zentrale, alte und weithin verbreitete religiöse Vorstellung gewesen sein. Darauf deutet auch die

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bildhafte Darstellung des Freyr cum ingenti priapo, die sich laut Ädam von Bremen (um 1070) im Tempel von Uppsala befand," Die Personenbezeichnung Prawija 'der Sehnsüchtige' kann deshalb kaum auf einen anderen Gott als Freyr bezogen werden, wenn sie wie hier in einem Kontext erscheint, der gerade eine Bezeichnung für einen t. Gott erwarten läß 4.8. Der Inhalt der Tanum-Inschrift ist somit, daß der Tote, dein der Stein errichtet wurde, dem Fruchtbarkeitsgotte Freyr versprochen war. Daraus folgt von selbst, daß er ihm auch im Leben gedient hatte. Was wir aus den Inschriften von Rök und Stentoften herauslesen können, weist auf die weitere Vorstellung hin, daß er nach dem Tode zu seinem Gott gekommen war, Dadurch wird verständlich, wieso man die Inschrift auf seinem Grabstein (oder Gedenkstein) so knapp formulieren konnte. In ihrer gedrängten Form zeugt sie von heidnischer Glaubensgewißheit: Man wußte, daß der Tote dem Gott versprochen war; es erübrigte sich hinzuzufügen, daß er nun auch bei seinem Gotte angelangt war. 5. Schlußbemerkungen Óben haben wir drei nordische Runeninschriften besprochen, die von der alten heidnischen Sitte zeugen, ein noch ungeborenes Kind einem Gotte zu geben bzw. zu versprechen, d.h. durch ein religiöses Ritual es dem Gotte zuzueignen. Diese religiöse Institution, von der Ótto Höfler bei Saxo, in Fornaldarsagas und in Märchen noch Spuren fand und die er "die germanische Individualweihe" nannte, ist somit für die ältere nordische Zeit sicher bezeugt. Festzustellen ist nun, daß man allen drei Hauptgöttern des Nordens, dem Thor, dem Ódin und dem Freyr Schützlinge weihte. Daß es sich bei Saxo und in den Fornaldarsagas nur um Weihungen an Ódin handelt, wird darauf beruhen, daß Ódin im Spätheidentum gerade bei Kriegern und Skalden hohes Änsehen und große Beliebtheit gewonnen hatte und deshalb in literarischen Quellen häufig erwähnt wird. Die betreffenden Runensteine sind unterschiedlichen Älters. Der Rök-Stein ist auf die frühe Wikingerzeit (800-820), der Stein von Stentoften auf das 6. Jahrhundert (550-580/600) und der Stein von Tanum mit einer rein urnordischen Inschrift auf den Zeitraum 200-500 zu 1° Über die 1979 in Østfold in Norwegen gefundene Holzfigur mit erigiertem Phallos aus der Zeit um 300 siehe Johansen 1985.

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datieren. Die Formen der Runen j, R und w sowie die Schriftrichtung von rechts nach links passen in den letzten Teil dieser Epoche nicht gut hinein. Krause datiert die Inschrift auf die Zeit um 400, und das mag das Richtige treffen. Die erwähnte religiöse Praxis erstreckt sich also von der späten Römerzeit bis in die frühe Wikingerzeit hinein. Diesen Runensteinen müssen wir somit eine religiöse Funktion zuerkennen, Diese Möglichkeit ist wohl auch bei der Interpretation anderer alter Runeninschriften in Betracht zu ziehen.

Literaturverzeichnis Antonsen, E. H. 1975. A concise grammar of the older runic inscriptions, Tübingen. Bæksted, A. 1951. Begravede Runestene. Aarbøger for nordisk Oldkyndighed og Historie. København. Beck, I. 1967. Studien zur Erscheinungsform des heidnischen Opfers nach altnordischen Quellen. München. Behaghel, O. 1923-32. Deutsche Syntax 1-4. Heidelberg. Blöndal, S. 1920-24. Islandsk-Dansk Ordbog. Reykjavík. Boije, S. 1886. Bidrag till Kännedom om Göteborgs och Bohusläns Fornminnen och Historia 3. Stockholm. Bugge, S. 1866. Bidrag til Tydning af de ældste Runeindskrifter. Tidskrift for Philologi og Pcrdagogik 7. Kjøbenhavn. Dal, I. 1962. Kurze deutsche Syntax auf historischer Grundlage. Tübingen. Düwel, K. 1984. Das Opferfest von Lade. (Wiener Arbeiten zur germanischen Altertumskunde und Philologie 27.) Wien. Friesen, O. v. 1924. Rö-stenen i Bohuslän och runorna i Norden under folkvandringstiden. (Uppsala universitets årsskrift 1924.) Uppsala. Fritzner, J. 1954. Ordbog over det gamle norske Sprog 1-3. Oslo. Grein, C. W. M. 1912. Sprachschatz der angelsächsischen Dichter. Unter Mitw. von F. Holthausen neu hrsg. von J. J. Köhler. Heidelberg. Grienberger, Th. v. 1900. Neue Beiträge zur Runenlehre. Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie 32. Halle. Grønvik, O, 1981. Runene på Tunesteinen. Oslo. — 1983. Runeinnskriften på Rök-steinen. Maal og Minne. Oslo. — 1984. Svar fra doktoranden. Maal og Minne. Oslo. — 1985. Runene på Eggjasteinen. Oslo. — 1987. Fra Ågedal til Setre. Oslo. Halvorsen, E. F. 1980-82. Freyr. Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder 4. [København]. Holtsmark, A. 1953. Rez. Hatler 1952. Maal og Minne. Oslo.

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Höfler, O. 1952. Der Runenstein von Rök und die germanische Individualweihe. (Germanisches Sakralkönigtum 1.) Tübingen. Johansen, O. 1985. Jernalderguden i Skjeberg. Det Norske VidenskapsAkademi. Årbok. Oslo. Kluge, F. 1926. Nominale Stammbildungslehre der altgermanischen Dialekle. 3. Aufl. bearb. von L, Sütterlin und E. Ochs. Halle (Saale). Koski, M. 1977. The change of semantic structure in some Balto-Finnic place names. Onoma 21, 1-2. Louvain. Krause, W. 1966. Die Runeninschriften im älteren Futhark. Göttingen. Kuhn, H. 1954. Gaut. Festschrift für Jost Trier. Meisenheim/Glan. - 1971. Kleine Schriften 2. Berlin. Marstrander, C. 1952. De nordiske runeinnskrifter i eldre alfabet. Viking 16. Oslo. [Offprint.] Meid, W. 1967. Wortbildungslehre. (Germanische Sprachwissenschaft 3.) Berlin. Nordén, A. 1934. Från Kivik till Eggjum 2. Fornvännen 29. Stockholm, - 1940. Tysk runforskning under de sista åren. Fornvännen 35. Stockholm. Noreen, A. 1903. Altisländische und altnorwegische Grammatik unter Berücksichtigung des Urnordischen. 3. vollst. umgearb. Aufl. Halle. - 1923. Altisländische und altnorwegische Grammatik unter Berücksichtigung des Urnordischen. 4. vollst. umgearb. Aufl. Halle, - 1970. Altisländische und altnorwegische Grammatik unter Berücksichtigung des Urnordischen. 5. unveränd. Aufl. Tübingen. Nygaard, M. 1905. Norron Syntax. Kristiania. SKJ Den norsk-islandske Skjaldedigining 1, A-B. 1912. [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. København. Stephens, G. 1866-84. The Old-Northern runic monuments of Scandinavia and England 1-3. London. Vries, J. de. 1962. Altnordisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Leiden. Wessén, E. 1953. Nytt om Rök-stenen. Fornvännen 48. Stockholm. Wimmer, L. 1887. Die Runenschrift. Berlin.

The Position of the Individual Gods and Goddesses in Various Types of Sources—with Special Reference to the Female Divinities BY ELSE MUNDAL

The picture we have of Óld Norse religion is formed on the basis of different sources and source types. If our picture is to be as correct as possible, it is necessary to judge every single source and source type in the light of the different factors we may assume contributed to forming the sources, and in the light of the cultural relations of which the source forms an integral part, Finally it is necessary to regard the sources as a whole, and judge them in the light of each other. Óld Norse religion is in itself an interdisciplinary subject. If we are to survey the whole subject, it will presuppose special knowledge of a great many different fields. Scholars working in comparative religion naturally possess a breadth of perspective, but I assume that they occasionally lack special knowledge in fields such as toponomy, philology, runology and so forth. The rest of us possess special knowledge in one field — at best in a few — but have rather superficial knowledge in others which must also be regarded as sources of Óld Norse religion, and we perhaps lack the training in comparative religion which enables us to make the most of our material as a source for the history of religion. In the last generations there has been a move towards a situation where the scholars are becoming more and more specialized. If research in interdisciplinary subjects like Óld Norse religion is to receive a fresh impetus, scholars from different fields will have to join and work together. In our different fields we all possess knowledge which may provide important pieces in the puzzle which we hope will provide an increasingly clear picture of Old Norse pre-Christian religion. Óne thing that has certainly struck many others besides me is that the picture of Óld Norse religion we may be able to form from one type of source may be so different from the picture provided by another type of source, that the source material itself invites critical judgement of every single type of source.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 295 I must regret that I am not the right person to pursue this matter, but, as I wrote to the organizers of this congress when I received the invitation, I think this is a matter we should absolutely discuss since we have gathered together scholars doing research in all of the fields that may throw light on Óld Norse religion, Änd I was — with the daring born of a distant deadline — incautious enough to suggest that if nobody else took up the subject, then I would try to say something about it. This I will do. The subject is really too extensive for a lecture. I will therefore have to limit myself to some of those aspects of Óld Norse religion which seem most interesting if we wish to compare different types of sources. Änd being a philologist, I will have to concentrate on and begin from the type of source I usually work on. If we compare the Óld Norse written sources with the place name material, these sources seem to give — at least at first glance — a somewhat divergent impression of which gods really were the most important in Óld Norse religion. In the written sources the gods are arranged in a patriarchal family structure with (56inn on the top (the word patriarchal is here used in the broad sense of an extended family with a father figure in command). But if we try to rank the gods in order of precedence on the basis of the number of instances in the toponymic material, (5ôinn would be found a good way down the list, In many cases it is disputable whether a place name contains a god's name, and so exact numbers cannot be given, but in the Norwegian toponymic material both Ullr, Pórr, Freyr, Freyja and Nj9rôr would be ranked before (5ôinn. But as already suggested, a source must be judged in the light of all the factors which took part in forming it, and in the light of the cultural relations of which the source forms an integral part. When this is taken into consideration, it is possible that the diverging pictures given by the two types of sources will approach to each other, When precisely ÓSinn, the god of war, is the principal god in the written sources, this may have some connection with the fact that he was the main god for the social groups that possessed the highest power, and therefore provided the best possibility of spreading their own ideas and opinions. In the warrior culture surrounding the Vikings and the king's men, the god of war, (5ôinn, was of course very important; and with the culture of these circles the scalds, too, were associated. There is hardly any doubt that the milieu with which the scalds were associated played a central part both in the passing down of traditions

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and in the forming of the myth material in the last phase of paganism. The written sources must be judged against that background. If we look at the toponymic material, we have from the Norwegian territory about twice as many (-1--) place names with the names of Pórr, Freyr, Freyja and Njorar as place names with the name of &um, and where Ir (the form Ullinn included) is concerned, the number of toponymie names with Ullr/Ullinn are about three times as many as the names with &inn. To what extent it is correct to regard IDórr as a god of fertility, has been a matter of discussion, but he is no doubt strongly connected with the agricultural society. Generally, we should expect gods connected with the cult of fertility and the agricultural society to be overrepresented in the toponymic material in comparison with a god of war. The fact that this material embraces cult memories from a very long period, is another factor which can influence the picture provided by the toponymic material, and at the same time we must reckon on the fact that place names get lost all the time. The last component in a place name will tell us during what period a name was given, but some of the components used in place names were, on the other hand, productive over a very long period. The frequency of a god's name in the toponymic material may probably also be somewhat influenced by conditions connected with history of settlement. The name of a god who was particularly popular during a certain period may be expected to be most frequent in the toponymic material in those regions where many new farms were founded during the period, It also seems reasonable that the names of those gods who were worshipped alone, and not as a member of a collective or together with others, have a far better chance of being well represented in the toponymic material than the names of those gods who were worshipped together with others. This last point is a rather delicate one, since the consensus of opinion among the great majority of written sources from Ädam of Bremen to the saga literature is that there were statues of several gods in every heathen temple. If we return to the most frequently represented Óld Norse gods in the toponymic material and take the factors mentioned above into consideration, the state of the matter is probably that the place names compounded with Nj9rôr — in the Norwegian material — may indicate that this god's name in the last phase of paganism was not quite so

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 297 productive as the names of Freyr and Freyja, which are also to be found in compounds with -set as the last component. But altogether, the toponymic material forms a basis from which we can draw the conclusion that all three gods belonging to the vanir family had a central position in the cult. If we also reckon with some overrepresentation in the toponymic material for the gods of the agricultural society, Pórr, Freyr, Freyja and Nj9r8r, and the opposite for (5ôinn, it is possible that the pictures provided by the written sources and the toponymic material do not harmonize too badly after all as far as these gods are concerned. If we take a new look at the written sources, we find an established family structure with éainn at the top. This is most clearly formulated by Snorri. But in the ranking of the gods Snorri obviously had problems. It seems that he also had some idea of Freyr as a god of equal importance to Óòinn. In Gylfaginning Snorri first mentions (5ôinn (ch, 20)1, whilst as the leading god among the others he mentions Pórr (ch. 21), followed by Baldr, but after this he turns to the gods of the vanir family, Njgrôr, Freyr and Freyja (ch. 23-24); and he says of Freyr: "Freyr er enn ágætasti af ásum", — Freyr is the most renowned of the gods. Óther sources may equally indicate that among the male gods precisely these four, öôinn, Pórr, Freyr and Njgrôr, had a central position in the cult in the last phase of paganism. In Heimskringla, Hákonar saga Oda, ch. 14, which is of course a late source that we must regard with a certain amount of scepticism,2 Snorri describes how at the heathen sacrifice in Trøndelag they first drank to Óainn in order to obtain victory and power for the king, and then drank to Njgrar and Freyr in order to obtain a good year and peace. This source does not mention a toast to PÓrr, which is in fact interesting, since Magnus Ólsen has already pointed out that the toponymic material gives only a few uncertain instances of worship of 13órr in the regions north of the Dovre (Ólsen 1915, 66 ff.). Óddr munkr, on the contrary, says in Saga Óláfs Tryggvasonar, ch. 56, that a statue of Pórr was placed in the pagan temple at Mzere. In spite of Düvel's legitimate suspicion, it is tempting to believe that Snorri knew more than we might expect, The edition of Gylfaginning referred to in this article is Edda. Gylfaginning og prosafortellingene av Skadskaparnuil, eds. Anne Holtsmark and Jón Helgason, 2. ed., København 1958. 2 Klaus Diivel doubts the trustworthiness of the description, and maintains that it is based on literary patterns and rules of guilds in the Middle Ages. Diivel 1984.

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and that Óddr's description on the other hand is based on a general conception of Pórr as a very important god. In some of the Landnáma editions (e.g. Hauksbók 1892-96, ch. 268) it is related that, according to Ulfljótslo, the person who took an oath on the ring in the pagan temple should invoke Freyr, Njqrar and a'ss hinn almcittki. The identity of the latter figure is a matter of discussion.3 Probably more reliable than these sources is the information about which gods were worshipped given in scaldic stanzas from the last phase of paganism and the conversion period — if they are genuine. In Sonatorrek, Egill Skallagrímsson speaks of himself as a worshipper of (5ôinn, In the stanza which, according to Egils saga, ch. 56, he recited when he raised the ad-pole against Erik Bloodaxe, he requested (5ainn's and the gods' anger on the king, and thereafter invoked Freyr, Njgrar and lancláss, The god Egill calls lancláss i st. 28 is probably the same god as he calls lanclálfr in the next stanza; in both cases most scholars think that he means Pórr. In Hallfredar saga, ch. 6, st. 10, 11 and 12 the newly baptized Hallfreôr in the two first stanzas speaks about his attitude to (Minn, and says that he has unwillingly come to hate him. In the last stanza he mentions Freyr, Freyja, Njgrar, sioinn and IDórr as angry gods that he has turned his back on in exchange for the love of Christ (there is some doubt as to whether Hallfrear's stanzas are genuine or not). In the Eddaic poem Skírnismál, st. 3, Freyr is called fólkvaldi goda, `the chieftain of the gods', and in a similar way he is spoken of in Ulfr Uggason's poem Misdrápa, st. 7. Generally, I suppose, we may say that the authors of the Icelandic saga literature two centuries or so afterwards seem to have had the understanding that IDórr and Freyr were in particular much worshipped in the last phase of paganism in Iceland, Äccording to Ädam of Bremen, the only written source which claims to be an authentic description of a pagan temple, the gods Freyr, Pórr and (Minn were placed in this temple with 13órr in the middle (Ädam of Bremen 1917, 26 f.). Whether this description of the three gods is trustworthy or a construction based on the impression of which gods were the most important among the Swedes, Ädam of Bremen is a good source regarding the position of these three gods,

3 The problem has been considered recently by Helgi loorliksson in Porláksson 1986.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 299 Äs far as it is possible to identify gods on the basis of their attributes in the iconographic material and in archaeological finds, there too these three gods seem to be the most frequent. The first names used in Scandinavia and Iceland also provide material which seems to offer evidence of the enormous popularity of 15órr. But to what extent this source really can say something of the popularity of Pórr compared with that of other gods is in my opinion a rather different question, If a god's name is frequently used as a component in first names, it is surely an evidence of popularity, but if a god's name is not used, it is not necessarily an evidence of the opposite, What then of other gods? Äs pointed out before, the name of Ullr was the most frequent in the Norwegian toponymic material, but he is far from being so central in the written sources. This may partly be explained by the fact that Ullr in the last phase of paganism no longer held such a central position as he did previously, but the disagreement between the two types of sources may also partly be explained by geographical differences. Äccording to the toponymic material, the cult of Ullr was widespread in Norway in the regions south of the Dovre, but the majority of the instances are to be found in the eastern part of Norway and in Ägder. Älready Magnus Ólsen emphasized that the Norwegian toponymic material indicated considerable geographical dissimilarities over which gods were worshipped within a region (Ólsen 1915, 66 ff.), and the same point has lately been made by Lars Hellberg regarding Sweden (Hellberg 1986). It is not surprising that such local variation within Scandinavia is not reflected in the written myths which are mostly Icelandic. But it is yet interesting to notice that as late as the thirteenth century, when the Icelandic sagas were written, there must have existed an idea about geographic dissimilarities regarding the cult, In Hallfreckr saga, ch. 5, we are told of some heathen Icelanders who come to Norway and unexpectedly find themselves in a Christian country since Ólav Tryggvason has come to power. Then they make a vow to Freyr if they get a fair wind to Sweden, and to IDórr and 6ôinn if they get a fair wind back to Iceland. In contrast to Ullr, 'Ur is a god who is hardly mentioned in the Norwegian toponymic material (1 example), while in the myth material they are, so to say, mentioned with equal rarity. The explanation may partly be that Týr, like 68inn, is a god of war, If his cult belonged to an earlier phase, some instances in the toponymic material may have been lost. But Norway was probably an outlying region with regard

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to the cult of Týr.4 Ämong the goddesses, the name of Freyja is the only one which is particularly frequent in Norwegian place names. It is often impossible to establish whether it is the name Freyr or the name Freyja that is instanced when the place name is not found in old sources, but in any case the number of instances is considerable. The number of occurrences of the name of Frigg, on the other hand, is extremely limited in the Norwegian toponymic material. But 5 place names in the eastern part of Norway composed with /Xs- bear witness to a cult of female divinities. Óther goddesses than Freyja and Frigg are not mentioned with certainty in the Norwegian toponymic material. But the goddesses are not the only ones missing from this material: as already stated, the name of Týr is very infrequent. The name of Heimdallr is not mentioned with certainty, and the same may be said of other gods known from the myths, It is of course possible that gods and goddesses may have been popular in the myths without being important in the cult. The multitude of female divinities, above all, and some of the gods who are known only as peripheral myth figures, are suspected of belonging to the myth literature only. This may very well be right in some cases, but to draw conclusions on the basis of missing instances is always an unsound scientific method. We will always, therefore, have to ask the question: are there conditions connected with the cult of some of the divinities which may explain why their names are not to be found in the toponymic material? With regard to the goddesses, I suppose they are — in spite of the fact that Snorri gives some of the lesser known ones responsibility in special fields — less specialized than the gods. This is perhaps a situation which made it natural to worship them as a collective force. In any case, a word like dísablót indicates that female divinities were worshipped as a collective, and this fact may partly explain why the individual goddess — with the exception of Freyja — disappears as an individual and becomes invisible in the toponymic material. But the collective cult is also reflected in the toponymic material, Place names composed with Dís- bear witness to a cult, not of one female divinity, but of a collective of them. — Äs I will show later, the relation between the individual goddess and the collective is in my opinion very interesting. 4 Denmark seems to have been the central region for the cult of Týr. The instances of the name Týr in the Danish toponymic material have been discussed recently by Bente Holmberg. Holmberg 1986.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 301 Folke Ström says (Ström, F. 1961, 192 ff,) that in Norway the Asir were the object of a public cult only in the southern and eastern part of the country; in these regions the cult connected with the hgrgr fell under the public cult. Äll the Norwegian place names formed with Dis- thus belong to a region where the Asir probably were the object of a public cult. If this is correct, it also indicates that the chances of becoming visible in the toponymic material were far less for divinities worshipped in the private cult than for divinities who also had a central position in the public cult, but they still may have been very important in religious life. How and to what extent the cult is incorporated in the political structure of the society may also greatly affect the patterns formed by the sacred place names in the toponymic material, even though there are not geographical differences regarding which gods were worshipped. In the written sources, and most clearly in Snorri, gods and goddesses are arranged in a patriarchal family structure. This structure is very different from the goddess/priest structure found in an old source like Tacitus: Germania. In addition, the archaeological material with its many finds showing statues of goddesses with clearly marked sexual organs, together with picture material, indicates that the worship of a goddess had a central place in the cult in the period before the Óld Norse society, Älso the worship of a couple, a goddess and a god, which several scholars claim to have found in the toponymic material, is something which perhaps does not necessarily contradict the patriarchal family structure in the written sources, but which nonetheless seems to bear witness to a situation with more equality of status between god and goddess than we can expect to find in a patriarchal family structure. In the following, I will take a closer look at this family structure and try to estimate how the picture of the relationship between gods and goddesses that we can visualize on the basis of the written sources may have been influenced by the family structure, and I will also try to point out factors in this picture that do not fit in with the patriarchal family structure. In what follows I want to look into how the conception of the family structure may have influenced the reciprocal relationship between the female divinities, and I will conclude with some reflections on the so-called lower female divinities. Even though the patriarchal family structure is most clearly formed by Snorri, this was far from Snorri's idea, The family structure is very well instanced in the older kenningar in the scaldic poetry, and

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Paulus Diaconus writes in his History of the Langobards at the end of the eighth century that Frigg was married to 68inn (Paulus Diaconus 1897, 27). What conditions operated in forming the conception that the world of the gods was organized like an extended family with a male god on top, is in itself an interesting question. Somehow, the conception must be connected with developments in society. If developments in religion and mythology move towards a situation where male gods took a more and more dominating position, it may of course be tempting to regard this as a reflection of — and perhaps as a justification of — men's position in society. But since our knowledge of the pre-Norse society and its religion is very insufficient, it is difficult to draw conclusions regarding this field, and the conception of a family of gods is in no way special to Óld Norse religion. In the last phase of paganism the tendency to give one male god a leading position could perhaps be strengthened by the influences of Christianity. If the starting point was a religon where sex was of no importance in the rank of the god or goddess, one would assume that the arrangement of gods and goddesses in a patriarchal family structure would automatically lead — at least outwardly — to reduced status for all the goddesses in relation to the gods. But if we go to the written sources and consider how the relationship between gods and goddesses is described behind the outward family structure, we can see that the power and rank of the goddesses compared to that of the gods, is not described as fully parallel to the relationship between men and women in Óld Norse society. In Gylfaginning, ch. 20, Hár states: "Tólf eru æsir guôkunnigir." There are 12 æsir of the gods' family, — But Snorri lets Jafnhár at once throw in a remark: "Eigi eru ásynlurnar úhelgare ok eigi megu kær minna." — The ásynjur are not less holy, and their power is equal to that of the gods. — Äccording to the general conception in the Óld Norse period, men who fell in war came to 68inn in Valhg11, as is stated in Gylfaginning, ch, 20, but the sources also give the information (Snorri 1958, ch. 24; Grfmnismál 1867, st, 14) that Freyja and &nn shared the number of fallen men equally. The sources also frequently state that the goddesses know the fate, and they thus seem to be more closely related than the gods to the fate-making norns, who in fact are the highest power in the universe of Óld Norse mythology. The myth material also describes situations where a god and a goddess enter into competition with each other. In the Eddaic poem

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 303 Grímnismál Óóinn and Frigg in some ways fight each other. In this case it is perhaps disputable which of them turns out to be the most powerful. Also in The History of the Langobards by Paulus Diaconus we meet Óôinn and Frigg in another but similar situation of competition. There Frigg offers help to the one of the two struggling sides which will turn to her for help, while Óôinn refuses to interfere. It is perhaps wrong to say that Frigg turns out to be the strongest, but we may say that she is the best one to turn to for help. Ótherwise, the myth material also gives examples of situations where a god, Óôinn, punishes a female divinity who is opposed to his power and decisions (see e,g. Sigrdrıfumáa. It is perhaps disputable where the sympathy lies in cases like this, but what I find interesting in this connection is that this kind of mythic material may reflect a sort of competence struggle between male and female forces, where the female forces are in retreat. Älso when Snorri in Ynglinga saga, ch. 4, gives the information that Óôinn learned seidr from the ásynjur — Freyja — it may reflect reminiscences of a male god making his way into the field of the female divinities. The same may be the case when Óôinn in the written sources sometimes points out that he knows fate, while it is clear from other sources — e.g. Baldrs draumar and Vgluspá that he did not. The ability to acquire knowledge of fate, which the norns had decided, was a speciality of the half mythological figures, the vçlur, and, as pointed out before, the goddesses are also said to have knowledge of fate. Lotte Motz maintains (Motz 1980) that Snorri describes the goddesses as more equal to the gods than his sources permitted. Änd she claims that this equality of status is a construction deliberately produced by Snorri. I can hardly see any reason why Snorri should give such a description in defiance of his sources, and the reason why the description of the goddesses seems to be self-contradictory on this point may in my opinion rather be that conceptions really were incoherent, and that this incoherence may partly be a result of the incorporation of the goddesses in the patriarchal family structure which could form or strengthen the conception of a subordinate position in contrast to other — and older — conceptions of the goddesses. Ón the other hand, I quite agree with Lotte Motz when she states that the goddesses as described by Snorri are judged according to the standards of women's behaviour in a patriarchal society. This way of judging goddesses is in fact not new in Snorri's works, but appears in his sources as well, e.g. in Lokasenna as far as sexual morality is concerned. Lokasenna, however, is a very special source, since Loki,

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who brings the accusations against the gods and goddesses, is the worst of all, and the comedy in the situation may have something to do with the fact that the goddesses are judged by a wrong set of norms, But nevertheless, the poem indicates that — comic or not it is not quite out of the question to judge the goddesses according to ordinary women's standards of behavior. To judge a goddess of fertility according to this standard, is of course completely inconsistent with the cult of such a goddess, Since Freyja, in spite of everything, seems to have been a very important goddess in the last phase of paganism, it cannot have been very common for the sexual character of the fertility cult to become destructive to the cult object itself, that is to say: to the goddess's reputation. Nevertheless, it is her sexual character which the scald Hjalti stresses in the stanza for which he was outlawed in Iceland in the year 999: Vil ek eigi go.) geyja grey 1ykki mér Freyja. (islendingaba 1968, ch. 7).5

I will not abuse the gods, but Freyja is a bitch.

It has been emphasized that Hjalti is giving word to the opinion of a Christian, but the negative judgement of a fertility goddess may be the result of several factors working together. Both in heathen and in Christian society it was fatal for a fertility goddess to be judged according to the norms of ordinary women's sexual behavior. But since they were incorporated in a family structure made to reflect Óld Norse society, the scene was set for such an judgement. Ä male fertility god, on the other hand, had nothing to lose if judged by the norms of men's sexual behavior in Óld Norse society. Something that strikes us when we compare the part gods and goddesses play in Óld Norse mythology is that there are so many goddesses' names. In fact, the sources give more names of goddesses than of gods, but we know next to nothing about the majority of them, About some of the names it is said that they are alternative names for Freyja, and some of the goddesses are regarded as hypostases of Frigg. This hypostasis theory seems to have given them a very odd, intermediate state between being and not being existing goddesses. But if we have hypostases, we will get more goddesses out of one, and the last one will be as "real" as the first one. The stanza is also found in Kristni saga, in Saga Óldfs Tryggvasonar by Oddr munkr, in Olófs saga Tryggvasonar in mesta and in Njdls saga.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 305 The large number of names of goddesses have been partly explained as the result of the scalds' needs to vary the kenningar since names of goddesses are used as basic words in kenningar for women. The scaldic language is certainly our primary source for many of these names, and Snorri presumably mentions them mostly because the Edda is a textbook for scaldic poetry which is intended partly to explain the old kenningar, and partly to provide patterns for making new ones. But if a kenning is to function, one condition is that it gives associations to something known. Names of goddesses could not function as a basic word in kenningar for women if they did not give associations to goddesses people knew beforehand. The scalds certainly had a hand in the transformation and embroidering of the myth material, but I believe it is impossible to launch new goddesses by means of basic words in kenningar, They would probably have to be launched in some other way before. Some of the names of goddesses perhaps belong completely to the world of poetry, but the multitude of them and the so-called hypostases do after all bear witness to the strength and the vital productivity of the conceptions linked with female divinities. If some of the more unknown goddesses are hypostases of Frigg, it is not likely that they belong to the last phase of paganism, but rather to an earlier period when Frigg was more central as a fertility goddess. Ón the other hand, we notice that the many children of the gods who were probably added to the gods' family in the last phase of development of the myths are, with the exception of the daughters of Freyja — Drıiar I consider to be older — all sons. This may give us an indication of the direction in which developments run, When the goddesses in spite of their quantitative predominance in the myth material are overshadowed by the gods, about whom much more is told, this may — as I will later suggest — have something to do with how and to what extent they are incorporated or not incorporated in the family of the gods. The fact is that far from all the goddesses are incorporated in the patriarchal family structure of the gods. In Gylfaginning, Snorri obviously had his difficulties with the great number of single goddesses. They have given him problems of the sort single ladies used to cause when the table was being laid in bourgeois circles, and Snorri simply chose to gather them in a chapter of their own — together with Frigg and Freyja, but none of the other married goddesses (Snorri 1958, ch. 35). Moreover, one of the single goddesses, Gefjun, is spoken of more fully in the chapter relating the myth of how Zealand was

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made (Snorri 1958, ch. 1), but this story is not to be found in all the manuscripts of Snorri's Edda, and it is uncertain whether Snorri actually wrote it .6 In addition, some fragments of the constellation goddess/priest, god/priestess are to be found in the Óld Norse myth and fable material. The myths of Freyja on several occasions mention lovers from the human world. HyndlulOd says that Freyja's lover, Óttarr, made a hgrgr and worshipped Freyja. The relationship between Gefjun and Gylfi could probably also be judged in the light of a goddess/priest constellation, although the myth in the shapes we have it (Snorri 1958, ch. 1; Snorri 1952, ch. 5) does not invite such an interpretation. The best example of the constellation goddess/priest or god/priestess — in the actual case god/priestess — in Óld Norse sources is in the story of Gunnarr helmingr (Flateyjarbók 1860, 335 ff.). In spite of the fact that this story is to be found in the late source Flateyjarba, there is scarcely any doubt that it is based on conceptions commonly known from old traditions about a fertility god travelling around with his priestess. Äll things considered, there is quite a lot of material in the Óld Norse myths that does not fit in with the family structure of the gods. The conceptions of the reciprocal relationship between the goddesses — or the conceptions as they have been passed down to us — are also clearly influenced by the family structure in which the goddesses are incorporated or not incorporated. Snorri has relatively far more to say about the goddesses who, through marriage or family, are connected with the male gods. The others are most often little more than names on which he perhaps makes some comments of a folk-etymological character. If we consider our literary sources and ask which of the goddesses' names are most frequently used as basic words in kenningar for women, we see that many of the more "unknown" goddesses are very well represented in this material. It is of course dangerous to use this kind of source too mechanically. The scaldic poetry from the Christian period shows remarkable changes in fashion concerning which names of goddesses were being used as basic words in kenningar. When a name like Bil, for example, in the Christian period is one of the most frequent basic word in the group of kenningar for women that uses mythological names, this may partly be explained by the fact See Finnur J6nsson's Fortale to Edda Snorri Sturlusonar, 1926. Snorri 1926, VI.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 307 that Bil was not described as a real goddess in the myths, but only a mythological person, and therefore her name did not give the same associations with paganism as, for example, Freyja. But the fact is that as basic words in kenningar the names of many of the "unknown" goddesses are rather frequent. Most frequent in the scaldic material is the name Hlín with 25 instances, In Vglasyi it seems that Inn is another name for Frigg. The name Frigg on the other hand is only used in 3 kenningar. The name Freyja and names that are said to be other names for Freyja are frequently used, If Mr' is a name for Frigg, the names of both goddesses, Frigg and Freyja, are very frequent in scaldic poetry. If Hlfn and Frigg were not regarded as the same goddess, the instances of the names of Freyja become overwhelming compared to those of Frigg, and we will have a lot of instances of a goddess' name, HHn, the name of a goddess about whom we know almost nothing. Änd the fact is that a lot of the names of the "unknown" goddesses are approximately as frequent, for example, as the names Nanna and Prar. The name of Dunn, strange to say, is not used in kenningar for woman at all in the extant material. But on the other hand, names of goddesses that Snorri does not even mention in Gylfaginning, such as Njgrun, Nauma and Enos, are frequently used, Óf course it is a possibility that many of these names belong to the world of poetry, and not to the cult, but the problem is that they are not to be found in the myth material either. Änd if we glance at the material which might offer a parallel, names of gods in kenningar for men, we find that the names of gods used as basic words in kenningar for men are the same names as those known from the myths. This state of things — as I see it — entitles us to ask the question: what has happened on the female side of the gods' world? In view of the patriarchal family structure, the relationship between Frigg and Freyja is also interesting. Where goddesses are concerned, Snorri obviously had difficulties in making up his mind about which of them was the more important (compare his treatment of &rat and Freyr). In Gylfaginning he contradicts himself on several occations. In ch. 24 he states that "Freyja er ágætust af ásynjum," — Freyja is the most renowned of the ásynjur. — But later, in ch. 35, where he lists the goddesses, he begins with Frigg and states that she is the leading one, but when he lists Freyja as number six, he nonetheless remarks that she is the leading goddess besides Frigg, When Snorri partly regards Frigg as the leading goddess, his reasons are probably her position in the family structure of the gods. Äs töoinn's wife, she had the position of a "First Lady" and consequently the highest rank

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on the female side. If her rank were to be stipulated on the basis of people's image of her, much seems to indicate that not Frigg but Freyja was the leading goddess. She is the one who plays the largest part in the myths, her cult is very well instanced in the toponymic material, she is the one who receives half the number of the fallen men, and in the kenningar of the scalds her name is used much more frequently than that of Frigg — but the name Hlin introduces an element of uncertainty with regard to the last argument. Ón one occasion, Frigg and Freyja are mentioned together as goddesses who can provide the same sort of help. In Oddrúnargrátr, st. 9, they are both invoked to assist at childbirth. Änd the reciprocal relationship between the two goddesses may have been different in an earlier period. The goddess who had a day of the week named after her was Frigg, but what this signifies for the rank of Frigg compared with that of Freyja in Scandinavia, is uncertain. If the name of the day is borrowed from another Germanic language, and perhaps relatively late, the name frjádagr gives more information about another Germanic region than Scandinavia, If it is correct that several of the goddesses Snorri lists in Gylfaginning, ch. 35, are hypostases of Frigg, it is also reasonable that Frigg was a very central goddess in the period when these hypostases came into existence. It also seems to make sense that it was the leading goddess who was considered to be the leading god's wife, but not necessarily, Both Frigg and Freyja belong to the type of fertility goddess. Ät a point in time before the last phase of Óld Norse paganism, it seems that Freyja gained ground at the expense of Frigg. If the forming of the myths and the forming of the patriarchal family structure in the world of the gods are meant to consolidate or promote certain ideas — I will not maintain that this is the case, but am merely speculating — a somewhat faded variant of the fertility goddess would probably be a more fitting mistress in the gods' world than the most typical and leading fertility goddess. It was in fact somewhat problematic to get a typical fertility goddess to play the part of a married woman and respectable housewife, as the myths about Frigg almost demonstrate. The myth and fable material does indeed give information about the marriages of both Freyja and Gefjun, but somehow they do not seem to be fit for the married woman's life. Whether the incorporation or non-incorporation in the gods' family structure has any influence on the reciprocal relationship between Freyja and Gefjun, is more uncertain. Freyja is incorporated in the

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 309 family structure as daughter and sister, while Gefjun in fact remains outside. Freyja plays a much larger part in the myths than Gefjun, and her name — as opposed to Gefjun's — is very well represented in the toponymic material and in the scaldic language. But there is one point that may indicate that Gefjun, in the last phase of paganism, was more important than the source material allows. In translations of Latin legends the name Gefjun is rather consistently used to translate the name of the Roman goddess Diana, How important Gefjun actually was, I am not sure, But if it is correct that she was more important in the last phase of paganism than the sources seem to indicate, that traditions about her have been lost, and that the image of her has faded, the reason for this need not rest entirely in her failure to become incorporated into the gods' family The reason for this could just as well, or at least partly, be that certain sides of Gefjun's character meant that cultural circles important for the passing on of tradition, e.g, the scalds, chose to overlook her. It is striking that Gefjun's name is one of those the scalds did not use as a basic word in kenningar for women, only one example having been passed down to us; and that example (in the poem Haustlçng from the ninth century) is not in fact used about an ordinary woman, but is to be found in a kenning for a vglva living in the world of the giants. It is rather an open question whether the choice of one particular goddess's name as the basic word in a kenning had an artistic motivation or not. Äs far as the denotative meaning of the kenning was concerned, the choice of one name instead of another was of no importance, but with regard to the connotative meaning, the choice of name as basic word made a difference indeed. Änd it could be that the name Gefjun evoked associations that the scalds did not wish to evoke in a kenning for woman, In the only preserved myth about Gefjun, it is related that she set out for the ktunheirnar, and there she got sons by a giant. Ótherwise, it is the male gods who go to the ktunheimar and have children with giantesses. The gods always try to prevent sexual relations between a goddess and a giant. In the world of the gods, as in the human world, men were free to cross social barriers to choose their sexual partners, women were not. But Gefjun breaks away completely from this pattern of sex roles, and acts like the male gods. Could these be associations the scalds did not want to evoke when they chose not to use her name? Ä result of that choice could if so be that her memory faded. If the associations connected with Gefjun's sexual contact with the giants are

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the reason why the scalds avoided her name in kenningar for woman, the robbery of Munn by the giant Djazi could perhaps explain why they also avoided her name. Munn is otherwise a goddess whose connection with the apples of youth calls up associations which should make her name a fitting basic word in a kenning for woman, In the scientific literature about Óld Norse mythology the female divinities are very often divided into two groups, In the first group we find the goddesses, in the second group we have the so-called "lower female divinities," These divinities are collective forces like nornir, valkyrjur and dísir, The fylgjur (in the shape of a woman) have a somewhat different position, but I will list them with the others. There are sides of their character which indicate that they are connected with the cult of forefathers or, more precisely, the cult of foremothers (See Mundal 1974, 90 f,, 101 ff.). Óccasionally the authors picture them as of supernatural size, something that emphasizes their divine character. Óne of these subgroups, the valkyrjur, are to some extent incorporated in the gods' family structure in the work of Snorri. They are made servants, (5ôinn's maid-servants, and they execute the woman's work of filling up the drinking cups in Valh911 (Snorri 1958, ch. 36). Snorri's description on this point is not totally without foundation in the scaldic poetry. The relationship between the individualized goddess and the female collective forces, as described in the sources, of course has something to do with how collective forces were generally estimated, In the writings of learned authors in the Christian period there are some indications that they looked upon the worship of spirits and collective forces as something primitive and silly. In Ilauksbók we can read: Sumar konor ero sua vit lausar oc blíndar vm budt sína at ber taka mat sínn oc foera a roeysar vt eôa vndir hella. oc signa land vettum oc eta sidan. til bess at land vettír skili beím ba hollar vera. oc til bess at ber skili ba eiga betra bu en aar (Hauksbók 1892-96, 167).7 Some women are so unwise and blind about their needs, that they take their food and bring it out to heaps of stones and mountain caves and consecrate it to the spirits of the land and thereafter they eat it in order to make the spirits of the land friendly and in order to have more luck with their farming than before.

The passage is quoted from Heimslýsing ok helgifrce6i, ch. 9, which claims to be a sermon of Augustinus.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 311 But whether the spirits and collective forces — in their special fields — were really regarded in pagan times as less powerful than the gods is an open question. The heathen sacrifices called dísablót and álfableıt, seem to have been very important sacrifices in pagan society, and they must have consisted mainly of sacrifices to the collective forces of Asir and áifar. Judging from several provisions in the kristindómsbölkr of both Norwegian and Icelandic laws, the worship of collective forces (vættir) were the pagan remnants which were most difficult to eradicate. (See e.g. Norges gamle Love 1846-49, 1, 152, 318, 430; Norges gamle Love 1846-49, 2, 381; Grágás 1852-83, la, 22; Grágás 1852-83, 2, 27; Grágás 1852-83, 3, 24 f,, 72, 117, 167, 210, 251, 330).8 The provisions in question are most likely directed against a private cult where the worship of collective forces probably played a more dominating part than in the public cult. But anyhow, the collective forces must have been very important. Whether a person chose to worship an individualized god or a collective force could depend on the person's own choice, the situation, what he or she wanted to obtain and so on. It is very difficult to prove, on the basis of the written sources, that the gods were generally regarded as more powerful than the collective forces, and the division into "higher" and "lower" divinities cannot therefore be justified on the basis of the relative strength of the groups. What seems to form the basis of the division is the fact that gods and goddesses were individualized, whilst the collective forces were not. But it is not obvious that such groupings of individualized and collective forces were particularly important in Óld Norse society. Ón some occasions gods/goddesses and collective forces (vættir) are referred to in a way that removes the distinction between them. In Oddrıinargrátr, st, 9, the word vættir, 'spirits', is used in a way that also seems to include the goddesses — "hollar vættir, Frigg ok Freyja ok fleiri gob". In the provisions of the laws that forbade the worship of heathen forces — and that of course includes the gods — the heathen forces are normally spoken of as heidnar tıættir, 'heathen spirits'. In the last case, the wording may of course be influenced by the Christian way of thinking which reduced the heathen gods to evil spirits, but the wording may also reflect that there was no sharp distinction between gods and vættir in the Óld Norse way of thinking. There is also — as Ældre Frostathings-Lov, 3, 15; Ældre Bjarkø-Ret, 69; Kong Sverrers Christenret, 79; Erkebiskop Jons Christenret, 56.

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I will show later — reason to believe that gods and collective forces were worshipped together, Where the relationship between the individualized female goddesses and the female collective forces is concerned, there are some points that I would like to emphasize, points which make it difficult to draw a sharp distinction between the "higher" and "lower" female divinities. The fact is that the individual goddess — and giantess — may also be referred to by the name of the collective dis. This is the case with both Freyja and Skaai, and also the female characters of the other subdivisions of female divinities may be called by the name dís, which in fact may be used in such a way as to include all the divine female characters, individualized goddesses and collective forces alike. Ynglinga saga, ch. 29, mentions dísar sair, 'the temple of the dís', and if the idea of such a temple in connection with a cult is based upon tradition, it is important that the form dísar is genitive singular, but the cult is called dísa blót, 'sacrifice to the Asir, and as a parallel to dísa blöt we have Asa Ping, 'the thing of the Asir'. In both cases the form dísa is genitive plural. When it comes to the cult of female divinities, we see that concepts of one individual goddess and the female collective merge into one another. There is no sharp division between the dís (sg.) and the disir (pl.), and if we look at the other subdivisions of the female collective forces, the same thing may be observed. With regard to the noms, one to three of them may be individualized in the myths and given a special name, but a concept of them as a collective force without individualized characters is also found in the sources, i.e. nameless noms that come to every newborn child to form the child's fate (Snorri 1958, ch. 15). It is the same thing with the valkyrjur. Here, too, named individualized figures may be extracted from the collective in the scaldic and Eddaic poetry, It is true of the fylgjur too. Ä man or a family may have one, a few, or a large collective of fylgjur. Where the female divinities are concerned, we see again and again that the conceptions of the individual and the collective merge into each other. This holds good for the goddesses towards the collective forces as a whole, and it holds good within each subgroup of female collective forces, The same thing cannot be observed on the male side of the gods' world. Ä slight parallel could perhaps be the relationship between the gods of the vanir family and the altar, 'the elfs', or between the god

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinities 313 whom Egill Skallagrímsson in his stanzas in Egils saga ch, 56 and 57 calls landáss and landálfr, and the landvættir, 'the spirits of the land'. But in any case, the merging into each other of an individual and a collective is far less obvious on the male side than on the female side. Not only the division between the individualized goddess and the female collective is diffuse on the female side. The division between goddess and giantess is also very diffuse in the mythic material, considerably more so than on the male side. Änd it is even more remarkable, perhaps, that the division between human characters and divine characters is also very vague with regard to some of the subgroups of female divinities. The valkyrjur are partly spoken of as divine characters and partly as human beings. It is the same thing with the vçllur, who may be human women, but who occur among the gods and giants as well. Finally, the word gydja is used for both goddess and priestess in the Óld Norse language, and could indicate a sort of identification of the goddess and the priestess. To regard the different groups of female collective forces as "lower divinities" is particularly problematic with regard to the noms. Since they are fate-making divine figures, who create fate for men and gods alike, they are in fact superior to the gods. But it is also very problematic to separate the individual goddess from the female collective and regard the collective as something "lower". Somehow they belong together and form an indivisible unity. The valkyrjur are usually spoken of as belonging to 6ôinn, although it would perhaps be more correct to attach them to Freyja, who shared the fallen men with (5ôinn. I cannot — at least at the moment — put forward a thesis explaining the relationship between the individual goddess and the female collective, or the very diffuse boundaries between goddess and giantess, or between divine and human female characters. But I have a feeling that we could find here a key to the puzzle which could provide a better understanding of the character of the female divinities, the part they played and their cult,

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Bibliography Adam of Bremen. 1917, Magistri Adam Bremensis Gesta Hammaburgensis Ecclesiae Pontificum. [Ed. by] B. Schmeidler. Hannover. Düvel, K. 1985. Das Opferfest von Lade. (Wiener Arbeiten zur germanischen Altertumskunde und Philologie 27.) Wien, Egils saga, Skalla-Grímssonar. 1933. [Ed. by] S. Nordal. (Íslenzk fornrit 2.) Reykjavík. Flateyjarba 1. 1860. [Ed. by] G. Vigfússon & C. R. Unger. Christiania. Grágás la-b - 3. 1852-83. [Ed. by] V. Finsen. Kjøbenhavn. Grímnismál. 1867. Scemundar Edda. [Ed. by] S. Bugge. Christiania. Hallfreoar saga. 1939. Vatnsdcela saga, Hallfreóar saga, Kormáks saga. [Ed. by] E. 61. Sveinsson. (Islenzk fornrit 8.) Reykjavík. Hauksbók. 1892-96. [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. København. Hellberg, L. 1986. Hedendomens spår i uppländska ortnamn. Ortnamnssiillskapets i Uppsala. Årsskrift. Uppsala. Holmberg, B. 1986. Den hedenske gud Tyr i danske stedsnavne. Mange bakke smd. [Ed. by] V. Dahlberg & G. Fellows-Jensen. (Navnestudier 27.) København. Islendingabók. 1968. Islendingabók, Landnamabók. [Ed. by] J. Benediktsson. (Íslenzk fornrit 1.) Reykjavík. Landnámabók. 1968. Islendingabók, Landnámabıa. [Ed. by] J. Benediktsson. (Íslenzk fornrit 1.) Reykjavík. Motz, L. 1980. Sister in the cave. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 1980. Uppsala. Mundal, E. 1974. Fylgjemotiva i norrøn litteratur. Oslo. Norges gamle Love indtil 13871-3. 1846-95. [Ed. by] R. Keyser & P. A. Munch. Christiania. Norges gamle Love indtil 1387 4. 1885. [Ed. by] G. Storm. Christiania. Norges gamle Love indtil 1387 5. 1895. [Ed. by] G. Storm & E. Hertsberg. Christiania. Den norsk-islandske Skjaldedigtning. 1 A-B, 2 A-B. 1912-15. [Ed. by] F. Jönsson. København. Oddr Snorrason. 1932. Saga Óldfs Tryggvasonar. [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. Kobenhavn. Olsen, M. 1915. Hedenske kultminder i norske stedsnavne. (Skrifter utg. av Videnskapsselskapet i Kristiania. 2. Hist.-filos. Klasse 1914, 4.) Kristiania. Paulus Diaconus. 1897. Langobardens Historie. [Transl. by] G. Bang. [Ed. by] Selskabet for historiske Kildeskrifter. København. Scemundar edda. 1867. [Ed. by] S. Bugge. Christiania. Snorri Sturluson. 1911. Heimskringla. [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. København. - 1926. Edda. [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. [2. ed.] København.

Gods and Goddesses with Reference to the Female Divinitíes 315 Snorri Sturluson. 1952. Ynglingasaga. [Ed. by] E. Wessén. (Nordisk filologi. A. Texter 6.) KObenhavn. — 1958. Edda. Gylfaginning og prosafortellingene av Skáldskaparmál. [Ed. by] A. Holtsmark & J. Helgason. [2. ed.] (Nordisk filologi. Ä. Texter 1.) København. Ström, F. 1961. Nordisk hedendom. Lund. Tacitus Cornelius. 1961. Germania. [Ed. by] A. Onnerfors. Stockholm. Porláksson, H. 1986. Hverr var hinn almáttki ás? Eguus Troianus sive Trójuhestur. Tyggjaôur Jonnu Louis-Jensen 21. oktober 1986. Reykjavík.

Pagan Myth in Confrontation with Christianity: Skirnisnuil and Genesis BY GRO STEINSLAND

Skírnismál is the only one of the Eddaic lays which is dedicated to the god of vanir, Freyr. The poem deals with the offer of marriage to the giantess Gerör which the messanger, Skírnir, takes to htunheimr on Freyr's behalf, To fulfil the wish of the god, Skírnir makes use of both seduction and curse. Regarding the question of age and interpretation of the lay, various suggestions have been made by scholars. Ä central question for scholars has been whether the poem contains genuine pagan myth (Ólsen 1909; cf. Dronke 1962). In recent years several scholars have argued that the lay is late and that, in spite of its preoccupation with preChristian mythology, it deals mainly with medieval ideology (Lönnroth 1978; Mitchell 1983; Bibire 1986; Randlev 1986). Óur concern here is not to provide an interpretation of the lay as such. We shall focus instead on a point which has not hitherto been recognized: the possible connection between Skírnismál and the Jewish-Christian myth of the fall in Genesis. The dramatic structure of Skírnismál does display a striking conformity with the biblical myth of the fall, and there is, moreover, an analogy between the use of motifs in both sources witch demands further investigation, Skírnismál and Genesis Chapter three of Genesis conveys the Jewish-Christian myth of the fall belonging to the broader myth of creation placed within the frame of the Jahvistic lay of scripture. The myth starts with Genesis ch. 2:4 ff. The narrative structure of the myth of the fall in Genesis may be divided into four parts: 1. The primeval state, presenting the primeval human couple in primeval conditions of life, in the fertile garden of Eden. 2. Seduction: disharmony disturbs the primeval state of harmony: a figure in the shape of a snake tempts the woman by means of a fruit which the woman accepts.

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3. Curse: man and woman are cursed and driven out of the garden. 4. A new state is anticipated: new conditions of life on earth result from the curse.

The myth of Skírnismál may be analysed as a parallel structure: 1. An original state: the god lives in Pisgar6r, the giantess lives in Adunheimr, 2. Seduction: the balance between the two mythical worlds is disturbed by the passion of the god. Ón behalf of Freyr, a messenger tempts the woman with apples. 3. Curse: the woman is cursed and threatened by a life with bad conditions. 4. Transition to a new state is anticipated: the god and the giantess will be joined in the grove of barri. The dramatic climax of the myth is constituted in both sources by a polarity between seduction and curse. The structural accord between the two sources may at first glance be claimed to be one of a common narrative character, But when the parallelism in motifs is also taken into account, a considerable conformity between the two myths emerges. It must be emphasized that what is being considered is not merely a casual parallel between randomly chosen sources. Both Skírnismál and the myth of Genesis, in its Norse conceptions, are medieval, Norse sources. The myth of Genesis was also known beyond its literary shape through church murals and book illustrations. Pictures of Eve and the Tree of Life, the temptor and the apple(s) were known to a great number of Norsemen throughout the Middle Äges. We shall first compare the main elements of the two myths. a. b. c. d.

Skírnismál Genesis Skírnir seduces Gerór The snake seduces Eve The couple will be joined The couple live in the garden in the grove of barri of Eden Gen5r is tempted by epli Eve is tempted by the fruit Curse: Genesis: The woman is cursed by sexual dependence, pain and trouble (Gen ch. 3 : 15). Skírnismál: The woman is cursed by sexual intercourse, ergi, oedi and ófioli (Skm sts. 29--31). Genesis: The fertile earth is cursed to bring forth thistles (Gen ch. 3 :18),

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Skírnismál: The sexually depraved woman is symbolized by the thistle (Skm st. 31). e. Expulsion: Genesis: The couple are driven out of the garden (Gen ch. 3 : 23— 24). Skírnismál: The couple will be united in hieros gamos in the grove (Skm sts. 39 and 41). From this short comparison it is obvious that the two sources make use of identical motifs, but that the motifs in question have the opposite function in the Eddaic lay to what they have in the biblical myth. The two sources betray a contrary tendency. While the seducer in Genesis represents disobedience towards the god Jahve, the seducer in Skírnismál turns out to be god's own messenger, Whilst Eve's fall in Genesis means disobedience to the divine command, the wish of the god himself, causes the woman to "fall" in the Eddaic myth. Whilst the function of the curse in Genesis is to push the couple out of the garden, the function of the "fall" in Skírnismál is to get the couple into the grove, While sexuality is a kind of punishment in Genesis, sexuality is a goal in Skírnismál. In both myths the objects of the curse are driven out of an original state of existence into new conditions of life. The myth correspond to rites de passage, marking the transition from a primeval state of life to another, mature one. The god is on the losing side in Genesis, but emerges as the victor in Skírnismál. In Genesis the fate of humanity is established through the actions of the primeval couple; death becomes a condition of life thereafter. We can imagine that the hieros gamos, which is the goal of the Eddaic myth, similarly contains fatal consequences, cf. the utterance of Freyr in stanza 7 that neither gods nor elves want a union of the two. Änother Eddaic lay, Lokasenna, relates that Freyr's proposal to the giant maiden had evil consequences in the battle of Ragnarçkr, Freyr is said to have lost his marvellous sword on that occasion, which means that his alliance with the giant maiden did have terrible consequences for the fate of the gods (Lokasenna st. 42). Ón one point the function of motifs is consistent in both sources: as it relates to the curse upon the woman: threats and curses in both myths produce a picture of the woman as a creature in sexual dependence and distress. From this chain of parallel motifs in Skírnismál and Genesis we will propose the hypothesis that Skírnismál is composed by a poet who

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knew the myth of Genesis and made use of his biblical knowledge in composing the Eddaic lay, We are struck, above all, by the strong polarity between seduction and curse in the two myths, as well as the common use of precise requisites such as apple and thistle. The woman is in both myths cursed by means of an apple; the thistle is in both myths the symbol of a perverted condition of life. We have hitherto referred to the fruit of seduction as the apple; our task, then, is to investigate whether apple and thistle were known to a Nordic, medieval public as distinct elements of the biblical myth.

A. Seduction by apple Neither the Vulgate nor the Septuagint name the fruit in the myth of the fall as an "apple". The Vulgate has fructus which means "fruit" pure and simple; The Septuagint has karpos, fruit; the Hebrew scripture has peri, fruit. It has been strongly debated what sort of fruit may be hidden in these conceptions, but the discussion is of no interest for our study. What must be stressed is that Germanic translations or commentaries which depend on the Vulgate mention the fruit as an "apple" (Roscher 1965, 1, 2; GT 1929, 6; Kuhn 1968,; Heisig 1952-53), Óur concern, however, is the conceptions of the fruit used in Norse translations or compilations of the biblical myth of the fall. Elucidarius has epli: Var vittran gods eda illz i banodo eppli (Hauksbók 1892-96, 478). Veraldar saga refers to the tree in Paradise as frodleiks tre and mentions the fruit as epli: of hau æti epli af trenv [.,,] (Veraldar saga 1944, 16 ff.). Konungs skuggsía has æpli: En alldin fiat er tre fiat bærr ha heita hau frodleics æpli afivi tre skulu kit æcki taca oc æcki noeyta of keim æplum [.,.] (97); Pvi mest toc hon tvau frodleics &ph oc annat siolf en annat fecc hon adami [.. .] (98) (Konungs skuggsia 1983, 76). Stjórn has epli: tok has eit epli af aauexti ]ess sama tress ok aat [. ..] (ch. 11), [.. ] at af epla aati fengi fieor langt lif [...] (Stjórn 1862, 35, 40). Lilja has epli: epli er eitt er ek banna at bita (st. 14), engi munud it Adám deyja andlits-hvít, boat eplit bítid[...] (st, 17), Eva hann fyr epli bannat [...] (st. 66) (Skj B, 2, 394; cf. Skj Ä, 2, 368; cf. Skj B, 2, 395; cf. Skj A, 2, 369; Skj B, 2, 407; cf. Skj Ä, 2, 384). We may conclude that the Norsemen did know the biblical fruit of the fall as epli, that is the same sort of fruit which is used in Skírnismól for the seduction of Gerdr, The Eddaic poem actually speaks of eleven

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apples, epli ellifo, and a ring, baugr, as well in the seduction passage, and these elements should of course be analysed within the framework of Norse mythology.' But the traditional mythical connotations of the Eddaic elements do not concern us here. In this connection we shall concentrate on the possible literary parallels between the Eddaic lay and Genesis. B. Curse and thistle The curse section provides the longer passage in Skírnismdl, where it contains fourteen stanzas (Skm sts. 23-36, of which Skm sts. 26-36 constitute the curse proper). Curse and compulsions are the means used by Skírnir because the giantess refuses the offer of marriage from the god. We should recall her proud utterance before Skírnir has shown his mighty weapons of compulsion: Änaud" Polo ek vil aldregi

Compulsion I will never stand

But the curses and compulsions of Skírnir make Gerdes pride and independence collapse. The curse section is the one most frequently commented on by scholars, but we shall not discuss the passage per se here. Gerdr's life will be like that of a dead person; all the world will repel her, she herself will be disgusted by food (Skm sts. 26-28), until she will at last find herself in the hall of ]ursir, in pain and insanity, and here she will be sexually exploited. Änd at the same time, she herself will develop sexual abnormalities. (Skm sts. 29-31). The perverted conditions by which Gerör is threatened, is symbolised in the picture of the thistle in Skm st. 31: Ver fiú sem Pistil

Become you as the thistle

Early sholarly analyses of Skírnismál did not pay much attention to the curse passage. It seems that the god Freyr alone held the sympathy of the interpreters, and there was a tendency to overlook the wretched fate of the woman and the violence with which she is treated. This is the scope of the interpretation proposed by Magnus Ólsen Many sholars have followed an emendation from epli ellifo, eleven apples, to epli ellilyf, apples as remedies of long life, first published by Svend Grundtvig in 1874. The proposal is based on the myth of Munn in HaustIong. Grundtvig 1874.

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(Olsen 1909) and also in Jöran Sahlgren's analyses (Sahlgren 192728). Later scholars, however, have paid close attention to the curse section; Ursula Dronke, for example, considers the passage as a main element of the poem (Dronke 1962); as do Lars Lönnroth (Lönnroth 1978), Stephen Mitchell (Mitchell 1983), Julie Randlev (Randlev 1986) and Paul Bibire (Bibire 1986). The motif of the thistle in st. 31 stands out as the quintessence of whatever Gerd?' is threatened by.2 The weed symbolizes the opposite of mature womanhood; the thistle is a symbol of dryness and death in contrast to fertility and life, evoking the life of an outcast rather than a fully integrated member of society. The thistle in Genesis The thistle as a symbol of cursed conditions of life is also found in the myth of the fall in Genesis. Here, the earth is cursed by God as a result of the fall of Eve and Ädam. When Jahve has learned to know the offence of the primeval couple, the following punishment is uttered (Gen ch. 3 : 17-18, Vulgate): Quia audisti vocem uroris tuie, et comedisti de ligno, ex quo, præcepebam tibi, ne comederes, maledicta terra in opere tuo: in laboribus temedes ex ea midis diebus vits tux. Spinas et tribulos germinabit tibi, et comedes herbam terræ. Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying,

Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the day, of thy life; Thorns also and thistles skall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field. (Authorised version) For spinas et tribulos in the Vulgate, the Septuagint has akantas kai tribulos, Latin spina, f., means thorn, bramble; tribulos m,, means thistle; Greek and Latin reproduce the Hebrew dardar, the main word for thistle (Buttrick 1981). In Stjórn, the Norse compilation of the Óld Testament, spinas is rendered with korn ok klungr, thorns and brambles (Stjórn 1862, 38). None of the interpretations of Genesis So also Joseph Harris: "Thus the thistle simile seems to stand as a summary, reflecting but not participating in the categories of the conceptual structure of the curse...". Harris 1975, 33. 2

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which the compiler of Stjórn refers to, mention the plant; neither for Scholastica historia, Speculum historiale or for Äugustinus does the compiler refer to any sort of herb. Äctually Porn ok klungr is identical with spinas et tribulos. The translator or compiler certainly did know the plant from other biblical texts: thistles and thorns are commonly used as metaphors in the Óld Testament, often as metaphors of punishment of sin (Jos. 23, 13; Job 31, 40; Isa. 5, 6; Isa. 32, 13; Hos. 9, 6; Hos. 10, 8; Mic. 7, 4), as pictures of disobedience (2 Sa. 23, 6; 2 Ki. 14, 9; Song of S. 15, 9), as a symbol of pain and grief (Song of S. 26, 9; Ez. 28, 24), and where cultivating of land is concerned — the thistle is a symbol of mismanagement of the land (Song of S. 24, 31). It is obvious that the use of tribulos in Genesis is in concordance with the common use of metaphors in the Óld Testament. Konungs skuggsiá on the other hand, use Pisan for tribulos in Genesis: fiistla oc illgræsi skal hon gefa Per iavoxt, thistles and weed it shall bring you as crop (Konungs skuggsiá 1983, 108). Konungs skuggsiá is dated to about 1250; as a source it is older than Stjórn, and it is interesting that in the rendering of the curse of Genesis it makes use of the term pistill, the same word which in Skírnismál st, 31 is use as a symbol of the cursed, perverted life. The conclution is that the Northmen did know the polarity between seduction and curse, and also the distinct motifs of apple and thistle, as elements of the biblical myth of the fall. Inevitably the mythical elements in Skírnismál must be analysed within the frame of pagan mythology. What we have pointed out here is a concordance between Skírnismál and Genesis in the polarity within the narrative structure of two myths and a concordance between certain distinct motifs: apple as a means of seduction and thistle as a symbol of the cursed state of existence. In the myth of the fall in Genesis it is the earth which is cursed to bring forth thistles; in the Eddaic lay it is the Gerör who is cursed to become like a thistle. Äccording to Magnus Ólsen's interpretation of Skírnismál, Gerdr is a personification of the earth (Ólsen 1909). It has been pointed out that the thistle motif has had a traditional function in Germanic runic formulae (Ólsen 1964, 41 f.) Joseph Harris has argued strongly for a Germanic provence of the thistle motif used in Skírnismál (Harris 1975). But it is not the traditional Germanic kind of formula which Skirnismál exhibits; the motif has a function within a complex mythical narrative. Possibly both pre-Christian tradition and allusions to the biblical myth are mingled in the Eddaic lay.

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Hypot hesis a) Hypothetically, one may propose that the poet of Skírnismál has used his knowledge of the Jewish-Christian myth of the fall and applied it within the frame of a poem which mainly makes use of pagan elements. Then the Eddaic lay exhibits some sort of transformation. The structure and certain main motifs of the biblical myth are recognizable within the Eddaic lay, but both the structure and the elements are transformed. The transformation may be explained by artistic needs alone; a Norse poet has been artistically inspired by the biblical myth and has mixed elements from the Óld Testament narrative with domestic mythical traditions. b) Änother explanation emerges from the medieval principle of interpretation. The Óld Testament was typologically interpreted in the Middle Äges; the principle is prefiguration: Óld Testament typus prefigures New Testament anti-typus as Ädam prefigures Christ. This principle of interpretation justifies and allows the incorporation of pagan traditions into a world history which is still ruled by God, thereby providing a teleological history,3 Hypothetically, it might be proposed that a medieval poet quite familiar with the sholarly principles of interpretation could recreate pagan myths as parallels to the biblical, Óld Testament prefigurations. Thus paganism had to be defended in the same way as Judaism, as a forerunner of Christianity. A "pagan" myth may have been produced as a parallel to the myth of fall in Genesis. With this explanation, however, no justice is made to Slarnismál's strong opposition to the myth of Genesis as far as tendency is concerned. c) Ä more reliable explanation of the special function of the biblical motifs which we have recognized in Skírnismál, is that the poet has made use of biblical elements to create a distance to the biblical myth. Óne may propose that the use of biblical elements in the Eddaic poem represent a biased interpretatio norroena of the myth of Genesis. Ä Norse poet has used the biblical motifs in an extremely independent manner. In the Eddaic lay, it is the god who — through his own messenger — functions as a seducer and makes the woman "fall". 3 Gerd Wolfgang Weber has exemplified the use of the typological interpretation in several articles. Cf. Weber 1987.

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But Skírnismál's obvious opposition to the biblical myth as regards tendency still does not seem to have received a full explanation.

d) Ä reinterpretation which must be called a remythologization of the myth of Genesis, has been known since the first centuries among gnostic heretical sects. The mythology of creation and fall particularly concerned the Gnostics. From their experience of a supreme, trancendental god, the Gnostics proclaimed to unveil the lower, ignorant god of creation. They were thereby able to claim freedom with regard to Scripture and tradition. Ä consequence of this freedom was remythologization of traditional myths. The Gnostics, for example, recognized the serpent in the myth of the fall in Genesis as a forerunner of the Saviour; the apple which was offered to Eve by the serpent contained gnosis, the deeper, saving knowledge which made man able to grasp his true nature and thereby his salvation. Correspondingly, the apples which are offered to Gerór, contain access to the world of gods through marriage with Freyr. Än element which may support the view that Skírnismdl reflects knowledge of gnostic reinterpretation of the myth of the fall in Genesis is the name of the messenger, Skírnir. He is only known in Skírnismál, except for one occurrence in Snorri's Gylfaginning. The name has usually been interpreted as "light", cf, old Norse skirr, light, bright. Scholars have seen the messenger as a personification of Freyr himself who in Grimnistuál 43 is called skirr Freyr. But what has not been realized, is that the name may be explained formally as a nomen agentis to skim, f., which is commonly used in medieval litterature of Convertion in the meaning "baptism".4 Skírnir may be interpreted as "Baptizer", he then turns out to be a pagan parallel to the Baptist, the forerunner of the Saviour, a first messanger who in genuine gnostic manner is placed within the frame of the primeval history, The name Skírnir interpreted in the conventional way as the bright, shining one, also fits in with gnostic metaphors of light. The gnostic model of remythologization which we have focused as a possible model working for the Norse poet of Skírnismál, may seem very far-fetched if no point of reference in the Nordic medieval history can be singled out. There are, however, sources which may support the possibility of gnostic influence in Scandinavia in the eleventh century. islendingabók 8 describes ermskir bishops who stayed in Iceland at the time 4 For this interpretation of Skírnir I am indebted to Prof. Else Mundal, University of Oslo.

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of bishop Isleifr. The source describes so-called episcopi vagantes: Petrus, Äbraham and Stephanus (Islendingabók 1986, 18). Äri does not point out a certain date for their activity in Iceland, but he seems be referring to the same bishops as those mentioned in Hungrvaka 2 (Byskupa sçgur 1938, 25-115), The latter are foreign bishops, condemned by the Ärchbishop, Ädalbert of Bremen. He did prohibit people from making use of the services of these non-consecrated bishops who were disgracefully ordained for money in England or France, in Anglia vel in Gallia, and who apparently preached "another and easier doctrine" than the priests of Bremen (Cf, Ädam 1917, III, c. 16, shol. 69 (70) [Letter from Pope Älexander II to King Harald the Hardruler]; cf. DN 1847, 17, nr. 1). The time of their activity in Iceland must have been between 1056-1072. Grágás also refers to the ermskir bishops (Grágás 1974, la, 22; Grágás 1974, 2, 27), those who have not learned the Latin tongue and about whom the people are warned .5 Ät the end of the ninteenth century, the Danish sholar of ecclesiastical history, Ä, D, Jørgensen, identified the ermskir as Paulicians, an heretic group which seems to have arisen in Ärmenia in the seventh century and which achieved a tremendous importance, also being disseminated to Europe (Jørgensen 1874-78). Jørgensen refers to the known connections between the Norwegian King Harald the Hardruler and the Russian Church and the unconsecrated bishops which the king, according to tradition, is supposed to have brought to Scandinavia.6 The Icelandic historian Jón Jóhannesson follows the view of Jørgensen in identifying the ermskir as Paulicians (Jóhannesson 1969). Mágnus Már Lárusson however, associates the ermskir bishops with Ermland in Gardarike, His interpretation also points to connections with the Eastern Church (Lárusson 1959). The Paulicians represent an obvious gnostic Christian doctrine which separated the divine into a higher, transcendent god and a lower god of creation. Like all Gnostics, they practised great freedom in interpretation of Holy Scripture, Óur sources regarding the activity of these gnostic bishops are scanty, but the little information there is may reflect the realities and thereby suggest important circumstances: medieval Scandinavia did not repGrágás 1974, la, 22 has hermskir; cf. Grágás 1974, 3, 330 f.; Grágás 1974, 2, 27 has ermskir; Grágás 1974, 3, 24 has enskir; Grágás 1974, 3, 117 has ærmskir. 6 Cf. diploma from Pope Alexander to the King Harald the Hardruler. Adam 1917, III, c. 16, shol. 69 (70).

5

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resent a homogenous Christian dogma, Óur sources support a hypothesis that gnostic, heretical traditions of interpretation may have reached the Nordic countries through the activity of foreign clergy as early as the eleventh century.? The activity of the three bishops named may have been one of several possible channels of heretical influence in the North.' From what is written above we dare to maintain the hypothesis which says that the poet of Skírnisma'l borrowed ideas from several traditions, from Nordic, mythological ones and at the same time from biblical tradition, from the myth of the fall in Genesis, whether this is from knowledge of a sholarly, typological method of interpretation or from knowledge of a heretical, gnostic meaning of the myth. This conclusion means that the pagan, mythological tradition of the North was recreated at the time of Conversion, for the biblical elements in Skírnismál are used within the frame of a lay which, in its deepest conception, belongs to the pre-Christian tradition. The interpretation of the Eddaic lay as such, however, is another and greater task, reserved for a more extensive study. In this collocation of the Eddaic lay and the myth of Gcnesis we have suggested one possible layer of tradition, one thread in the texture constituted by Skírnismál. These viewpoints are of great importance, however, in the question of dating and also, thereby, of interpretation, besides adding to our understanding of the surroundings in which the Eddaic poems were created.

7 We are here in opposition to Peter Foote's viewpoint on the problem of syncretism in the time of Conversion in Iceland. Foote concludes as follows: "Differences must have existed, though hardly at fundamental doctrinal level". Foote 1984, 88. s Bearing in mind that the Gnostics were extremely occupied by the mythology of creation, a demonstration of gnostic influence in the North could explain the gnostic tendency which seems to exist in the anthropogonic myth of Vgluspd. Cf Steinsland 1983.

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Bibliography ABBREVIATIONS

Gen Skm

Genesis Skírnismál

Adam of Bremen. 1917. Magistri Adam Bremensis Gesta Hammaburgensis Ecclesiae Pontificum. Hrsg. von B. Schmeidler. Hannover. Bibire, P. 1986. Freyr and Gerdr: The story and its myths. Sagnaskemmtun. Ed. by R. Simek et al. Wien. Buttrick, G. A. 1981. Thistle, Thorn. The interpretator's dictionary of the Bible. Abingdon. Byskupa sggur 1. 1938. [Ed. by] J. Helgason. (Det kgl. nordiske Oldskriftselskap). København. DN Diplomatarium Norvegicum 1. 1847. [Ed. by] Chr. C. A, Lange & C. R. Unger, Christiania. Dronke, U. 1962. Art and tradition in Skírnismál. English and medieval studies presented to J. R. R. Tolkien. By N. Davies et al. BLondon. Foote, P. 1984. Observations on "syncretism" in early Icelandic Christianity. Aurvandilstá. [Ed. by] M. Barnes Si H. Bekker-Nielsen & G. Weber. (The Viking Collection 2.) Odense. Grágás Ia-b - 3. (1852-83). [Ed. by] V. Finsen. Odense. Grundtvig, S. 1874. Seemundar Edda hins frócia. 1-3. København. GT Det gamle testamente 1. 1929. [Transl. by] S. Michelet & S. Mowinckel & N. Messel. Oslo. Harris, J. 1975. Cursing with the thistle. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 76. Helsinki. Hauksbók. 1892-96. [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. København. Heisig, K. 1952-53. Woher stammt die Vorstellung vom Paradiesapfel. Zeitschrift fur die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 44. Berlin. fslendingabók. Íslendingabdk, Landnámabók. 1968. [Ed. by] J. Benediktsson. (Íslenzk fornrit 1.) Reykjavík. Jóhannesson, J. 1969. Islands historie i mellomalderen. Oslo. Jørgensen, A. D. 1874-78. Den nordiske Kirkes Grundlæggelse og første Udvikling 1. København. Konungs skuggsil. 1983. [Ed. by] L. Holm-Olsen. (Norrøne tekster 1.) Oslo. Kuhn, H. 1968. Apfel. Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 1. Hrsg. von H. Beck et al. Berlin. Lárusson, M. M. 1959. Um bina ermsku biskupa. Skirnir 133. Reykjavík.

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Lönnroth, L. 1978. Skirnismáloch den fornisländska äktenskapsnormen. Opuscula Septentrionalia. [Ed. by] B. Chr. Jacobsen et al. Hafniae. Mitchell, S. 1983. Fgr Skírnis as Mythological Model: frid at kaupa. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 98. Lund. Olsen, M. 1909. Fra gammelnorsk myte og kultus. Maal og Minne. Kristiania. — 1964. Edda- og skaldekvad 7. Oslo. Randlev, J. 1986. Skírnismil. Maal og Minne. Oslo. Roscher, W. H. 1965. Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie 1-7. Hildesheim. Sahlgren, J. 1928. Eddica et Scaldica 2. (Nordisk filologi 1:2.) Lund. Skj Den norsk-islandske Skjaldedigtning A 1-2, B 1-2. 1967-73 (1912-15). [Ed. by] F. Jónsson. København. Steinsland, G. 1983. Antogonimyten i Vgluspå. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 98. Lund. Stjórn. 1862. [Ed. by] C. R. Unger, Christiania. Sæmundar Edda hins fróda. 1965 (1867). [Ed. by] S. Bugge. Oslo. Veraldar saga. 1944. [Ed. by] J. Benediktsson. København. Vulgata. 1970. London. Weber, G. W. 1987. Intellegere historiam. Tradition og historieskrivning. [Ed. by] K. Hastrup & P. Meulengracht Sørensen. (Acta Jutlandica 63, 2; Acta Jutlandica. Humanistisk serie 61.) Århus.

Nordic and Celtic Religion in Southern Scandinavia during the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age BY MARIANNE GÖRMAN

This symposium is devoted to the study of ancient Nordic religion. Most of the talks have dealt with Nordic religion, as it appears in the Viking Äge. Äncient Nordic religion, therefore, seems to be identical with religion in the Viking Äge, and this is also the traditional way of looking at the matter. The reason for this view is, of course, the fact that religion in the Viking Age is comparatively well documented, above all through abundance of written sources. Óur knowledge of the religious life of our Nordic ancestors before that is on the other hand meagre and fragmentary. Óur knowledge here is based on archæological finds, as written sources are lacking. Because scholars of the history of religions normally work with texts, there has been great scepticism about conducting research into the history of religions on the basis of archæological finds — i.e. a non-written material. Ä sceptical attitude towards the study of pre-history within the framework of comparative religion was perhaps once well founded. Developments in archæological research has been very rapid, however, particularly during the last decades, and extensive investigations of dwelling-places were carried out during the sixties and seventies. Thanks to the findings of these excavations we today have a more coherent and in several respects, completely new conception of Nordic pre-historic society. By means of modern archæological research it is today possible to gain much information even from non-written material, a point I have demonstrated in my recently published dissertation (Görman 1987). There I used results from recent research into the chronology of rock-carvings and Celtic-German pre-history as a basis for a study in comparative religion. To begin with I shall introduce my sources and the methods of work I have used. I shall then present some of the results I have obtained. Together they give a new and more detailed picture than before of the religion in Southern Scandinavia during the late bronze age and early iron age.

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My investigation is limited with regard to time and place. It covers the late bronze age and early iron age, ca. 1000 B.C. —O. It is based on material from Denmark, the Southwest of Sweden, and the Southeast of Norway. This region formed a cultural unity since the sea bound the area together. Óur main sources of knowledge of Nordic religion during this time span are votive offerings and rock-carvings. Votive offerings are objects which, above all, have been deposited in lakes and peat-bogs, In prehistoric times these served as cult centres for entire districts, often over long periods, Rock-carvings are to be found in many parts of the world, but they are particularly numerous and varied in Scandinavia. Those in the Northern parts of Scandinavia are usually very different from those in the South with respect to time of origin, locality and motifs, The rock-carvings of Southern Scandinavia are generally situated close to cultivated land and connected with water. Their position in relation to arable and pasture land and their motifs, often taken from agriculture, show that they have been created by peasants. It is also common to label them "agricultural carvings". Modern research dates the majority of the rock-carvings of Southern Scandinavia to the bronze age, mainly its latter part, and to the early iron age, i,e. about 1800 B.C. —0, with its centre during the period 1000-500 B.C. Ä few scholars consider the carving to have continued until the late iron age. There are some reasons for believing this, but conclusive arguments are still missing, It is important to remember that not all figures on a rock-carving need to have the same time of origin. Sometimes the carving has continued on the same rock for several centuries. This is very evident when new pictures have been carved across others. The rock-carvings of Southern Scandinavia have been subjected to a series of different interpretations. Today, however, most scholars agree that they reflect developed religious conceptions and cults. They believe that the engravers were trying to represent religious events in real life, i.e. cultic acts. Äccordingly, the rock pictures are to be understood as representations of the cultic practices of the bronze and iron ages. The purpose of the rites reproduced on the rock-carvings was to strengthen the fertility of the ground and the generative productiveness of animals and men. Good growth and plentiful offspring among men and animals were pre-requisites for further existence and a good life for those men who created the rock-carvings. It is generally supposed that the powers to whom the rites were directed were sun-gods

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and fertility gods. The frequent round figures on the rock-carvings speak for a cult of the sun and they are generally interpreted as symbols for the sun. The sexual character of the rock pictures is also striking. The sexual organs of animals and human beings are often very enlarged. When women appear, they are almost always to be found as partners in coitus.' Äs mentioned above, the carving extends over several thousands of years. During this time the structure of Nordic society changed, and different ideas penetrated into the Nordic area from the world around, influencing its artistic forms. In spite of this, scholars have often considered the rock-carvings to be a cultural and religious unity, and it is only during the last decades that archaeologists have been able to reveal a chronological order in the huge amount of rock-carvings (see Marstrander 1963; Glob 1969; Burenhult 1980). The chronology they are just beginning to discern has made it possible for me to choose and investigate a number of motifs, which are recognized as contemporaneous. Consequently I have avoided making overall interpretations of rock-carvings. In other research this is common and can easily lead to false conclusions. Äccordingly, I have investigated a number of motifs which are all new in the Nordic pictorial world from the late bronze age. I have examined these symbols and pictures when they appear on archæological finds of sacred character, i,e. rock-carvings and votive offerings from the Southwest of Scandinavia. These motifs are not only contemporaneous, but they are also of the same origin. They all come from the Celtic Hallstatt culture in the Eastern part of Central Europe (Kossack 1954, 79-84; Marstrander 1963, 273 ff., 278; Glob 1969, 190197. Marstrander as well as Glob use the results of Kossack). During the bronze age and early iron age the Nordic peasant population had intensive contacts with the Southeastern and Central parts of Europe, Ä great quantity of imported objects bear evidence of widespread connections.2 The inhabitants of the Nordic area not only brought home objects, but also ideas and religious conceptions. This is clearly reflected in the iconography, as we soon shall see. The cultures with which connections were upheld and from which ideas were introduced were those of Hallstatt and La Tène. They were I For a general introduction to rock-carvings see Fredsjö & Janson & Moberg 1969; Kühn 1971; Stenberger 1964, 228-249. For rock-carvings in special areas see Althin 1945; Glob 1969; Marstrander 1963; Gjessing 1939; Hagen 1969; Fredsjö 1971; Fredsjö 1975; Fredsjö 1981; Burenhult 1980. 2 For influences from Central Europe on the Nordic material see Thrane 1975.

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both Celtic iron age cultures prospering in Central Europe at the same time as the late bronze age and early iron age in the Nordic area. As I have mentioned previously, the motifs of the Nordic pictorial world changed with the transition to the late bronze age. Some motifs became less frequent, while others gained in importance. Ämong the last mentioned are a number of new symbols and pictures. They are animal heads with horns, serpents with or without horns, complicated circles and spirals and hand-signs (Glob 1969, 184-197, 202 f.; Marstrander 1963, 275 ff.). In particular, these symbols are found on things connected with the cult, but they are less frequent on the large number of objects in daily use such as weapons and tools. Äccordingly there is a difference between the profane and the religious pictorial world (Glob 1969, 131). The new motifs belong above all to the second sphere. The prototypes for the new symbols are to be found in the Eastern part of the Hallstatt culture. This was, as I have mentioned, a Celtic culture. Here, too, the motifs in question are to be found in religious contexts. This means that the new symbols in the Nordic area come from a Celtic environment. Consequently I have concluded that the Celtic religion, such as it may be found in the pre-Roman period, can clarify the meaning of the conceptions, linked with these symbols. I intend to discuss the motifs containing serpents, animal heads and deer hunting, and I shall try to elucidate these by means of a few examples, In Celtic religion the name of Cernunnos is a collective title for gods of a special and similar character. Two main sub-groups may be discerned. The first type is reproduced with deer horns on his head and with torcs around his neck and in his hand. Ä torc is a Celtic neck-ring, which is almost fully closed. This god is accompanied by one or several ram-headed serpents and often by a deer and a bull, The second type of this horned god is portrayed with the horns of a ram or a bull on his head. He is often represented as a nude phallic warrior with a spear and a shield in his hands. From their animal attributes and companions it is evident that these horned gods were fertility gods. A goddess of the same type as Cernunnos is also known (for Cernunnos see Duval 1957, 33 ff.; MacCana 1970, 44, 47; Ross 1970, 211 ff.; Sjoestedt 1940, 26; Vries 1961, 104 ff.; Bober 1951). Óne of the best reproductions of Cernunnos we know is to be found on a silver cauldron from Gundestrup in Denmark. (Fig. 1) The cauldron, which represents a whole Celtic pantheon, is usually dated to the centuries around the birth of Christ. In some cases the god and his

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Fig. 1.

female counterpart have been depicted together, Serpents are to be found on about twenty rock-carvings in Scandinavia. Sometimes they are supplied with horns. Än example of this is a rock-carving from Lökeberget in the parish of Foss in Bohuslän. (Fig. 2) In Celtic religion the ram-headed serpent is no doubt the most typical cult animal, Usually it appears in connection with the Cernunnos gods. Än example of this is a rock-carving from Val Camonica in Italy, which shows Cernunnos with a long serpent in his left hand (Fig. 3), whilst on the cauldron from Gundestrup in Denmark he is also represented with a horned snake. Ä number of rock-carvings

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GöRMAN

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Fig. 2. in Bohuslän contain serpents with this Celtic characteristic, which is important. Ón the carving from Foss the snakes are situated above ships, and these ships, accordingly, are cult ships, on which horned serpents are carried around in a religious ceremony. (See fig. 2.) We have another example of the snake cult on the rock-carving from Vitlycke, also in Bohuslän. (Fig. 4) Ä man is depicted standing with lifted arms in front of two serpents. In one of his hands he is holding a ring. The photographer Per Hasselroth has recently revealed that the picture represents two snakes and that the man is holding a ring in his raised hand, This discovery was made possible through a new photographic technique, illuminating the carvings by means of searchlights at low altitude in the dark, The new details revealed by his photographs confirm my theories in several respects. We have already met both the serpent and the ring as attributes of Cernunnos. The man is depicted with an erect penis, which means that the fertility aspect had been emphasized in this picture, My suggestion is that the man on the carving from Vitlycke should be interpreted as a representative of a fertility god with the serpent and the ring as his symbols.

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Fig. 5.

The horned animal head has a central place in the pictorial world of the rock-carvings. Än obvious cult scene with a horned animal head in its centre can be found on a rock picture from Lilla Gerum, in the parish of Tanum in Bohuslän. (Fig. 5) Some nıen are carrying an animal head on their shoulders. They walk in procession towards a man with raised arms and a horned helmet on his head. I suggest that this scene should be interpreted as an adoration of the god's attribute — the horned animal head. Sometimes four-footed animals as well have been reproduced standing on ships in the rock-carvings. They are often deer. Ä rock-carving from Sandåker, in the parish of Näsinge in Bohuslän, depicts a pair having sexual intercourse on a ship as well as a boat with a deer in it, the latter being the central motif of the carving. (Fig. 6) I would like to interpret this and similar pictures by analogy with the pictures of the snakes. They show deer being carried around on cult boats. Deer hunting is another well known motif on the rock-carvings from Bohuslän. Through its appearance on a small carving from Bjergagergård on Jylland it has been possible to date this motif to 630 + 100 B.C. The stone from Bjergagergård shows a man, armed with a spear, attacking three animals, one deer and two hinds. Behind the man may be found a double serpent, and in front of the deer there is a tree. (Fig. 7)

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Fig. 6.

Fig. 7.

The circumstances surrounding the discovery of the Bjergagergård stone, found in a sacrificai pit, together with the figures on it, suggest that it does not represent an ordinary hunting scene. The picture of the hunt is surrounded by snakes and trees, and in iconography these are common symbols of vital force and regeneration (for the serpent see for instance Duval 1957, 34 f.; for the tree see Älmgren 192627, 103 ff.; Vries 1961, 187), Several scholars have interpreted deer hunting with a spear or bow as the reproduction of a sacrifice (for instance Älmgren 1926-27, 123), The killing of the animal may be understood as a sacrifice to a god with the deer as his attribute, The deer as well as the serpent is the holy animal of Cernunnos, Ón the cauldron from Gundestrup he is portrayed with a ram-headed serpent

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in his hand, deer horns on his head and with a large deer by his side, The picture on the stone from Bjergagergård and similar engravings may be understood as representing the sacrifice of a deer, dedicated to the Nordic equivalent of Cernunnos, The motifs of serpents, horned animal heads and deer sacrifice have been taken from a Celtic environment. Änimals in particular were the centre of the cult of the Celts. Gods in animal shape or with pronounced animal attributes are a typical trait of Celtic religion, and ram-headed serpents or horned animal heads occur in Celtic iconography in connection with gods of the Cernunnos type. When these motifs are found in a Nordic context I understand them as symbols of a Nordic variation of Cernunnos, Complicated circles and spirals and hand-signs are also new motifs in the Nordic pictorial world at the end of the bronze age. They appear on rock-carvings from Southern Scandinavia in obvious cult scenes, They arise from the Celtic Hallstatt culture in the Eastern part of Central Europe. In their Celtic environment the circle and the spiral were typical attributes of the celestial god Taranis. Consequently, when these motifs appear in the Nordic area, I understand them as symbols of a Nordic counterpart of Taranis (for Taranis see Duval 1957, 23 f., 108; MacCana 1970, 31; Ross 1967, 136). The hand as a symbol can be connected to the Celtic god Lugh (for Lugh see Vries 1961, 50-55; MacCana 1970, 27 ff.; Duval 1957, 22 f.). In a Nordic context I understand it as a symbol of a god corresponding to the Celtic god Lugh. The arguments for this are developed in greater detail in my dissertation, The religious life, such as it is manifested in the rock-carvings, had a Celtic character in parts of Southern Scandinavia. Belief and rite during the late bronze age and early iron age were linked with three gods with obvious Celtic traits. Ón the basis of the rock-carvings it is impossible to estimate for how long time the cult dedicated to them continued into the iron age, as scholars disagree on the duration of the carving, The votive offerings as well as the rock-carvings also cast light on religious life. By means of a few examples I shall prove that among other things, they reflect the cult of a pair of gods with the typical attributes of Cernunnos, i.e, horn of deer, bull or ram, serpent, and neck-ring. Three votive offerings are of special interest. These are the finds from Fårdal in the neighbourhood of Viborg in Denmark, Rovalls on the isle of Gotland, and Fogdarp in Skåne. The objects in all these

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Fig. 8.

finds had been sacrificed in period V of the late bronze age. The find from Fårdal contains a great number of women's jewels, and at least one hiding-place with an amulet. The find also contains a kneeling woman, dressed in i short skirt, a neckring and a bracelet, (Fig. 8) She holds her left arm over her breast, the right arm being held upright. Ónly the breasts are marked out. The rest of the body is without details. Her posture indicates that the woman is a mother goddess. The find also contains a serpent with horns, four horned animal heads, and a bird. The animal heads are generally considered to belong to deer and ram. Äll figures are provided with pins, indicating that they had been placed on a foundation, although this has now disappeared. Probably they once formed a unit. Several different reconstructions have been made. Here I reproduce the reconstruction suggested by the Danish King's Custodian of Äntiquities P. V. Glob, which seems to be very reasonable. Äfter comparing the figures with pictures on rock-carvings and razors, he drew the conclusion that the figures had probably been placed on a wooden cult ship, which is lost. In the woman from Fårdal we recognize a fertility goddess with a neck-ring, horned serpent, bird and deer, bull or ram as her attributes, These symbols are in their original Celtic surrounding typical for the Cernunnos gods. There the female part is not infrequently also accompanied by a bird. The find from Rovalls in the parish of Vänge on the isle of Gotland

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contains among other things a bronze needle. (Fig, 9) The needle itself is formed like a snake. Ät its end it has a human head, crowned by the horns of a bull. Äround the horns hang three rings, whilst the head, which gives the impression of belonging to a man, carries a ram head in its turn. Ägain we meet the snake, the ring and the horned animal head, but this time the symbols are assembled around a man's head. Än interesting find in this connection, finally, is a votive offering from Fogdarp, from the parish of Bosjökloster in Skåne. In 1972 two tubes, in the form of half circles and decorated with men's heads, were found underneath a stone block, together with parts of two lurs, women's jewels, and parts of horses' equipment. The two bronze tubes, decorated with men's heads, are of special interest. (Fig. 10) Óne of them shows two heads with staring eyes, round like balls, open mouths and beaks like birds of prey. The heads are equipped with horns which grow thicker towards the ends. Probably, the two heads are not wearing helmets, but rather horned masks. The second bronze tube, which is damaged, is decorated with two female heads. Äll the heads are wearing necklaces, Ón one of the female heads the necklace is obviously formed like a serpent. The symbols are the same as in the two finds mentioned earlier. The attributes in question are typical of the Cernunnos gods. Äccordingly, the Fogdarp find represents this pair of gods. The votive offerings from Fårdal, Rovalls, and Fogdarp are signs of cult of a pair of gods with the characteristic attributes of the Cernunnos during the end of the late bronze age. The Nordic votive offerings from this period, like those of the early iron age, are characterized to a high degree by neck-rings. The neckrings have been deposited separately, in pairs, or three together. In general, the rings had been carried before the offering, but also very small rings are found, which must have been made exclusively to be sacrificed, Extremely large and heavy rings are also to be found, sometimes without signs of wear and tear. They are generally supposed to have been produced for use as sacrifices, or to be carried by images of gods. Älso on Celtic territory large quantities of neck-rings of varying appearance have been deposited in the ground or in lakes and peat-bogs during the Hallstatt and La Tène periods, We know, furthermore, that the neck-ring had an important social and religious role in the Celtic world at this time. It was a social sign of dignity, but it was above all an attribute of the gods. Gods and goddesses were often reproduced with a torc around their neck and sometimes even with

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Fig. 9.

Fig. 10.

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one in their hand. But even if the tort is a common Celtic attribute, it is a symbol specially connected with Cernunnos. The Cernunnos-gods are as a rule reproduced with at least one, and sometimes with several torts. Hence we can conclude that neck-rings of differing appearance were deposited in the ground or in peat-bogs and were used to decorate images of gods. I draw the following conclusion: as neck-rings were used in similar ways in the Celtic and the Nordic worlds, they reflect one and the same religion, i.e. cult of gods of the Cernunnos type. My main ideas may be summarized in two points. First: it is possible today to conduct research in comparative religion by means of archaeological material. Second: my study of the first millenium B.C, demonstrates that religion in Southern Scandinavia at that time had obvious Celtic traits.

Bibliography Almgren, O. 1926-27. Hällristningar och kultbruk. Bidrag till belysning av de nordiska bronsåldersristningarnas innebörd. (Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademiens Handlingar 35.) Stockholm. Althin, C.- A. 1945. Studien zu den bronzezeitlichen Felszeichnungen von Sktine 1-2. Lund. Bober, Ph. P. 1951. Cernunnos: Origin and transformation of a Celtic divinity. American Journal of Archaeology 55. Boston. Burenhult, G. 1980. Götalands hällristningar 1. (Theses and Papers in NorthEuropean archaeology 10.) Stockholm. Duval, P.-M. 1957. Les dieux de la Gaule. (Mythes et religions 33.) Paris. Fredsjö, A. 1971. Hällristningar i Kville härad, Svenneby socken. Studier nordisk arkeologi 7. Göteborg. — 1975. Hällristningar i Kville härad, Bottne socken. Studier i nordisk arkeologi 13. Göteborg. — 1981. Hällristningar i Kville härad, Kville socken 1-2. Studier i nordisk arkeologi 14-15. Göteborg. Fredsjö, A. & Janson, S. & Moberg, C.-A. 1969. Hällristningar i Sverige. Oskarshamn. Gjessing, G. 1939. Ostfolds jordbruksristninger, Idd, Berg og delvis Skjeberg. (Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning B, 37.) Oslo. Glob, P. V. 1969. Helleristninger i Danmark. (Jysk arkæologisk selskabs skrifter 7.) København. Görman, M. 1987. Nordiskt och keltiskt. Sydskandinavisk religion under yngre bronsålder och keltisk järnålder. Lund.

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Hagen, A. 1969. Studier i vestnorsk bergkunst. Ausevik i Flora. Årbok for universitetet i Bergen. Hum. ser. 1969, 3. Bergen. Kossack, G. 1954. Studien zum Symbolgut der Urnenfelder- und Hallstattzeit Mitteleuropas. (Römisch-germanische Forschungen 20.) Berlin. Kühn, H. 1971. Die Felsbilder Europas. Stuttgart. MacCana, P. 1970. Celtic mythology. London. Marstrander, S. 1963. Østfolds jordbruksristninger. Skjeberg. (Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning B, 53.) Oslo. Ross, A. 1967. Pagan Celtic Britain. Studies in iconography and tradition. London. — 1970. Everyday life of the Pagan Celts. London. Sjoestedt, M.-L. 1940. Dieur et heros des teltes. (Mythes et religions 7.) Paris. Stenberger, M. 1964. Det forntida Sverige. Stockholm. Thrane, H. 1975. Europiske forbindelser. Bidrag til studiet af fremmende forbindelser i Danmarks yngre broncealder (periode IV—V). (Nationalmuseets skrifter, arkæologisk-historisk række 16.) København. Vries, J. de 1961. Keltische Religion. (Die Religionen der Menschheit 18.) Stuttgart.

Old Scandinavian and Christian Eschatology BY ANDERS HULTGÅRD

The eschatological beliefs current in Scandinavia during the Viking and early Medieval periods can be grouped into two main traditions, denoted by the concepts of Ragnargk and Doomsday. The former has its roots in the pre-Christian religion of Scandinavia, the latter was brought to the north in the process of christianization. Älthough different in origin the two traditions did not, in the age with which we are concerned, necessarily reflect a strict division between adherents of the old faith and Christians. Syncretic versions of the Ragnargk concept were in circulation, one of which was presented by Snorri in his Edda (Snorri 1968, 51 ff.). The common people, although officially christianized, apparently continued to transmit beliefs connected with the Ragnargk tradition. Scholarly research has tended to treat the two traditions separately. In fact they coexisted for centuries, leaving room for confrontation and mutual influences. The purpose of the present paper is to elucidate certain presuppositions and to examine aspects of that encounter. Ä full treatment of Óld Scandinavian eschatology will be reserved for a monograph in preparation.' Äs indicated by the key words Ragnargk and Doomsday, this study deals primarily with what is referred to by comparative religion as general or universal eschatology (cf. Widengren 1969, 440): that is to say, ideas and myths describing great and decisive events in the future which concern the world and mankind as a whole, a nation or group of people. By contrast, individual eschatology is concerned with the destiny of the single person in and after death. Individual eschatology is part of the general eschatology in cases where the individual after death shares in the fate of mankind and the world. In Christianity, the soul of the individual awaits the general resurrection of the dead at the Day of Judgement, Äccording to some Óld Norse texts, the heroes who fall in combat are taken to Valhgll by 65inn and his valkyriur as kinds of recruits for the final battle against the forces of Evil at the Hultg5.rd, A. Ragnargk and Va Scandinavians.

— aspects of the world-view of the ancient

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time of Ragnarqk (Eiriksmál. SJU 1908-15, 1, 174 f,; Snorri 1968, 106 f.). Historians of religions who intend to describe the development and encounter of the Ragnargk and Doomsday traditions are hardly to be envied. They are far from the ideal situation in having two distinct groups of sources to start with, one representing the pre-Christian Scandinavian religion, the other medieval Christianity, and then to follow up with a third group of sources in which the confrontation of the two traditions could be recorded. Instead, the scholar has to work with a rather scanty source material which is one-sided in more than one way, The literary texts that have been preserved originate almost exclusively from Iceland and Norway whereas for Denmark and Sweden the evidence is roughly limited to runic inscriptions, which are short and convey a stereotyped content. The bias is less striking with the iconographic material, but even here the pictures on rune stones and the limited number of early church paintings in Denmark and Sweden (eleventh and twelfth centuries) cannot compete with the uniqueness of the material presented by the Norwegian stave churches. Moreover, the sources preserved derive almost entirely from the winning side, the Christian church and its ally, the central power embodied in the newly emerged national kingdoms of Scandinavia, What has been left of the pre-Christian tradition is to a large extent already marked by the encounter with the penetrating European-Christian civilization. Christian eschatology in Scandinavia

Christian doctrines were chiefly propagated from holy books and other religious writings. The eschatological teachings brought to Scandinavia were found in a diversity of documents such as copies of the Bible, liturgical books, collections of edifying texts, learned works by theologians. For the spread of eschatological ideas the main question is, however, to assess the range of the various documents, their capacity of influencing the great majority of the Scandinavian people. With the Bible, represented by the Latin Vulgate, we are at the centre of institutionalized Christianity. Äs offi cial canon of the RomanCatholic church it is the basis of teaching and tradition. The most important eschatological and apocalyptic texts are found in the section of the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke known as "the synoptic apocalypse"2 , the judgement teaching in Matthew 25, the Book 2

Matthew 24, 3-44; Mark 13, 5-37; Luke 21, 8-36.

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of Daniel chapters 7-12, and the Revelation of John. In the Latin Vulgate there is another important apocalypse named, IV Esdras3 , with extensive eschatological passages. Through the books used in the service much of the biblical eschatology acquired a firm cultic setting, Besides the biblical canon, its paraphrases and the liturgical books, large parts of the ecclesiastical literature in Latin found their way to Scandinavia. These texts did not have the same dogmatic and ritual significance but they often served the purpose of transmitting and interpreting the contents of the canon and the meaning of the liturgy. Knowledge of the eschatology in the Latin texts mentioned was certainly restricted to a small number of people related to the episcopal sees and the monasteries, Ónly a few copies of the whole Vulgate would have been in circulation within the Scandinavian area and other Christian books in Latin were available chiefly at the monastic and cathedral schools. Bishops, literate monks and clerics, and also some lay members of prominent families were those who had access to the Christian Latin eschatology. The majority of the priests, those who served among the common people, certainly did not know more Latin than was required to read the mass properly. When there was need for it, the eschatological teachings hidden in the Latin Vulgate could be activated and assume new functions. Ä good example of this is the donation letter of King Knut to the cathedral of Lund in 1085. The document4 which is in Latin contains towards the end the following words: If anyone in his haughtiness, be he of noble or low rank, born or unborn, inílated with arrogant audacity against the statutes of the holy religion attempts to violate what has been decreed in this treaty, he shall be cursed at the coming of the Lord (sit anathema maranatha). He shall be determined to eternal punishment where the worm shall not die and the fire shall not be quenched. May his table before him be made a snare, a retribution and a stumbling-block together with those who said to the Lord God: go away from us, we do not want to know your ways.

Using various biblical passages a literate cleric in the episcopal chancellery has composed an imprecatory formula, the effect of which is greatly enhanced by the reference to the last judgement. Such curse This text which belongs to the so called deutero-canonical books of the RomanCatholic church, also has the title in some editions of The Second Book of Eldras. 4 The text is preserved in a twelfth century ms. called Necrologium Lundense.

3

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formulas have roots far back into the antiquity of the Mediterranean world but here they seem to continue native genres from the Viking period. Some runic stones in southern Scandinavia5 present us with similar curse formulas which may contain eschatological hints6 . The most important way, however, by which Christian eschatological ideas were propagated was through translations and adaptations of ecclesiastical literature into the vernacular language. These works had a far greater social range of influence since they were used in the education of the many parish priests who spread much of the contents to the broad mass of the people through preaching and recitation, particularly at the sunday services and on feast-days. In addition, part of the education received by members of chieftain- and prominent landowning families no doubt included some knowledge of this translation literature. The earliest texts to be written in Óld Norse consisted of religious literature brought to Scandinavia with christianization. This literature was translated mainly during the twelfth century. Important texts of this kind were the Dialogues and Homilies of Gregory the Great, the summa of Christian theology entitled Elucidarius, saints lives, Nidrstigningarsaga and the parenetic and didactic texts collected in the Old Norwegian and the Old Icelandic Homily-Books. These collections include several pieces which, in their Óld Norse version, most probably go back to the end of the eleventh century. Ä particular genre is the vision literature which is also represented in some of the texts just mentioned. Äs independent works in prose or poetry, however, they flourish chiefly in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries'. The vision literature is centered around the destiny of the individual after death and contains little universal eschatology. The homilies as we have them are not literal reproductions of the early missionary preaching, but they constitute nonetheless, I believe, true reflections of the religious ideas and ethical teachings with which the Scandinavians were confronted during the Viking period. The 5 The inscriptions are: the Glavendrup and Tryggevælde stones (Fyn and Sjælland respectively) from the early tenth century and the Sønder Vinge stone 2, the Skern stone 2 (both from North Jutland), the Glemminge stone (Skåne) from c. 1000. 8 I venture the suggestion that the threat to become a mete (the word is unexplained) on most of these stones might have something to do with man's conditions after death. 7 Among the more important Old Norse visionary texts from that period we find the poems Saarlióö and Draumkvædet, besides Dougal's Vision and Rannveigar leizla.

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Homily-Books refer repeatedly to the Last Judgement and its consequences for the world and for mankind. The bliss of heaven given to the righteous and the eternal punishment in hell allotted to the impious are intensely depicted. This eschatological message seems to have been one of the most prominent features in the preaching of the missionaries. In the introduction to the 'Life of St. Ólaf' as recorded in the Old Norwegian Book of Homilies (GMT 1931, 108, 26-29) it is said that the Lord sent men with a firm faith to Norway in order to convert the inhabitants from their idolatry (frá heiónum blótum) by promising eternal life and happiness for those who believed in God and threatening the evil ones (read: those wo did not convert) with doomsday and the tortures of hell. These early missionary sermons, presumably delivered orally with or without the help of interpreters8 , have been lost but their impact can be deduced from other sources. Christian skaldic verse sometimes refers to eschatological matters, For example, in a stanza attributed to Hallfrear Óttarsson Vandraeôaskald (c. 1000) the poet seeing death draw near confesses that he fears nothing except hell (1v. 28; SKJ 1908-15, 1, 173,), Arnórr Jarlaskald alludes in a stanza to the role of the angel Michael at the last judgement (SKJ 1908-15, 1, 353.). The numerous rune-stones in Sweden from the eleventh century often contain inscriptions which end with a Christian invocation: "God (or Christ) help his soul". This formula must be understood against the preponderance of eschatological themes in the first missionary preaching as it is reflected in the oldest Homily-Books. The runic invocations express the hope that the person commemorated might be saved from the torments of hell and come to the joy of heaven. Ón some stones the little word "well" is added to the inscription as for instance on a stone from Levene church in Västergötland (Vg 117) where we read: "God help their souls well". This may be compared with similar expressions found in the early homilies e.g. GNH 1931, 32, 18-19. Having described the bliss of heaven, the author exclaims: "well is it for their soul who can attain that kingdom and the glory which is there, although they were born in the world" (væl er ibeirra sálu at keir i vergldu bornir váru er fiat ríki megu fá ok Já dýrcl er Jar er). Literacy and preaching were not the only ways by which the Christian eschatology spread throughout Scandinavia. Óf equal importance For a discussion of missionary methods see Sawyer & Sawyer & Wood 1987, 8 f., 24 ff.). 9 Several variants of this basic formula occur.

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was the pictorial art found in the churches and on independent monuments. Wall paintings, decorated portals, pictures on baptismal fonts conveyed the message of doomsday and the last times to the common people who gathered at the sacred places of the new religion, Memorial stones and funeral monuments could also transmit eschatological teachings in pictures.

The Ragnargk-tradition The origin and transmission of the Óld Norse ideas of Ragnargk are far more complicated than those of their Christian counterparts. The main problem may somewhat drastically be put in the following terms: did the pre-Christian Scandinavians possess an eschatological tradition of similar extent and coherence as that presented by Snorri in his Edda? Different answers have been given to that question and I shall not repeat them here. However, to set the religio-historical problem in the right perspective, an attempt must be made to elucidate the transmission history of the Ragnarok-tradition and evaluate the various forms in which it has come down to us. In the first place we have allusions in skaldic poetry which are generally held to refer to events in the Ragnargk drama. The genre in which these references are embodied ranks high regarding reliability of transmission. Date and authorship of skaldic stanzas can usally be established with confidence. Some Ragnarok motifs such as the impending assault of the Fenrir–wolf, the battle between (Minn and the wolf, the return of Baldr after the end of the present world, can thus be placed in the milieu surrounding West Norse warlords and chieftains of the late tenth century. The problem with these brief skaldic allusions is that we ignore their larger mythical context and have to rely on Vqluspá and Snorri for a reconstruction. Similarly, eddic poems such as VaffirtiOnismál and Lokasenna, record in an allusive way eschatological events which reappear as elements of a coherent Ragnarok myth in Vgluspá and Snorri. The poems are not dateable in the same manner as skaldic verse nor are their original setting known. Äll that can be said is that they have been transmitted orally on Iceland in Christian time — for how long is a matter of conjecture — before they were written down on parchment in the course of the thirteenth century. It is only in the poetic compilation of mythic material known as Vgluspá that we find a kind of coherent eschatological doctrine. The

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date and the original wording of Vgluspá cannot be ascertained with any precision. The poem has come down to us in three different versions10 committed to writing independently and based on oral tradition, as pointed out by Jón Helgason (Vgluspg. 1971, V—IX). Two of these versions, the Codex Regius and the 'Vorlage' of Snorri were written down in the thirteenth century and the one in Hauksbók presumably in the middle of the fourteenth century. Ässuming that V9luspá took shape as a distinctive piece of oral tradition around 1000, which is the usual date put forward, we must account for a transmission period of at least two centuries after the official acceptance of Christianity on Iceland, The differences shown by the three versions make it clear that the oral tradition was subject to change and not always reliable in details. A minor eschatological section is found in stanzas 42-44 of Ifyndluli6a presumably part of an independent poem called by Snorri "the short Vgluspá" (Snorri 1968, 5). Hyndluliód is preserved in the Flateyarba from the late fourteenth century but through the use made of it by Snorri the eschatological part can be traced back to the early thirteenth century. The most complete description of Ragnargk and related eschatological events is found in the Edda of Snorri Sturlason, more precisely chapters 51-53 of Gylfaginning. The original text has been slightly altered as may be deduced from an analysis of the surviving manuscripts", but structure and contents faithfully reproduce the author's intentions. We meet in Gylfaginning a learned mythographer with Christian education who systematizes and harmonizes his sources and who does not refrain from introducing here and there Christian ideas and terms in his presentation of Óld Norse mythology. The material he has collected from native tradition remains, however, a prime source of knowledge for the study of the Ragnargk myth. The survival of pre-Christian ideas of Ragnargk long after the official acceptance of Christianity, although not in unchanged form, and the early spread of Christian eschatological doctrine in Scandinavia indicate a period of two to three centuries during which an encounter between Christian and Óld Norse eschatology could take place. The documents and pictorial art through which Christian eschatology was propagated represent the official and normative religion. The I'

Two versions, those in Codex Regius and Hauksbók, are more or less complete and the third has been partly preserved by Snorri in his section on Ragnargk. 11 None of the manuscripts seems to represent the original version of Snorri's Edda. Cf. Prologue 1982, 31.

Old Scandinavian and Christian Eschatology 351 setting in life of most of the Christian texts and monuments can be determined with a high degree of certainty. Äs to the Ragnar9k tradition, it is only the version given by Snorri in his Edda for which we are able to establish function and context accurately. Provided that the attribution of skaldic stanzas has been correctly preserved by Icelandic and Norwegian tradition, we can come close to an understanding of their original setting. However, the few eschatological allusions in preChristian skaldic verse are deprived of their original mythical context. The extent and ritual background of this religious tradition remain unknown to us. When we come to Vgluspá and other eddic poems, there is next to nothing on which to base our judgement of date and original setting. In order to evaluate the pre-Christian charachter of the Ragnarqk ideas one must nevertheless attempt to elucidate the question of which milieu and which literary forms kept these ideas alive. Thus, it is important to know whether a Ragnargk statement was being diffused as an easily altered piece of popular narrative lore or was firmly handed down in a ritual context by religious specialists. There may be other contexts as well. The antiquarian interest of the twelfth century writers in history and ancient lore might have given rise to learned constructs of eschatological statements. However, the context given by Snorri in Gylfaginning for some Ragnar9k motifs makes them more reliable from the view-point of transmission. He tells us that during the cosmic upheavals before Ragnar9k proper the ship Naglfar which is made from the nails of dead men comes loose, and he continues: it is worth caution that if a man dies with uncut nails, he will supply much material to the ship Naglfar which gods and men wished had never been built (Snorri 1968, 69).

Ä little further on, Snorri describes how Viòarr takes revenge on Óòinn by putting his foot on the lower jaw of the wolf and with his hand on the upper jaw tearing asunder the mouth of the beast. Snorri also makes the following remark: On this foot he wears that shoe for which material has been collected through all times, that is the (waste) scraps which men cut from their shoes at the toes or the heel. This is why the man concerned about coming to the aid of the &sir, should throw those scraps away (Snorri 1968, 71). These examples show that some Ragnar9k motifs still circulated among common Icelanders in the early thirteenth century. The motifs were

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associated with particular situations and had in this way been closely bound up with the life and work of the people. Under such circumstances one may assume a longer period of unbroken transmission. For the purposes of comparison with the Ragnarok tradition it is methodologically appropriate to use, in the first place, the eschatological texts, regarding which there is evidence that they reached Scandinavia with christianization and were spread here in the vernacular language. It will not be sufficient to refer to biblical parallels, for instance from the Revelation of John which often figures in the discussion of Christian influence on the Ragnarok myth, although its eschatological sections are rarely cited in Óld Norse literature. Óne must also examine to what extent biblical texts, hidden in the Latin Vulgate, actually influenced the carriers of native traditions among the broad mass of the people. Here the parenetic-didactic texts in the vernacular constitute the primary material of reference, not only to evaluate the Christian influence exerted on the Ragnarok tradition but also to determine what might have been genuine pre-Christian beliefs about the end of the world.

Christian and Old Scandinavian eschatology The Christian eschatology as found in the vernacular sources presents a varied character. There is, however, agreement on those points which are firmly grounded in the doctrine of the Christian church: the coming of Christ in the last days, the ressurrection of the dead, the final judgement, the separation of righteous men and sinners, the end of the present world, the bliss of paradise and the torments of hell. These motifs appear from a temporal viewpoint as succeeding events of a great eschatological process, Äround this main complex of events a number of additional motifs and happenings are often grouped, such as Äntichrist, his rise and fall, the signs of the end and the cosmic upheavals, In the oldest parenetic and didactic texts interest in the last judgement and its consequences for man is prominent. Most sermons contain one or more passages on doomsday describing or alluding to the happiness of paradise and the torments of hell. The descriptions of heaven and hell are often formalized, presenting opposing 'lists' of qualities. Äs an example, we may take the Sermo necessaria of GNU 1931, 87, 12-89, 12 where the single groups of elements are introduced by an emphatic Par "there":

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The kingdom of heaven is so good that no man can imagine it or tell it to anybody else. There, everlasting life and eternal light are found, there, delight and joy and all sorts of beauty exist, glory and happiness without end. There, a man will not fall ill nor will he be over-aged. There, no hunger and thirst are found, no anxiety and sorrow. There, every man always loves his fellow man as himself. There, all good men shall see God for ever and ever and live with him and his angels in eternity. Happy are those men who will experience such things. But they are unhappy who will fall down to hell. There they shall be with the devils. There eternal darkness, disease, anxiety and sorrow are found, hunger and thirst, terrible cold and strong heat, the greatest torments, and all without end. Äll those men who come to that evil place, they shall never have hope for mercy afterwards.

This recurrent eschatological preaching has certainly prompted Snorri to include in Gylfaginning a passage on heaven and hell after the passing of the gods and the destruction of the world by fire (Snorri 1968, 74) This passage reveals both in terminology and subject matter a Christian inspiration, Snorri draws partly on Vgluspá and places its description of the punishments on the shore of corpses (Nástrgnd) in the future in accordance with the doomsday tradition. Vpluspa may in turn depend on Christian visionary literature for certain motifs found in stanzas 36-39 (cf. Strömbäck 1980-82). Coherent accounts of the universal eschatological process are comparatively few in early Óld Norse literature. The sermon Admonitio valde necessaria in GNH 1931, 101, 15-102, 11 describes briefly the main events which will occur in the last days. Äfter stating that the soul of man is immortal the author explains the meaning of doomsday and continues: Then our lord Jesus Christ shall come out from heaven to hear our answers and recompense us for that which we have done, thought and spoken in this world. At the day of judgement every man who is misled (of- villir) and does not make atonement for his sins and evil deeds, will receive a heavy and bad reward. No man has been born who would be so wise or so well-learned that he would be able to tell the kind of portents which will appear in the world just before the day when our lord comes forth from heaven to the great assembly. There all mankind shall come to meet him. Then the whole

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earth shall tremble (fiá skelfr 911 igrö) because of the great confusion. Then the burning fire shall flow forth from heaven and out of that fire the wide world shall burn. Hills and stones will then run as hot wax and seething lead. Through that fire all people shall pass to that judgement with which our lord shall recompense each one for the good and evil that every man has performed here (GNH 1931, 101, 26-102, 4).

The cataclysms of the last day are also mentioned in 47, 16-18: The stars will fall from the sky and the powers of the heavens will be shaken before the appearance of the lord when he comes to judge all men. The first part is taken from Matthew 24, 29 but quotations from eschatological passages in the Bible are in general rare in Óld Norse literature as may be evidenced from a study of Kirby 1975. The only passage which has left a clear mark is the parable of the last judgement in Matthew 25, 31-46. In this context mention should be made of a runic inscription from Södermanland in Sweden (Sö 154: the Skarpåker-stone) which alludes to cosmic upheavals. Whether one reads with von Friesen 1933, 158 ff. and Jansson 1963, 142 iard skal rifna ok upphiminn or with Kabell 1961, 53 ff. igrd skal rifna ok svá himinn, the eleventh century stone with its Christian iconography conveys a written message of the last day which is unique for the East Scandinavian area. The eschatological teachings embodied in the Óld Norse literature of the twelfth century are of fundamental importance for evaluating the influence exerted on the forms that the Ragnargk tradition took during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Vocabulary and themes in the eschatological section of Gylfaginning, for example, seem in some places to have undergone a clear Christian influence. The occurrence of the term vistir to denote the mansions of Girnlé recall the use of the same word for the heavenly dwelling-places in the Homily-Books (e.g. GNH 1931, 101, 12; HB 43, 18) Snorri's description of the cosmic cataclysms is another example. The phrases stigrnurnar hverfa af himninum (cf. also V9luspi 1971, 57) and svá, skelfr igrd gll ok bigrg at... suggest an adaptation to Christian eschatological diction. Certain themes in the Ragnar9k tradition most probably also originate from Christian doctrine (cf. above and the discussion in Ólrik 1922, 125-132) or have been given their prominent place through the encounter with Christian ideas (cf. Schier 1981, 417 ff.) The problem of foreign influence on the Ragnar9k tradition appears rather complicated. In the first place, we have to consider the medieval Christian eschatology, secondly the possible penetration

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of Near Eastern ideas into pre-historic Scandinavia and third, the survival in the north of ancient Indo-European elements. In addition, Christianity in the Middle Äges continued a Jewish-Christian tradition which in its eschatological teaching had been clearly influenced by Iranian ideas. The Admonitio valde necessaria cited above displays a striking similarity with the Óld Iranian concept of the eschatological fire which burns the world and melts the metal in hills and mountains. Äll men must then pass through the fire streams to be judged (see in particular Bundahišn 1908, 226 f.; Zand-Äkasih 1956, 34, 18 f.), This ressemblance can best be explained by the circumstance that the medieval homily preserves an eschatological theme taken over from Iran at an earlier stage by Jewish-Christian tradition. The Christian visionary literature of the early Middle Äges shows more examples of such borrowings which ultimately stem from the Iranian eschatology e.g. the bridge over which men have to pass in order to arrive in paradise (cf. Strömbäck 1980-82). The Iranian idea of the eschatological fire and men's passing through it has been adduced as a parallel to Vqluspá 39: sá hón liar vada tunga strauma,.. with the explanation that Voluspá here draws on a common Indo-European heritage (Ström Å. 1967, 190 ff.), The theme, although originally Iranian, may as well have reached the author of Vgluspá through the intermediary of Christian eschatological legend, The study of the early Christian literature in the vernacular enables us not only to assess its impact upon native Scandinavian beliefs and ideas, but also to see more distinctly the genuine pre-Christian elements of the Raglan* tradition. For example, the idea of the world's renewal with its emphasis on nature which is attested both in Vaffirtidnismál and Voluspá seems to have no equivalent in the Christian eschatology as it is found in Óld Norse religious texts. Óne may point to Revelation 21 : 1 where the visionary sees a new heaven and a new earth according to the divine promise in Isaíah 65:17. This short statement which is not further elaborated in the biblical passages mentioned has left practically no traces in Óld Norse literature12 and cannot be the source of the cosmic restoration described in some eddic poems and in Snorri's Edda, The main religio-historical question of whether the pre-Christian Scandinavians possessed a coherent eschatological tradition is difficult to answer solely by referring to medieval Christian doctrine. DescripIsaiah 65:17 is quoted once in the preserved Old Norse literature. Elucidarius 71, cf. Kirby 1975, 105.

12

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tions of the whole eschatological process are less prominent in the vernacular religious texts than might be expected with regard to the assumption of a Christian impetus behind the growth of a coherent Ragnar9k tradition. Ón the other hand comparative data from Iranian and Indian religions suggest the existence of an eschatological tradition also among the ancient Germanic peoples, which has been lost but is echoed in the early medieval Ragnar9k tradition. The penetration of the Christian eschatology in the north led to the assimilation of some motifs and details into the Ragnar9k tradition which produced syncretic versions. There is very little in the Óld Norse literature of the twelfth century to prove the opposite tendency. It seems to me quite natural that, once established, the Christian church with its self-confidence and contempt for 'paganism' had no real interest in adapting its preaching to pre-Christian beliefs. The occasional use of single mythological terms like Midgard's ormr for Satan-Leviathan in some early translations of Latin texts such as the Niörstigningar saga is but the exception that proves the rule. The period for an encounter which would have given rise to adapted forms of Christian eschatological thought in Scandinavia is the tenth and eleventh centuries but for such syncretism we have to rely almost exclusively on iconographical evidence,

Bibliography Bundahign. 1908. The Bundahishn, Being a facsimile of TD Manuscript No. 2. Ed. by T. D. Anklesaria. Bombay. Friesen, O. v. 1933. Runorna. Nordisk Kultur 6. Oslo. GNH Gammal Norsk Homiliebok, Cod. AM. 619 4. 1931. [Ed. by] G. Indrebø. Oslo. HB Homiliu-Bók. 1872. [Ed. by] Th. Wisén. Lund. Jansson, S. B. F. 1963. Runinskrifter i Sverige. Uppsala. Kabell, Ä. 1961. Apokalypsen i Skarpåker. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 76. Lund. Kirby, I. 1975. Biblical quotation in Old Icelandic-Norwegian religious literature 1. Reykjavik. Nidrstigningarsaga. 1985. [Ed. by] O. E. Haugen. Bergen. Olrik, A. 1922. Ragnarök — Die Sagen vom Weltuntergang. Berlin und Leipzig. Prologue and Gylfaginning. 1982. Edda Snorri Sturluson. Ed. by A. Faulkes. Oxford. Sawyer, B. & Sawyer, P. & Wood, I. 1987. The Christianization of Scandinavia. Alingsås.

Old Scandinavian and Christian Eschatology 357 Schier, K. 1981. Zur Mythologie der Snorra Edda: Einige Quellenprobleme. Speculum norroenum. Ed. by U. Dronke et al. Odense. SKJ Den norsk-islandske Skjaldedigtning A (diplomatic text). 1-2. 1908-15. [Ed. by] F. Jonsson. København. Snorri Sturluson. 1968, Edda. Gylfaginning og prosafortellingene av Skáldskaparrnál. [Ed. by] A. Holtsmark & J. Helgason. (Nordisk filologi. A. Texter 1.) KObenhavn. Ström, Å. V. 1967. Indogermanisches in der Völuspá. Numen 14. Leiden. Strömbäck, D. 1980-82. Visionsdiktning. Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder 22. [København.] Widengren, G. 1969. Religionsphiinomenologie. Berlin. Vçluspá, Hávámál. I971. Eddadigte 1. [Ed. by] J. Helgason. Oslo. Zand-Akasih. 1956. Iranian or Greater Bundahišn. Translit. and transl. by B. T. Anklesaria. Bombay.

Scandinavian—Saami Religious Connections in the History of Research* BY HAKAN RYDVING

In the study of Scandinavian religion a new phase began at the turn of the century, when hopes were placed on auxiliary sciences which were to supplement the philological analysis of the Óld Icelandic texts. Especially archaeology, the study of sacred place-names and the newlydawned interest in Saami (Lappish) religion were sources of stimulation. Although the archaeological material was first and foremost — and still is — used to throw light upon different religio-historical theories, it also came to offer explanations for lacunæ in the literary sources (the recent development is discussed in several of the contributions in Words and objects 1986). Place-names had also been used earlier to illustrate the distribution of the worship of the gods, but more intensive use of them was inspired, above all, by the farreaching findings of Magnus Ólsen. For half a century — and up to the critical re-valuations of the 1950's — place-names were to be the most important source category beside the written material (aspects of the history of research as well as the present state of scholarship are elucidated in other papers in the present volume). Saami religion supplemented Scandinavian sources as early as in an article by Johan Fritzner from 1877, but not until Äxel Ólrik presented and developed the ideas in some articles in 1905 and 1906 did they become generally known and used, The religions of Scandinavians and Saamis have, for decades of scholarship, functioned as sources of analogies to explain elements in one another, For the study of Saami religion answers to questions about origins were sought in Scandinavian religion, while Saami religion has been seen by students of Scandinavian religion, as a preserver and a faithful witness of Scandinavian concepts and rites that had vanished in the times reflected in the literary sources. This view has now changed. In recent decades the tendency has been to use the loans By courtesy of the editor of the present volume, this paper replaces `Ortnamn som religionshistoriskt källmaterial' (Place-names as source material for the history of religions), since the latter is in the process of publication in Namn och Bygd (Uppsala).

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explanations more and more sparsely. Elements in Saami religion that were seen earlier as Scandinavian loans are now explained in a FinnoUgric context, whereas the few elements in Scandinavian religion that were thought of as loans from the Saamis are more often looked upon as inherited from a common origin, a North Eurasian cultural stratum, The search for analogies has, in any case, preoccupied the historian of religions in this field, too. The purpose here is to provide a short and selective résumé of some aspects of a theme in the history of scholarship, a theme where "resemblances" have been found, compared, used as analogies, and — called into question: the comparative study of the religions of the Scandinavians and Saamis.1 1. Loans The idea that Scandinavians had lent much to Saami religion occurs as early as in the sources. Äccording to Hans Skanke, one of the Norwegian missionaries who collected material about Saami beliefs in the 1720's, these were in a number of ways common with the religion of the Scandinavians, even though he asserts that Saami religion "in most superstitions" was something apart (Skanke 1945, 179). When the study of Scandinavian religion was intensified in the late 19th century and what was seen as resemblances were found in Saami religion, it was taken as self evident that the Saamis were the borrowers (cf. Fritzner 1877, 154). Subsequently, nearly everything in Saami religion has been considered to have been taken over from the Scandinavians and explained for instance as "a rather clear reflected image of the worship they became acquainted with among their Nordic neighbours" (Ólrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 105; cf. Ólrik 1905a, 56). The most important reason for this interest in Saami religion was the idea that, as it had been borrowed to a great extent from the Scandinavians, it would provide important evidence of Scandinavian customs. Very little, according to this view, would have been known about Scandinavian popular religion, if the Saamis had not preserved the ideas and customs that they had adopted (Ólrik 1910, 2; Harva 1915a, 166; Harva 1915b, 13). The most extreme form of this interpretation was presented in a paper with the symptomatic title "Lappish Cf. the general surveys of Scandinavian — Saami cultural contacts in BradeanEbinger 1980, Fjellström 1970, Fjellström 1971, Gjessing 1965, Kasten 1983 and Nesheim 1979,

I

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contributions to Germanic mythology", a title which hints at the role it was believed Saami religion was going to play in the context of studies in Scandinavian religion. The author even considered that the Saami borrowings could be used as criteria by which to judge the religious ideas in the-Edda-literature, to separate what was common Scandinavian from what was Icelandic, and genuine heritage from Christian loans (Krohn 1906, 180). Äs late as 1942, the opinion was expressed that, in many cases, Scandinavian religious ideas were to be found in a more original form in the Saami (and Finnish) loans (Lid 1942, 3), Saami parallels were thus used in support of various theories. Ä much-debated question concerned the time of the loans, Óne opinion was that they represented the religion of the Nordic Bronze Äge. Ärguments for this theory were that three similar types of sacrificial gifts were known from both Bronze Äge findings and the sources to Saami religion: rings interpreted as pictures of the sun, boats and hammers (Ólrik 1905a, 39 ff,). More exactly, the loans were explained as adopted at a time "before our Viking Äge, yes, that goes back to the Bronze Äge, or at least to a time when the northernmost Nordic tribes, the nearest neighbours of the Lapps, still had rather much of the forms of worship of the Bronze Äge in use" (Ólrik 1905a, 55). Óther ideas were that the loans did not belong to any distant "Urzeit" (Unwert 1911, 36), that they were very late, maybe from Scandinavians who had long been Catholic Christians (Reuterskiöld 1912, 104), or, as the pioneer Fritzner guardedly stated, that it is most difficult to decide if the loans were made during Christian or pre-Christian times (Fritzner 1877, 144), It was mythological comparisons which attracted the greatest interest, and Saami and Scandinavian gods were identified with one another: Thor — Frey — Njord, the trinity of the old Icelandic incantation, with Horagallis2 — Vearalden olmmái — Bieggagállis, Ódin with Rota etc. Saami material was used as a help to obtain knowledge about the Scandinavian gods. The Saami god of thunder (Dierpmis, Horagállis etc.) was identified at an early stage with the Scandinavian Thor, although it was emphasized that the idea that the Saami god was a loan from the Scandinavians did not mean that a thunder god was earlier unknown among the Saamis (Fritzner 1877, 150 f.). Later it was nevertheless questioned whether the Saami thunder cult was indigenous at all (Krohn 1906, 165). Germanic elements in Saami conceptions of their

2

Saami words are, if not otherwise stated, given in SaaN. form

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thunder god(s) were, for example — in addition to one of the names of the god, Horagállis (Hora- < Thor-) — seen in his hammers, servant and wife Marva 1915b, 73). The hammers of Horagállis were used as an argument for the use of hammers in the Scandinavian cult of Thor (Lid 1942, 127 ff.), and the heathen practice of making the sign of the hammer over the mead cup, usually explained as Christian influence, was, since the practice was also found among the Saamis, considered very old (Vries 1956-57, 2, 126). Since the Saamis knew a servant to the thunder-god, this figure must, according to Ólrik, have been known by the Scandinavians, "not only as mythical figure, but also as the servant and envoy of the god in relation to the men that called upon him" (Ólrik 1905b, 131). Ä figure interpreted as this "servant of the thunder god" on some Saami drums was identified with the onearmed Tyr (Bing 1922, 261) or Thjalfe (Reuterskiöld 1912, 109 with some hesitation). Äs late as in the new edition of his book about Loki, Georges Dumézil wrote about the "surviving of Scandinavian paganism in the religions of Lapps and Finns" and exemplified this with the information — found only in Snorri's Edda — that the mountain-ash (Sonbus aucuparia L.) was Thor's tree. The accuracy of this statement (and thereby of the Edda) was, according to him, confirmed by Finnish Rauni and Saami Ravdna as names of the wife of the thunder-god. The name is a loan from the old Scandinavian name of the mountain-ash, reynir (< *rauni-) (Dumézil 1986, 83; the comparison was first made in Krohn 1906, 167). Furthermore, Helge Ljungberg has used Saami analogies in support of the theory that there had been three IndoEuropean high gods, and, "that the Nordic thunder god was differentiated from the sky god (the sun god)" (Ljungberg 1947, 143, 52), and Jan de Vries has interpreted the myth of the whetstone in Thors head as derived from a cult action because of the Saami custom of knocking a nail with a whetstone into the head of the image of Horagállis, a practice viewed as a Scandinavian loan (Vries 1956-57, 2, 389). Äxel Ólrik was the first to identify Vearalden olmmái with Frey (Ólrik 1905a, 51), and the interpretation has been widely supported (Krohn 1906, 168 f.; harva 1915b, 61; Lid 1942, 107; Vries 1956-57, 2, 177; Haavio 1969, 83). Ä smaller being, placed on some drums beside the figure interpreted as the fertility god has accordingly been compared to Skirnir, Frey's servant (Krohn 1906, 171 f.). Óne of the arguments for the identification of the two gods has been that the name of the Saami god was seen as an imitation of veraldar god as a name of Frey. Martti Haavio has, however, provided a different interpretation. Äccording to him, the Scandinavian veraldar

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god" and the Saami vearalden olmmái are Christian designations, both dependent on the biblical expression 6 ápxcov to k-5 1C6crp.ou TCAT011 'The Prince of this world' (e.g. in John 12 :31, 14 : 30, 16 :11) used as a libellous and insulting name for any god (Haavio 1969, 58), The identification of the wind god Bieggagállis or Bieggolmmái, with Njord (Ólrik 1905a, 51 f.; Krohn 1906, 172 ff.) was criticized at an early date for being "much more insecure" then the combination of the Scandinavian and Saami thunder and fertility gods (Unwert 1911, 2), and it was pointed out that Bieggagállis could not have been one of the main gods of the Saamis, as Thomas von Westen, one of the source collectors (in Hammond 1787, 446), explicitly wrote that this god was not common (Reuterskiöld 1912, 110). Georges Dumézil has, however, argued in favour of Njord as "ruler of winds on land and on sea and protector of fishing-boats", claiming that these functions of Njord were displayed by "his Lappish transposé", Bieggagállis (Dumezil 1959, 122).3 The suggested identification of Ódin with Bieggagállis (Ólrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 124), has not played any significant role in the history of scholarship. Ódin has instead been compared with Rota. The point of departure for this comparison was the Saami offering to Rota of a horse, an animal that the Saamis did not breed themselves. The rite was taken as a proof of the Scandinavian origin of the cult of Rota, and if the rite had a Scandinavian origin, the god, it was argued, had to be a loan, too. Wolf von Unwert, who identified Ódin with Rota, argued that the reason why Ódin's important features as god of war and the art of poetry were missing with Rota was because the Saamis had no need for these aspects, and he explained the different positions that the two gods took in their respective mythological systems by the argument that only individual cults and divinities, not the systematic mythology, had been transferred. Those sides of the character of the god that played no role in Saami culture had disappeared. Von Unwert maintained that Saami religion showed that a Germanic sacrificial practice was associated with Ódin, that the horse was the sacrificial animal of Odin, and that Odin and the cult of the dead must have been closely connected with each other when the loan took place, The Saami Rota represented, according to him, the Ódin of the final heathen period (Unwert 1911, 65 ff., 153 ff,). Óther opinions were that Rota was a god that the Saamis had created themselves as an A different suggestion for a Saami parallel to Njord has been Ocilıcolatmdi [tfahtsi, the Saami god of water. Olrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 148. 3

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explanation for a horse sacrifice they had borrowed from the Scandinavians (Ólrik 1905a, 53), or that he was neither one of the main Saami gods, nor to be identified with Ódin (Reuterskiöld 1912, 98, cf, Dumézil 1959, 51). The comparison of the Saami Ahkkás, or at least Sárähkká, to the Norras (Fritzner 1877, 155; cf. Grundström 1956), was called into question (Reuterskiöld 1912, 90), but, if identified, the obvious differences between iihkkás and the Noms were explained in two opposite ways. The Saami concepts represented, according to one opinion, an earlier phase of development, although Sárdhkká's emphasized position might have been caused by "later Nordic reinfluence" (Ólrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 140 f.). Äccording to another interpretation, these goddesses more probably represented a degenerated form of late Scandinavian folk beliefs (Vries 1956-1957, 1, 272). The individual Ähkkás have also been interpreted in different ways. Máttarálikká has for example been seen as a "product of speculation, that has its basis in Christian influence" (Reuterskiöld 1912, 97), SáráUhl has been identified with Frigg (Agrell 1934, 70, 126) and Uksálıkká with the Scandinavian "dörrkärring" 'door woman' that lived under the threshold and blew out the candles that were carried through the door (Læstadius 1959, 37; Fritzner 1877, 156). The Saami Ähkkás were anyhow taken to prove that birth goddesses had existed among the Scandinavians, too (Vries 1956-57, 1, 272).4 Saami beliefs in various subterranean beings have also been interpreted as loans. The Saami beliefs in SaaS. saajve belonged, according to Ólrik & Ellekilde, to this category (Ólrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 134), and the occurrence among the Saamis of these beings showed, according to Lid, that the belief must have been common among the Scandinavians in ancient times (Lid 1942, 144). Pentikäinen's analysis of the Nordic dead child traditions produced the conclusion that the corresponding Saami (SaaL. iilıpár) tradition is a loan, where the name has been borrowed from Finland and the tradition from Scandinavia (Pentikäinen 1968, 328), Ä subterranean being among the Finnish Saamis (SaaN. čáhkkál, SaaSk. ëeiikkli), with West and Middle European parallels, has further been explained as a loan which had Other examples of identifications of deities are, for example, the idea that Rota was a counterpart to the Scandinavian Hel (Rosén 1920, 22 ff.), and that SaaS. Jijsiendlmaj, the god of frost, was borrowed from the Scandinavians because the word SaaS. jijsie denotes 'hoar-frost on the grass', and the god therefore had to belong to a farming population. Harva 1915b, 76. 4

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come to the Saamis by Scandinavians or Finns (Gunda 1959, 114 f.). The whole of Saami mythology has even been interpreted as borrowed from the neighbouring peoples and connected with the saajve-belief (Reuterskiöld 1912, 71 ff,).5 With regard to rites and rituals, von Unwert enumerated the following loans from Scandinavians to Saamis: "sacrifices of domestic animals", "the use of farinaceous dishes and brass objects in cultic acts", "the placing of sacrificial gifts in small boats", "the specialized hallowed gifts for the separate deities", "the sacrifice of animals, buried alive in the earth", and "the characteristic attire of the sacrificer" (Unwert 1911, 1 f.). Óthers have furthermore mentioned the sun-cult (Krohn 1906, 163), the use of idols (Ljungberg 1947, 137), and the bear ceremony (Liljeholm 1926, 167), The seiar has been seen as a giver of certain techniques to the Saami noaidevuohta ("shamanism"), and the development of the Saami drum into a "tool for oracle" has been interpreted as due to Scandinavian influence (Krohn 1906, 158). Óne idea has been that the drum pictures are not only Saami illustrations to mythological stories which had been taken over, but that the pictures themselves originate in an influence from the neighbours (Reuterskiöld 1928, 121; an attempt to interpret one of the drums with the help of the pictures on the Gallehus horns), that the pictures and also the divinatory uses of the drums had been adopted from the Scandinavians (Ólrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 107), that the pictures of the three main gods on the Saami drums could be traced back to the pictures on the rock-carvings from the Bronze Äge (Bing 1922, 259), or, that the drums themselves were an inheritance from the Nordic Bronze Äge (Älmgren 1926-27, 250). But according to another interpretation, the attributes of the gods on the drum pictures diverged from the rock-carvings of the Bronze Age, and were instead connected to "the more developed types of gods of the Iron Äge" (Ólrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 109). If ideas about Scandinavian influence on Saami religion were common, there are only a few examples concerning influence in the opposite direction. Dag Strömbäck was certainly right when he wrote in 1935: "The question of the Nordic influence on Lappish religion stands for the present in the foreground. Indeed, one is tempted to say that it is so dominant, that it has entirely, or at least to a great extent, forced Even the use of sacred stones, SaaN. sieiddit (sg. sieidi), has been explained as Scandinavian in origin, and the word sieidi has been compared to Scandinavian seiör. Olrik & Ellekilde 1926-51, 134.

5

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aside on the one hand the question of original features in the religion of the Lapps, and on the other the question of Lappish influence on Nordic religion" (Strömbäck 1935, 197 f.). Beside Strömbäck's supported theory that Saami shamanism had influenced Scandinavian seidr (Strömbäck 1935, 205 f,; cf, e.g. Pettersson 1957, 169; Ström F, 1967, 225), and the idea that the old Icelandic and Norwegian understanding of name-giving was a loan from the Saamis (Unwert 1913), one might mention the interpretation of the so called shield-poems as descriptions of drum pictures — Norwegian poets would have learned about and taken over Saami drums as epic instruments (Kabell 1980, 36). Régis Boyer has recently emphasized the role of the Saamis in shaping Scandinavian religion, with his opinion that the Saamis earlier lived right to the south of contemporary Norway and Sweden and were the indigenous stem onto which the northern Teutons were engrafted (Boyer 1986, 57 f.). The loan-theory was for a long time the predominant explanation of resemblances between Saanıi and Scandinavian religion. The discussion first appeared in studies of Scandinavian religion. As Guttorm Gjessing has pointed out, as regards the study of Saami-Scandinavian contacts in general, the comparisons were often made between incommensurable phenomena, by comparing isolated elements regardless of structural context and abstracted forms of the cultures, instead of the regional variants that were actually encountered (Gjessing 1965, 172). Comparisons were furthermore made between the well-known (Scandinavian) and the lesser known (Saami) culture, and analogies were often sought without critical questions being asked about how the elements had been taken over, why certain elements were borrowed, and others not etc. Methodologically, the theory was treacherous, since similarities could always be explained as loans, and dissimilarities either as examples of beliefs and practices older than the literary Scandinavian sources, or, as more recent borrowed folk customs. If the thesis that connections between the pre-Christian religions of Scandinavians and Saamis were mainly reflected in loans was previously completely dominant, this idea has, with a few exceptions, now disappeared from the study of Scandinavian religion. In the discussion of Saami religion, on the other hand, it still functions as something of a negative point of departure for much of the argumentation, since the antithesis which uses "inheritance" as the key to explain resemblances, has increasingly taken over the role of main theory.

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2. Inheritance During the time when Saami religion was regarded as a conglomeration of Scandinavian elements, opinions about what was indigenous in Saami religion varied. Ät least shamanism, the adoration of trees and stones, the drums and certain sacrificial manners (Ólrik 1905a, 56 f.), or, the adoration of the spirits of the departed, shamanism and the cult of the bear (Wiklund 1913, col, 171), or, the adoration of the departed and the cult of the bear (Krohn 1906, 156; Harva 1915b, 13) were recognized as more or less indigenous. Älthough more recent studies admit Scandinavian influences on Saami religion, they establish that this influence has been "greatly exaggerated" (e.g. Karsten 1955, 1). Óne tendency — antithetical to the argument based on loans — has been to stress that the religions are "indigenous", i.e. not borrowed. Än example is Pettersson's opinion that the Scandinavian and Saami religions were not related, but "specifically distinct" (Pettersson 1961, 132; cf. Pettersson 1987), or Johansen's harsh criticism of Ólrik's reasonings, explaining Saami religion as something by itself, and claiming that Saami religion had "its pre-requisite inside the Saami culture alone" (Johansen 1983, 133). Änother tendency is to seek for analogies in a wider context than Fenno-Scandinavia. Scandinavian religion is then interpreted against an Indo-European, and Saami religion against a Uralic background. But, in this connection, it is more important to note that the field of vision can also be broadened to a North Eurasian or even circumpolar perspective, so that the cultures of the Scandinavians and the Saamis are regarded as more or less related. Ä few examples from this debate will be sufficient to illustrate the tendencies: The "Scandinavian traits" that Ólrik and Krohn saw in the cult of Horagállis refer, according to this line of argument, "more to what is peripheral than to what is central in the cult of the thunder-god. In its essence this cult is unquestionable genuine Lapp" (Karsten 1955, 25). Ä difference between the Scandinavian and Saami thunder gods is that Horagállis is never ástvinr 'a dear friend' as Thor, but "regarded with awe", even though he is "man's helper", this latter explained as "most probable [,..] an indigenous idea" (Pettersson 1961, 128). Änd it is furthermore "impossible to state conclusively if there are elements that are due to Scandinavian influences. The worship of the thunder-god is [, ] common among different peoples of the world, and the character of this worship, its purpose and performance are often

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similar" (Pettersson 1961, 131). The idea that Dierpmis's functions as Supreme being and Thunder god among the western Saamis were divided between Vearalden olmmái and Horagállis because of Scandinavian influence (Hultkrantz 1962, 259) has been criticized, According to Mebius, the only thing we can state is that there "[...] in Saami religion incontrovertibly existed ideas about a sky-god, that, so far as can be judged, had a number of different names" (Mebius 1968, 153). Beside the theory that Rota was to be identified with Ódin, von Unwert strangely enough also presented — in a note — a totally different interpretation. Äccording to this outline, Rota could be a genuine Saami god, and only the features that indubitably pointed to Ódin were to have been taken over from the Scandinavian god (Unwert 1911, 157, n. 1). Ärguments against a Scandinavian interpretation of Rota have been discussed (no animals were buried alive for Ruto, Ruto's horse on the drums doesn't have eight legs etc.) (Mebius 1968, 109 f.), as well as Uralic parallels, as for example the keremet-cult of the Mordvins and Maris (Cheremisses) (Harva 1915b, 28; Pettersson 1957, 162 f.; Pettersson 1985, 168), the Nenets (Yurak) rßã and the Mansi (*Vogul) xul'ater (Mebius 1968, 125; Pettersson 1985, 168). Äccording to one opinion, a start should be made from the transference rite itself (Ränk 1981, 62; Ränk 1985, 170). Regarding the iihkkás, Harva observed at an early stage that not all the manners and customs connected with birth were borrowed from the Scandinavians (Harva 1915a, 168), and, according to Pettersson, the notion of the Ähkkás probably stemmed from what he calls the Finno-Ugric element in Saami religion (Pettersson 1957, 40). Ränk, on his part, has compared the Ähkkás with other Eurasian deities of birth, explained Máttaráhkká as secondary and stated that "the prerequisites to the coming into existence and further development of the Madder-akka complex are to be found in the Lapp religion itself' (Ränk 1955, 79). Älso Bäckman has compared the Ahkkás with other North Eurasian deities, and according to her, Aláttaráhkká represented "the Great-birth-mother" while Sáráhkká had "many common traits with those of the important Mother Fire" (Bäckman 1984, 37 f.). She thinks that the daughters were perhaps influenced by the Scandinavian Noms, but notes, that "the conception of the akkas in their roles as goddesses connected with birth can also be seen as an archaic element in the religious belief of the Saamis" (Bäckman 1984, 38), K. B. Wiklund was the first to question the interpretatio scandinavica of Saami religion in his paper on the saajve-complex; the Pite and

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Lule Saamis have preserved an original Saami name, SaaL. ganij (pl. gadniha), for the type of beings who were mixed up with the "Toten im Berge" of the Scandinavians, and he hence posed the question whether the Saamis did not know subterranean beings of their own and of about the same kind as the Scandinavians. His criterion of "indigenous ideas" was whether the beings also were found among the Russian Saamis (Wiklund 1916, 46). Åke Óhlmarks opposed the idea that the seiör was a loan from the Saamis (Óhlmarks 1939, 350). The same point was made later by Å. V. Ström (Ström Å, V. 1975, 85, 259 f.), and Peter Buchholz has warned against interpreting every case of shamanism in the Óld Icelandic sources as Saami influence (Buchholz 1968, 16), Åke Hultkrantz, on the other hand, has explained seiör and noaidevuohta as "[t]o a certain extent [. ] two independent expressions of the northern shamanism" (Hultkrantz 1979, 55) and stated that "the Lappish influence on Nordic shamanism is probably not insignificant, though the latter also might have deeper roots in the Teutonic religion, Ón the other hand, the Lappish technique of divination seems to have had certain prototypes in the Nordic magic" (Hultkrantz 1962, 298), Interestingly enough, Eliade didn't consider seiör as shamanism in the strict sense. It belonged, according to him, instead to what he called `minor magic' (Eliade 1972, 386 f,). The significance of the North Eurasian perspectives has increased, but as early as 1926 Björn Collinder wrote concerning Scandinavian religion:

[. ..] it must to be taken as demonstrated that, in the heathen beliefs of Siberian and other sub-Arctic peoples as it has survived right on to our day, we possess a rich source of information about the religious ideas of our ancient forefathers [i.e. the Scandinavians] [...] Here we can discern in glimpses a religio-cultural connection which in olden times comprised large parts of our continent [...] As for the features of Old Teutonic heathen belief that have been found among the Lapps, it has hitherto been thought that the Norsemen in this respect have throughout played the role of lenders. To the extent that ideas and customs belonging to this category, as it transpires, are likewise found among the neighbours of the Lapps in the east, the above interpretation will lose a good deal of its probability (Collinder 1926, 230).

Recently, Lotte Motz has presented a new variant of the idea that the culture of the Saamis "reflects the customs and probably the ideas of the Mesolithic North" (Motz 1983, 365), and therefore could be used to supplement the literary sources to Germanic religion. Contrary to Ólrik and the other scholars at the turn of the century, she does not

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restrict her parallels to Saami religion, but lists a number of resemblances between Germanic religion and the religions of various North Eurasian peoples, e.g. the Saamis, the Yakuts and the Chukchees, as regards cosmology, the spirit world, afterlife and some magical practices, and finds "[e]specially striking" parallels among the Chukchees (Motz 1983, 368). Motz explains these similarities by a common North Eurasian or circumpolar cultural heritage. Äs for Saami religion, there are, according to Hultkrantz, two possibilities: either "that Lapp religious phenomena were derived from, or at least primarily related to, similar phenomena in the east; or that they constitute the archaic residue of a once coherent Eurasian (perhaps also circumpolar) hunting culture", being a "basic cultural pattern uniting all peoples in the extreme North" (Hultkrantz 1955, 85 f.). This North Eurasian perspective has been stressed in several recent studies of Saami religion and culture (cf. e.g. Mebius 1968, 80 ff.; Fjellström 1971, 546). Ränk can exemplify the argumentation: I do not want to deny a certain Scandinavian influence on the Lapp culture and religion but I am convinced that the influence concerned more the external forms and terminology than basic religious conceptions. Furthermore [...] We are fully entitled to ask whether these religions are not originally related to one another and whether there exist in the North-Germanic religions ancient strata not absolutely without Arctic cultural influences (Milk 1955, 10).

The brief and highly oversimplified account provided of a theme in the study of the religious history of Fenno-Scandinavia will serve to illustrate the use of analogies as explanations in the history of religions. The intensified methodological debate has created an awareness that knowledge about the history of scholarship is necessary to achieve a full understanding of all the hidden assumptions that influence the research process. The scholars who searched for parallels to Scandinavian religion among the Saamis analyzed the Scandinavian (i.e. Óld Icelandic) texts most scrupulously and with great philological skill, but used much less of their methodological insight when the Saami parallels were discussed, as generally only secondary literature and, in rare cases, one or two sources were used. They nevertheless lacked the essential linguistic knowledge of Saami as well as a basic familarity with Saami

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culture. The comparisons were morever, as mentioned above, made between isolated elements in the two cultures, elements taken out of their context, and the criteria for judging the "resemblances", were only discussed in exceptional cases. When analogies to Saami or Scandinavian religion are sought among Mordvins, Chukchees and other peoples of the north, these analogies are also often collected from secondary literature and taken out of their cultural context without discussions of the criteria used for comparisons. The same criticism that was directed against the loan-theories is therefore, to a great extent, also valid here. The comparisons have been made between one religion that is well-known to scholars and one or more other religions much less familiar. The methodological problems are similar. There might be a risk that one type of less well-founded analogy replaces another, The great interest in (Fenno-Scandinavian or North Eurasian) analogies is due to the fact that explanations based on questions of origins have almost entirely dominated studies of Fenno-Scandinavian religions (cf. Steffensen 1985, 105). The discussion has, to a great extent, fastened in a static view of both Scandinavian and Saami religion. It has, for example, been taken as more or less self-evident that the religions of pre-Christian Fenno-Scandinavia were rather uniform. This was, however, scarcely the case. We must reckon instead with great variation within the religious traditions of the different ethnic groups. There was never any uniform Saami (or Scandinavian) religion, but important regional variations, even though the condition of the sources produces the temptation to generalize on weak grounds. Thus, the written sources describing the southern Saami region are much more exhaustive than sources for other Saami areas, and the literary sources to Scandinavian religion describe almost exlusively Iceland and Norway, while very little is known about the religious ideas and practices of eastern and southern Scandinavia. Furthermore, various Christian missions penetrated parts of the area at different periods, and also influenced the religious life of those who were not converted, and the majority of the sources belong to the Christian period. This causes additional difficulties in separating the Christian from the pre-Christian. The religious history of the region is thus very complex. The encounter of religions in pre-Christian Fenno-Scandinavia — involving Finns, Karelians and Russians as well as Scandinavians and Saamis — was no simple interchange of easily defined loans between well demarcated socio-cultural units, but a multiplicity of different dynamic

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processes. Not until more of these processes have been described on the micro-level, will it be possible to provide a tolerably correct synthesis of the religions. The whole spectrum of Scandinavian Saami religious connections would in fact be worth a new series of examinations.

Bibliography ÄBBREVIATIONS

SaaL. Lule Saami SaaN. North Saami SaaS. South Saami SaaSk. Skolt Saami Agrell, S. 1934. Lapptrummor och runmagi, Lund. Älmgren, O. 1926-27. Hällristningar och kultbruk. (Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademiens Handlingar 35.) Stockholm Bäckman, L. 1984. The Akkas. Current progress in the methodology of the science of religion. Ed. by W. Tyloch. Warsaw. Bing, J. 1922. Die Götter der südskandinavischen Felsenzeichnungen. Mannus 14. Leipzig. Boyer, R. 1986. Le monde du double. Paris. Bradean-Ebinger, N. 1980. Zur Frage der Nordisch-Lappischen sprachlichen und kulturellen Beziehungen. Uralica 5. Tokyo. Buchholz, P. 1968. Schamanistische Ziige in der altisländischen Überlieferung. Münster. Collinder, B. 1926. Ett nytt uppslag i den fornnordiska religionsforskningen. Nordisk tidskrift för vetenskap, konst och industri utg. av Letterstedtska föreningen n.s. 2. Stockholm. Dumézil, G. 1959. Les dieux des Germains. (Mythes et religion 38.) Paris. — 1986. Loki. [Paris]. Eliade, M. 1972. Shamanism. (Bollingen Series 76.) Princeton. Fjellström, P. 1970. Anpassning och egenart. Norrbotten. Luleå. — 1971. Nordic and Eurasian elements in Lapp culture. Anthropos 66. Fribourg. Fritzner, J. 1877. Lappernes Hedenskab og Troldomskunst sammenholdt med andre Folks, isaer Nordmaendenes Tro og Overtro. Historisk Tidskrift 4. Christiania. Gjessing, G. 1965. Kontaktproblemet – konflikt og samarbeid. Norveg 12. Oslo Grundström, H. 1956. Sarakkagröt – nornagröt – barselgröt lystenbit. Arctica. (Studia Ethnographica Upsaliensia 11.) Uppsala. Gunda, B. 1959. Ein altes europäisches Überbleibsel in der lappischen Mythologie. Ural-Altaische Jahrbücher 31. Wiesbaden.

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Haavio, M. 1969. Der oberste Gott der skandinavischen Lappen. Temenos 5. Turku. Hammond, H. 1787. Den Nordiske Missions-Historie [...]. Kiøbenhavn. [Harva], U. 1915a. De fornnordiska nornorna i lapparnas religion. [By] U. Holmberg. Nya Argus 18. Helsingfors. - 1915b. Lappalaisten uskonto. [By] U. Holmberg. (Suomensuvun uskonnot 2.) Porvoo. Hultkrantz, P. 1955. Swedish research on the religion and folklore of the Lapps. The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 85. London. - 1962. Die Religion der Lappen. Die Religionen Nordeurasiens und der amerikanischen Arktis. Von I. Paulson & A. Hultkrantz & K. Jettmar. (Die Religionen der Menschheit 3.) Stuttgart. - 1979. Lapp shamanism from a comparative point of view. Fenno- Ugrica Suecana 2. Uppsala. Johansen, O. 1983. Nordiske lån i før-kristen samisk religion? Viking 46. Oslo. Kabell, Aa. 1980. Skalden und Schamanen. (FF Communications 227.) Helsinki. Karsten, R. 1955. The religion of the Samek. Leiden. Kasten, E. 1983. Kulturwandel bei den Samen. Berlin. Krohn, K. 1906. Lappische Beiträge zur germanischen Mythologie. FinnischUgrische Forschungen 6. Helsinki. Laestadius, L. L. 1959. Fragmenter i Lappska Mythologien. [Ed. by] H. Grundström Svenska Landsmål B, 61. Uppsala. Lid, N. 1942. Innleiing. Gudar og gudedyrking. Religionshistorie. [Ed. by] N. Lid. (Nordisk kultur 26.) Stockholm. Liljeholm, A. F. 1926. Nordiska fruktsamhetsriter i lapparnes björnfest. Folkminnen och folk-tankar 13. Lund. Ljungberg, H. 1947. Tor. (Uppsala Universitets Årsskrift 1947, 9.) Uppsala. Mebius, H. 1968, Värrö. (Skrifter utg. av Religionshistoriska institutionen i Uppsala. Hum. fak. 5.) Uppsala. Motz, L. 1983. The northern heritage of Germanic religion. The Mankind Quarterly 23. Washington, DC. Nesheim, A. 1979. Cultural contact of the Lapps with their neighbours. Fenno-Ugrica Suecana 2. Uppsala. Ohlmarks, Å. 1939. Studien zum Problem des Schamanismus. Lund. Olrik, A. 1905a. Nordisk og lappisk gudsdyrkelse. Danske Studier. København. - 1905b. Tordenguden og hans dreng. Danske Studier. København. - 1910. Irminsul og Gudestøtter. Maal og Minne. Kristiania. Olrik, A. & Ellekilde, H. 1926-51. Nordens Gudeverden 1--2. København. Pentikäinen, J. 1968. The Nordic dead-child tradition. (FF Communications 202.) Helsinki.

Scandinavian-Saami Religious Connections 373 Pettersson, O. 1957. Jabmek and Jabmeaimo. (Lunds universitets årsskrift N.F. 1, 52, 6.) Lund. 1961. Tirmes - Dierbrnes - Horagalles - Thor. Knut Lundmark and man's march into space - a memorial volume. Göteborg. 1985. The god Ruto. Saami pre-Christian religion. Ed. by L. Bäckman & Å. Hultkrantz. (Stockholm Studies in Comparative Religion 25.) Stockholm. 1987. Old Nordic and Christian elements in Saarni ideas about the realm of the dead. Saami religion. Ed. by T. Alllbäck. (Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis 12.) Stockholm. Ränk, G. 1955. Lapp female deities of the Madder-Äkka group. Studia Septentrionalia 6. Oslo. - 1981. Der mystische Ruto in der sami,schen Mythologie. (Stockholmn Studies in Comparative Religion 21.) Stockholm. - 1985. The North-Eurasian background of the Ruto-cult. Saami preChristian religion. Ed. by L. Bäckman Hultkrantz. (Stockholm Studies in Comparative Religion 25.) Stockholm. Reuterskiöld, E. 1912. De nordiska lapparnas religion. (Populära etnologiska skrifter 8.) Stockholm. - 1928. Frán guldhornen till lapptrumman. Festskrift til Reklor J. Qvigstad. (Tromsø museums skrifter 2.) Tromso. Rosén, II. 1920. Om lapparnas dödsrikesföreställninger. Fataburen 1919. Stockholm. Skanke, IL 1945. Epitomes Historiæ Missionis Lapponicæ 1, [Ed. by] O. Solberg. Nordnorske samlinger 5, 2. Oslo. Steffensen, A. 1985. Samisk religion. Chaos 4. Københavni Ström, Å. V. 1975. Germanische Religion. Germanische und Baltische Religion. Von A. V. Ström & H. Biezais. (Die Religionen der Menschheit 19, 1.) Stuttgart. Ström, F. 1967. Nordisk hedendom. Göteborg. Strömbäck, D. 1935. Sejd. (Nordiska texter och undersökningar utg. i Uppsala av Bengt Hesselman 5.) Stockholm. Unwert, W. von 1911. Untersuchungen über Totenkult und Odinnverehrung bei Nordgermanen und Lappen [...] (Germanische Abhandlungen 37.) - 1913. Namengebung und Wiedergeburtsglaube bei Nordgermanen und Lappen. Beiträge zur Sprach- und Völkerkunde. Halle. Vries, J. de 1956-57. Allgermanische Religionsgeschichte 1-2. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 12, 1-2.) Berlin. Wiklund, K. B. 1913. Mytologi [lapsk]. Nordisk familjebok 19. Stockholm. - 1916. Saivo. Le monde oriental 10. Uppsala. Words and objects. 1986. Ed. by G. Steinsland. (Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning, B, 71.) Oslo.

Personal Piety in Nordic Heathenism BY ÅKE V.

STRÖM

Usually, Nordic heathenism is thought of as a fairy-tale or as an impersonal, collective event. Sacrifice (blót) and ethics appear to be the main facts. Was there anything at all like piety, and could it, in this case, be spoken of as personal? Lucien Musset says in his important work La conversione al christianesimo: "La paganisme nordique n'est guère une foi personelle" (Musset 1967, 265, "Nordic heathenism was never a personal faith"), and Walter Baetke decides without further notice: "Nicht um den einzelnen, seine Seele oder sein Schicksal handelt [es sich], sondern um die Gemeinschaft" (Baetke 1942, 218, "Not about the individual or his soul or destiny was the question, but about the community"). There is of course a good deal of truth in this. If we compare the northener with the modern westerner or with the Platonic Äthenian, the inhabitant of the North stands out as a more collectively thinking person, attached to dynasty, housecarls and family. But the statements of Musset and Baetke are nevertheless exaggerations, and we would like to point out here a couple of examples in the texts of a "personal faith" and an interest in "the individual or his soul or destiny". We divide our material into two groups: personal opinion and personal means of expression. 1. Personal opinion In old Icelandic there are two expressions including the word trúa, 'believe': trúa einum, 'believe someone', and trúa á einuro, `(personally) believe in someone or something'. Helge Ljungberg has, in a special study, maintained, that the last mentioned construction is only used in the Christian period (Ljungberg 1947, 153-165), and this is applauded by Baetke's pupil, Ernst Walter (Walter 1966, 367, note 36). But Geo Widengren has suggested that the age of the texts with trúa á points towards the pagan period (Widengren 1966, 330) and Ä,G, van Hamel has already shown that one can use the same expression for belief in gods and in men (Hamel 1936, 27), We have such phrases as: "I was confident in believing him [Ódin]" (Geröumk tryggr at trúa honum,

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Egill Skallagrímsson, Sonatorek, st, 22) or "Then I should believe in you [Thor]" (Ek mynda fiér pá tract, Harbars1jó8, st. 34). Here we really have "une foi personelle" in pagan time. The examples of personal change of faith point in the same direction, Sigurôur Nordal has shown that Egill Skallagrímsson was converted from belief in Thor to belief in Ódin (Nordal 1924, 145-165). The best example is perhaps Glumr á Pverá. He belonged to a family, whose ancestors worshipped Thor, while the other family members kept to Frey. They had a Frey-sanctuary of their own and organized stallion baitings in his honour, but we read that, after a remarkable dream, Glum "got angry with Frey" (lask verr vera vid Frey, Gluma, ch. 26), and Änne Holtsmark concludes from different criteria, that Glum assumed the faith in Ódin of his maternal family. Hallfreôr Vandrædaskald confesses, even as a Christian, that he has had a personal relationship with Ódin and with his fylgia, but that when he has had an accident on board ship, he says to the fylgia: "I cease totally to be friends with you" (í sundr segi ek ollu via pik, Hallfr, saga, ch. 11). The personal feature in the Nordic religion appears thirdly from the surprising fact that there are a number of impious and atheistic people in the texts: Ärnljótr Gellini, Hrolfr Kraki, Sigmundr Brestisson and above all Gaukaborir and Äfrafasti, who declare: "We believe in ourselves and in our strength" (trúm á okler ok afl okkat, S:t Ólavs saga, ch. 201).1 The case is somewhat similar in the ethical sphere. The word for conscience, Gothic mijıwissi, Nordic samwizka and samvitand, is a translation of conscientia and is not used until Christian times (de Vries 1956, 175). It means a sentiment of correspondence to, or a deviation from, a common ethical ideal. But in pagan times we have a counterpart in the totally private field: the feeling of violation of one's own honour, Egill Skallagrímsson and his men had been captured by a peasant in Kurland. The latter wanted to slay the prisoners at once, but his son asked him to postpone the execution until the next morning in order to let everyone have a better look at them being killed. The captives were locked up over night in the storehouse, but they succeeded in escaping from here with supplies and arms. Óut in the forest a consideration awoke in Egill, some sort of corTor Andræ first pointed to this fact (Andræ 1932, 31 ff.). Ljungberg and Folke Ström have dealt with it further. Ljungberg 1940, 147-155; Ström F. 1948, 16-28,

AKE

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respondence to our sense of conscience, and he said: "This was very bad. We have stolen the property of our host, the peasant, without his knowing. Such a shame must not overcome us". Änd he returned alone — not to give back the stolen things but to set the whole farm on fire and to burn everyone to death! Egil's men are said to have been very happy when he returned and told them what he had done (Saga Egils Skallagrímsonar, ch. 46). He had saved "their soul and their destiny".

2. Personal means of expression Norsemen expressed their personal relationship to the gods by sacrifice. Floki Vilgeròarson offered (blótacli) for a good voyage (Lndb. St. ch. 5). Óne could sacrifice personally for victory, health, long life, etc. (Ström, Å. V. 1975, 220 ff.). Prayer serves the same purpose. But as a matter of fact prayer, which is said to be the breath of religious belief, is seldom mentioned in Nordic texts. In the "priest-mirror" (Hay. st. 144) we read: Veitsłu, hvé bidja skal? Veitstu, hvé blöta skal?

Understandeth thou to pray? Understandeth thou to sacrifice?

but there prayer (and sacrifice) are mentioned as sacerdotal functions (Ström, Å. V. 1975, 275). There are in fact some examples of a personal connection between a single person and his god, for instance when Hrólfr in the Eyrbyggjasaga is called "Thor's good friend" (mikill vinr Pórs, ch. 3), even his "love-friend" (ástvinr, ch. 4). Hrafnkell had Frey as his friend, "dearer than other gods" (elskadi eigi annat god meir, Hrafnk. ch. 2). Óne single prayer is handed down to us in the texts, which is the one of Thorkell the High on Thvera, beginning like this: Freyr, er lengi hefir fulllrúi minn verit, ok margar gjafar at mér hegit ok vel launał

Frey, who for a long time has been my confident and received many gifts from me and well rewarded them...

(Glúma, ch, 9, Ljungberg 1940, 124 note 1). Óf women's prayers we have some traces in Óddr. st. 9, where it is said that it was customary to call on Frigg and Freya in childbed. This was the sum occurence of personal prayers in the Nordic texts until some years ago. In 1987, there appeared a learned treatise by

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the late Swedish runologist, Ivar Lindquist, concerning the very little known amulet from Kvinneby on the island of Öland. The pertinent part of the difficult text was decoded and translated by Lindquist as follows: 1. Ek hæR - I yrki viss em - undiRgulı, ki eR berg'k Böfi maeR. Fuld, Thfito es IıæR viss.

I praise the goddess underneath - I am wise in poetry as I, Bofi, have my livelihood. Oh Earth, you have the consideration of a skilful one.

Älternative reading: 1. Ek hæRR Erku2 - viss em ...

I praise Erka - I am vise ...

2. Enburr (h)aldi illu frail Bafa! Pörr gEZti hans meR bëm hamri, es Am hyRR, haf i gä Am!

May the only son keep evil away from Bofi! May Thor save him with that hammer, which beats Am [shingles], go in sea, Am!

3. ny, frän illvëtt! Faer ekki

Fly, ugly ill-elf! You get nothing from Bofi. Gods are under him and above him.

af Brifa.

Gub eRu undir hanum auk yfiR hänum.

Regarding this inscription, Lindquist wrote as follows: "This religious text is personal, because it allows the writer in many places to appear in his own name and call attention to himself as an object of the mercy of the gods. Bofi, as he is called, is formulating himself in verse. He is humble in approaching the powers — a genuine religious feature. The literary style which Bofi uses must once have been the pious way of speaking to the powers used by our Nordic heathen ancestors" (Lindquist 1987, 78 f.). This very text "puts the Thor religion in a new surprising light, by giving us a portrait of one of its practicants, recorded during a cult ceremony, the prayer. The evidence is in its way unique" (Lindquist 1987, 80). Änother personal document seems to be found in the text of the Safety-pin from Nordendorf (Die Biigelfibel Nordendorf I). Ä recent interpretation and translation is made by the Norwegian scholar Óttar Grønvik (Grønvik 1985, 111-129):

Cf. The Anglo-Saxon ground-blessing line 49: Erce, Erce, Erce eoJan modor, "Erke, Erke, Erke, mother of the ground!"

2

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logalıore wodan wigilıonar Liars are Odin and Dedicating-Thor. awa leubwiniç Ava and Leubvini.

Grønvik says about this: "Möglicherweise handelt es sich um eine eheliche Verbindung zwischen einem Heiden und einer Christin, bei der die Forderung gestellt wurde, daß Leubvini zuvor seinem heidnischen Glauben abschwören sollte" (Grønvik 1985, 126). Consequently we have here a personal matrimonial document as well as a personal renuntiation formula. Cf. a similar but female incantation on the Sigtuna-amulet (Lindquist 1932, '73). Another personal means of expression is the outdoor sitting (útiseta), It is said of the seeress in the Edda: Ein sat hon títi ßá er hin aldni kom. (Vsp. st. 28)

She was sitting alone outdoors, when the Old man came.

The Norwegian expert Gro Steinsland declares outdoor sitting to be "a technical term for foreboding" (Steinsland 1979, 139). Later on, in a personal letter to me (23.3.1987), she provided further evidence of this by quoting the Law of Gulathing § 32 and the Law of Frostathing §§ 5 and 45. Dag Strömbäck has already dealt with this expression, He is inclined, as he says, to see in this "the habit of the wise and farseeing man to sit outdoors in order to gain spatial information about hidden things" (Strömbäck 1935 128, not 5). This útiseta, Strömbäck adds, "was always carried on without assistants", contrary to the sejd, the Nordic divination (Strömbäck 1935, 127). Consequently, it is an expression of a purely personal piety. Present-day Ódin religion speaks frequently of sitting out-doors, and apparently that is put into practice. We find "Instructions for sitting out-doors" in the journal of the Yggdrasil society (Eriksson 1982, 3 f.), and a general article on the same subject in an other copy (Eriksson 1983, 13-15), being reprinted two years later (Eriksson 1985, 30 ff.). The article ends: "Änd when the trees begin to dance, let them continue" (Eriksson 1983, 15; Eriksson 1985, 32). We return to antiquity. The oath has a close connection with religion. If one did not believe, or no longer believed, in the gods, the oath had no power. But he who broke an oath brought down the rage of the gods. In spite of there being several witnesses to the oath (Early Westgothic Law, Marriage Code, § 9), the taking of an oath was the

Personal Piety ín Nordíc Heathenism 379 task of one single person. It had reference to the individual and his destiny, It is quite clear, that the collective and impersonal traits in old Norse religion were far more prominent than in the religious currents of today (cf. Ström, Å.V. 1944, 29-45, 71-76). But there was in Nordic paganism a personal piety, too. It appeared not only in personal opinion and personal means of expression, but also in daily life as well. The single peasant, Viking, fisherman, artisan, housewife, was in his or her everyday work totally dependent on the blessing of the gods and on protection from the attacks of the demons (de Vries 1936, 208), He who succeeded enjoyed this personal success because of personal sacrifices, personal fortune and personal blessing.

Bibliography Andræ, Tor 1932. Die Frage der religiösen Anlage. Uppsala universitets årsskrift 1932, Program 5. Uppsala. Baetke, Walter 1942. Das Heilige im Germanischen. Tübingen. Eriksson, J. I. 1982. Instruktioner för ute-sittning. Gimle 5. Stockholm. - 1983. Instruktioner för ute-sittning. Gimle 7. Stockholm. - 1985. Ute-sittning. Sejd. Stockholm. Grønvik, Ottar 1985. Die Runeninschrift der Nordendorfer Bügelfibel 1. Runor och runinskrifter. (Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Äkademien. Konferenser 15.) Stockholm. Hamel, A. G. van 1936. Islands Odinsgeloof. Amsterdam. Holtsmark, Anne 1933. Vitazgjafti. Maal og Minne. Oslo. Lindquist, Ivar 1932. Religiösa runtexter 1. Lund. - 1987. Religiösa runtexter 3. Lund. Ljungberg, Helge 1940. Den nordiska religionen och kristendomen. (Nordiska texter och undrsökningar utg. i Uppsala av Bengt Hesselman 11.) Uppsala. - 1947. Trúa. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 62. Lund. Musset, Lucien 1967 La pénétration chrétienne dans l'Europe du Nord. La conversione al cristianesimo nell'Europa dell' aho medioevo. (Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo 14.) Spoleto. Nordal, Siguraur 1924. Atrtinadur Egils Skallagrímsonar. Skirnir 98. Reykjavík. Steinsland, Gro 1979. Treet i Völuspá. Arkiv för nordisk filologi 94. Lund. Ström, Folke 1948. Den egna kraftens man. Göteborgs högskolas årsskrift 54, 2. Göteborg. Ström, Åke V. 1944. Vetekornet. Uppsala.

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Ström, Åke V. 1975. Germanische Religion. Germanische und Baltische Religion. Von Å. V. Ström & H. iezais. (Religionen der Menschheit 19, 2.) Stuttgart. Strömbäck, Dag 1935. Sejd, (Nordiska texter och undersökningar utg. i Uppsala av Bengt Hesselman 5.) Uppsala. Vries, Jan de 1956. Aligermanische Religionsgeschichte 1. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 12, 1.) Berlin. Walter, Ernst 1966. Quellenkritisches und Wortgeschichtliches zum Opferfest von Hladir in Snorris Heimskringa (Hák. gód. c. 17). Festschrift Walter Betel/cc. Weimar. Widengren, Geo 1966. Archivio di Filosofia. Roma.

Views on Cultic Place-Names in Denmark A Review of Research BY BENTE HOLMBERG

By way of introduction it should be emphasised that, although interest has long been shown in the meaning of place-names, place-name research as a methodical study has only a comparatively short history. For place-name research in Denmark the pioneer work is the paper entitled Bema±rkninger om danske og norske stedsnavnes oprindelse og forklaring (Comments on the origin and interpretation of Danish and Norwegian place-names), which appeared in 1833. Its author was N,M. Petersen, who was at that time a registrar at the State Ärchives and who later became the first Professor of Scandinavian languages at the University of Copenhagen. There is, of course, much in N.M. Petersen's paper which has not stood the test of time, including his discussion of place-names which — as he says: (I translate) "contain names of the old gods of Scandinavia [... ] or the common appellations as or gud" (Petersen 1833, 178). The reason why the paper should nevertheless be considered a pioneer work is that some of the principles formulated in it are still valid for the study of place-names. This is the case, for example, with the principle that the oldest recorded forms of a name are normally to be considered as the most reliable basis for its interpretation. It is also the case with the requirement that knowledge of phonology, history and local topography should be natural prerequisites for the interpretation of old place-names. It is also stressed that a comparison with the nomenclature of the other Scandinavian countries can be of significance for place-name research. Äs far as methodology is concerned, very little progress was made in the field of Danish place-name research between the appearance of N.M. Petersen's paper in 1833 and the great advance marked by the publication of the works of the historian Johannes Steenstrup at the end of the century. There are naturally several scholars from the intervening period whose work deserves to be mentioned but in the present context I shall confine myself to naming two of them, Henry Petersen and Óluf Nielsen. Henry Petersen, who was a museum-based archaeologist, attempted

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in 1876 in his doctoral dissertation Om Nordboernes Gudedyrkelse og Gudetro i Hedenold (Ón the cults and beliefs of the Scandinavians in the pagan period) to demonstrate that the Scandinavians worshipped Thor above all other gods. In addition to Thor, who is considered to have been the primordial god of Scandinavia and the original chief god of the people, Henry Petersen argues that it was first and foremost Ódin and Frey who were worshipped by the Scandinavians, In support of his claim Petersen points inter aha to a number of place- and personal names (Petersen 1876, 37 ff.). Älthough the cited place-name material cannot in fact be used in support of Henry Petersen's thesis, in part because many of the names — Torstrup, Frøstrup, Ondrup etc. — are perfectly prosaic and secular, the personal-name material is not without interest and significance. Henry Petersen would seem to be the first person in Scandinavia to have drawn attention to the fact that personal names containing names of gods or words for gods can be an important source of information about the history of religion. His attempt to exploit this source was, however, soon emulated by a Swede, Magnus Fredrik Lundgren. Äs early as 1878 Lundgren published a small pamphlet entitled Språkliga intyg om hednisk gudatro i Sverge (Linguistic evidence about the heathen religion in Sweden) and in this he exploits not only place-names but also personal names as a source of information about the heathen gods that had once been worshipped in Sweden. Two years later in 1880 — there appeared another paper by the same author: Spår af hednisk tro och kult i fornsvenska personnamn (Traces of heathen beliefs and cults in Óld Swedish personal names). It seems to me that these two contributions by Lundgren initiated Swedish research into cultic names (cf. Hellberg 1986, 41 f.). It was around this time, too, that Norwegian cultic names came under observation, but in the earliest articles, those written by Martin Ärnesen and Óluf Rygh, cultic personal names were not brought into the discussion (Ärnesen 1866; Rygh 1880). In later years, personal names containing the names of gods or words for gods have been referred to from time to time in various general works on personal names but they have never been subjected to the thorough, modern, scientific discussion that they most certainly deserve. In my opinion, the best treatment of this subject is that by Kristian Hald in the fourth chapter of the fırst volume of his Personnavne i Danmark (Personal names in Denmark) (Hald 1971, 36-52). In this, the relevant name material is treated in a professional and scholarly

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manner and with the breadth of vision that was characteristic of all of Kristian Hald's work. In the same chapter, Hald also touches on a phenomenon which had been noted by Henry Petersen in his 1876 dissertation, namely that personal names containing the name Thor-, in contrast to names containing the names of other gods, have an unusually wide distribution in the Scandinavian area (Hald 1971, 38). The names in question include Thorbjørn, Thorer, Thorgot, Thorkil, Thormod and Thorsten, Henry Petersen assumed that a person who was named after a god came under the special protection of that god and he took the many compound names with Thor- as first element as conclusive evidence that Thor was the chief god of Scandinavia (Petersen 1876, 39 ff.). The matter is not quite as straightforward as this, however. We know very little, in fact, about what people in the pagan period thought about personal names containing the names of gods, including that of Thor. What little late evidence we do have about this has been assembled by Elias Wessén in Nordiska namnstudier (Scandinavian name-studies) (Wessén 1927, 77 ff.). As far as the distribution of personal names in Thor- is concerned, Hald demonstrates that they are among the most commonly occurring personal names throughout Scandinavia (Hald 1971). He also demonstrates that they are of exceptionally rare occurrence outside Scandinavia. Äs far as their dating is concerned, Hald points out that names in Thor- are not known from Primitive Scandinavian runic inscriptions. He also draws the place-name material into his study, naturally enough, in the light of the scanty nature of direct sources of information about Danish personal names before the Viking period. With the aid of the place-names, Hald is able to demonstrate that Thor-names, in spite of their absence from runic inscriptions, cannot have been completely unknown in Denmark during what is generally referred to rather imprecisely as the Migration period. Such names are found in a number of place-names in -ley, most of which (6 altogether) now appear as either Torslev or Tørslev, Änd this is the strange thing about it. Äll six place-names contain the same personal name, Thörir, which is thus the personal name combined most frequently with the place-name element -lev. The etymology of this personal name is uncertain and disputed, Hald suggests tentatively that Thörir might be an original appellative with the sense 'Thor's priest' (or 'thunder priest'!) and that this name Thörir might have been the inspiration for the formation of all the other Thor-names, It is characteristic for Kristian Hald that he often attempts to set the

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results he has reached by linguistic methods in a wider perspective and his discussion of the Thor-names concludes with the following words: (I translate) "What is certain is that the appearance of the large number of personal names in Thör- in the time between the Migration period and the Viking period is the most significant Scandinavian innovation in the nomenclature and the feature which most clearly distinguishes Scandinavian names from those current among the other Germanic peoples. It is also certain that there must be a close connection between this Scandinavian innovation in the nomenclature and those religious currents in the same period which led to the dominant position assumed by the cult of Thor, at least among the common people" (Hald 1971, 50). With this last sentence the philologist Kristian Hald ventures outside his legitimate field of research but he does so cautiously and elegantly. Whether or not the latter part of his conclusion is correct, his linguistic observations remain valid. Perhaps his final conclusion is simply intended as a tentative suggestion offered by a name-scholar to fellowresearchers who have a different angle of approach to the pre-Christian religion of Scandinavia. In that case, it is not without justification. Ón the one hand there is a wealth of source material which is difficult to analyse and interpret. Ón the other hand there is the subject of the history of religion, which is so complex that it is necessary to be something of a Jack of all trades in order even to attempt to master it. In this connection I should like to quote the words of a Danish archaeologist, the present Keeper of National Äntiquities, Ólaf Ólsen. In his doctoral dissertation Hørg, hov og kirke (Hgrgr, hof and church), Ólsen described the problems he had experienced as a "cultic researcher" as follows: (I translate) "In order to write about cultic buildings in Scandinavia in the Viking period it is preferable to be historian, archaeologist, historian of religion and Scandinavian philologist all rolled into one" (Ólsen 1966, 17). Äs I mentioned earlier, there is one other scholar from the period between N.M. Petersen and Johannes Steenstrup whose work deserves to be mentioned and that is Óluf Nielsen. He was a Scandinavian philologist, first an assistant at the State Ärchives and later archivist at the Municipal Ärchives in Copenhagen. Äs a result of his daily work with medieval source material, Óluf Nielsen became thoroughly familiar with old name-forms. He exploited this knowledge in a number of studies, first and foremost in Bidrag til Fortolkning af danske Stednavne (Contributions to the interpretation of Danish placenames), which were published between 1881 and 1896 (Nielsen 1881—

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87; Nielsen 1896-1916). These include a thorough examination of the word vi 'sacred place' as a place-name element and a section on "Spor af den hedenske Gudsdyrkelse" (Traces of the worship of heathen gods) (Nielsen 1881-87, 247-253, 257-273), In his book Vore Stednavne (Óur Place-Names), Kristian Hald described Óluf Nielsen's contributions to the interpretation of cultic place-names as significant and still to be reckoned among the best that have been written on this subject in Danish (Hald 1965, 24). My immediate reaction on reading this remark was that Hald's verdict on Óluf Nielsen's work was much too generous but on maturer reflection and in the light of what later scholars have felt themselves called to write about the so-called cultic place-names I am now inclined to agree with Hald. Óluf Nielsen was one of the pioneers in the field and his contribution is a reasonable and level-headed attempt to demonstrate the occurrence in place-names of various words for sacred places and names of gods. In addition to evidence for the better known gods — Ódin, Thor, Frey, Tyr etc. — Óluf Nielsen finds traces in island-names such as Lso and Eno of the sea-god Læ, who is identical with Ægir, and the goddes Idun respectively (Nielsen 1881-87, 268 f,). In these cases and in several others it is impossible for modern scholars to agree with Óluf Nielsen, but several of his attempts at interpretation still stand up to criticism. This is the case, for example, when he numbers among the few place-names in Denmark commemorating Balder, such names as Boldesager and Baldersbæk in West Jutland (Nielsen 1881-87, 267; cf. Dalberg & Kousgård Sorensen 1979, 120). Ón the other hand, when Óluf Nielsen — as so many before him — finds a reminiscence of Balder in Baldersbrønde near Copenhagen, he has been proved wrong by later research (Knudsen 1928). From what he writes about the name, however, it can be seen that he would have come to a different conclusion if he had had access to more of the old forms of the name, e.g. Baldorpsbrynrıæ from 1321, Ä new and significant era for Danish place-name research was heralded by Johannes Steenstrup, who left his imprint on name-research well into the 20th century in the form of a number of methodologically important works. It is characteristic of Johannes Steenstrup, who was Professor of History at the University of Copenhagen from 1882, that he exploited place-names as a source of information about various topics of historical interest. Äs an example may be cited some of his earliest and most closely reasoned articles on place-names, namely Nogle Bidrag til vore Landsbyers og Bebyggelsens Historie (Some con-

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tributions to the history of our villages and settlement) from 1894, in which place-name material is exploited as a source of information about the history of settlement, and Nogle Undersøgelser om Guders Navne i de nordiske Stedsnavne (Some studies on the names of gods in Scandinavian place-names) from 1896, in which the place-names are made to yield information about the history of religion. These two works, together with many others, were of great significance for the development of place-name research as a scholarly discipline. The reason for this is probably to be sought not in Steenstrup's linguistic ability but rather in the attention he paid to name-typology, i.e. names that share the same generic (e.g. names in -by or -sted) or the same ending (e.g. names in -inge). In this, Steenstrup differed radically from his predecessors, all of whom had tended to concentrate on individual names. In the article about the names of gods in Scandinavian place-names, Johannes Steenstrup demonstrates that human-beings never bear the names of gods in unchanged form (Steenstrup 1896). It was thus impossible in both pagan and Christian times for a man to be called Ódin, Thor or Frey. When one of these names forms part of a placename, it must therefore refer to a divine being. Än examination of the place-name material leads Steenstrup to the conclusion that the names of gods only occur with generics that denote natural phenomena or heathen shrines. The names of gods are never combined with generics that originally denoted settlements. This work, then, marks the establishment for the first time in the history of name research of criteria for the determining of the occurrence of pre-Christian elements — particularly the names of gods — in place-names. As pointed out by Vibeke Dalberg and John Kousgård Sørensen, Steenstrup's criteria imply that while the specific in Danish Torslunde and Norwegian Torshov may well be the name of the god Thor, the specific in the Danish names Torstrup and Torsted cannot be the name of a god (Dalberg & Kousgård Sørensen 1979, 117). When Steenstrup denies that names with a habitative generic — i.e. names such as Torstrup and Torsted — can be cultic, this is not as a result of an etymological analysis of the names but on the basis of his name-typological observations, which were epoch-making but not unassailable. In the article in question, Steenstrup demonstrates that as far as place-names in general are concerned, there was a much greater degree of regularity in the old naming-process than had hitherto been assumed, so that some generics were always — or almost always —

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compounded with personal names, others with appellatives. This is a significant observation and it proved to be of great importance for subsequent research, but the passage of time has shown that the rules formulated by Steenstrup were much too categorical. For example, he assumed that place-names in -torp and -sted regularly contain a personal name, claiming that only 3-4% of these names contain other kinds of specific (Steenstrup 1896, 364 f.). Steenstrup was therefore not in the slightest doubt that the specific of both Torstrup and Torsted was a personal name and not the name of a god. Today, however, we know that although personal names certainly do occur frequently as the specifics of names in -torp, it is not as frequently as was assumed by Steenstrup (cf. Hald 1965, 124). We also know that the percentage of the specifics of names in -sted which are personal names is only about 20 (Kousgård Sørensen 1967, 63; cf, Kousgård Sørensen 1958, 279). If we are to determine whether Tor- in names such as Torstrup and Torsted represents a personal name, an appellative or perhaps the name of a god, this can only be done after subjecting the name to a thorough etymological analysis and then studying it in the light of name-typology. Since the result of this process will seldom be unambiguous, it will normally also be necessary to confront the result of the analysis with the natural and cultural conditions of the site in question. Ämong modern scholars, there is fairly general agreement that Torstrup in West Jutland is most likely to contain the personal name Thorsten (cf, e,g. Jorgensen 1983, 134). Ón the other hand, there is some disagreement as to whether Torsted, which is the name of several localities in Jutland, contains the personal name Thörir or the name of the god Thor (cf. e.g. Kousgård Sørensen 1958, 126 f. and Hald 1959, 409), Johannes Steenstrup had not really grasped the fact that, in order to exploit the names as a source of information, it was necessary to subject them to a thorough and reliable linguistic analysis. For this reason it is not difficult to raise objections to his treatment of the names of gods in Scandinavian place-names. I shall content myself here with quoting a single instance of inconsistency. Steenstrup was — as mentioned — convinced that the names of gods are never compounded with habitative generics. Änd as far as Steenstrup was concerned, this also applied to the old god of fertility, Njord. Nevertheless, he demonstrated that the name of the god Njord was often compounded with the generic -hem, which is identical with our modern word hjem (home), In addition to Danish Nyrum, which may not be a name in -hem but rather a name in -rum, Steenstrup listed no fewer than

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six Norwegian names of this type (Steenstrup 1896, 382 ff.). The Norwegian names take such forms as Nalum, Nærem and Nærum (see Ólsen 1915, 51 f., 58 f.; cf. Norsk stadnamnleksikon under Njærheim). Criteria similar to those established by Johannes Steenstrup are exploited in various other works dealing with Scandinavian place-names, but they are rarely given a clear formulation and the foundation on which they are based is hardly ever discussed, To name one example from among many, in his article Minnen av forntida gudsdyrkan i Mellan-Sveriges ortnamn (Reminiscences of ancient heathendom in the place-names of Central Sweden) from 1923, Elias Wessén demonstrates inter alM that Ódin and Thor have left behind them numerous reminiscences in place-names, but mainly in compounds whose second element denotes the topography of the locality, e.g. -sjö, -fors, -näs and -klint. Ón the other hand, Wessén claims that Ódin and Thor are comparatively rarely represented among the cultic names proper, i.e. compounds whose second element is -vi, -harg, -lund, -áker etc. (Wessell 1923, 6). Even though Johannes Steenstrup had in many respects prepared the road for the development of place-name research in the direction of methodological independence, many decades were to pass before Danish name-research — finally liberated from historical research — was able to manifest itself as an independent discipline. Earlier than that, however, in 1910, Stednavneudvalget (The Place-Naine Commission) had been set up and its office, which is the forerunner of Copenhagen University's Institute for Name Research, soon became the base for a comprehensive registration and collection of names. The first volume in the series "Danmarks Stednavne" was published by Stednavneudvalget in 1922, The material which was collected by Stednavneudvalget naturally included so-called field-names or nature-names. In the course of the 20th century this category of name has developed into a new and important field of research. It is widely acknowledged that our innumerable field-names contain inter aha a significant body of cultural-historical material. Since the vast majority of these names are only recorded in comparatively young sources, however, it is open to doubt whether they can contain pre-Christian elements, The most recent treatment of the problem is that by Kristian Hald in his book Stednavne og kulturhistorie (Place-names and Cultural History) from 1966. In this he says: (I translate) "Even though it is necessary to assume that the bulk of our field-names are medieval (and many of them even younger), there is a possibility that a few of them at least go back to the Viking

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period or older times and, in theory, the field-names do not need to be older than from the Viking period to contain the names of heathen gods or other words related to the heathen religion" (Hald 1966, 50). Many scholars have, indeed, expended much energy, ingenuity and fantasy in their attempts to find cultic traces in this corpus of names. My thoughts go first and foremost to folklorists such as Äxel Ólrik and Hans Ellekilde, to historians such as Vilhelm la Cour and Svend Äakjær, and to the Germanic philologist Gudmund Schütte. Älthough all these men were considered to be reasonably well qualified within their own special fields of research, their many and persistent attempts to find pre-Christian elements in place-names must by and large be characterised as amateur scholarship. The demands which must be made of the interpretation of a name in the form of source criticism, the exploitation of old forms, a linguistic analysis etc, were only fulfilled by them to a limited extent. The reasons why I have nevertheless chosen to devote some time to these men are several. Most of them were productive writers and assiduous lecturers, They published their articles in respected journals and, since it was rare for more cautious and recognised name-researchers to venture to criticise their work in public, they became identified in the eyes of the man in the street and of scholars in other disciplines with the discipline of name-research. Ä favourite topic for several of these authors was to describe the history of an area on the basis of its place-names. From among all the names in the district, they would select now one and now another. Sometimes they would add a little non-onomastic source material and gradually they would reconstruct — on an exceptionally fragile foundation — a picture of the cultic past of the region. As an example of this genre I might mention Äxel Ólrik's treatise from 1911 entitled En oldtidshelligdom (Än ancient shrine). It is one of the earliest and most down-to-earth attempts (I translate) "to follow the history of an individual place" (Olrik 1911, 1), Ólrik's subject is the area around Sevel in the north-west of Jutland, where he had observed that several ancient trackways crossed each other. Not far from Sevel, at the point where these old trackways cross, there is a lake with the name Hellesø, which he correctly explains as "The holy lake" (Ólrik 1911, 7). Äxel Ólrik then turns his attention to the river which is now called Hellegiird Å but which was referred to in older sources as "Å hin hellige". So far so good, but when Ólrik links the two names together and uses them in support of a theory that there was a so-called "helligsted" or holy place near Sevel, then this is pure speculation. There is, as Ólrik himself indeed points out,

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no less than 7-8 km between the two localities and they do not seem to have any connection with each other. In the neighbourhood of Sevel Äxel Ólrik finds several noteworthy place-names, including a field-name Lundene, to which he ascribes cultic significance, and a Harildsbakke, The first element in this Harildsbakke he takes to be a compound of the appellative hargh with the meaning 'heap of stones serving as a sacrificial altar' and a hill& with the meaning 'mound'. Harild must thus, according to Äxel Ólrik, be explained as "The mound with the sacrificial altar" (Ólrik 1911, 9 f.). This last-mentioned interpretation can hardly be correct, Äccording to Kristian Hald, the name is more likely to be an old appellative *harald(i), consisting of the appellative har 'stone' and the derivative suffix -aldi) (Hald 1966, 56). Äs it is also quite unreasonable to ascribe a cultic content to the simplex nature-name Lundene, there is little left to support Äxel Ólrik's theory that there was a holy place near Sevel, In reality, there is only the name Hellesø, and this name is not indeed without interest for the present topic, since it is probably — as proposed by John Kousgård Sørensen — a noa-name which has replaced an older name for the lake upon which a taboo had been placed (Kousgård Sørensen 1978, 63 ff.). The old taboo-name has probably survived in the parish-name Sevel, This is a derivative of an Óld Danish adjective sælval 'round' (Kousgård Sørensen 1987, 55 f.). From among the many books and articles written on Danish placenames, there are two substantial works which it is relevant to mention in the context of the history of religion. The author of these is S.K. Amtoft, who was employed at the office of Stednavneudvalget from 1918 to 1958. The first work, Stednavne som bebyggelses- og religionshistorisk Kildestof (Place-names as a source of information about the history of settlement and religion) from 1941, I would describe as a very personal and critical but in fact respectable and sober survey, dealing with a number of aspects of the history of place-name research. Äs far as the book Nordiske Gudeskikkelser i bebyggelseshistorisk Belysning (Scandinavian gods in the light of settlement history) from 1948 is concerned, I can only characterise it as a peculiar and fantastic philosophical construction, and in holding this view I am obviously not alone. I can refer inter alia to a contemporary reviewer, Svend Äakjær, who concluded his review with the following words: (I translate) "Óne lays down the book with an acknowledgement of the author's perspicacity and ingenuity: Se non è vero, è ben trovato. If it is not true, it is a good invention!" (Äakjær 1948, 264). My survey has now brought me close to the period around 1950,

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during which Danish name-research established itself as an independent discipline. The credit for the development of the subject in the direction of independence must go first and foremost to Kristian Hald, who began to work in the office of Stednavneudvalget in 1924 and who later became Professor of Scandinavian languages at the University of Copenhagen. Kristian Hald is probably the modern name-scholar who has paid most attention to the cultic name-material. In addition to the works already named, I should like particularly to draw attention to his paper from 1963 entitled The Cult of Odin in Danish Place-Names, While this paper attempts to demonstrate all the information about Ódin that can be derived from names, his other contributions to the subject "place-names and the history of religion" are rather to be characterised as general surveys. This is the case, for example, with his chapter on "Hedenske Kultminder i Stednavne" (Reminiscences of heathen cults in place-names) in his book Vore Stednavne from 1950 (second edition 1965) (Hald 1950, 219-225; Hald 1965, 248-255). Änother Danish treatment of cultic reminiscences in place-names is similarly to be described as a general survey. This is the contribution made by Gunnar Knudsen, the director of Stednavneudvalget's office, to the volume on Religionshistorie (The History of Religion) in the series "Nordisk Kultur". Gunnar Knudsen's survey is, however, marred by some uncertainty in linguistic matters. This is betrayed, for example, in his treatment of compounds containing the names of the gods Tyr and Thor (Knudsen 1942, 33 f,). As many writers had done before him, Gunnar Knudsen assumes that the names of gods as specifics in place-names sometimes appear in stem-form and this means, in the case of Tyr and Thor, without genitive -s, If that were so, both Tibirke and Tisvilde might contain the name of the god Tyr, while the name of the god Thor might be the specific of both Toro and Torslunde. It has, however, been demonstrated on several occasions — most recently by Thorsten Ändersson — that there are no certain examples in which the name of a god appears in a place-name without a genitive ending (Ändersson 1979). Several of the name scholars who are still active have treated cultic name material from time to time (see e.g. Kousgård Sørensen 1957; Dalberg & Kousgård Sørensen 1979, 9-21, 117-136; Kousgård Sørensen 1985 and Holmberg 1986). It must nevertheless be admitted with Kristian Hald that we still lack a thorough and critical survey of the Danish "cultic" names (Hald 1966, 5). Danish place-names containing pre-Christian elements, in spite of their small number, form an important source of information about the history of religion. In the

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greater part of the 20th century, however, this material has regrettably been left mainly to the attention of fantasists,

Bibliography Aakjær, Sv. 1948. Rec. of Amtoft 1948. Fortid og Nutid 17. København. Amtoft, S. K. 1941. Stednavne som bebyggelses- og religionshistorisk Kildestof. Aarbøger for nordisk Oldkyndighed og Historie 1941. KObenhavn. - 1948. Nordiske Gudeskikkelser i bebyggelseshistorisk Belysning. København. Andersson, Th. 1979. Eigennamen als erstes Glied nordischer Ortsnamen. Namn och bygd 67. Uppsala. Arnesen, M. 1866. Minder om hedensk Gudsdyrkelse i vore Stedsnavne.

Indbydelsesskrift til Hovedexamen ved Frederikshalds lærde og Realskole i Juni og Juli 1866. Frederikshald. Dalberg, V. & Kousgård Sørensen, J. 1979. Stednavneforskning 2. KObenhavn. Hald, Kr. 1950, Vore Stednavne. [1. ed.] København. - 1959. Rec. of Kousgård Sørensen 1958. Fortid og Nutid 20. København. - 1963. The cult of Odin in Danish place-names. Early English and Norse studies presented to Hugh Smith in honour of his sixtieth birthday. Ed. by Ä. Brown & P. Foote. London. - 1965. Vore Stednavne. [2. ed.] København. - 1966. Stednavne og kulturhistorie. (Dansk historisk Fællesforenings håndbøger.) KObenhavn. 1971. Personnavne i Danmark 1. (Dansk historisk Fællesforenings håndbøger.) København. Hellberg, L. 1986. Hedendomens spår i uppländska ortnamn. Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala årsskrift 1986. Uppsala. Holmberg, B. 1986. Den hedenske gud Tyr i danske stednavne. Mange bække små. [Ed. by] V. Dalberg & G. Fellows-Jensen. (Navnestudier 27.) København. Jørgensen, B. 1983. Dansk Stednavneleksikon. Jylland - sydlige del. Fyn med omliggende Øer. København. Knudsen, G. 1928. Baldersbrønde. Festskrift til Finnur Jansson. København. - 1942. [Kultminne i stadnamn.] Danmark. Religionshistorie. [Ed. by] N. Lid. (Nordisk kultur 26.) København. Kousgård Sørensen, J. 1957. Tul-, tol- in Danish place-names. Acta Philologica Scandinavica 23. KObenhavn. - 1958. Danske bebyggelsesnavne pd -sled, (Navnestudier 1.) København. - 1967. [Sta-namnens förleder.] En diskussion om sta-namnen. [Ed. by] G. Holm. (Lundastudier i nordisk språkvetenskap A, 18.) Lund. - 1978. Danske so- og ånavne 3. (Navnestudier 15.) København.

Views on Cultic Place-Names in Denmark 393 Kousgård Sørensen, J. 1985. Gudhem. Frühmittelalterliche Studien 19. Berlin. - 1987. Danske so- og ånavne 6. (Navnestudier 28.) København. Lundgren, M. F. 1878. Språkliga intyg om hednisk gudatro i Sverge. Göteborg. - 1880. Spår af hednisk tro och kult i fornsvenska personnamn. (Uppsala universitets årsskrift 1880. Fil., språkvet. och hist. vetenskaper 4.) Uppsala. Nielsen, O. 1881-87. Bidrag til Fortolkning af danske Stednavne. Blandinger til Oplysning om dansk Sprog i ældre og nyere Tid 1. [Ed. by] UniversitetsJubilæets danske Samfund. København. - 1896-1916. Bidrag til Fortolkning af danske Stednavne. Blandinger til Oplysning om dansk Sprog i celdre og nyere Tid 2. [Ed. by] UniversitetsJubilæets danske Samfund. København. Norsk stadnamnleksikon. 1980. [Ed. by] J. Sandnes & O. Stemshaug. [2. ed.] Oslo. Olrik, A. 1911. En oldtidshelligdom. Danske Studier 1911. København. Olsen, M. 1915. Hedenske kultminder i norske stedsnavne. (Videnskapsselskapets Skrifter 2. Hist.-filos. Klasse 1914, 4.) Kristiania. Olsen, O. 1966. Horg, hov og kirke. KObenhavn. Petersen, H. 1876. Om Nordboernes Gudedyrkelse og Gudetro i Hedenold, København. Petersen, N. M. 1833. Bemærkninger om danske og norske stedsnavnes oprindelse og forklaring. Nordisk tidsskrift for oldkyndighed 2. København. Rygh, O. 1880. Minder om Guderne og deres Dyrkelse i norske Stedsnavne. Norrøne Gude- og Heltesagn. [Ed. by] P. A. Munch. Kristiania. Steenstrup, J. 1894. Nogle Bidrag til vore Landsbyers og Bebyggelsens Historie. Historisk Tidsskrift 6, 5. København. - 1896. Nogle Undersøgelser om Guders Navne i de nordiske Stedsnavne. Historisk Tidsskrift 6, 6. København. Wessén, E. 1923. Minnen av forntida gudsdyrkan i Mellan-Sveriges ortnamn. Studier i nordisk filologi 14. Helsingfors. - 1927. Nordiska namnstudier. (Uppsala universitets årsskrift 1927. Fil., språkvet. och hist. vetenskaper 3.) Uppsala.

The Change of Religion and the Names BY JOHN KOUSGÅRD SØRENSEN

What actually happened at the time when Denmark was christianized? How did Harald Bluetooth set about converting the Danes — the feat for which the large Jelling-stone gives him the credit? Was it a peaceful and gradual transition or the result of coercion, costing both blood and tears? The earliest historical accounts concentrate, as was perhaps to be expected, on the dramatic events. In Denmark, the story of Svend Forkbeard's apostasy, his revolt against his Christian father, Harald Bluetooth, and his persecution of the Christians; in Sweden, the destruction of the temple at Uppsala by Ólof Skötkonung; in Norway, the controversies that raged between Ólav Tryggvason and St Ólav and their fellow-countrymen in the period of Christianization. Äs Birgit Sawyer has pointed out in the most recent survey of the old conversion histories (Sawyer 1987, 88 ff.), these old historians were propagandists. Their effective stories were designed at the time of composition to serve quite specific political ends, ends which were not always in harmony with the objective truth, and their accounts were never supposed to present a true picture of the events in the way that we would understand them today. Whatever the "historical" value of these stories, however, they are also evidence of tensions arising from the introduction of a new religion. What was it like to live through this time of upheaval as an ordinary anonymous individual, a viking, a farmer, a slave or one of their women? What did they feel about the mission in their innermost souls and how did they experience it in their daily lives? It is only occasionally and as if by chance that the sources allow us to catch a glimpse of their situation. That we even dare venture to discuss this matter is only because we have been able to exploit indirect evidence. Since this evidence has first had to be interpreted, however, our results need to be treated with caution. I should like to focus on the nomenclature, both personal names and place-names. What happened to these in the missionary period? Can they be exploited as evidence about the change of religion? Let us begin with the personal names. What happened to these

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and to the naming practices in connection with the introduction of Christianity? This is one field of study which has not been exploited in this context in the present century. The question is relevant, however, because several pre-Christian cultic words entered into the personal nomenclature which the Christian mission found in use on its arrival, It must be emphasized, however, that nobody was simply called by the name of a heathen god in Denmark. There was nobody called Tor or Ódin or Fro, (Kousgård Sorensen 1974, 110). Ón the other hand, several names of gods, first and foremost Tor, occurred as one element of compound personal names: Torkil, Torsten, Tormod, Torgun. Similarly the words gud and as, referring to heathen gods, were also frequently employed as the first element of personal names: Gudmund, Gudrun, Aslak, Astrid, while a word such as vi 'sacred place' also occurred as an element in forenames: Vigøt, Visti, Vibjørg. Were these heathen elements eradicated at one fell swoop, and the persons given new names, or were the potentially offensive elements gradually weeded out of the nomenclature? The answer to both of these questions is obvious, from the simple fact that almost all the names I have quoted are still in use today. Cultic elements were apparently not banished from the nomenclature in the Christian period. It might be thought that the practice of bearing double-names, which has been noted both in the royal family and in the monastic orders in the first centuries of Christianity, is to be interpreted as an expression of the conflict between the old religion and the new one. Svend Forkbeard, for example, was also known as Ótto after his christening, Svend Estridsen also as. Magnus, his mother Estrid also as Margarete and his daughter Gunhild also as Helena, to quote instances from the royal family alone. If these name-pairs are considered from an etymological point of view, however, it will be seen that there is only one of the pairs, Estrid-Margarete, in which a Scandinavian name with a cultic element (as) is opposed to a Christian name (the name borne by, among others, a third-century saint), These name-pairs cannot, then, be treated as indicators of religious differences. They are to be explained in a different way. Christianity did not, then, attempt to eradicate heathen reminiscences from personal names. Why not? Óne answer might be that the mission had no particular desire to do this. There were other fields of action upon which it was more important for the mission to expend its resources than on the nomenclature. Änother answer would be that the cultic elements in the Scandinavian personal names were not recognised as such, It is not particularly

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likely that an element such as Es-, as in the above-mentioned Estrid or in the name of Ärchbishop Eskil, would be associated with the Scandinavian word for a god, as. Nor is it likely that the personal name Inge and the many names containing this name as an element would be understood to refer to heathen gods. The many short forms of names in Tor-, e.g, Toki, Tobbe, Tora, are also unlikely to have been associated with the god Tor in the minds of people living in the missionary period. Some other names, such as the many names in Gud-, e.g. Gudmund, could without difficulty be associated with Christian concepts and thus would not give any cause for offence. It is in any case very doubtful whether any eleventh- or twelfthcentury parents called their children Torgun or Asmund as a form of heathen provocation. There were other principles behind this choice of name (e.g. naming after ancestors, name-variation) and, as far as we can see, no objections were raised by the church to the continuation of the old practices. Óne of the earliest Danish bishops was called Odinkar, a name which can be assumed to have called up associations with darkest heathenism (even though this association is without etymological justification, for the first element is not the name of the god, cf. Kousgård Sorensen 1974), but the name does not seem to have been at all offensive either to the bishop himself or to his Christian environment. What actually happened was that Christian personal names, first and foremost saints' names and some names from the New Testament, gradually came into use in the course of the twelfth century, and by the thirteenth century these names had become more popular than the old Scandinavian personal names, There is nothing to suggest, however, that it was the names with cultic elements that were the most liable to drop out of favour. This development in the nomenclature did not take place suddenly but over a comparatively long period of time. In the so-called Broderliste (List of brothers) from the end of the twelfth century, which is recorded in King Valdemar's cadastre, only about 23 % of the meri named bear Christian names, while about 75 % have Scandinavian names. Ät least 40 of the men, all of whom belonged to the most distinguished aristocratic families in Denmark, bore names containing pre-Christian cultic elements. There is nothing to suggest an organized attempt on the part of the church to change the Danish personal nomenclature. Ä more militant and aggressive Christianity would have gone into action on this point.

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From later periods we are familiar with the way in which civil authorities have infringed the rights of religious and political minorities to choose their names freely. There was, for example, the regulation and germanization of Jewish nomenclature in Äustria and Germany by decrees issued at the end of the eighteenth century. Surnames such as Morgenschweiss, Axelgeruch, Silbertau, Rubinstein, Stiefelschaft, forced upon Jewish families instead of their original Jewish names, are a symbol of the invidious attitude taken by the authorities to this ethnic group, It might also be mentioned that the Turkish minority in present-day Bulgaria has been obliged to adopt Bulgarian names. No such interference with the nomenclature seems to have followed in the wake of Christianity in our part of the world. Let us turn now to the place-names. What happened to these in the missionary period? When the new religion arrived in Denmark, it was confronted not only by the cultic sites of the old religion but also by the names of these sites, Many of these names must have described the cultic function of the localities denoted. It was of course within the power of the victorious church to destroy the old cultic sites and temples and perhaps to establish its own holy-places in the same locations. What happened to the names, however? Were they also obliterated and replaced by new names? Änd what happened to the names of such natural features: groves, fields, springs etc. as were the objects of, or sites for, cultic activities? Were their names also eradicated if they described the locality in question as being holy? Can the answer to these questions reveal anything about the nature of the mission? Let us begin by noting that a comparatively large number of names with a cultic, pre-Christian content has survived until the present day. These are mainly names which refer to the object of the cult, i.e. the gods (typical example: Ódins-vi > Odense), to the site of the cult (typical example: Vi-bjerg > Viborg) and to concepts connected with the cult, its holiness (typical example: Hellignæs > Helgenæs, Helnæs). Surviving pre-Christian place-names referring to the performers of the cultic activities, i.e. the heathen priesthood, to cultic accessories, i,e. furniture, appliances etc., and to the practice of the cult, i.e. sacrifices, invocations etc., are, on the other hand, few and far between and some of the instances are doubtful (Dalberg & Kousgård Sørensen 1979, 119 ff.). Place-names form a body of source material to which much attention was paid in earlier times but which has only now been brought into focus again after half a century during which

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the information it could be made to yield has been regarded with a sterile scepticism. The immediate conclusion to be drawn from the fact that relatively many cultic, pre-Christian place-names survive to the present day is that they can hardly have been felt to be particularly offensive by the devotees of the new religion. Ór to express this in a different way, the church elected to act with circumspection. Christianity was not to be imposed upon the Danish population with such speed or fanatiscism or force that every trace of the old religion was to be obliterated, Perhaps it would simply have been impossible to do this, This answer is probably, however, too simple. Ällow me to point to some factors which need to be taken into consideration before a more balanced assessment can be made of the evidence provided by place-names as to the progress of the conversion. Firstly, my earlier immediate conclusion was based on the positive evidence, that is the survival of comparatively many cultic placenames. Strictly speaking, however, there is no way of knowing how many more names were replaced in the missionary period by names more congenial to the church. We only have documentary evidence for a very few changes of name in the medieval period (Lisse 1974, 118). Among the instances where we have information as to both the replaced and the replacing name, there is not a single case of replacement of a pre-Christian cultic name. This is not really surprising, for a couple of centuries passed by between the conversion and the compilation of the earliest full records to survive. The possibility cannot be excluded, however, that our surviving pre-Christian cultic names are only the remnants of a much more extensive network of names related to the cult which were not viewed with favour by the church. Furthermore, it must be remembered that the energy and enthusiasm with which a hypothetical campaign for the eradication of heathen names was carried out may have varied greatly from place to place. Let me mention an example. It has been the cause of some surprise that the island of Falster, whose place-names are among those in Denmark which have been subjected to the most intensive examination, has not yielded a single instance of a place-name with certain pre-Christian cultic content. This does not of course mean that the old heathen gods were not worshipped on the island. Ón the contrary, there are two parish-villages called Kirkeby (Nørre-, Sønder-), one in each of the two administrative herreds (hundreds) into which the island is divided. In spite of their overtly Christian names, these villages must

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themselves date back to before the introduction of Christianity. They must therefore have had other names before the present ones, which are, however, the only ones of which there is any record. There is also the peculiar fact that Nørre Kirkeby and Sønder Kirkeby, which have central positions in their individual herreds and which are not adjoining, are named jointly (utrumqve Kyrkybu) in the so-called Kongelevsliste (List of Crown lands) in King Valdemar's cadastre. Äpart from the woodland on the Farnæs peninsula, the two Kirkebys are the only Crown lands on the island and the Crown lands recorded in early sources have been assumed to consist largely of property confiscated from heathen temples (Hald 1963, 108 f.). It has therefore been suggested that the two Kirkebys in Falster are old pre-Christian cult-places whose names were replaced by their present ones in the first phase of Christianization. It has also been suggested that they may have been called Viby but this is only one possibility among many. "Perhaps the struggle between paganism and Christianity was bitter just here so that men wished to remove all trace of paganism and, as a gesture of defiance, established the first churches in the old Vibys". Thus wrote Marius Kristensen (Kristensen 1921, 30 f.; cf. also Lisse 1974, 122 f.). He added that the only known runic-stone from Falster has an inscription which ends with an invocation to Tor to consecrate the runes. The stone stood in Sønder Kirkeby until it was removed to the National Museum in Copenhagen, Ä third factor is concerned with the surviving pre-Christian cultic names. Their survival is not necessarily the reflection of a tolerant mission. It is conceivable that it was only those cultic names which were lexically transparent at the period of the conversion which were liable to be replaced. More archaic cultic elements, which were no longer recognised as such, would be left alone. If nobody understood the cultic content of the place-names, then nobody would feel the need to reject them. I should like to draw attention to a group of names which may not have been understood as pre-Christian cultic names. In Denmark there are a handful of names containing the name of the god Njord, which takes the form Nær (Nærå, Nærum etc.). Äs far as I can see, there is no reason to believe that this god was worshipped in the last centuries of heathendom. The name of the god was unfamiliar to the local population as well as to the missionaries, and place-names in Nær- could no longer be analyzed correctly. They would have been treated as lexically opaque labels for localities, as were so many other names, and consequently left untouched. Óther items from the old cultic onomasticon were immediately ac-

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ceptable because they could simply be treated as though they denoted Christian concepts. The fact that the word gud 'god' occurs in many pre-Christian place-names in Denmark, Guth-hem alone makes five appearances (Kousgård Sorensen 1985, 131 ff.), would not have troubled the missionaries because this was the very word they used of the divinity they worshipped. Óne of the words to express the cultic concept in the Germanic languages was hellig and this was used not only by the pre-Christian religion, but also by Christianity, so that the heathen Hellig-names in Denmark, e.g. Helnæs, Helgenæs, could be transferred without difficulty into the Christian universe. It is thus not possible to state unreservedly that the relatively numerous cultic place-names which survived the conversion show that Christianization had taken place gradually and peacefully. We have no way of knowing how many names were actually understood by the mission as being pre-Christian cultic names and hence rejected and replaced by more acceptable names. Some names were not understood to be cultic names and were therefore without interest in this context, while other names could simply be used as "Christian" names. Finally, account must be taken of the fact that the clash between the two religions was more violent in some localities than in others and that where the clash was most violent, the consequences for the heathen nomenclature would probably have been most severe. Nevertheless, there do indeed survive comparatively many names which must have been understood in the tenth century both by the missionaries and by the local population as containing reminiscences of the old religion. The name Odins-vż is borne by at least four different localities in Denmark and the meaning of its component elements must have been clear to everyone in the missionary period. The fact that the third largest city in Denmark is one of the bearers of this name and to this very day is known as Odense shows that some at least of the missionaries were wise enough to realise that it was more important to preach the new religion than to eradicate symbols of the old one, whether these took the form of place-names or, as we noted earlier, personal names, How were heathen names treated outside Scandinavia? Óur knowledge of the reception given to the pre-Christian cultic place-nomenclature by the Christian church in southern and western Europe is restricted, This may be in part because any name-changes which may have taken place in connection with the conversion were effected long before there was a tradition for recording names in written sources so that it is extremely rare for both the old and the new names of a

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locality to be known. Permit me, however, to quote a few examples to show that the old names were not automatically permitted to survive. The highest point in Paris was known in the pre-Christian period as the Hill of Mercury, Mons Mercuri. Evidence of the worship of this Roman god here was removed in the early Christian period and in the ninth century a sanctuary was built here, dedicated to the 10000 martyrs. The hill was then called Mons Martyrum, the name by which it is still known (Mont Martres) (Longnon 1923, 377; Vincent 1937, 307). San Marino in northern Italy, the shrine of Saint Marino, replaced a pre-Christian cultic name for the place: Monte Titano, where the Titans had been worshipped (Pfeiffer 1980, 79).' Ä Monte Giove "Hill of Jupiter" came to be known as San Bernardo, in honour of St Bernhard (Pfeiffer 1980, 79).2 In Germany an old Wodanesberg "Hill of Ódin" was renamed Godesberg (Bach 1956, 553). Ä controversial but not unreasonable suggestion is that the locality named by Ädam of Bremen as Fosetisland "land of the god Foseti" is to be identified with Helgoland "the holy land", the island off the coast of northern Friesland which, according to Ädam, was treated with superstitious respect by all sailors, particularly pirates (Laur 1960, 360 with references), The irregular geographical distribution of surviving pagan placenames in England may, according to Margaret Gelling (Gelling 1961, 20; Gelling 1973, 117), indicate that Christianity during the conversion period was unable to bring its influence to bear in areas which were at some distance from the centres of missionary activity. Consequently, neither institutions nor names were replaced in these areas, Margaret Gelling has also drawn attention to Bede's description of the acceptance of Christianity by the Northumbrian court. "The story ends with the high priest mounting a stallion and riding out to destroy his temple. This was presumably his main temple, and here if anywhere one might have expected a place-name such as Wyham or Harrow; but, says Bede, "today it is called Goodmanham" (Gelling 1973, 118). There are more examples of such renaming from Southern and Western Europe but they are not very numerous. It is not easy to demonstrate interference with the nomenclature on the part of the new religion but it is less difficult to trace the effect on names of political upheavals, since these have generally taken place in I 2

Cited after Olivieri, D. 1965. Dizionario di Toponomastica Piemontese. Brescia. Cited after Pollini, A. 1965. Toponomastica Romagnola. Firenze.

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periods for which the documentary evidence is more abundant. Since conversion and revolution both involve clashes of ideology, it may be justified to add a few comments on the latter phenomenon. I shall be brief, since the subject has recently been well treated by Sven Benson in an article dealing with various forms of change of placename (Benson 1986, 96 ff.). From our own part of the world we may recall that the old name of the capital of Norway, Oslo, was replaced in the middle of the 1620s by Kristiania, not so much out of dislike of the old name as to honour the king, Christian IV, but that the city was given its old name again in 1925, on the grounds that the name of a Danish king was not a suitable element to be present in the name of the capital of Norway. We are all familiar with examples of politically motivated re-naming in the twentieth-century. St Petersburg, later Petrograd, was renamed Leningrad in 1924. Königsberg was renamed Kaliningrad. Stalingrad is now known as Volgograd, etc. The former colonial areas in, for example, Äfrica have taken the same line: Léopoldville is now known as Kinshasa, Northern Rhodesia as Zambia, Southern Rhodesia as Zimbabwe. The political motivation behind such place-name changes, which are legion, can normally be identified, Similar situations were also presumably likely to arise in times of religious unrest and upheaval. The further back we go in time, however, the sparser the documentation and this makes an assessment of the situation more difficult. In theory, and in practice, only one of the two ideologically loaded names would survive, while the other name, the one which was to be replaced, would be superseded and, after a couple of generations, not just forgotten locally but also, at a period without an established tradition of writing, lost to posterity. With these last remarks I have simply wanted to warn against adopting a too simplistic view of the process of the Christianization of Denmark. The fate of the nomenclature in the period does suggest that the change in religion took place reasonably peacefully and gradually, There are, however, certain features about the place-names suggesting that there were local differences in the conduct of the mission. We do not in fact know how many of the pre-Christian cultic place-names were allowed to survive. What we know about parallel situations out in the wide world might reasonably give us food for thought.

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Bibliography Bach, A. 1956. Deutsche Namenkunde 2, 2. Heidelberg. Benson, S. 1986. Ortsnamenwechsel. Beiträge zur Namensforschung N.F., Beiheft 24. Heidelberg. Dalberg, V. & Kousgård Sørensen, J. 1979. Stednavneforskning 2. København. Gelling, M. 1961. Place-names and Anglo-Saxon paganism. Historical Journal 8, 1. Cambridge. — 1973. Further thoughts on pagan place-names. Otium et Negotium. Stockholm. Hald, K. 1963. The cult of Odin in Danish place-names. Early English and Norse studies presented to Hugh Smith. Ed. by A. Brown & P. Foote. London. Kousgård Sørensen, J. 1974. Odinkar og andre navn på -kar. Nordiska namn. Namn och bygd 62. Uppsala. — 1985. Gudhem. Frühmittelalterliche Studien 19. Berlin. Kristensen, M. 1921. Wands og Falsters stednavne. Lolland-Falsters historiske Samfunds Aarbog. Nykøbing Falster. Laur, W. 1960. Die Ortsnamen in Schleswig-Holstein. Schleswig. Lisse, C. 1974. "Gøkstorp qvod nunc Knutstorp dicitur". Festskrift -til Kristian Hald. (Navnestudier 13.) København. Longnon, A. 1923. Les noms de lieu de la France. Paris. Pfeiffer, G. 1980. Kirche und Ortsnamengebung. Beiträge zur Namenforschung N.F Beiheft 18. Heidelberg. Sawyer, B. 1987. Scandinavian conversion histories. The Christianization of Scandinavia. Ed. by B. Sawyer & P. Sawyer & I. Wood. Alingsås. Vincent, A. 1937. Toponymie de la France. Bruxelles.

A Finnic Holy Word and its Subsequent History BY MAUNO KOSKI

This article concentrates on a specific ancient holy word in Finnic and its subsequent development.' The word in question is hiisi. Inflection contains a strong vowel stem (basic phonological form) in hide+ , a weak vowel stem in hiibe+, a consonant stem in hiit+, e.g, Finnish hiisi, illative sing. hiiteen, genitive sing. hiiden, partitive sing. hiittä; Estonian (h)iis, genitive sing. (h)iie. Estonian and Finnish, particularly western Finnish dialects, allow us to conclude that the primary sense of the word, at least comparatively speaking, is 'cult place', or possibly — at an earlier stage — even 'burial place'. The sporadic appearance of hii(t)ta in Finnish and Estonian place names and folklore is clearly a secondary phenomenon (see Koski 1967-70, 2, 234 ff.). Labial vowel derivatives are Estonian hiid (genitive sing. hiiu), and Finnish, Karelian and Ingrian hiito hiitto) and hitto, all of which suggest their origin in Finnic *hiito(i). These were originally possessive derivatives signifying a relationship to the concept of 'Hsi' in its broadest sense. The derivative hittunen, 'ghost, spirit of the dead', appears in central Óstrobothnian dialects. Ä number of place names indicate that, alongside the inflection model hiisi: hiite+ , there existed a non-assibilated type hiiti: hiite+ hiiti,2 This article is largely based on my earlier research work (Koski 1967-70; see also Koski 1977), but I have also included certain other data published subsequently. I have decided to take the subject up here because my previous study has only appeared in Finnish, apart from a short paper in English on the theoretical methodology of my work, semantic component analysis. I have omitted from this article the description of source material, details of analysis results, and references to other literature, except for a few noteworthy instances. All of this may be found in earlier work (Koski 1967-70). This article includes a mere selection of examples. My research uses a philological, rather than a comparative religious, approach. 2 Examples of the non-assibilated type are as follows: Estonian: (H)iid: gen. (H)iie (cult places, two in Saaremaa, two in Mihkli, Pärnumaa), (H)iitaugu (in Läänemaa),

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2

In the northern Estonian dialect regions the occurrence of hiis as an element of place names is concentrated in the villages which sprang up in the Iron Äge or right at the beginning of the Middle Ages (for a detailed account of the connection between the distribution of these names and the historical demography of the villages see Koski 1967-70, 1, 86-92). In the southern section of the northern Estonian dialect areas (south of the line which stretches from Pärnu to Narva), the area between the Gulf of Riga and Suure-Jaani remained largely uninhabited during the prehistoric period, and the population which settled to the north and northwest of Lake Peipsi came from the east and was ethnically different, These areas contain very few sites which (H)iitjäry (in Virumaa); hiid 'place of sacrifice' has also been documented in Mihkli (Saareste 1959, 1924). Likevise /is = lid (both pluralis in lied) appears in the manuscript of Vesting's dictionary dating from the beginning of the eighteenth century. — Finnish: Hiitálä (in Southwest Häme); "Hiidilä" 1540, "Kylänhidi" eighteenth century (usually Kyldnháisi) in Southwest Finland; Hiátlarripi (in the Savo dialect section of Päijät-Häme); Hiitharju and Hiitsaar(i) = Hiidensaari (in the central area of the Karelian Isthmus). — Central Vepsian: Hit'ar'(Nissilä 1967, Hiid'iniemi 22) < * Iliitjärvi (= Hižídr < *Hiisjärvi). – Lydian: Hid'riiemi (Nissilä 1967, 21); THT-HaBormit in 1496 in Sungu which belongs to the area of Southern Karelian, (PK, 6), earlier evidently a Lydian area (see Nissilä 1967, 9). — Vepsian-Karelian substratum: represented by place names in the Archangel province (oblast) of Northern Russia. These contain elements which belong to he hiási word group. Word initial LignineiT is the most common among them. There are three single morpheme names in )(HA, and XHTa. Compound names include XHAHema (*hiitniemiAmeemi), or niTHema, and in conjunction with Russian final elements, Xilp,ropa (2), Xvippsepo and XnTo3epo. Names which suggest an initial element Hiis, such as Xmicriema, occur in only four places, and three of these are located in the Onega district (raion). Matveyev 1976. These elements of the language substratum are comparable to the apocope which occurs particularly in Lydian, but also in Finnish and Estonian, in the qualifying element Iliát, which represents a nominative, as opposed to a genitive, in the formation of compound words. This reveals the same structural model which exists in almost all Karelian, Lydian and Vepsian Háis (Hiiž, Hia etc.) elements. There is thus no reason to assume that this is evidence of a Lydian or Vepsian genitive form lacking consonant gradation, *hi(i)den ( ø confirms that the names are not loans from Ingrian or Finnish. This list also includes the name Hijjeenukka, in the village of Kukkosi (VKM 1980; h > ø does not occur in the Kukkosi dialect but on the other hand this dialect does contain many Ingrian characteristics).

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3 Conclusive evidence of the use of the word hiisi in the sense of 'cult place' has only been established in Estonian and Finnish. Estonian has preserved this definition in both written and oral tradition, while Finnish seems to have lost this meaning since the beginning of modern history. The word still appears in the sense of cult place in Mikael Ägricola's translation of the Bible, as well as in the margin notes, dating from 1551, but no longer in the 1642 translation of the Bible. The word does of course occur in seventeenth to nineteenth century literature and dictionaries, but always in its other, secondary meanings. It was only in the scholarly literature at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries that the connection was made between Finnish hiisi and Estonian hiis. The word has been used to denote 'cult place' in scholarly texts since the 1930's, after the decisive influence excercised by Ä. M. Tallgren's article "Hiisi ja Moisio" (Tallgren 1933). This meaning is not recognised in everyday language, In Finland as well as in Estonia it is possible to demonstrate an earlier sacral function in places which contain hiisi as a component of their name, partly with the help of archeological discoveries, and partly with the help of oral folk tradition. Evidence of burial grounds dating from the Iron Äge has been established in five sites in Southwest Finland and in eight sites in Satakunta and Häme (between Kokemäki and Sääksmäki). Ä number of these date from the Viking period, a number of them are older, the oldest having been in use since the third century, and in a number of them, the most recent graves date from the Merovingian period (600-800), It seems that these sites retained their sacral character even once the place no longer functioned as a burial ground, and evidently the cult was then directed at the deceased ancestors and their spirits. Naturally we can infer that the term hiisi was used to refer to these burial grounds towards the end of prehistory, but we cannot determine at which point the term first came into use. Neither can we determine whether or not at one time the term hiisi applied to all burial grounds of this type (in which case it did not always become a fixed place name). Moreover, these same areas contain several "hiisi" sites in which, according to oral tradition, an ancient burial ground was once located. This sort of information is extremely rare in other areas: in the central section of the Karelian Isthmus, Äntrea (Hiidensaari N Hiitsaari), and in Muhos in the district of Óulu (Hiidenlinna). The terms used for Bronze Äge

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barrows, hiidenkivas or hiidenvare, often with the first part of the word in the plural hiitten, are also linked to the concept system of the world of the dead in former times, In certain places, tradition has it that these barrows represent the graves of the former inhabitants of the area. Folk poetry also makes a physical reference to a grave in the following lines: "Minä nostan nukkuvia/ Nurmen alta nukkumasta,/ Pellon alle peitetyitä,/ Mien alle heitetyitä,/ Tulisellen tanterellen". (I will raise the sleeping ones/ From their sleep beneath the grass,/ Under the field they lie covered,/ Under the hiisi they have been cast,/ Ónto the fiery ground I lift them). The poem was recorded in Northern Savo, but it may have originated elsewhere. Similar data have been recorded in Estonia. In Saaremaa there are five "hils" sites which, according to archeological excavations or popular belief, once contained burial grounds. Examples of this are the middle and late Iron Äge grave sites (barrows) in Kaarma and Valjala. Ón the Estonian mainland such sites are to be found in the following locations: Kullamaa (Iron Äge) and Varbla, both in Läänemaa, Risti (Iron Äge) in Harjumaa, Vändra in Pärnumaa, Liiganuse (stone grave), Haljala and Simuna (thirteenth century cemetery) in Virumaa, and Äksi and Kursi in Tartumaa. In Tiiri in Järvamaa one of two names given to a "hils" site is Katmu, meaning 'graveyard (not Christian)'. In another village in Türi the "hils" and the "kalmu" are situated next to one another. In Kunda in Viru-Nigula the village's dead were burned on Hiiemägi according to oral tradition. This may denote a Scandinavian type of funeral pyre. There is a tale associated with Hiiemägi in Päinurme in Peetri, which relates that every man had to carry a stone to the site so that the ashes of the buried soldiers or kings would not be lost. Many different tales on the theme of "hiis" burial grounds exist elsewhere too, but they are part of a later narrative tradition. In the area of southern Estonian, there are two instances of recorded data indicating that "Iiiis" is an ancient burial ground, in Tartu-Maarja, and in Vastseliina.5 Ä few of the narrative themes of Estonian folklore use hiis or the derivative Hiiela to refer to a post-mortal world or `otherworld', The clearest allusion to a burial place occurs in variants of the theme These notations were discovered in Estonia's folklore archives, amongst the material collected in the 1930's, and they do not necessarily reflect the meaning of the word in the local dialect. Estonia's name archives do not record a single place name containing the element háis in either parish. Nevertheless the notations cannot be based on literary or other similar sources, in which "hirs" only signifies a cult place or a wood. 5

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"Ät mother's Grave": Käisin eile Hiielassa,/ Tunaeile Tuonelassa,/ eile eide haua peala" (Yesterday I was in Hiiela,/ in Tuonela the day before,/ at my mother's grave yesterday). The dialect of the northeast coastal region reveals a great deal of Finnish influence, such as the nominal derivative Tuonela (Ótherworld, the dwelling place of the dead), but these lines of verse have not been discovered in Finnish folklore. Generally speaking, the appearance of hiisi as an element in the names of pre-Christian burial grounds or in non-Christian ones from the Middle Ages, is a western phenomenon. In the region of the eastern Finnish dialects, there exists only one such place which popular belief maintains to be a burial ground (in Äntrea, in the central section of the Karelian Isthmus). Not one burial ground of this kind is known to exist in the region of Karelian, Vepsian, and their hybrid languages (Ólonets, Lydian). Óne documentation from an Ingrian speaking village in Ingria mentions the "hiisi" site in connection with a burial ground. No information exists concerning the function of "hiisi" sites in Votian. It is even questionable whether the early semantic content of the word hiisi in the Karelian centres of the Ladoga region was the same as that in the Estonian and Western Finnish centres,6 Estonian demonstrates unequivocally that the sense of the word is `sacral place', and more accurately 'cult place' or 'place of sacrifice'. Data relating to several place names indicate that hiis denotes a place of sacrifice. In certain cases, sacrificial rites were still being held so recently that data concerning folk traditions collected at the turn of the century, and even within the early part of the twentieth century, describe the objects of sacrifice: food, beer, money, wool, clothes. Animal sacrifices, on the other hand, are only mentioned in a couple of instances. There are also a number of citations concerning the healing of diseases at the "hlis" site. Rites have also included bonfires and dancing. The object of the cult has altered over the centuries. Worship of the dead, of the spirits of ancestors, represents at least one, and evidently the primary prehistoric cult, But certain features are also linked to From a methodological point of view, it is essential to ask to what extent we can draw conclusions about the semantic history of the word as it occurs in place names, on the basis of the information we have to hand, that is to say information concerning 1) the places themselves, which have been so named (functions, typography; etc.), 2) the appearance of the word in certain other contexts (e.g. folklore), and 3) explicit definitions of the word in dictionaries, and other documentation which deals with the word (e.g. collections of dialect data). 6

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the Scandinavian cult of Thor, such as Thursday being the day of the cult, and similarly, there are features relating to the cult of St. Änthony, inspired by Catholicism (Tönni vakk), and to the Finnish cult of Ukko on the north coast. Ón a secondary level, in various parts of the northern Estonian dialect region, (h )iis is understood to refer to the deity (idol) or other spirit residing at the site and to whom the sacrifices were made. This sort of connotation must be interpreted as a consequence of the need to identify the receiver of the sacrifices, which suggests that the notion of the original object of the cult has become blurred or vanished altogether.' The view of the cult as a collective group may reflect its earlier identifications with the dead (ancestors, figures from an earlier age). which has since been forgotten, The fact that it is precisely the word hiis which has been chosen as the designation may stem from situations in which the word, originally indicating place (to which the sacrifice was taken), may have been understood to refer to a being (to whom the sacrifice was taken). This kind of semantic development can also be traced elsewhere, such as in the Votyak word lud and the Cheremis word keremet. Óne or several wooden idols are said to have stood on a number of the "hi s" sites. Äs far as Finnish is concerned, only Ägricola's texts contain documented evidence of the definition 'cult place' for the term hiisi, Such biblical references do not however throw any light on the nature of the cult practised at Finnish sites. The only real information we have, therefore, is based on the data surrounding places in which hiisi appears as an element in the name. The meaning behind the designation must be sought by way of the proper noun. Ärcheological íindings have only been able to testify to one site having been a place of sacrifice: Hiismäki in Rusko (there is also a burial ground in the area). There are references to holy places in certain eighteenth-century sources concerning the parishes of Mynämäki and Nousiainen: "Hijdenkangar" ('the heath of hiisi') and "Hitenhafwat" (`the aspens of hiisi'). Similarly, in Huittinen, there is a record from 1759 of a sacrificial fount at Hiidenkallio, and in Pyhäjärvi in the district of Óulu, P. N. Mathesius' Dissertatio geographica de Ostrobotnia, 1734 mentions "Hiidenmäki, collis, ob sacrifıcia, hic ohm celebrata". In Savitaipale, the mid-seventeenth century manuscript of a Of the thirteen references which indicate personification, the word appears as the name of the being residing at the "ldis" in the plural in ten instances (hued), and in the singular (hi s) in only three instances. All the singular recordings were made by the same collector, Jakob Hurt, towards the end of the nineteenth century.

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clergyman, Mikael Heinzius, states that "Hiienmennikkö" (nowadays Hiidenmäki), a small hillock, had once been a holy birch grove. Later tradition has it that Hiidenmäki in Karkku and Hiidenlehto (lehto 'grove') were once sacrificial sites. Ä sacrificial fount has existed at Hiidenmäki in Pirkkala, and on the cape of Hiidennokka in Narva (Vesilahti), which is an Iron Äge burial ground dating from the sixth century. Älso in Kaarina near Turku, Hiisilähde is said to have been a sacrificial fount. Äccording to one mid-nineteenth century notation there was a sacrificial tree Hiiskoivu (koivu 'birch') in Hirvensalmi. The morphosemantic structure is similar to that of compound words like hiishonka (in Rantasalmi, where it has been preserved as a component of the place name Hiishonganmäki, (honka `pine'), and Hiidenkuusi (Kiuruvesi, kuusi `spruce'), and we can therefore assume that these have also been names of cult trees. (No other meaning is possible where hiisi is in the nominative). Like Estonian "hiis" sites, many Finnish "hiisi" sites were used for bonfires and dancing in former times. There are records of this in connection with twenty "hiisi" sites, a number of which have also been proven to be burial grounds (e.g. Hiisi in Kokemäki, Hlidennokka in Vesilahti (Fig. 1) and Hiidenniemi in Köyliö) or places of sacrifice (e.g. Hiidenmäki in Karkku, Fig. 2). Ä number of other burial grounds and sacrificial sites whose names do not contain the element hiisi have also functioned as locations for bonfires and dances. It is particularly among the earliest settlement areas of Southwest Finland, Satakunta and Häme that hiisi features in the names of sacrificial sites or trees, in other words in the same areas where it features in the names of burial grounds, It also appears, however, in the eastern dialect regions which were populated during prehistory and the Middle Äges, although not east of the border established by the Treaty of Nöteborg (Pähkinäsaari) in 1323 (except for Pyhäjärvi, which is further north in the district of Óulu), Ä number of sites used for bonfires and dancing are located in the eastern dialect regions of the central section of the Isthmus, the ancient settlement areas of Savo, and the area north of Ladoga east of the 1323 border, as well as in Satakunta, Häme, and south of Lake Päijänne, although from the latter there are no surviving records of them having been used as places of sacrifice. The presence of a sacrificial site has only been established in one of the Ingrian speaking villages of Ingria: Hiite in Kallivieri (also a burial ground). Kallivieri is situated right in the western part of Ingria and once belonged to Estonia. This may therefore indicate a

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Fig. 1. The plateau of cape Hiidennokka in Vesilahti, Narva, in Häme (Finland) is a bonfire site. Photo: National Museum, Helsinki. There is a cemetery (four barrows) from the end of the sixth century and a sacrificial fount on the same site. A plateau and stoniness are the most common features of "Hiisi" sites.

Fig. 2. Hiidenmdki in Karkku, Kojola, in Satakunta (Finland). Photo: National Museum, Helsinki. The stones are arranged to form an enclosed area and set in a grassy plot which has been tramped flat. This was a site for ritual bonfires and, according to folk tradition, it was also used for sacrifices.

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tradition carried over from Estonia, but on the other hand, the village in question was once Votian. The "hiisi" sites in Western Finland, around Viipuri (Viborg), and in the section of the Isthmus which lies west of the 1323 border, are set well within the villages established during prehistory and the early Middle Äges, relatively close to the dwellings, but after the fourteenth century they were situated beyond the areas of habitation, in the outlying country. This distribution seems to have resulted from the church's attempts to suppress pagan cult practices. Among the older settlements, this is apparently how cult places came to be located in the hinterland. Ämong newer settlements, cult places were established in the hinterland right from the start, This process also took place to a certain extent in Savo, where several "hiisi" sites are to be found lying off the routes through old hunting grounds. This shift in the location of cult places may be ascertained partly from the topography of the sites. Ät the beginning of the thirteenth century the church took over the former cult places in Finland, as the 1229 bull of Pope Gregory IX demonstrates: "luci et delubra, deputata olim ritibus paganorum" were surrendered to the church. Änother papal edict from 1232 mentions "terram de Maska que dicitur Lunda", which has been shown to be a reference to the "hiisi" site in the village of Willä in Masku (Fig. 3). Like many such sites in Southwest Finland, this belonged to the church during the Middle Äges. Óther examples of this are to be found in Kalanti 'the Misi of the village'), and in Lieto, Piikkiö and Pertteli Churches or chapels were erected on a number of the "hiisi" sites. Similar evidence of the church's takeover of "hiisi" sites can also be found elsewhere. However, during the Middle Äges, and in some places well into the modern era, the church's influence on the people remained superficial, and many pagan or semi-pagan rites were practised, particularly in remote areas, right up to the nineteenth century. There are seventeenth and eighteenth century literary references to the pagan cult places of the Finns, and when the parish of Puumala was established in Southern Savo in the seventeenth century, the parsonage occupied the sacral "hiisi" site (Hiisimäki N Hiidenvuori) and the church was erected alonside it. In the area east of the 1323 border, which belonged to the sphere of the Órthodox church, the former sacral customs continued to be observed without too much interference. It was only during the sixteenth century that attempts were made to eradicate pagan cult places, but their obliteration was

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Kosi"

Fig, 3. The plateau with circular stone formation on the hill Hiidenpellonmeiki in Masku, Villilä (Finland) may have been the nucleus of the "Lunde mentioned by the Pope in 1232. Author's photo.

never completely successful. In this sense, place names in Órthodox areas might easily have preserved manifest evidence of a word meaning 'cult place', but the cult's dependence on specific "holy places" in eastern Orthodox areas seems to have differed from the situation in, for example, Estonia. The cult of the dead was held at graveyards which were still in use, and other cults, especially fixed seasonal rites which involved the whole village or a large group, were just as readily practised in any large yard or in front of the village chapel (tsasouna), as at a given natural site (Harva 1948, 503-509; Haavio 1959, 142; see also Haavio 1961). Since, in the Ladoga region and in Ingria, the topographic characteristics of places whose names contain the component hiisi are largely the same as those in the Western Finnic regions (land elevation), there is good reason to suppose that they were also named according to the same principle, at least in the beginning. In the lexica of the languages in question, however, the word hiisi does not seem to have meant 'non-Christian cult place' during the Christian era. We may at least presume that in Órthodox Karelia and in Ingria there existed no pragmatic necessity for such a definition, insofar as any word might have applied in this function. Not all the "hi s" sites of the Finnic language region display the same topographic features, but it is possible to outline a few prototypes.

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Óne type is a deciduous wood, a grove, or less frequently, a coniferous wood, especially one situated on a smallish knoll. The grove is a very common type in Estonia, as both place names and definitions in nominal descriptions demonstrate. The grove has always figured far more rarely in Finland than it has in Estonia, The prehistoric settlement areas of Western Finland show evidence of only a few groves, In several cases the authenticated Iron Äge burial grounds do not look like groves, but the wood characteristic of the grove may have disappeared over the centuries. The grove-type also occurs among the eastern dialect regions around the Gulf of Finland all the way to the central area of the Karelian Isthmus, in Southern Savo, though less frequently, and finally also sporadically east of the 1323 border, near the western and northern shores of Lake Ladoga. The second prototype is represented by a shallow, marshy meadow or marshy dale (Fig. 4). This occurs, above all, in the western parts of Estonia, but also to a certain extent further east, among the northern centres of expansion as well as in the western parts of Ingria. This type also contains grove-like features. The third prototype is an elevated site (Fig. 5), in Finland often a rocky mound or otherwise a very stony hill (boulder soil), almost a mount (Fig. 6). This type is very rare in Estonia, where the land is mostly flat. However it does occur on the northeast shore, which displays manifest Finnish influence in both language and culture. Approximately thirty high, rock-like "hiisi" sites are to be found in Western Finland, but this type really dominates the whole of Eastern Finland from the northwest shore of Lake Ladoga.8 The predominance of the grove in Estonia, and the relative frequency of both grove and mount in Finland, is partly revealed by the fact that Agricola used the word hiisi to refer to a sacrificial hill (Latin excelsum, German Höhe) as well as a holy grove (Latin locus, German Hain), but in the Estonian translation hiis only appears in the meaning 'holy grove' when it is a place reference. In the Estonian translation of the Bible, first published in 1739, the hebrew word ašera is translated in all its functions by the word hiis. Ašera refers to the goddess of fertility, as well as to the symbol (idol, totem, tree trunk) and the place of worship associated with her. The corresponding word in the Latin translations is locus, and in the German Hain, which also appear in all functions. There are thus certain contexts in the Bible where hiis must be interpreted as a reference to a being. In its usage of this word for the personification of a deity, the Estonian version partly follows the examples set by the Latin and German translations. However, this usage may also be evidence of the fact that, by the eighteenth century, a secondary understanding of the term hiisi had already emerged, one denoting a deity or, as we can see iıı later folk tradition, a collective concept of deities Mied.

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Fig. 4. "hie mets iıı Lihula, Sipa (Estonia), is a small copse on marshy ground. Photo: Estonian Academy of Sciences, Museum of Literature, Tartu.

Fig. 5. The gravel mound Hiidenmäki in Asikkala, Kurhila, is a typical "hiisi" site in South-east Hame. Author's photo.

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Fig. 6. A slope of bulder soil in Iiiidenkallio in Hauho-Tuulos (Mane). Author's photo. Stoniness is a feature of several "hiisi" sites in Estonia and Finland which are characterised by a stone construction of some kind, sometimes a lowish stone mound (Figs 7 and 8), or otherwise a circular formation often with the addition of one stone larger than the rest; another common feature is a large stone (a glacial boulder) or several relatively large stones (Figs 1, 9 and 10). Both grove and mount types are often characterised by a clearing, a plateau which was apparently the sacral focus of the cult place, as well as the setting for the stone arrangements. When the institution of the "hiisi" in Southern Finland shifted to the hinterland soon after the beginning of the Middle Äges, new sites had to be chosen according to some recognisable criteria. Óne such criterion was the stone quality of the place, Even among early settlements certain "hiisi" sites were high, craggy rocks with one sheer face. Änother model was a stone construction or some stone formation in general. In the hinterland the tumuli (hiidenkivas), Brorrze

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Fig. 7. Hiie pank in Varbla, Allika (Estonia). Photo: Estonian Academy of Sciences, Museum of Literature, Tartu. Many of the "hiis" sites on the western and northern parts of the Estonian mainland are gentle mounds within level fields, and they are characterised by their stone quality.

Fig. 8. The stony mounds of the burial ground (from the Migratory and Merovingian periods) exposed in Hiidentöykkä in Huittinen, Loima (Satakunta). Photo: National Museum, Helsinki.

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Fig. 9. Stones (hiiekivi on the hill Hiiemägi in Kullamaa, Maidla (Estonia). Photo: Estonian Academy of Sciences, Museum of Literature, Tartu.

Fig. 10. Hiiepöld (the field of Mis') in Valjala, Väkrä (Estonia). After Remmel 1962. Healing arts were practised at the foot of the stone (hiiekivi) and evil spirits were believed to live beneath it.

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Äge barrows set high up on rocks, fulfilled this criterion. This is why, in Varsinais-Suomi, Satakunta and Häme, in the surrounding countryside of villages which sprang up after the beginning of the Middle Äges and sometimes of even older ones, the hiisi component appears in the names of craggy, mountainous rocks or places with Bronze Age barrows or other similar stone formations. Examples of this are Hiidenvuori, Hiidenkallio, Hiidenniemi (often in the plural Hiitten-, which may be of later origin). We can explain certain names and nominal designations in hiidenkivi (kivi 'stone') in the same way as they may have been inspired by the large stones which stood at several of the old "hiisi" sites. Nevertheless, not all of the place names beginning with the element Hiidenl Mitten can possibly reveal a cult place. In certain cases the name has undoubtedly originated in a secondary meaning. Óften several place names containing the hiisi component apply to the same "hiisi" site, such as in Änsekylä in Saaremaa, where Ede mägi is the name of a high ridge, next to which is a massive boulder called lide kivi, and a marshy spot with a few trees called /is, The independent nominative form indicates that these names refer to a genuine "hiis" site, but on the other hand we cannot be sure whether the stone and the hill are parts of the same sacral area. Both Estonia and Finland show evidence of "hiisi" sites with dual focus, in the sense that the sacral nucleus, the 'altar', existed both at the top and at the foot of the hill, for example a stone construction at the summit and a sacrificial fount at the bottom. Names in which the hiisi element precedes a word meaning a lake, pond, or other water formation, occur particularly in the eastern Finnish dialect regions, as well as in the regions of Karelian, Ólonets, Lydian, and Vepsian. Ä number of these appear together with a landbased place name e.g. the lake is called Hiidenjärvi and on its shore lies Hiidenmai (as in Kirvu and Äntrea) or Hiidenvuori (as in Sääminki and Hirvensalmi), but often Hiidenjärvi, Hiisjärvi, Hiislampi, Hiidenlampi or Hiidenlahti appear independently (järvi 'lake', lampi 'pond', lahti `bay'). In the Finnish language region there are approximately twenty instances of water names of this kind appearing independently. In the regions of Karelian, Ólonets, Lydian and Vepsian they are rather more frequent: over half of all place names containing the element hiisi, including both those confirmed in Vepsian (Hisd'ärvut, d'ärvut 'pond', and Hizjii7' < -järvi), In the substratum nomenclature of the zavoločeskaya čud' there are also two independent lake names, Xirro3epo and XHAoaepo. This relatively large number

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of waternames within the eastern Finnic language region does not however prove that the point of reference for the word hižsi must have been the expance of water, It is at least as plausible, and possibly more so, that it was on the shore that the real point of reference was to be found, although we cannot be certain about the precise meaning of the word. For example in Tšehnuša in Poventsa there is a bay Hiislahti, Xmic-ryBa on a Russian map, but a notation from 1563 also mentions Xxxc-ropa (a vast, inhabited mountain region). Since many of the lakes called Hiisjärvi are very extensive, often several kilometres in length, their naming must somehow have had a broader significance e.g. it was known in more than one village. In addition, most of the places called Hiisivuori or Hiisivaara are conspicuously high, massive elevations; not all of them however are on the actual lakeside, e,g. Hiisivaara near Porajärvi and Soutjärvi, the highest mountain in the area, is in the middle of a forest, 2 km from the surrounding lakes at the nearest. Äpart from two habitation names in Finland, there are no instances of simple word names in Hiisi in the regions of eastern Finnish dialects, Karelian, Lydian and Vepsian.9 The regions inhabited by the zavoločeskaya čud' include three places called )(HA, of which two are meadows (Kargopol', Ónega) and the third is a rock, on which stands a "huge, terrible stone" (Ónega). This region also contains a meadow called Xwra, which is connected with a brook called XHTCKOH and with a large stone, XHTCKOH KaMeHL (cf. "hiidenkivi" — 'the stone of hiisi' — in Finnish and Estonian) (Ónega). Fields or meadows also bear the names Xxp,Hema and Xxm nasonoic (Ónega), and one place called XxxcHema (< Hiisniemi) (Ónega) has been recorded as a copse, In these same areas there are names of mountainous places like XHAropa (ropa Russian 'mountain') "evil, awkward place" (Ónega, also Pinega) and Xxxcropa (where there is a dense, dark pine forest which resembles countless "Devil Mountains"; nearby is a lake inlet XmicnaxTa, and the lake itself is called Xxıico3epo; Kargopol'). (Matveyev 1976.) In general the landscape features of the places whose names contain the element hiisi among the regions inhabited by the zavoločeskaya The house Hiási in Luumälci is in a village established after the introduction of the new land division regulations of the second half of the eighteenth century, but the surrounding villages date from the Middle Ages. Hiisi in Sotkamo, nowadays Hiidenkylä, is in the outlying country of a seventeenth century settlement, near a lake by the name of Háidenjcirvi, on the shore of which stretches a high, rocky mount by the name of Hiásivaara Háidenvuori. Neither place is situated within the old Orthodox area.

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čud', resemble those in Estonia and Finland, west of the 1323 border, more than those in the Karelian, Lydian and Vepsian areas of Lake Ladoga and Lake Ónega. Since we can show that these čud' originally came from the latter areas and spoke their languages, the semantic development of hiisi must have been the same among the čud' as among the languages of the areas they came from. Thus the čud's substratum enables us to conclude that Äncient Karelian, and possibly even the Vepsian spoken around Ladoga and Lake Onega, included the term hiisi as a reference to a place characterised by a given function. The word cannot have been a geographical term, Ón the other hand, however, present day eastern Finnic languages (including to some eastern Finnish dialects) reveal that the word probably did not have the same general meaning of cult place as it did in Estonian. The word must have had a more specific definition, one which no longer applies in places bearing this name. The specific function of the "hiisi" site may have been worship of the dead in some form, but there is no evidence to show that the "hiisi" sites in these areas were once burial grounds. Mythological accounts relate that the place is known for its strange happenings, or that an evil spirit lives there, or that the place generally inspires dread. These views are very close to those held in relation to "hiisi" sites elsewhere in Finland.1° 4 In various parts of the northern Estonian, and in one case in the southern Estonian, regions, the definitions 'grove', 'wood', 'young copse' and `large forest' have been sporadically recorded for the word hiis, but without possessing any mythological or other functional connotation. It is hardly likely that this represents actual semantic development lo Apart from in certain parishes within the eastern Finnish dialect regions and the bordering Karelian speaking areas which were formerly part of Finland, there are no surviving records of the functional or religious significance of places whose names contain the element hiisi around Ladoga and its expansion areas east of the 1323 border. In addition to bonfire sites (Harlu, Ruskeala, Kesälahti, Värtsilä) and other meeting points in the same districts, the cape of Hiidenniemi in Sortavala can be demonstrated to be a sacral place, one which women were forbidden to walk by. Another example of this may have been the hill of Hiidenmäki in Hiitola. Other places which were out of bounds to women are represented by a few "hiisi" sites in Härne and Southern Savo. This is evident because of names which contain the element nainen 'woman' along the nearby alternative routes to be taken by women (for information on the sacral quality of places forbidden to women see Vilkuna 1956).

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into a new lexical definition; rather, this is simply a selection of interpretations which have arisen after the cult function of the "hiis" site had lost its significance. These data do however reveal that a grove/wood was understood to be the most characteristic feature of the Estonian "hlis" prototype. In contrast to the Estonian interpretations of grove/wood or large forest, the transitional areas between Finnish and Karelian, north of Ladoga, contain an interpretation of the word hiisi which occurs sporadically and reflects a different world view: 'a place far in the forest (or a vast forest) where one can lose one's way'. Indeed, a number of places whose names feature the component hiisi are located deep in forest land, but these are generally high mountains, in other words geographically easy to locate and therefore not points where one would get lost, The interpretation is based on the notion that losing one's way is caused by some supernatural power, usually called 'devil', which has led one astray. The concept of a supernatural orientation deceiver originally belonged to belief about the dead (e.g. Harva 1948, 288-295, Granberg 1935, 145; additional examples Koski 1967-70, 2, 60). Though genetically dissimilar, hiidenkiitkö (-kätkö 'hiding-place') is based on an analogous world view, It relates to the condition of being lost and occurs among a fairly restricted section of the HämeSat akunta-Óstrobothnia areas, It evidently originated in this region in the sixteenth century at the earliest, clearly as a blend of the words metsänkätkö metsänpeitto), which means the same thing and is widespread among eastern and Óstrobothnian dialects, and hiidenväki (väki 'crowd' and 'power'), the first part of which refers to a postmortal underworld (manala) (Koski 1967-70, 2, 42-59).

5. In addition to its factual meaning of cult place, the Finnish word hiżsi has come to denote a supernatural entity both in terms of its reference to a place and in terms of its reference to a being. Ón many occasions, the significance of the place is not clearly defined, but it always relates to the external order of the supernatural. In certain lexical or other instances, when the nature of the place can be indentified, it often refers to a post-mortal world. Ä different kind of post-mortal world is depicted in different contexts. In particular, western Finnish prose tradition reflects the view of an otherworld situated underground, where the people of hiisi, the long since deceased, live (eg. hiidenväki).

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Óften too, the otherworld where these beings reside is believed to exist on a mountain. Än actual image of the otherworld as a mountain is, however, especially common in eastern Finnish and Karelian folk poetry. The understanding of the otherworld as a mountain is in fact an international phenomenon, obviously reflecting here the influence of Nordic mythology (see Pettersson 1987), and it is related to other, equally international motifs, such as the idea of a metallic central mountain, a motif which is clearly a later referent of the word hiisi than the motif of the otherworld-mountain itself. Likewise, in many poems the referent of the word hiísi is often identified or compared with mythical Pohjola. The many interpretations of Pohjola include the concept of a dwelling place of the dead situated far off in the North. Änother type of otherworld described by the word hiisi is a farm with its house, windows, yard, farmer, farmer's wife, daughter and dog barking in the yard. In poems as well as in prose tradition hiisi signifies 'hell', or sometimes some other more lenient place of torment like hell. The ontology of mountain, Pohjola or farm in relation to the semantics of the word hiisi raises certain problems, since there are no explicit descriptions of these places offered by informants, nor are there informants' explanations of the word hiisi which would be explicitly appropriate to such places. Folklorists may have come to create an ontological image of these places by comparing the mythology of various peoples, but for the folk singers who picked the word hiisi in order to evoke a particular topos, the image they had was not necessarily so clearly defined. Individual poems only enable us to conclude that the singers had a mythological, external plane in mind It is characteristic of the structural format of folk poetry that the singer will use clichés in which the original, often faded, meaning of the words is not necessarily relevant as far as the whole of the story is concerned. Examples of such phrases are hiiden tytär/piika/neito/neiti etc., in which the latter part refers to a young woman and the first part to a mythological place. These clichés have found their way into various thematic strains of folk poetry. The cliché hiiden tytär ("Lähen hijestä, kosihin" 'I am off to "hiisi" to court') denotes an eligible young girl from a supernatural place, and the variants hiiden tytär/impi, which appear in the charm of the Serpent's Creation, represent the motif of a hair fallen from the head of the maiden of the water. The referents of these word phrases are not identical. The back of the serpent in the aforementioned charm appears in one case as hiuksista hiiden neidon/immen 'from the hair of hiisi's maiden/virgin'. This particular cliché stems from the poem

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of the Creation of the Kantele, in which it refers to the origin of the strings of the kantele. The theme is based on the international tale of the Singing Bone, according to which a musical instrument is created from the parts of the body of a drowned maiden; it is therefore once again a post-mortal motif here (see Haavio 1952, 270-276, as well as on the same subject in Estonian folklore Koski 1967-70, 2, 118), Exploring the variety in meaning or reference among these examples serves no purpose, at least not from the point of view that the singer must have had a conscious idea of the exact nature of "hiisi"." The post-mortal world as a vision of hell is easier to recognise, and this sense of the word hiisi has even been described by informants. As a result of Christianity, the concept of a post-mortal world became divided into two separate, good and evil otherworlds. Moreover, the value system of Christianity caused non-Christian concepts and words representing such concepts to acquire a negative connotation. It thus follows understandably that the word hiisi, in reference to a post-mortal world, became identified with the evil one of the two alternative meanings and concepts. The definition was not absolute, however. Älongside the sense of actual 'hell', there existed another sense, variously expressed, suggesting a somewhat more lenient version of hell." Both the dualism of the Christian world view and features from folk belief exist in the interpretations provided by informants. For example Hiijestä tulit noutajat sanothan ku jumalaton kuolee, hiijenväki sen In one variant of the poem "Hiidestä kosinta" (Repola), the location of the courtship is transparently described Mänen Tuonelta tytärtä,/ Manalasta morsienta 'I go to Tuonela's daughter,/ to fetch a bride from Manala'. These lines are familiar with regard to their place reference among similar Ingrian poetry on the theme of Courtship in Tuonela, and the same theme also occurs in Estonian folklore, although in their entirety the poems themselves are structurally dissimilar. At all events, Finnish folklore employs this motif in many different thematic contexts. 12 Evidence of hiisi in the sense of the lenient version of hell can be seen for example in the saying Hyppiiä kuin Hi(i)ppa-Heikki hiiden ja helvetin väliä 'To leap like Hi(i)ppa-Heikki between hiisi and hell' (Hiippa-Heikki is a name for a devil). The expression is concentrated in the regions of northern Savo dialects and central and northern Ostrobothnian dialects, and it is clearly a blend of the saying about a devil leaping (bounding or springing) in hell, and of the view that a restless soul wanders between heaven and earth or hell (for different interpretations see Koski 1967-70, 2, 734-740). According to some sayings, there is a short distance between hell and "hiisi", but it is more common, particularly in eastern Finnish dialects and spreading as far as the more susceptible Ostrobothnian dialects and those of the Far North, for the word hiisi to be used in the same connection as the word helvetti 'hell'. 11

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noutaa describes how the people (power) of hiisi fetch those who die godless. The term "hiidenväki" here represents a western Finnish understanding of the beings which belong to the post-mortal world. In the folk poetry of eastern and Óstrobothnian dialects Hiisi, like helvetti, denotes an evil place consistent with a dualistic world view, but not a purely Christian one, Such a place may be, for example, where diseases originate or are conjured by spells, and where it is believed one can acquire the instruments (magic) of a destructive, supernatural power. The topographic setting of these places is often a mountain, and its ontological interpretation is 'the realm of the dead', at least in one of its basic forms. For example, Gustav Ränk (Ränk 1979) has shown how Finnish hiiden hevonen 'the horse of hiisi', and its Estonian equivalent hiie halli, represent the bringer of the plague, emerging from this sort of post-mortal world. In present day Finnish hiisi only has a locative meaning in certain expletive expressions. Mene hiiteen! corresponds closely to Mene helvettiin! 'go to hell', but it is gentler in tone (thus it is not literally `go to the devil' as dictionaries state). Äpart from the interpretation of 'go to hell', the expression is also associated with the concept of a generally remote place. This corresponds to one interpretation in eastern dialects, which is itself linked to the eastern dialect expletive question missä hiidessä? 'where in hiisi?'. The related mental image of an external plane elicited this usage of the word. It stems from the same image which exists in the meanings of 'distant, dark forest where one can lose one's way' in a concrete sense, as well as to various concepts of the otherworld in an abstract sense,

6

`Devil' or generally some unspecified evil spirit or being is the most common meaning for the word hiisi in simple word form (or at least for most people the one which first comes to mind). In compound words like vesihiisi and rnetsähiisi the latter part denotes 'sprite', thus ‘watersprite' and `woodsprite', often with negative connotations. In the tales of the western Finnish dialect regions hiisi, often in the plural hiidet, refers to a giant, in accordance with the German folk tale tradition of "der riesische Teufel". Unlike Estonian, Finnish displays no evidence that hiisi refers to the kind of god or spirit to whom sacrifices are to be made, This change in definition can be explained as the result of the blurring of the original meaning while the word

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nonetheless continued to appear in various fixed phrases and place names. Ä semantic vacuum was created, and then filled by a definition appropriate to the context. In Western Finland, Bronze Äge barrows and other stone formations of similar appearance are called hiidenkivas, -vare etc., in which the latter part means 'stone mound'. Some of these mounds are associated with a tale concerning the grave of former inhabitants. Óther similar mounds and stone formations have existed at authenticated cult places from the Iron Age or a later period. The function of the genitive attribute hiiden was most probably to denote locality 'at the hiisi' or possibly possession 'of the institution of the hiisi'. As the "hiisi" institution was forced beyond the perimetres of the village, and several Bronze Äge barrows came to be situated in the outlying country, or at least outside the habitation areas of Iron Äge and Middle Äge settlements, these mounds sometimes became a new "hiisi" site or its nucleus. The western Finnish folk tale motif of "der riesische Teufel" `the devil giant' was probably adopted during the Middle Äges, and in Western Finland the 'giant' element bore the ontological emphasis. These giants were believed to represent a people living long before the arrival of Christianity. They are said to have gathered piles of stones and done battle by hurling these stones at one another, The tales even include aetiological explanations for the existence of the Iron Äge stone mounds and other similar stone formations, based on the view that the giants collected piles of stones for hurling (cf. the corresponding Swedish terms jättekulor, jättekast, jäturkast). Äs these mounds are called hiidenkivas, hiidenvare etc., and as after the disappearance of the "hiisi" tradition the word no longer referred to a place in broad, active usage, the terms were interpreted in such a way that the genitive attribute stood for a subject function. Thus it was believed that hiisi meant 'giant', and similarly, 'a person living before the arrival of Christianity'. Since there were several of these giants, as the tale goes, a plural initial word form hiidenkivas emerged alongside the singular initial word hiidenkivas. In Southwest Finland, in particular, the plural form even became more widespread than the singular one. The origin of the name for an erratic glacial boulder hiidenkivi can be explained in the same way. The word first meant a cult boulder, the nucleus of the "hiisi" site, just as in Estonian hiiekivi. Thus it did not always specifically denote a glacial boulder, but referred rather to some other boulder or stone formation, the latter described by the plural hiidenkivet. The glacial boulder is often associated with a tale

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which relates how it was cast there by a giant. Far from all the mounds which bear the name hiidenkivas or all the glacial boulders called hiidenkivi have been sacral objects. These words have become profane terms (note present day Finnish hiidenkivi = 'glacial boulder', but the morphologically identical hiiekivi in Estonian = 'cult stone'). Names like Hiidensilta 'a row of stones in the sea or in a lake, which is said to have been made by a giant', have never denoted a sacral place. The initial part of the word referred to a giant from the term's inception. The earliest literary record of hiisi in the sense of 'giant' dates from the 1642 translation of the Bible, Älthough the 'giant' element was emphasised in certain areas of Western Finland, the motif of "der riesische Teufel" has become confused with the "Zwerg" concept as in Germany and Scandinavia (e.g. collectivity, cf. Finnish hiidenväki 'the people of hiisi'). The word hiisi has consequently been used to signify not only a giant, but also other supernatural beings, often mountain spirits (where "hiisi" lives on a mountain), which are identified with the devil. The 'demon' element is more clearly underlined in the understanding of the 'being' among the eastern Finnish dialect and Karelian language regions, where hiisi, in the sense of mythological place, was also more emphatically equated with the concept of hell than in western Finnish dialect regions. By contrast, the view that "hiidet" (plural) represents a people living before the arrival of Christianity is missing from the eastern regions, at least in an explicit sense. Several eastern Finnish places with names containing the element hiisi are associated with beliefs about a devil who lived there, and this is evidence of the same kind of reinterpretation as in western dialects. Similar methods of reinterpretation have influenced folk poetry clichés, particularly those in which the word appears in the genitive form híiden. These referred primarily to the realm of the dead, or later to hell, and this definition was reinterpreted to mean the ruler of the post-mortal world, or the devil in the 'hell' versions. This particular reinterpretation was very productive, and hiisi therefore appears more often as a direct reference to a being than to a place in verse tradition, especially in charms. It is characteristic of both prose and verse folk tradition that there exists no single ontological being bearing a name meaning 'demon', but the term 'demon' applies to a being who appears in different functions in various themes, In addition to the rôle of ruler of hell, devil-creatures fulfil a number of rôles as evil spirits. Óne example is the forest-spirit/devil's rôle of controlling the game in hunting spells.

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As a general principle, if the charm introduces the word piru or lempo, which are unambiguous demon terms, some variants of the charm will introduce the word hiisi in their place. This semantic development must have taken place during the Middle Äges among eastern Finnish dialects and Karelian, since the introduction to Mikael Ägricola's 1551 translation of the Book of Psalms, which includes a list of "the Karelian gods", contains the word hiisi as the name of the being governing the fortune of the hunt (as a general interpretation). The meaning `devil' can also be dated by the expletive expression in Tver Karelian hiizi händäh tiedäy 'may the devil know it' (there is no evidence of the word hiísí denoting place in Tver Karelian). The comparable Finnish expression hiisi vieköön 'may the devil take it' is widespread even today. Hiisi also appears in the sense of devil in the Finnish dialect of Värmland.

7

The semantic imprecision of the Finnish word hiisi in users' interpretations is also demonstrated by the definition 'a dam of slush or broken ice in a waterfall', which occurs among Häme dialects. The development of this meaning may be explained as follows: The motif of 'the watersprite's herd' (Swedish `vitterkor'), a supernatural herd rising out of land or water onto the shore, is described in Häme by the term hiiden karja 'the herd of hiisi'. Hiisi refers here to an external, supernatural plane, in the same way as in the term hiidenväki, but it is not explicitly related to the realm of the dead. Äpart from the watersprite, "hiisi" is also mentioned driving the herd (genitive hiiden is felt to mean a being, demonstrating possession). A secondary feature of the motif is that "hiisi" also drives its herd through a waterfall. In a concentrated area of Häme the spirit or being "hiisi" is understood to be permanently situated in the waterfall. During the winter, when the efficiency of the mill is hampered by a dam of slush forming at the waterfall, the impediment is believed to have been created by "hiisi": hiisi pirättää veten niettei laske myllyjä pyäriin holds the water back to stop the mill from working', and hiisi on koskessa `hiisi is in the waterfall'. These frequently repeated phrases have undergone reinterpretation, so that hiisi is believed to refer to the substance itself, the slush or ice, which is preventing the mill from functioning, In terms of case grammar we can say that a reinterpretation has occurred by

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which the original understanding of a causal agent has been transformed into one of an instrumental agent. It should be noted that both interpretations are possible within the same dialect, although idiolectal differences may occur. The interpretation of a genitive form originally indicating place, as a reference to a being, stems from similar deep case transformation (locative agent/dative). Ägain, either interpretation may apply within the same language community (e.g. recorded data from Kymi: hiisi 'devil' and its 'place of residence'). The agent object transition based on deep case reinterpretation also occurs in those instances where hiisi originally referred to a devil causing disease, and then came to be understood to mean the disease itself. Similar data exist in various dialect regions in Finland. They always appear sporadically, even though a certain amount of lexicalisation can be discerned. Ä precondition of this phenomenon is that in these same dialects hiisi also means a supernatural, evil being. In general, the changes in meaning of the word hiisi are either deep case transformations based on syntactical reinterpretation or intentional variations within the deep case framework. The latter is illustrated, for example, by the fact that the definition of an actual cult place developed to mean the realm of the dead.

8

In conclusion, it is possible to state that the word hiisi appeared during the late Iron Äge in the sense of 'cult place where the dead, the spirits of the ancestors, were worshipped' in at least the following languages: northern Estonian, western Finnish dialects in the areas of Southern Finland which were populated at that time, and apparently also western Votian, There is a certain amount of likelihood that an even earlier meaning was 'burial ground', since many "hiisi" sites in Northern Estonia and. Western Finland are ancient burial grounds. However, it seems that by the end of the Iron Äge it was no longer necessarily an ancient burial place which was chosen as the site for the "hiisi" cult, since not all the "hiisi" sites among prehistoric settlements are burial grounds. Later, during the Middle Äges, cults other than the cult of the dead came to be practised at the sites, The centricity of the cult of the dead in ancient times is illustrated by the fact that all locative meanings relating to a supernatural world view are a variation of the concept of the realm of the dead. Óne might argue that 'realm of the dead' is the primary definition and 'cult place

A Finnic Holy Word and its Subsequent History

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of the dead' the secondary, but this speculation can be refuted on the grounds that no other term for the realm of the dead (tuonela, manala) developed into a term for a cult place, nor do they appear with the same frequency in place names, In Finland, hiisi in the sense of 'cult place' has spread as far as the western side of the border established by the Treaty of Nöteborg in 1323. The frequent incidence of the word hiisi in place names as well as in both verse and prose folk tradition reveals that it was also familiar in Äncient Karelian in the region south of Ladoga and in its expansion areas, and possibly also at an early stage among the northern and central Vepsian dialects. There are no clear indications that the word meant 'cult place' or 'burial place' among the eastern languages (including the eastern Finnish dialects east of the 1323 border). However, the folk poetry of these areas demonstrates that some element of belief about the dead was included in the meaning. Moreover, a number of factors suggest that the definition of the word could not have been crucially different from its definition in Finland and Estonia, such as its frequent occurrence in the place names of languages descended from Äncient Karelian (including the surviving substratum of the zavoločeskaya čud'), and the partial similarity in the topographic features of the sites themselves, Thus we may infer that even in Äncient Karelian and its transitional areas hiisi referred to a cult place of the dead, though not of course necessarily a burial place. We can speculate that the word was carried from the southwestern parts of Finland and the north-western parts of Estonia up to the Ladoga regions around the time when the sense of 'burial place' was no longer current throughout all the western areas, The lack of data concerning cult places may be due to the fact that in the sphere of influence of the Órthodox church, worship of the dead took place at graveyards which were still in use and owned by the church. Thus the cult function no longer applied to the "hiisi" sites. In the western areas, which came under the influence of Catholicism, this kind of worship of the dead would not have been permitted by the church, 9 Various etymologies have been suggested for the Finnic word hiisi (see Koski 1967-70, 2, 240-248). Several of these are felt to be extremely unlikely if not impossible (e.g. the Uralic etymology, (see SKES 195581; Häkkinen 1983, 282). Those worthy of consideration are outlined below.

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There are two proposed equivalents in Lapp in the words sii'dâ `dwelling place', 'nomadic village', 'mountain camp', 'nomadic group', and siei'de (Swedish Lapp seite, Inari Lapp seidi; as a loan word in Finnish seita) 'rock or stone which has been an object of worship', `sacrificial stone', 'sacral stone understood to be an image of god', sometimes also 'wooden image of god', and personified 'god or spirit residing at the place in question' (sometimes the word also refers to a sacral rock wall, mountain fell or island), in Kildin Lapp also 'devil', `witch', Knut Bergsland (Bergsland 1964) has suggested that both the Lapp words and Finnic hiisi may have a common etymology. SKES 1955-81, 4 does not even mention this possibility with regard to seita, which implies a notion of its implausibility. It would presuppose that early Proto-Finnic contained a variant pair *šej+ta/*šej+te derived from *šeje such that -a/-e "probably stems from a prehistoric change in word final *a, > *e". Bergsland explains the unusual first syllable vowel combination in the Lapp word sii'dâ by comparison with the sporadic sound change ie > i in Lapp. In other words, an earlier form would have been *sieidei (< *šejte), in which case it would be etymologically linked to the word siade. The variant *šej-Fte would have led to Finnic hiite (:hiisi) and lapp sii'dâ (in Lapp e » a), meaning 'nomadic village'. The variant *šej+ta would have led to Finnic hii(t)ta > hitta and Lapp siei'de, meaning 'cult place'. The hypothetical, historical sound conditions on which Bergsland's theory is based overlooks two essential points: there is no actual evidence to support the hypothetical history of the words in question, and evidence of these phonological aspects in other vocabulary is questionable or extremely minima1.13 For examples of the final vowel stem variation a/e, which are not at all applicable to the word hiisi see Itkonen 1977; Korhonen 1981, 110; for secondary types A > e see for example Kettunen 1955, 263 f.). The suffixal examples in Bergsland as well as certain other suffixal and suffix-boundary examples do not actually apply to the word hiisi (cf. Itkonen 1968; Itkonen 1977). First syllable ei/ii is possible in principle but extremely rare; there is no evidence of this kind of alternation in the word hiisi at the Finnic level. North Lapp giei'bme 'mating season' and Finnic kiima `heat' (in the sense on mating) may be one example of this (see also Sammallahti 1988; or UEW 1986-88 with regard to *keje2 ), as well as Finnish liitdd 'to glide' and leija 'kite' (cf. also lei jua 'to hover'), but kiitiiä 'to fly' and keino 'means, method' are not semantically compatible, neither are siipi 'wing' and seipi 'dace' (type of fish) (for the etymology of the latter see Nuutinen 1987). Erkki Itkonen (Itkonen 1976, 8) says: "Die alte Etymologie eine Zusammenstellung von lappisch siei'de mit ostseefinnisch hiisi - - wäre nur durch die Annahme möglich, dass sich der Vokalismus des Wortes auf einer der beiden Seiten z.B. aus Affektgründen ganz 13

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The hypothesis that Lapp siei'de is related to Finnic hiisi is an attractive one since there is a certain semantic compatibility between the words, but there is also an essential difference in the characters of the referents: "siei'de" is the object of worship itself, a kind of deity, not a place, as "hiisi" is. Furthermore there is no evidence that "siei'de" ever related to the cult of the dead (see Itkonen 1945; Itkonen 1976, 7 ff.; Vorren 1987). Demonstrating historical phonological congruity raises problems by contrast, since relationship, even between the Lapp words, is not considered likely, The word sii'dâ 'nomadic village' would at least be phonologically closer to the word hiisi (especially if one ignores its presumed earlier form of *siejda), but the connection is extremely doubtful from a semantic point of view. The most likely assumption we could make would be that the word originally bore the predominant semantic idiom of 'an external place (or possibly collective)', which would then have narrowed its meaning to 'natural, profane place' in Lapp and 'supernatural, sacral place' in Finnic. Even if one or both Lapp words and Finnic hiisi did reveal a common origin, their etymology would even then not be straightforward. The question would still remain of how and from where the word entered early P rot o- Finnic. Tette Hofstra (Hofstra 1988) has taken the word hiisi to be a Germanic loan, from Germ. *sidön 'side' also 'shore' (commonly connected with Germ. *sidaz 'extending lengthways', 'long', 'deep', 'low') < IE root *seit-. Ä according to Trier 1951, 41 and Vries 1962, 472 *sei `weave' so that in the meaning 'side' a weaved wall is the point of departure. It has been suggested that *sei would be a basic root even for the Óld Norse siåa 'to work magic' < Germ, *sikan < *seijıan; the Óld Norse seiör 'witchcraft' < Germ. *sail)az < IE *soitos (IE *seit-/*soit-/*sit-.14 The difficulty with this etymology lies in seexzeptionell entwickelt hätte," The sound changes caused by the affectivity of the word are nevertheless of a different kind, and they do not apply to terms like the words in question. With even greater reservation Bergsland associates hiisi with the word hi(Oppa, which denotes some sort of play and appears in connection with a supernatural being in folklore. Bergsland has interpreted 'play' to indicate 'dance' and concludes that hiippa derives from the participle *hei+pa *Sei-l-pa) 'dancing' and *.šei+ta/te 'object of, or place for, cult dancing'. The word hi(Oppa, which has no connection with dance, can be demonstrated to derive from a medieval name for a saint (see Haavio 1947, 14-22). Bergsland does indeed mention this, and it is therefore inconsistent of him to suggest a relationship with early Proto-Finnic. Bergsland's proposal that the Lapp words may have been borrowed from Finnish is hardly likely, since in that case they should have the word initial h. H The connection between the Old Norse seiör and lapp siei'de was made at an

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mantics, Hofstra presumes that from the semantic point of view the existence of a topographic meaning as such suffices to an etymological relation, but the conceptual link between 'side' and the "hiisi" sites is extremely improbable. Even the conceptual connection between the magic and the "hiisi" cult is unclear. Finnic hiisi has also been associated with a Scandinavian word (Tunkelo 1914), which is represented in Swedish by the word (h)ide Óld Swedish hifie < hidi < hiåija (Proto-Scandinavian j derivative, from the Indo-European root *kei- 'to lie/rest', the substantive derivative of which originally meant 'resting place' (Hellquist 1964; Grønvik 1990). The basic definition in all the Nordic languages is 'winter lair', and in Swedish dialects (especially Småland, Skåne) also 'stoney, invious place', and often together with this 'tangled thicket', also `stone mound' (Västergötland) 'dense, young copse' (also in Hjärne's texts dating from 1715; SÄÓB 1898—). In various Swedish dialects the word also denotes a place with a generally bad reputation, often a criminals' hide-out, and it occurs frequently in place names, particularly names of houses (SAÓB 1898—; Koski 1967-70, 2, 246 f. using as primary sources ULMÄ (Dialekt- och folkminnesarkivet i Uppsala), SÓÄ (Svenska Órtnamnsarkivet, Uppsala) and a manuscript of B. Holmberg, Göteborg), In one runic inscription the word is used to refer to a human burial place in a context which indicates sacral behaviour or sacrifice (Grønvik 1990). The sense of 'winter lair' is elicited by the word's primary meaning of 'to lie/rest'. In general the word seems to have a distinctly negative (`bad') connotation in present day language. The definitions of a topographic nature, as well as the word's frequent appearance in place names indicate that 'winter lair' has to some extent been a recessive meaning, The topographic features of "(h)ide" sites correspond to those of prototypical "hiisi" sites. There is a common functional semantic element in 'place to lie/rest' in the sense that it provides a point of association: a person lying in a grave resembles an animal hibernating in its nest. Grønvik demonstrates that this can be a metaphorical usage of the word, and a lexical development based on the same metaphor may have resulted in Finnic hiisi 'burial place' > 'cult place'. The loan may be connected with a specific type of burial ground of Scandinavian origin. Certain lines of folklore seem to imply funeral early stage by Castrén and Friis (see Collinder 1953, 162, 171; Bergsland 1964, 245). Hofstra works on the assumption that the substitution s > S' took place during early proto-Finnic, since other examples of this have been found.

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pyres, but in general this cannot be considered to be a reliable method of dating the word. The distribution of the word hiisi confirms the notion of a Scandinavian loan rather than that of an origin in ProtoFinnic. The Iron Age nucleus is located amid the western areas around the Gulf of Finland, and the word may have travelled from here along the eastern route of the Varangians as far as the Ladoga region. Both vocabulary and other cultural phenomena suggest this distribution, particularly the trajectory from Western Finland and 'läme as far as the Vepsian regions (see e.g. Itkonen 1983; Vahtola 1987). The Scandinavian etymology of hiisi is usually refuted on phonological grounds, It would be easier to imagine an i-stem hiiti, but nonetheless a number of other Scandinavian and Óld Swedish loans which conform to the e-stem have been discovered (e.g. piki, kimpi, peitsi, tiili, see Hahmo 1986). However, assibilation ti > si cannot be demonstrated within these strata of loans. Thus it would be acceptable to consider an oblique case vowel stem hiite+ : hii&+ and nominative singular hati, derived from Scandinavian hiki, but not hiisi (also the plural stem), because assibilation has been proven to be a later sound change (approximately 1000 BC). Äbsolute adoption of the analogical e-stem model would however presuppose a nominative form hiisi (as in vesi : vete+), since assibilation is a feature of e-stem words. Besides the common i-stem nors(s)i: nors(s)i+ (< Swedish nors, 'smelt = Ósmerus') there is in Finnish a dialectal variant norsi : norre+ (: ?norte+) which shows that people observe the model of the assibilated e-stem (SKES 1951-81; Hahmo 1986, 169),15 However, there is a certain t/s indeterminateness present in the word hiisi which never occurs in original e-stem words, for example the apocope hut in initial position suggesting nominative form, which occurs in place names, and the sporadic had: hiie paradigm in Estonian, and the hiiti: hiiti+ paradigm in Finnish (which can have the function of a derivative in certain cases). This indeterminateness would suggest that hiisi had not yet emerged in Proto-Finnic. Evidence of parallel development is one of the fundaments of etymological analysis, We therefore require a comparable type of Scandinavian loan, which would have adapted to Finnic estems, and in which t would precede final i enabling assibilation to take place, in keeping with the conditions of the Finnish language. There does not seem to be any evidence of this type among the few e-stems which do exist. The absence of a parallel example nonetheless fails to For the unconditional and conditional circumstances of assibilation in present day Finnish see Koski 1979.

15

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confirm that the principle of complete analogical levelling cannot have applied to a Scandinavian loan. The etymology of the Finnic word hiisi is thus not entirely unambiguous. It is tempting to associate hiisi with the Lapp word siei'de, but phonological criteria prevent this from being a fully acceptable proposition. The Lapp word sii'dâ may be phonologically closer to hiisi, but not unreservedly so, and the semantic compatibility is questionable. Association with either Lapp word still fails to elucidate the etymological origin of the word. The connection with the Germanic words meaning 'side' and 'to work magic' is semantically doubtful, The Scandinavian etymology seems to be appropriate from the point of view of semantics and linguistic geography16 , and, in addition, the phonological uncertainty (assibilation) remains no more than an assumption. Bibliography Bergsland, K. 1964. Suomen hiisi. Virittäjä. Helsinki. Collinder, B. 1953. Lapparna. Stockholm. Granberg, G. 1935. Skogsrået i yngre nordisk folktradition. Uppsala. Grønvik, O. 1990. Der Runenstein von Tanum — ein religionsgeschichtlisches Denkmal aus urnordischer Zeit. Old Norse and Finnish religion and cultic place-names. Ed. by T. Ahlbäck. (Scripta Instituti Donneriani Äboensis 13.) Åbo. Haavio, M. 1947. Das Renntierlied des Miihkaili Shemeikka. Journal de la Société Finno-Ougrienne 53. Helsinki — 1952. Kirjokansi. Porvoo. — 1959. Karjalan jumalat. Porvoo. — 1961. Kuolematonten lehdot. Porvoo. Hahmo, S.-L. 1986. Zweisilbige ostseefinnische Nominalstämme auf -e im Lichte der Lehnwörter. (Soviet finno-ugric studies 22, 3.) Tallinn. Harva, U. 1948. Suomalaisten muinaisusko. Porvoo. Hellquist, E. 1964. Svensk etymologisk ordbok. Lund. There are a lot of Scandinavian (or late Germanic) and old Swedish loans which are common to Finnish, Karelian, Ingrian and Estonian (a number of these appear only in the northern dialects but are not restricted merely to the northeast coast, which is prone to Finnish influence; a number of them appear in the southern dialects as well); some of these words are also known in Lydian, northern or central Vepsian and in Votian; eg. haalata, halti(j)a, joulu, kari, keikka, keppi (also in Livian), lačo, letti, lieva, hippo (also in Livian), lohi(kdärme) (SKES 1955-81; RES 1968-83; Nirvi 1971; VMS 1982; Zaitseva & Mullonen 1972). 16

A Finnic Holy Word and its Subsequent History 439 Hofstra, T. 1988. Uusi ehdotus sen germaanisesta alkuperästä. Omaa vai lainattua. Itämerensuomen germaanisiin lainasanoihin liittyviä kirjoitelmia 1. [Ed. by] S.- L. Hahmo et al. (Suomi 143.) Helsinki. Häkkinen, K. 1983. Suomen kielen vanhimmasta sanastosta ja sen tutkimisesta. (Publications of the Department of Finnish and General Linguistics of the University of Turku 17.) Turku. Itkonen, E. 1976. Alteste Elemente der lappischen Volksüberlieferung. Journal de la Société Finno- Ougrienne 53. Helsinki. - 1977. Die Umwandlung einiger a- und ä-Stämme zu e-Stämmen im Urfinnischen. Journal de la Société Finno- Ougrienne 75. Helsinki. Itkonen, T. 1968. Einige Fragen der urfinnischen Laut- und Formengeschichte. Congressus secundus internationalis fenno- ugristarum 1. Helsinki. - 1971. Aunuksen äänneopin erikoispiirteet ja aunukselaismurteiden synty. Virittäjä. Helsinki - 1983. Välikatsaus suomen kielen juuriin. Virittäjä 2-3. Helsinki. Itkonen, T. I. 1945. Suomen lappalaisten muinaisuskosta. Kalevalaseuran vuosikirja 23-24. Porvoo. Kettunen, L. 1955. Etymologische Untersuchung über estnische Ortsnamen. (Annales Academiae Scientiarum Fennicae B, 90, 1.) Helsinki. KKS Karjalan kielen sanakirja 1-3. 1968-83. (Lexica Societatis FennoUgricae 16, 1-3.) Helsinki. Korhonen, M. 1981. Johdatus lapin kielen historiaan. (Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia 370.) Helsinki. Koski, M. 1967-70. Itämerensuomalaisten kielten hiisi -sanue 1-2. (Ännales Universitatis Turkuensis C, 5, 7.) Turku. - 1977. The change of semantic structure in some Balto-Finnic place names. Onoma 21, 1-2. Louvain. - 1979. Nykysuomen assibilaatio. Virittäjä. Helsinki. Laanest, A. 1982. Einfährung in die ostseefinnischen Sprachen. Hamburg. Matveyev 1976 = Mairsees, A. K. TolicannsalmecicHe sTramonorrim VII. Coseracoe Ormuao-yrporsep,eyme XII: 3. TaJIJINH. Nirvi, R.E. 1971. Inkeroismurteiden sanakirja. (Lexica Societatis FennoUgricae 18.) Helsinki. Nissilä, V. 1967. Die Dorfnamen des alten liidischen Gebietes. (Mémoires de la Société Finno-Ougrienne 144.) Helsinki. Nuutinen, O. 1987. Kalannimi seipi. Fennistica festiva in honorem Göran Karlsson septuagenarii. (Fennistica 9.) Åbo. Pettersson, O. 1987. Old Nordic and Christian elements in Saami ideas about the realm of the dead. Saami religion. Ed. by T. Ahlbäck. (Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis 12.) Åbo. PK 1930. = rIviciumme youarH o6oHexccicon IISITHIMI 1496 H 1563 rr. 1930. Ränk, G. 1979. Hiiehobune. Eesti Teadusliku Selasi Rooisis aastaraamat 8. Stockholm.

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Saareste, A. 1959. Eesti keek mäisteline seinaraamat 2. Stockholm. Sammallahti, P, 1988. Historical phonology of the Uralic language with special reference to Samoyed, Ugric and Permic. Handbook of Uralic studies. Ed. by D. Sinor. (Forthcoming.) SAOB Svenska Akademiens ordbok över svenska språket. 1898— [Ed. by] Svenska Äkademien. Stockholm. Tallgren, A. M. 1933. Iliisi ja Moisio. Virittäjä. Helsinki. SKES Toivonen, Y. H. et al. 1955-81. Suomen kielen etymologinen sanakirja 1-7. (Lexica Societatis Fenno-Ugricae 12, 1-7.) Helsinki Trier, J. 1951. Lehm, Etymologien zum Fachwerk. Marburg. Tunkelo, E. A. 1914. Eräistä vainajainpalvontaan liittyvistä suomalaisista nimityksistä. Kansatieteellisiä tutkielmia, omistettu Kaarle Krohnille. (Mémoires de la Société Finno-Ougrienne 35.) Helsinki. UEW Redei, K. 1986-88. Uralisches etymologisches Wörterbuch 1-5. Budapest. Vahtola, J. 1987. Vanhojen kansanrunojen nimistön ja todellisen nimistön välisistä yhteyksistä. Muinaisrunot ja todellisuus. [Ed, by] M. Linna, (Historian aitta 20.) Jyväskylä. VKM Vatjan kielen Kukkosin murteen sanakirja. 1980. [Ed. by] L. Posti & S. Suhonen. (Lexica Societatis Fenno-Ugricae 19.) Helsinki. Vilkuna, A. 1956. Das Verhalten der Finnen in "heiligen" (pyhä) Situationen. (FF Communications 164.) Helsinki. Vorren, O. 1987. Sacrificial sites, types and function. Saami religion. Ed. by T. Ahlbäck. (Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis 12.) Åbo. Vries, J. de 1962. Allnordisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Leiden. VMS Väike murdesönatik 1. 1982. [Ed. by] V. Pall. Tallinn. Zaitseva & Mullonen 1972 = NL H. Bativrcesa — M. H. MyaıloHeli. Caaoaapb Benccicoro $13b1Ka. JlemixrpaA.

Einige Personennamen und Götternamen in schwedischen Ortsnamen VON SVEN BENSON

Das Wissen iiber die religiösen Verhältnisse Schwedens im ersten Jahrtausend unserer Zeitrechnung ist aus den verschiedensten Quellen gewonnen worden. Die Ärchäologen finden in der Erde Gegenstände, die religiösen Symbolwert gehabt haben mögen. Archäologen und Kunsthistoriker interpretieren in Zusammenarbeit mit Religionshistorikern das Bildmaterial auf Steinen und losen Gegenständen. Die altisländische Literatur, besonders die Edda Snorris und die Poetische Edda, bieten ein grosses Material dar, das wahrscheinlich auch für den östlichen Norden relevant ist. Von Tacitus bis Adam von Bremen finden wir in aussernordischen Texten Äuskünfte über kultische Verhältnisse im Norden. Etliche Runentexte enthalten kurze Phrasen, die sich auf religiöse Verhältnisse beziehen. Die Runensteine des elften Jahrhunderts sind besonders reich an christlichen und heidnischen Symbolen. Ich habe nich die Absicht, hier einen Katalog über das ganze Material zu erstellen. Statt dessen will ich einen besonderen Quellentypus behandeln, nämlich die Órtsnamen. Es ist bekannt, dass die Órtsnamen vieles über die Religion vergangener Zeiten erzählen können. Nicht zuletzt können sie die Verhältnisse in den Jahrhunderten des grossen Religionswechsels beleuchten. Zunächst sei an einige wohlbekannte Tatsachen erinnert. Eine grosse Menge unserer Órtsnamen können in sprachlicher Hinsicht als zusammengesetzte Wörter betrachtet werden. Ihr erstes Glied ist oft ein Personenname, ihr zweites Glied kann z. B. die Bezeichnung einer Naturformation oder einer Siedlung sein. Religionsgeschichtlich interessant werden die Órtsnamen, wenn das erste Glied ein Göttername ist oder wenn das zweite Glied eine Lokalität bezeichnet, wo möglicherweise kultische Tätigkeiten ausgeübt wurden. Beide Bedingungen werden von dem dänischen Stadtnamen Odense erfüllt. Ädam von Bremen verwendet die Form Odansue, Das erste Glied ist der Göttername Oden, das zweite das Substantivum vi, das ein heidnisches Heiligtum bezeichnete.

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Die Götternamen, die wir in schwedischen Órtsnamen finden, sind vor allem Tor, Oden, Frö, Fröja, Njärd und Ull. Substantivische Namenelemente, die auf Kultplätze schliessen lassen, sind u.a, vi, harg, land, lund, tuna und åker. Von jetzt verschwundenen Substantiven kann das Wort *al erwähnt werden, das 'Tempel' bedeutete. Die meisten der genannten Namenelemente, z. B. harg, land, lund, tuna und åker sind auch in profanen Zusammenhängen verwendet und mit nicht-theophoren Bestimmungswörtern verbunden worden. Unter schwedischen Órtsnamen, die allgemein für theophore Namen gehalten werden, kann man Torshälla (ält. Thorshærghi u.d.), Torslunda, Torstuna, Torsåker; Onsala, Onslunda, Odensala Othinsharg), Odensvi, Odensåker; Fröseke, Fröslunda, Frösvi; Frölunda, Frötuna, Frövi, Fryele, Friel; Närlunda, Närtuna; Ulleråker, Ultuna erwähnen. Neben den von heidnischer Religion geprägten Órtsnamen lag zu der Zeit, wo das Christentum in Schweden eingeführt wurde, ein grosser profaner Órtsnamenschatz vor. In vielen dieser Namen bildeten Personennamen das erste Glied. Besonders gewöhnlich waren Personennamen in Órtsnamen, die mit löv, lev zusammengesetzt waren. Die in diesen Namen vorliegenden Personennamen hatten einen altertümlichen Charakter. Der schonische Órtsname Görlöv hat vermutlich den Personennamen Götar (aus ält. GautaharjaR), einen ursprünglich zweigliedrigen Namen, enthalten. In Arlöv liegt der eingliedrige Personenname Ari vor. Órtsnamen, die auf hög (oder daraus entwickeltes ie) enden, enthalten auch altertümliche Personennamen. In Hammenhög und ( Västra und Ostra) Vemmenhög liegen die Männernamen Haurund und Wemund vor. In Arrie (1120 Arrøgum) hat man den oben genannten Namen Ari sehen wollen. Zu dieser Zeit waren jedoch andere einheimische eingliedrige Namen wie Karl, Sven, Knut, Kætil und Gisle und vormals zweigliedrige Namen wie Erik, Gunnar, Harald und Olof (Olav) häufiger. Diese Namen kommen auch in isländischen Sagas oft vor, deren Handlung im früheren Mittelalter und in verschieden Teilen des Nordens spielte. Das Christentum brachte neue Männernamen wie Andreas, Benedictus, Johannes, Laurentius, Mattias, Paulus und Petrus mit sich. Diese Namen liegen in heutigen Órtsnamen in der Regel als Anders, Bengt, Jon, Lars, Matt(i)s, Pcil, Påvel und Per vor. Die Untersuchung, mit der ich beschäftigt bin, gilt u.a. der Konkurrenz zwischen alten, nordischen Personennamen und neueingeführten, christlichen Namen bei der Órtsnamenbildung in Schweden. Der Hauptteil unserer Gemeindenamen, die Mehrzahl unserer Dorfnamen und

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viele unserer Hofnamen wurden im Mittelalter oder früher gebildet. Im Laufe der Zeit erlitten viele Órtsnamen Denotationsklassenänderungen, Bei der Durchsicht einiger reichsumfassender schwedischer Órtsnamenverzeichnisse späterer Zeiten fand ich, dass die genannten nordischen und christlichen Namen immer noch eine quantitativ führende Stellung in dem schwedischen Órtsnamenschatz einnehmen. Von den alten Götternamen ist nur Tor in späteren Zeiten produktiv gewesen, doch nicht als Göttername, sondern als Personenname. Der häufige Gebrauch des Namens Olof, Olav (und daraus entwickelter Namenformen) bei mittelalterlicher nordischer Órtsnamenbildung hängt mit dem gewaltsamen Tode und der Heiligsprechung des norwegischen Königs Ólav Haraldsson zusammen. Die eigenartige Situation entstand, dass ein alter, nordischer Name in besonders hohem Grad mit dem neuen, christlichen Kultus verbunden wurde. Demselben kultischen Gebrauch unterlagen die Heligennamen Erik und Knut nicht, obwohl auch der schwedische Heiligenname Erik und der dänische Heiligenname Knud von Königen getragen wurden. Der Name Olof, Olav und die daraus entwickelten Namenformen erfordern eine Sonderuntersuchung und werden hier nicht behandelt. Die Personennamen, die hier als Órtsnamenelemente untersucht werden, sind die einheimischen, nordischen Namen Sven, Karl, Erik und Knut und die eingeführten, christlichen Namen Per, Anders, Jon und Bengt. Lars, Matt(i)s und Pill treten spärlicher als die anderen christlichen Personennamen in Órtsnamen auf. Matt(i)s kommt vor allem in gotländischen Órtsnamen vor und ist in den übrigen Teilen Schwedens als Órtsnamenelement sehr spärlich belegt. Die Órtsnamen, die irgendeinen von den erwähnten Männernamen enthalten, habe ich statistisch in geographischer, typologischer und funktioneller Hinsicht untersucht. Für meine Untersuchung benötigte ich eine Quelle, die die Órtsnamen in allen Teilen Schwedens einheitlich vorlegt. Ich entschied mich für C. M. Rosenberg, Geografiskt-statistiskt handlexikon öfver Sverige (Rosenberg 1982 (1881-83)). Rosenberg benutzt vor allem die Grundsteuerrollen des Jahres 1878 als Primärmaterial. Das bedeutet, dass die Namen aller Dörfer und auch selbständiger Höfe ausserhalb der Dorfschaft im Prinzip erwähnt werden. Dazu kommt eine nicht geringe Menge Namen, die Naturformationen und administrative Einheiten verschiedener Ärt bezeichnen. Das Lexikon Rosenbergs enthält etwa 70000 Namen. Ich schätze, dass etwa 62000 davon Siedlungen bezeichnen. Der erste Schritt meiner Untersuchung ist, die Verteilung

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der Órtsnamen während des Jahres 1878 festzustellen, die die untersuchten Personennamen enthalten, Bei der Untersuchung der Verteilung wird folgende Methode verwendet. Zuerst wird berechnet, wieviele Siedlungsnamen in jedem Regierungsbezirk ("län") vorkommen. Die gefundenen Werte werden in Prozentzahlen umgewandelt. Ich habe danach untersucht, wie hoch der Prozentanteil der Órtsnamen mit den betreffenden Personennamen in jedem einzelnen Regierungsbezirk ist. Die beiden Prozentzahlen jedes einzelnen Bezirks werden miteinander verglichen, Von allen Órtsnamen, die den Männernamen Karl enthalten, werden 7,02% in dem Regierungsbezirk Södermanlands län angetroffen. In diesem Regierungsbezirk liegen 7,15% aller Órtsnamen Rosenbergs vor. Wenn die erste Zahl durch die zweite dividiert wird, bekommen wir die Quote 0,98. Diese Zahl liegt der Nullhypothese sehr nahe, die besagt, dass die Quote jedes einzelnen Regierungsbezirks 1,00 sein soll. Wenn die Quote eines Regierungsbezirks grösser als 1,3 ist, betrachte ich die relative Frequenz oder Dichte des Namenelements in diesem Bezirk als hoch. Wird die Quote höher als 2,0, betrachte ich die relative Frequenz als sehr hoch. Eine Quote, die 0,8 oder niedriger ist, zeugt von niedriger relativer Frekvenz. Die niedrigste Quote, 0,0, entsteht, wenn das Namenelement in einem Regierungsbezirk völlig fehlt. Wir werden bemerken, dass hohe Werte oft in Regierungsbezirken vorkommen, die aneinander grenzen und grössere, zusammenhängende Gebiete bilden. Für alle untersuchten Namen und Bezirke sind die absoluten Zahlen so gering, dass unerwartet hohe oder niedrige Werte für einzelne Bezirke entstehen können. Man muss die relative Frequenz grösserer Gebiete beachten (vgl. Benson 1989, 9 ff.). Der Name Sven kommt bei Rosenberg als Namenelement in 136 Órtsnamen vor. Diese Namen sind in den südwestlichsten Teilen Schwedens am zahlreichsten belegt, Die Bezirke Blekinge, Kristianstads, Malmöhus, Hallands, Göteborgs och Bohus, Älvsborgs, Skaraborgs, Jönköpings und Värmlands län bilden ein zusammenhängendes Gebiet, wo 102 Órtsnamen vorkommen, die den Personennamen Sven enthalten. Das bedeutet 75,0% aller solcher Namen. In diesem Gebiet begegnen 42,5% aller Órtsnamen. Die Quote beträgt 1,8. In dem angrenzenden Bezirk Kronobergs län ist die Quote 1,0, Besonders hoch (2,6) ist die Quote in Schonen (Malmöhus und Kristianstads län), und auch in Värmlands län erreicht sie immerhin einen Wert von 2,1. In den übrigen Teilen Schwedens ist die relative Frequenz dagegen gering. Die Quote des ganzen Restgebiets ist 0,4. Dass der Personenname Sven zu allen Zeiten im südlichen und west-

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lichen Schweden am häufigsten gewesen ist, hat Roland Ótterbjörk in Svenska förnamn (Ótterbjörk 1964) hervorgehoben, Seine Beobachtung wird, was das Mittelalter betrifft, von Staffan Hellberg in Sprak och tradition (Hellberg 1983, 78-85) bestätigt. Die Órtsnamengruppe im untersuchten Material, die den Personennamen Karl enthält, ist schwierig abzugrenzen, Schon im Mittelalter konnte -1- in der Verbindung -rls- fallen, wobei sich z. B. der Name Karlstorp zu Karstorp entwickelte. In älteren Urkunden wechseln oft Karlstorp und Karstorp als Bezeichnungen derselben Lokalität. Der Name Karlsröd entwickelte sich im nordwestlichen Götaland über Karsröd zu Karseröd ebenso wie Svensrud zu Svenserud und Persröd zu Perseröd, Äusserdem konnte -r- zuweilen in der Verbindung -rlsausfallen, wobei ein Erstbestandteil Kals- entstand. Änderseits kommen in Rosenbergs Material etliche zusammengesetzte Namen vor, deren Erstbestandteil Karse- oder Karsa- war und die offenbar niemals den Männernamen Karl enthalten haben oder damit assoziiert worden sind. Ich habe in meine Statistik die Namen aufgenommen, die nun Karl-, Karls-, Kars- und Kals- enthalten, und daneben auch Karseröd. Einige der Órtsnamen haben den Männernamen Karl ursprünglich nicht enthalten, sondern sind sekundär damit assoziiert worden, In den meisten Fällen mit Kars- und Kals- gibt es jedoch ältere Schriftformen mit Karls-. In der Gruppe, die in dieser Weise abgegrenzt worden ist, liegen 242 Órtsnamen vor. Ich bin mir dessen bewusst, dass einzelne dieser Namen vielleicht niemals von den Namengebern oder Namengebrauchern mit dem Männernamen Karl verknüpft worden sind. Die Órtsnamen, die zu dieser Gruppe gehören, zeigen eine hohe relative Frequenz in Östergötlands, Jönköpings, Skaraborgs und Örebro län, d,h, in den Regierungsbezirken um den Vättersee, und nördlich davon in Kopparbergs und Gävleborgs län. Für dieses Gebiet erhalten wir die Quote 1,7 als Äusdruck der relativen Frequenz des Órtsnamenelements Karl. Der Personenname Erik hat in Órtsnamen die beiden Kompositionsformen Eriks- und Ers-. Die letztgenannte Form ist als Kompositionsform der verkürzten Variante Erk zu betrachten, Eriks- und Erskönnen in gewissen Gegenden, doch nicht im südlichsten Schweden, miteinander wechseln, 115 Órtsnamen enthalten Erik in einer dieser beiden Varianten. Das Kartenbild dazu ist diffus. Hohe relative Frequenz begegnet in Östergötlands, Älvsborgs, Skaraborgs, Kopparbergs und Västernorrlands län, sehr hohe Frequenz in Västerbottens län.

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Der Männername Knut liegt in weniger Órtsnamen als die oben behandelten Männernamen vor, insgesamt 79 Órtsnamen, Auch hier ist das Kartenbild diffus. Hohe relative Frequenz kommt in Kristianstads, Hallands, Jönköpings, Södermanlands und Orebro län vor. Sehr hohe relative Frequenz wird in Kopparbergs län erreicht. In Gävleborgs und Jämtlands län finden wir dagegen nur je einen Beleg. Sonst fehlt Knut ganz als Órtsnamenelement in dem norrländischen Material Rosenbergs. Ällgemein gesehen hat Knut als Órtsnamenelement eine südlichere Órientierung als Erik. Das am häufigsten belegte Órtsnamenelement der christlichen Gruppe ist Per. 101 Órtsnamen mit diesem Namenelement liegen vor. Das Kartenbild ist unklar. Sehr hohe relative Frequenz wird in Kristianstads, Hallands, Jönköpings, Värmlands und Kopparbergs län erreicht, hohe relative Frequenz in Blekinge, Kalmar, Skaraborgs, Västmanlands und Norrbottens län. Anders ist in Órtsnamen spärlicher belegt, Nur 57 Siedlungsnamen, die Anders als Erstbestandteil enthalten, liegen bei Rosenberg vor. Einige der Órtsnamen dürften ursprünglich mit dem heidnischen Namen Andor (< Arnfior) gebildet worden sein. Die Belege sind über ganz Schweden verteilt. Die statistische Untersuchung zeigt sehr hohe Frequenz in Uppsala, Gotlands, Skaraborgs, Kopparbergs und Västerbottens län, hohe relative Frequenz in Hallands, Jönköpings und Västmanlands län. Der Name Jon stellt als Órtsnamenelement ein eindeutigeres Bild dar. Von den '73 Órtsnamen ist der Hauptteil in den südlichen und westlichen Teilen Schwedens konzentriert. In einem zusammenhängenden Gebiet, das aus Kristianstads, Hallands, Älvsborgs, Skaraborgs und Värmlands län besteht, finden wir 63,0% aller Siedlungsnamen, die den Männernamen Jon enthalten. In diesem Gebiet finden wir nur 25,2% aller Siedlungsnamen Schwedens, und die Quote beträgt 2,5. Bengt, schliesslich, ist das am spärlichsten belegte der analysierten Órtsnamenelemente. Nur 42 Namen sind belegt, und diese sind hauptsächlich in einem Gebiet Mittelschwedens konzentriert. In Skaraborgs, Värmlands, Örebro, Västmanlands, Kopparbergs und Uppsala län liegen 73,5% aller der Namen vor, die Bengt enthalten. Da nur 22,6% aller Siedlungs-Namen Schwedens in diesem Gebiet vorkommen, ist die Quote, die die relative Frequenz ausdrückt, nicht geringer als 3,3. Diese Quote ist die höchste, die ich in einem grösseren, zusammenhängenden Gebiet gefunden habe. Was die geographische Verbreitung bzw. Konzentration betrifft, gibt es keine prinzipiellen Unterschiede zwischen den gewöhnlichsten ein-

Einige Personennamen und Götternamen 447 Sven als Órtsnamenelement 0 < 0,8 0,8-1,3 1,3-2,0 > 2,0

0 ® (4

•

Rosenberg n = 136

Karte 1. Relative Frequenz des Namens Sven als Órtsnamenelement

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Karl als Órtsnamenelement

< 0,8 0 0,8-1,3 ® 1,3-2,0 iii Rosenberg n = 242

Karte

2.

Relative Frequenz des Namens Karl als Órtsnamenelement

Einige Personennamen und Götternamen 449 Erik als Órtsnamenelement < 0,8 0 0,8-1,3 1,3-2,0 > 2,0 • Rosenberg n = 115

Karte 3. Relative Frequenz des Namens Erik als Órtsnamenelement

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Knut als Órtsnamenelement

0 < 0,8 0,8-1,3 1,3-2,0 > 2,0

0 0 4)

•

Rosenberg n = 79

Karte 4. Relative Frequenz des Namens Knut als Órtsnamenelement

Einige Personennamen und Götternamen 451 Per als Órtsnamenelement 0 < 0,8 0,8-1,3 1,3-2,0 > 2,0

—

0 ®

9

•

Rosenberg n = 101

Karte 5. Relative Frequenz des Namens Per als Órtsnamenelement

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Anders als Órtsnamenelement

< 0,8 0,8-1,3 1,3-2,0 > 2,0

0 •

Rosenberg n = 57

Karte 6. Relative Frequenz des Namens Anders als Órtsnamenelement

Einige Personennamen und Götternamen 453

Jon als Órtsnamenelement

0 < 0,8 0,8-1,3 1,3-2,0 > 2,0

— 0 ® 0

•

Rosenberg n = '73

Karte 7. Relative Frequenz des Namens Jon als Órtsnamenelement

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Bengt als Órtsnamenelement 0 < 0,8 0 0,8-1,3 ® 1,3-2,0 fii > 2,0 • Rosenberg n = 42

Karte 8. Relative Frequenz des Namens Bengt als Órtsnamenelement

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heimischen und den gewöhnlichsten eingeführen Namen als Órtsnamenelemente, Der einheimische Name Sven und der eingeführte Name Jon haben beide südliche und westliche Órientierung. Der einheimische Name Karl und der eingeführte Name Bengt sind beide zentralschwedisch orientiert, wenn auch mit verschiedenen Kartenbildern, Die nordischen Namen Erik und Knut haben ebenso wie die neueingeführten Namen Anders und Per eine Verbreitung ohne geographischen Schwerpunkt. In Norrland sind der eingeführte Name Anders und der nordische Name Erik üblicher, als man hätte erwarten können. In absoluten Zahlen erreicht die einheimische Gruppe eine doppelt so grosse Verwendung wie die eingeführte. Nach meiner Rechnung stehen die beiden Namentypen in einem Verhältnis von 572 : 273. Die vier hochfrequenten einheimischen Namen, die hier behandelt worden sind, werden nicht mit Grundwörtern des Typs zusammengesetzt, der mit heidnischen Götternamen verbunden wurde oder sonst von heidnischen Kulten zeugen kann. Dasselbe gilt natürlich auch für die christlichen Personennamen. In den Jahrhunderten, wo das Christentum in Schweden an Boden gewann, wurde torp (thorp) ein sehr häufiges Grundwort. Der Gebrauch dieses neuen Grundworts kam vom Süden, es breitete sich über Götaland und Svealand nach Norden aus aber kam am Dalelf zum Stehen. Dieses Grundwort zeugt von einer starken, inneren Kolonisation während und nach der Wikingerzeit. Es dürfte in den meisten Fällen 'Änsiedlung' bedeutet haben, selbst wenn die Bedeutung allmählich an Prägnanz verlor. Neue, christliche Personennamen wurden also gerade zu der Zeit gebräuchlich, als das Grundwort thorp stark produktiv wurde. Ein tieferer Zusammenhang dürfte jedoch nicht vorliegen, Die acht Vornamen werden in Rosenbergs Material in wechselndem Umfang mit torp verbunden, Von allen Órtsnamen, die Sven enthalten, sind 46% Zusammensetzungen mit torp. Die entsprechenden Prozentzahlen betragen für Karl 26, für Erik 25, für Knut 37, für Per 47, für Anders 32, für Jon 41 und für Bengt 36. Karl und Erik werden proportional gesehen nicht so oft wie die anderen Namen mit torp verbunden, Dagegen werden diese beiden Namen öfters mit den mehr oder weniger nobilitierenden Grundwörtern berg, borg, dal, fors, holm, lund, nas und vik verbunden. Meine Untersuchungen berufen sich wie gesagt auf ein Material vom Jahre 1878, Älle Órtsnamen, die heutzutage einen von den behandelten Personennamen enthalten, sind natürlich nicht im Mittelalter gegeben worden. Besonders Namen von Iiöfen und kleineren Lokalitäten

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sind späteren Datums. Das Material, das ich hier vorgelegt habe, stellt das Resultat einer Namengebung und eines Namenswandels dar, eines Prozesses, der mehr als tausend Jahre gedauert hat, Eine vorläufige Untersuchung der Órtsnamen i Skaraborgs län, die mit einem von den Namen Anders, Bengt, Karl, Erik oder Jon zusammengesetzt sind, zeigt, dass ungefähr die Hälfte der Siedlungsnamen Rosenbergs, die einen von diesen Namen enthalten, im 16. Jahrhundert oder früher zum ersten Mal belegt sind. Ich habe keinen grösseren Unterschied zwischen den verschiedenen Namen bemerkt. Die heutige Frequenzverteilung von Órtsnamen, die Personennamen enthalten, dürfte eine mittelalterliche, örtlich wechselnde Popularität der Personennamen widerspiegeln. Die untersuchten Personennamen wurden von Leuten getragen, von und nach welchen die Órtsnamen gegeben wurden. Der häufige Gebrauch sowohl der alten, nordischen als auch der neuen, christlichen Personennamen bei der Bildung von Zusammensetzungen mit thorp deutet darauf hin, dass die zwei Namengruppen schon früh namensoziologisch gleichgestellt wurden. Karl und Erik, die heute zu unseren allerhäufigsten Männernamen gehören, haben vielleicht eine besondere Rolle bei späterer Namengebung gespielt. Für die einheimischen Personennamen lassen sich die Gründe der örtlichen Variation schwer feststellen. Was die christlichen Namen betrifft, muss man davon ausgehen, dass die Kirche den lokalen und regionalen Namengebrauch beeinflusst hat. Von den etwa 850 Siedlungsnamen, die irgendeinen von den acht untersuchten Personennamen enthalten, bilden nur knapp 2% Gemeindenamen. Insgesamt handelt es sich um etwa 15 Gemeindenamen. Dazu kommen die in neuerer Zeit gegebenen Städtenamen Karlshamn, Karlskrona, Karlskoga und Karlstad, Dagegen sind von den etwa 45 Siedlungsnamen, die eine Variante des Götternamens Oden enthalten, nicht weniger als 7, d.h. etwa 15%, Gemeindenamen. Den Götternamen Tor hat man in mindestens 12 Gemeindenamen sehen wollen. In ungefähr ebenso vielen Gemeindenamen hat man die Götternamen Frö und Fröja sehen wollen. Heidnische Götternamen haben bei der Bildung von Gemeindenamen eine grössere Rolle als die untersuchten Männernamen gespielt. Die Entstehung der Gemeinden ist noch in vieler Hinsicht in Dunkel gehüllt, aber die Gemeindenamen haben offenbar nicht selten ihren Grund in heidnischen Vorstellungen und Sitten und im älteren, heidnischen Namenschatz.

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Lit erat urverzeichnis Benson, S. 1989. Några personnamn i svenska ortnamn. En namnstrukturell studie. Studia Onomastica, Stockholm. Hellberg, S. 1983. Namnet Sveinn i äldsta tid, Språk och tradition. Uppsala. Otterbjörk, R. 1964. Svenska förnamn, Stockholm. Rosenberg, C. M. 1982 (1881-83). Geografiskt-statistiskt handlexikon öfver Sverige. [Hrsg. von] Landsarkivet i Göteborg och Genealogisk ungdom. Göteborg. Bei der Durchsicht des Manuskripts war Fil. Dr. Peter Lafrenz behilflich. Ich danke ihm herzlichst.

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden BY STEFAN BRINK

1. Introduction The pagan cult in northern Sweden, i.e, Norrland, has for some decades been a neglected chapter in our history, a situation which unfortunately applies to Sweden as a whole, at least where onomastics are concerned (Cf. Hellberg 1986, 41 ff,; cf, Brink 1984a, 169 f.). Än overall picture is still missing. For orientation in this area in Norrland one would have to consult Jan de Vries' in many aspects obsolete work Altgerrrıanische Religionsgeschichte (1956-57), an even older paper by Gösta Bucht, Hedniska kultorter i mellersta Norrland (1920) and some other scattered papers (Lundgren 1878, passim; Nordlander 1881; Bucht 1923, 4 ff.; Hellberg 1984, 139 f.). This paper is therefore an attempt to overcome, if possible, this unsatisfactionary situation, The aim is thus to deliver an overview of the evidence that we have of preChristian religious activities in these northern parts — in this aspect, onomastic material is nearly almost all we have got — and some general remarks about the conversion to the new Christian religion, The area of investigation is what in the (Swedish) medieval period was known as Norrland (cf. fig. 1), hence the province of Gästrikland is left out. In other words, the part of Sweden considered here is modern Central Norrland. With our state of knowledge of today it is not so easy to pick out the place-names that have denoted some kind of pagan cult activity. The place-name material can be divided into: 1. theoforic place-names 2. place-names denoting the site of a pagan cult, which do not however contain theoforic elements 3. place-names with a possible pagan cultic element.

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

Fig.

459

1. Area of research — Central Norrland, Northern Sweden.

Óne may also wonder to what extent these pre-Christian cultic placenames have been preserved to the present day. Such a question is of course impossible to answer. The reason that we can obtain an insight into these ancient situations is due to the fact that farms and hamlets arose beside the ancient pagan cult centres and acquired their names from the neighbouring cult site (Cf. Hellberg 1986, 66). It is thus in the form of settlement-names that these cultic place-names have been preserved until today. In some instances one can perhaps reconstruct some old cultic place-name from field- or nature-names, but it seems reasonable to assume that in these cases, too, the indications are due to lost settlements. Let us begin by examing the simplex place-names Vi and Hov, both regarded as having denoted pagan cult sites (see fig, 2).

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Fig. 2. The Norrland vi- and hov-names, denoting pagan cult sites (cf. the text).

2. Place-names denoting a pagan cult site 2,1, Hov In the case of Hov, one must be careful, since this place-name element obviously also had secular meanings, denoting some kind of upheaval in the terrain or a court, house, hall etc. (Cf. Andersson 1986; cf. Ólsen 1966).' In each case, therefore, one must examine a place-name of this kind semanticly (i,e. "Realprobe"), to find out the original denotation for that particular place-name. The word hov goes back to a Protogerm. *huba- 'upheaval, vaulting'; in e.g. Norw. hov n. 'small The latter meaning is especially found on the continent.

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hillock', MHGerm. had 'hillock' (See Hellquist 1948, 365). How the sacral meaning has evolved is rather unclear (Ändersson 1986). Hov-names in Norrland are primarily found in the province of Jämtland, where there are five, perhaps six names; i.e, in the parishes of Hackås, Ås, Älsen, Norderö and Frösö (cf. fig. 3). They all have a very characteristic situation, normally being the name of the land belonging to the church or the vicarage, or situated in the immediate vicinity of the church. In most cases it is not possible to suggest an interpretation connected with some upheaval in the terrain, which makes it a most likely assumption that these names are evidence of pagan cult centres. This is also how these names have normally been regarded in the past. The present site of the church, on or in direct spatial contact with the pre-Christian cult site, must be understood as a kind of continuity of the sacral meeting place in each settlement district. A plausible assumption from this fact seems to be that there can hardly have been any state of tension between two competing religions, at least not for any longer span of time. It seems more reasonable to conclude that — as on Iceland — a collective agreement for conversion to the new religion, a decision perhaps taken at a regional council, took place. How much Óstman's, Gudfasts son, words on the only runestone from the province of Jämtland on Frösön, which says that he christianisized the whole of Jämtland — austm.13[r] kubfastarsun [lilt kristna eqta4nt — may be relied upon is uncertain, but at least one scholar emphasizes this fact and assumes that this Óstman was the head of the provincial council (fig. 4) (Jansson 1977, 119 f.; cf, Friesen 1928, 66). N. Ähnlund (Ähnlund 1948, 125) commented on the hov-settlements of Jämtland and regards these places as having in older times possessed "a public temple, which we may see in relation with a meeting place". He furthermore stresses the fact that only one hov-name is found within a thing-district (Swed. tingslag). This could be taken as an indication that the pagan cult and legal matters were closely linked during pre-Christian times, It is more uncertain whether Hovsliigden (Hoffzlegde 1568, JR 2, 49) and Hovsåkern in the hamlet Prisgård in the parish of Lit are reminiscences of an older *Hov, which Carl Lindberg (Lindberg 1933, 28) has advanced as a hypothesis, The site is peripheral, several kilometres from the church and the central settlements in the parish (fig. 5). The settlements in Lit and Häggenås are particularly interesting and require a study of their own. Here we find some probably ancient settlements — judging from their names — in peripheral sites in the

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden,

463

Fig. 4. The rune-stone from Frösön, Jämtland. The inscription says: austmOr kubfastan. sun lit rai... pink aukirua bru bisauk h[on kristna ettal4nt bru triun raist auk tsain runen. bisal. "Östman, son of Gudfast, erected this stone and made this bridge, and he christianizised Jämtland. Åsbjörn made the bridge, Tryn carved and Sten these runes". Cf. Jansson 1977, 119.

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Fig. 5. The settlements in the parishes of Lit and Häggenas, Jämtland (cf. the text).

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woodland. There seem to be no ancient monuments. A characteristic feature worth noticing is what is probably the most extensive system of hunting pits for elks in Sweden, found in the woods around the river Hårkan (See Selinge 1974; see Selinge 1976, 17 ff.). In this settlement site is to be found the northern, small settlement of Husås, with the two field-names Hovslägden and Hovsåkern.2 Place-names in Hov are furthermore found in the provinces of Ångermanland, Medelpad and Hälsingland, although in a lesser number than in Jämtland. The hov-settlements in Ångermanland, of which there are only two,' have the same central situation in the parish as those in Jämtland (cf. fig. 6). Hov in the parish of Torsåker, Ångermanland, is the name of the church-village. We find here an interesting complex of names, bearing witness to some kind of cultic occupation, which may have been relevant to a wider area than just this parish. Here we find the name Hov. The name of the parish is furthermore Torsåker, which may be assumed a priori to come from the fact that the first church was built on what may have been a cultic field (Swed. åker), sanctified to the pagan god Tor, Äs a parish-name one can thus assume an origin as a name of the church site.4 It is also worth noticing that a hamlet Harv (Harff 1535, RÄ ghj) is situated just north of Torsåkers church. Äs Ällan Rostvik (Rostvik 1969) has shown, this name has a direct cognate in harg, which in at least some cases denoted a pagan cult site, In close relation we thus find three names Hov, Torsåker and Harv which may bear witness to a pagan cult (see below). The other hov-place in Ångermanland is today incorporated in the town of Härnösand. This Hov settlement was obviously in ancient times situated on the island of Härnön (Bucht 1935, 7 f.) and it seems that the first church was erected on land belonging to Hov, The parish of Härnö was during medieval time an annexe to the parish of Sabra,. From older ordnance survey maps one can conclude where this Hov must have been located. Ä land called Hovsjorden, situated to the south and east of the church in the town, contained the two settlements Hoy and Fågelsta, In the year 1586 the king granted three farms in Hov to what was then the newly founded town of Härnösand. Evidently Hov can be located just southeast of the church, For a special interpretation of Husås and Huse see Hellberg 1984, 140 f. Hov in the parish of Häggdånger is obviously a loan from Hov on Härnön (Bucht 1920, 4; Bucht 1935, 7; SOVn 1, 18), where the town of Härnösand is situated today, and Hov in the parish of Anundsjö seem to be fairly young (Bucht 1920, 4; SOVn 4, 7). It is perhaps a loan from Hov in Torsåker? 4 For different kinds of parish-names, see Öberg 1979, 33. 2

3

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We may have to reckon with a third hov-name in Ångermanland, namely Höven (Hoffuom 1559, RÄ lb) in the parish of Nora. Today this is the name of the vicarage here. The name has been interpreted as a composition Hov-vin, but V. Jansson (Jansson 1951, 24) assumes that the name is more probably an inflected form, hovinu, of hov, an interpretation however, which T. Bucht (SÓVn 1, 33 f,) does not seem to accept. Looking at the settlement situation, this Höven corresponds to the other two hov-places in this province. It seems possible to advance the hypothesis that the vicarage in the parish of Nora in older times had the name *Hoy, a name that during the 16th and 17th centuries became changed to Höven. Änother Höven (Höffön 1535, RÄ ghj) is found in Ångermanland, in the parish of Resele. This name has also been interpreted as an older *Hov-vin, but T. Bucht (SÓVn 2, 38 f.) also mentions the possibility of this name being coined after the presumably older Höven in Nora parish. In the province of Medelpad we also find two hov-names, Hov in the parish of Selånger and Hovid in the parish of Älnö (cf. fig. 7). The former is the name of a hamlet with a very central situation, just to the west of the church and the medieval royal estate of this province. The hamlet is situated on the Kungsnäs, an outcrop of land which in older times was situated in the bay of Selångersfjärden. Hovid, situated on the northernmost head of the island of Alnön, has older spellings which could allow one to assume the name to be an older hov-name. The site, ca. 4 kilometres north of Älnö church, on the very edge or head of the island, has led G. Bucht (Bucht 1920, 3 f.) to the suggestion that the name simply contains the Swedish word huvud 'head'. The topographical circumstances actually make such an interpretation plausible. Älso worth noticing in this matter is the nearby name of Nacka, probably meaning 'neck', It should be noted that we also find a vi-name on Älnön. Óne possibility is that Hov on Älnön could have been the collective cult centre for the districts, later parishes of Älnö, Skön and Timrå, a meeting place that was reached by water. The distance from the church, the occurrence of a vi-place in the vicinity and the location beside a hill makes a non-cultic meaning also possible for this name, Hovid must hence be regarded with some scepticism. In the province of Hälsingland we find only two hov-names, i.e. in the parishes of Ärbrå and Söderala (cf. fig. 8). They both have a very central situation in the Iron Äge settlement. No land upheaval or small hill, which could be thought as being references for the names, is to be found in either case. Furthermore, these two hov-

STEFAN BRINK

468

Komsta ■

Ku gsnäs ■ Tirsta

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■

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s

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• Alva • Usland

• Frost Sundsval!

Lunde • Värsta Bergen Allsta Bergom

Klingsta

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Speck sta Attmars ka .f,k Karläng So räng Luck sta ■

Fig. 7. Vi- and hov-names in the province of Medelpad, in their settlement context. Notice especially the close relation to the parish-church (except for Vi in Tuna).



Cult Sites in Northern Sweden



469 Deists°

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Fig. 8, Vi- and hov-names in the province of Hälsingland, in their settlement context. Notice especially the close relation to the parish-church (except for Arbrå, Trönö and Tuna).

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names are the only place-names in each parish indicative of cults. It therefore seems possible to understand these places as the two pagan cult site of the settlement districts. It is worth noticin5 that the adjacent village to Hov in Arbrå is Akre. This simplex Akre is found in several parishes in Hälsingland as the name of an extremely central hamlet, usually the neighbouring village to the church. Än apparently plausible assumption is to regard this åker 'arable-land' as having in older times possessed some special function, maybe a parallel to Torsåker in Ångermanland. Such an interpretation has already been proposed for several Åkers in central Sweden and elsewhere, villages with a very central situation in each settlement-district (See Lundberg Sı Sperber 1911, 23, 26 f,; see Ólsen 1915, 90, 98 ff., 205 ff.; see Lindqvist 1918; see Brate 1918; see Wessén 1923, 10 ff., 19; see Hellberg 1986, 56). Äs the neighbouring hamlet to Hov in Söderala we find the hamlet Valla, This name may perhaps be seen in conjunction with some place-names Vall(a) in the neighbouring province to the south, Gästrikland, which all have a very central situation in each parish. The scholar Folke Hedblom (Hedblom 1958, 75 f.), our most distinguished scholar of place-names in the province of Gästrikland, writes that these vall-places may possibly have been "gathering places for profane and religious matters". LIST OF HO V-NAMES IN NORRLAND Jämtland

1. Hov, Hackås - [vid] hoffs kirkio 1408, JHD 1, 144. 2. Hov, Ås - i Hoff 1566, JR 1, 198. 3. Hov, Alsen - a hufui, in hufwi 1392, JHD 1, 124. 4. Hov, Norderö - i IIooff 1564, JR 1, 25. 5. Hov, Frösö - j hofui 1428, JHD 1, 194. 6. ?*Hov, Lit - cp. Hoffzlegde 1568, JR 2, 49. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Ångermanland Hov, Torsåker - håf 1527, SOVn 2, 59. Hov, Härnösand - Hoolf 1535, RA ghj. Höven, Nora - Hoffuom 1559, RA jb. ?Höven, Resele - Höffön 1535, RA ghj. Medelpad

11. Hov, Selånger - i Hoffwj 1365, MAU 22A; i hoff 1453, MAU 57. 12. ?Hovid, Alnö - i hoff 1535, RA ghj; hoff 1543, RA jb; Hoffue 1562, RA jb, Hälsingland

13. Hov, Arbrå - Hoff 1535, RA ghj. 14. Hov, Söderala - Hoff 1535, RA ghj.

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

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2,2. Vi The other type of name — normally a simplex — denoting a pagan cult site is Vi, The word vi has cognates in Swed. viga 'marry, sanctify' and Germ. Weihnachten 'the holy nights (Christmas)'. The word is obviously an old adjective, Protogerm. *wilta-, converted into a noun; cf. Goth. weihs 'holy' (Cf. Hellquist 1948, 1337; cf. Hellberg 1986, 47). This type of name has at least until now been fairly uncontroversial, in the respect that no alternative denotation to the cultic one has been put forward in Scandinavia. The Norrlandic Vi-names are mostly found in the provinces of Gästrikland and Hälsingland, but also have some scattered occurrences in the provinces to the north. In Hälsingland the five vi-hamlets have a rather interesting distribution (cf. fig. 8). Ón the coast, in parishes such as Trönö and Tuna, one find a noticeable distance between the church and the hamlets with names based on vi. In the more inland parish of Delsbo the Vi hamlet is the neighbouring village to the church, while in the inland parish of Ljusdal the church is erected in the Vi hamlet. This situation has been interpreted as follows (cf, Jonzon 1973, 187): Christianity was first introduced into the coastal parishes of this province, and a tension between the two competing religions therefore led to the foundation of a new, Christian cult site — frequented at that time by some of the inhabitants of this district — at a safe distance from the old, pagan one. In inland areas on the other hand, where Christianity is assumed to have penetrated at a somewhat later date, the ground was better "cultivated" so that people may have converted to the new religion as the result of a commonly taken thing-decision and therefore without severe problems about building the church on the old pagan cult site. Whether these speculations really contain any substantial truth is very difficult to say. I myself am more inclined to explain this situation as a result of an adaptation to a new settlement situation in the parishes. Finally, however, we may conclude that beside these names we may also have to reckon with another vi-name in the parish of Forsa, which will be discussed below. In the province of Medelpad we seem to have two, maybe three vinames (cf. fig. 7). Firstly Vi in the parish of Tuna. This hamlet is situated on the north side of a stream in the river Ljungan, just east of the lake Marmen, The neighbouring village to the east is Tunbyn, while the church in Tuna is situated some five kilometres to the northwest. The settlement site around Lake Marmen is somewhat difficult to interpret, which makes it hard to place the hamlet of Vi

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in a comprehensible settlement structure.5 Secondly, Vi on Älnön is not in any direct contact with the parish-church either. The hamlet is situated a kilometre or so to the south. Thirdly, we can probably with David Palm (Palm 1931, 8 f.) reconstruct another * Vi from a placename Visslandin the parish of Torp. This latter hamlet is situated just north of the church. Ä possible hypothesis is that the church has been erected on a settlement called * Vi, If this interpretation is correct, the old torp designation — which survives in the name of the parish — must be understood as the old name of a settlement-district (See Hellberg 1954, 133 ff.) Óne can not however exclude the possibility that the older name of the church-village in this case was Torp, In the province of Jämtland we find only two vi-names, a simplex Vi in the parish of Näs and a lost t Ullvi in the parish of Hackås, both thus situated in the southern part of the province (cf. fig. 3), This t Ullvi has been reconstructed by Carl Lindberg (Lindberg 1933) from a fieldname Ullvi Lagd, found in ordnance survey documents from 1769 from the village of Sanne in Hackås. He furthermore connects this name with a "Sanvij", which is mentioned in a letter from 1478, and explains the latter form as having arisen to prevent confusion between this vi and Vi in the neighbouring parish of Näs. It is worth noticing that in the parish of Hackås we find both a hov and a vi, and also that two vi-places are situated so close to each other as those in Näs and Hackås. Carl Lindberg (Lindberg 1933) and Nils Ähnlund (Ähnlund 1948, 125) interpret this situation as a chronological difference in the sense that hov would be younger and therefore superimposed on an older vi. This could of course be the case, but the possibility should not be excluded that we have rather a difference in function or maybe one of cultural influence and not of time. In the parish of Näs the church is situated in the hamlet of Oldberg (j Äalbergh 1529, DN 14, 674 or.; Ålberga 1568 JR 2, 66) and is adjacent to the hamlet of Vi. The name Oldberg, thus an older Ålberg, Notice the hamlet Vivsta (j wivestadhe 1460 MÄU 62; Wiwilstadha 1483 MÄ.0 91), neighbour to the west to Vi in Tuna. The first element in this place-name is obviously Viva, OWN. Vifill, a male personal name (Lind 1905-15, 1094 f.), but also an Old-Scandinavian term for a pagan priest (Hellberg 1979, 129; Müller 1968). Lars Hellberg (Hellberg 1979, 129; Hellberg 1986, 63) has persued the thesis that the OSwed. *vivil(l) 'pagan priest' is to be found in several Swedish place-names, and that names like Vivelsjö and Vivelsła are to be understood as kinds of heathen "vicarages". From this point of view, Vivsta in Tuna could very well qualify for interpretation as the pagan "vicarage", neighbour to Vi as it is. The possibility that the first element in this name is the well-established male name Viva, Vı'fill must however also be considered in the future. Brink 1986, 58 f. 5

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

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is interesting but yet uninterpreted, It would be attractive to see here the remainder of a cultic element *al, in this case in a variant *dl (see below), Such an interpretation have been put forward for the place-name of Ålberg in the parish of Mora in Dalecarlia by Bror Lindén (Lindén 1954, 68). Än interpretation based on topographical conditions also seems to be possible. LIST OF VI-NAMES IN

NORRLAND

Jämtland 1. Vi, Näs - j wj 1439, HID 1, 229. 2. t Ulivi, Hackås - cp. Ulivi Lägd 1769; Sanvij 1478. Medelpad 3. Vi, Tuna - i wij 1363, MAU 21. 4. Vi, Alnö - i wy 1535, RA ghj. 5. ?* Vi, Torp - cp. Visslarıd (i Wislandom 1417, MAU 37). Hälsingland 6. Vi, Ljusdal - vij 1542, RA jb. 7. Vi, Delsbo - i vi 1422 5/2, RA p or. 8. Vi, Tuna - i Wij 1391, Liedgren 1981, 40. 9. Vi, Idenor - wij 1535, RA ghj. 10. Vi, Trönö - Vij 1535, RA ghj. 11. ?* Vi, Forsa - cp. Byberg < Viberg? (aviberg 1542, RA jb).

2.3. An attempt to date the pagan cult sites in hov and vi I will also attempt to comment on the age of these pagan cult-names and cult sites, on the basis of the Norrland situation. Ón linguistic grounds we can see that the names ought to be of pre-Christian origin, from compounds with a pagan god's name as the first element. There is nothing in the Swedish linguistic material to suggest that these place-name elements were in use during medieval time. This gives us a terminus ante quem for the two elements hov and vi, Some nonlinguistic indications also give us grounds for establishing a terminus post quem. In the parishes of Söderala and especially Ärbrå we have — according to archaeological evidence — had a settlement only from the later Iron Äge; it is maybe possible to be more precise and say Viking Äge. It is the same case in Ljusdal and Delsbo, where we have place-names containing vi. In Hackås in Jämtland Carl Lindberg and Nils Ähnlund reckon that Ulivi is situated within such a settlement-situation — close to a hem-name — that vi can be regarded as belonging to an older

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STEFAN BRINK

period than hov, while Hov in this parish is surrounded by sta(d)villages, which they obviously assume are datable to a somewhat later period (cf. fig. 3). This hypothesis is possible but speculative. Ón the archaeological and onomastic evidence such a hypothesis becomes utterly vague. From these indications one may perhaps venture the conclusion that at least in Norrland the cult-indicating elements vi and hov were in use during the later Iron Äge. These cult sites would thus have been the direct predecessors to the new, Christian cult-habitations, the churches. 3. Theoforic place-names Theoforic place-names are not so numerous in Norrland.6 But these few are linked with important information regarding the pagan gods that were worshipped in the north (fig. 9). The name of the god Frö seems to be found in Frösten (< FrOstuna), the church-hamlet in Jättendal, Hälsingland and in Frösö in Jämtland, while the name of the pagan goddess Fröja seems to be found in the parish-name Frötuna (j ffrøtwnom 1513, MÄU 136) in Medelpad. Fröja was also previously assumed in several Fröland designations in Norrland, but later research has generally chosen not to regard these as theoforic names (see below). Tor is represented in the two parish-names Torsciker (De thorsakir 1314, DS 3, 148) in Gästrikland and Torsdker (De Thorsakir 1314, DS 3, 150) in Ångermanland, and probably in a lost t Torsåker in Torp, Medelpad, which was situated close to the church.' The name of the goddess *Njärd seems to be found in the island-name Norderön, which, like Frösön, is situated in the great lake Storsjön in Jämtland. The interrelationship of these two names has generally been assumed, bearing witness to a fertility cult where a couple of pagan gods Frö and *Njärd were worshipped together. This is the traditional interpretation of these names and may perhaps be correct (Wessén 1923, 9). In that case this is probably the only example in One can compare the Norrland theoforic place-names with those, for example, in the province of Uppland, which according to Lars Hellberg 1986, 54 number more than 50. 7 For the latter name, see Flemström 1960, 14. This place-name is not found in medieval letters or 16th century cadastrals. It has probably been observed in a passage in Hiilphers (Hiilphers 1771, 52) which says (in translation): "A place west of the church is still called Torsciker", cf. Nordlander 1903, 234. While this placename is somewhat doubtful, it is not found on the map of theoforic place-names in Norrland (fig. 9).

8

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

475

Frösö N or d erö

Odens la Ullvi

Tor

■

ker

Frötuna • Frösten

•

Fig. 9. The theoforic place-names in Norrland, indicating a worship of the heathen gods Ull, Frö, Tor and Oden, and the goddesses *Njeird and Fröja.

476

STEFAN BRINK

Norrland of such a fertility cult, where two gods can be distinguished in two geographically adjacent place-names. These types of name-pairs are usually found in the provinces of Östergötland and Uppland (Cf, Wessén 1921-22; cf. Wessén 1923, 8 ff.; cf. Hellberg 1986, 67). The name of the god Ull may only have a single occurrence in Norrland, i.e. in the nowadays lost t Ullvi in Hackås in Jämtland. There is also a single occurrence of the name of the god Oden in Norrland, and this is in Odensala, today a part of the town Östersund in Jämtland. The latter element in this name has been suggested to contain a word al or sal. Most probably it is a compound with the latter. Beside these theoforic place-names several place-names have earlier been assumed to contain the name of a god or goddess. These names have been given secular interpretations in later research. Such an example is the parish-name Ullånger in Ångermanland, a name which in earlier times was assumed to contain the name of the pagan god Ull as the first compound. Today it is commoner to see here an older river-name, maybe containing a stem *ull-, with a cognate in the Swedish verb valla (SOVn 1, 80). In the same way Ullberg (vllebergghe 1472 MÄU 73) in Njurunda, Medelpad, has been given a secular interpretation (Cf. Palm 1944, 39; cf. Flemström 1960, 13 f.). There is nothing from a linguistic point of view, however, to prevent an interpretation based on the pagan god Ull, which has been the opinion by some older scholars (See Nordlander 1903, 243; see Löfgren 1922, 95). The name Fröland is found in many places in Norrland. These have also earlier been understood as containing the name of the goddess Fröja. This interpretation must also in future be regarded as possible, but today scholars seem to prefer to see a word Swed, adj. frö(d), denoting good growth on land (See SÓVn 1, 69; see Flemström 1960, 13; see Brink 1984b, 67). The same meaning has been seen in Frök (Ffröck 1542, RÄ jb; < *Fra-aker?) in Nora, Ångermanland (SÓVn 1, 31). Fröstland (fröslunda 1500 MÄU 117; ffreslwndh 1519 MÄU 143; ffrOsland 1520 MÄU 146), in Bjärtra in Ångermanland is also of interest. The two oldest spellings actually point towards an older compound *Fröslunda, which in this case has left the track to become Frös(t)land. It is however uncertain how much one can rely on these two oldest spellings. Fröstland is situated some distance west of the church in Bjärtrå, surrounded by several old villages, The name must been regarded as a possible cultic name,' To this group of elusive 8 T. Bucht in SOVn 1, 6, who did not have access to the two oldest spellings for his investigation and interpretation of this place-name, gives an alternative, secular

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

477

names one may perhaps also add Frea (Fröal 1546, RÄ jb; SÓVn 2, 15) in Dal in Ångermanland and Fröst (ffrössetther 1535, RÄ ghj) on Älnön in Medelpad, which have both been thought to contain the name of the pagan god Frö.9 In Ljusdal, Hälsingland, there is a small hamlet with the name Onsäng (onsänge 1542, RÄ jb; Óndensänge 1557, RÄ tl) which has traditionally been assumed to contain the name of the pagan god Oden. Óf course this possibility cannot be excluded, but in a name containing -äng — an element which in Hälsingland seems to be of medieval or later origin in settlement-names — the name of a pagan god is not really to be expected. Most probably one can reject Onsäng as an old cultic name (Brink 1984b, 91).

4.

Other possible cult elements

4.1. lund Äpart from these theoforic place-names and the vi- and hov-names, one must probably include among the old cultic place-names one or two place-names of other origin within the Norrland name-material. In these cases, however, it is difficult to be categorical; one can only suggest the possibility and present arguments which can support such an interpretation. Óne type of names where we remain in uncertainty are the lund-names. Óbviously lund can denote some kind of cultic grove as a place-iiame element, as may be concluded from middleSwedish place-names. But a secular meaning is certified as well. Perhaps the name of the hamlet Lunde in Jättendal, Hälsingland, is such a cultical lund-name, as has been suggested by Lars Hellberg (Hellberg 1984, 138). In the province of Jämtland it seems that the name Lunderänget, denoting a neighbouring farm to the church on Norderön and to the hamlet hov, may possibly have a cultic origin. Bertil Flemström (Flemström 1983, 41 f.) keeps the possibility open, furthermore, that the hamlet Lund in Hällesjö may also have a cultic origin. Lunde in Tuna, Medelpad, seems promising in this sense as well, In this hamlet there are unusually many ancient monuments, Besides these, there are several lund-names in Norrland where only a thorough analysis can give us an hint of whether lund may have a cultic origin or not. interpretation. 9 For a profane interpretation of the latter name, see Flemström 1960, 13 (< adj. fr5(d) `luxuriant').

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STEFAN BRINK

4.2. stav Just like lund, the place-name element stav may be demonstrated as having a cultic origin in some cases. In these cases stav probably denoted some kind of staff, a symbol in the pagan cult (see below). The place-name element stav also has secular meanings, such as a border pole, a fence-construction, maybe a runestone etc, (See Palm 1940; see Ståhl 1980-82, 79 ff.; see Ólsson 1976). Where Norrland is concerned, I find at least one case interesting to consider, namely Stavåker in Forsa, Hälsingland, which I will comment on in greater detail. 4.2.1. A reconstructed pagan cult centre *Vi-Stavåker In this parish, Forsa, the small hamlet of Stavåker is situated on the north side of the small lake of Funstasjön (fig. 10). Ä rather rich Iron Äge settlement was obviously grouped around this lake. Óf vital interest in this context is the immediately adjacent hamlet of Byberg (Bibergha 1535, RÄ ghj; i wiberg 1542, RÄ jb; wiberg 1543, RÄ jb; wyberg 1544, RÄ jb; byberg 1546, RÄ jb; wibergh 1549, RA jb; Byiebergh 1569, RÄ jb). Such a name, from a linguistic point of view, gives a rather strange impression» Äs I have demonstrated in another paper (Brink 1988), this Byberg seems to be an older placename, Viberg, indicating a lost * Vi, which ought to have been located in the vicinity of Stavåker and Byberg. This name * Ví — which may thus presumably have been the name of a cult site — has never been transferred to denote a settlement and thus preserved to the present day, The name would however be found in Byberg indirectly. If this hypothesis can be proved correct, it seems plausible to interpret Stavåker as originally possessing a cultic meaning. Maybe we have had here a kind of cult field, beside the pagan cult site with the name * Vi, where staffs — "stavar" — of some kind were erected, perhaps some kind of male fertility symbols or tree staffs erected over the deceased, of the kind mentioned by Ibn Fadlan when he met "rus" in 922.11 It should also be mentioned that there is a grave-field in Stavåker. lo One must of course entertain the possibility that Byberg is an older *vidh Bcergh, containing a preposition vid 'at, by, beside', but the occurrence of the neighbouring Stavåker inclines me to another interpretation. if Two interesting place-names in this connection are Stävje, a hamlet and a parish in Torna hd (Staføghe 1267-99, LDLV, 168 or.; in Stæwøghe 1349, DS 6, 1, 4502 or.) and a hamlet in the parish of Räng, Skytts hd (in stæwøghø 1303, DS 2, 1385 or.; in Stæfføghe 1352, DS 6, 1, 4801 RELu), both in Scania. The names contains -høgh (most probably) 'tumulus, gravemound' and stav 'staff, pole' (in sing. or plur.)

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

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Fig. 10. An attempt to reconstruct a pagan cult site * Vi in the parish of Forsa, Hälsingland (cf. the text).

4.3. helig Ä place-name Helgum (< *Helgha-hem) is found three times in the province of Ångermanland, i,e. in the parishes of Säbrå, Gudmundrå and Helgum, and in Medelpad in the parish of Njurunda. The first element in these names contains the word helig 'holy'. The question is whether the meaning has been profane or sacred (Cf. Calissendorff 1964, 147 f.). This we will obviously never know, but must describe these place-names as potential cult names. Än interesting place(Pamp 1983, 40). Obviously a staff has been erected on a prominent tumulus. Ibn Fadlan mentions that "rus" worshiped a staff which had the name of the deceased carved into the tree-pole. Maybe the kind of staffs that Stävje indicates chn be seen in the light of what Ibn Fadlan describes: And then they made on that site where the ship — which was pulled up from the river — had been, something, that looks like a round mound, erected a staff or wood in the centre and wrote thereafter the name of the [deceased] man and the name of the king of Rus. (Vikingerne 1981, 59). Here translated from the Danish.

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STEFAN BRINK

name in this connection is the nature-name, Hellberg, in the parish of Järvsö, Hälsingland. It nowadays denotes a hill, containing fine sandy sediments, situated just beside the small island where the church stands (fig. 11; cf. Brink 1984b, 38), The first scholar to pay any attention to this place-name was J, Hanzén (Hanzén 1941, 15 ff.), who suggests that the name contains the word helig 'holy' and that this alluded to some cultic activity. Änother interesting place-name containing the word helig 'holy' is the name of the ancient island of Helgö." During the late Iron Äge and early Middle Äges Helgö denoted a small island, which had a completly protected situation and was fairly accessible from the large settlement-centres of Tuna, Hög and Rogsta (fig. 12). It is fascinating to try to explain Helgö in terms of the settlement situation, trade, naval organization etc., but I shall leave the subject for the moment, merely asserting that the name contains the word helig which can have a sacred meaning as well as a profane one, such as peace and protection during matters of council, trade etc. 4.4. *al? Ä separate problem of its own is formed by the place-name element al. Such a cultic element has since long been recognized in Scandinavian place-names, with an assumed close cognate in Goth. alhs `temple'. The most well-known place-names mentioned in this relation are Motala, Götala, Fröjel etc. The Norrland names which have been mentioned in this connection are the medieval district-name of Alir and the parish-names Norrala and Söderala, all in Hälsingland, Älso Odensala in Jämtland and Frea (Fröal 1546, RÄ jb) in Ångermanland have sometimes been mentioned in this respect. This connection between the place-name element al and the Goth. alhs 'temple' has been reiterated by generations of scholars during this century, but without any real research into the matter. From a linguistic point of view it has also been proposed that a variant form *dl occurred (e.g. Lindén 1954, 68). In my work with the place-names of Hälsingland I felt impelled to examine the validity of the cherished hypothesis that we have had a cultic place-name element *al in Scandinavia. To be able to make sorne decision on this matter I have gone through all the relevant Scandinavian material and made some forays into northern Europe.

12

See also the description by Calissendorff 1964, 147 f.

STEFAN BRINK

482

13.astdat Åkern

Via

.1P

Bro

• ■

,,,,

••■■ Maista • Sia■

sy lta 1/•-■ -Am.-

W W/ '"

MI ir a / AI A.

ObJEIN =If," WE T 't

MI Ma-da," MEW.

■•••

■ıell IV/ .a■fai

Vats ta

• EMI ••• 11111111111111111a/

a a img....

". ......M A...1■1110

Wi=

.a

I-Igcksta • Hovsätter

Oppby ■ Ostby

Fig. 12. Helgö in Hälsingland. The shore-line on the map is 10 metres above todays sea-level, corresponding to ca. Late Iron Age.

I hope I will be able to present this research in a complete work not anticipated here, but one result may be that there actually can be doubt as to whether a cultic element *al has existed in Scandinavia. If, however, an element *al, corresponding to Goth. alhs, has existed in Scandinavia, there may be no need to explain this in terms of

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

483

a cultic meaning. Furthermore, in most cases where scholars have reckoned with this supposed cultic *al, it is possible to consider other etymologies than the established one. I have done so with the placenames from Hälsingland and think I have found plausible alternative etymologies. Älthough I am not at this stage ready to reject the cultic element *al in Scandinavia, it may be strongly doubted in my opinion whether Norrala and Söderala have anything to do with pagan cult activities.

4.5. harg, horg

The place-name element harg, ÓWN hQrgr, has in recent years been discussed quite comprehensively. The old view was that harg, horg, with an original meaning 'heap of stones, rock', gained a secondary meaning 'cult site' from the habit of using heaps of stones as pagan sacrificial altars. Ällan Rostvik (Rostvik 1967) pursues the thesis that this hypothesis is wrong and that the cultic meaning is young, introduced during the medieval period from the literature, especially when clergymen translated the Bible and hence used the profane word harg, horg to denote biblical terms such as sacrificial hills etc. In mine and others opinion this is pushing things too far (See e.g. Hellberg 1986, 48). It seems that harg, horg has had a pronounced meaning of 'cult site, building for religious purposes', both in old West Nordic literature and in place-names, besides the profane one. Two Norrland names containing the West Nordic variant horg are Hurjom (Horgem 1542, RÄ jb) in Óverlännäs, Ångermanland and Horga (horghum 1324 26/3 RÄ p or.) in Hanebo, hälsingland, both obviously of non-sacred origin, denoting stony terrain and big rocks (Rostvik 1967, 14 f.), Ä variant form of harg, horg, as Ä. Rostvik (Rostvik 1969) has shown, is harv, showing an alternation rgh N rw. Four harv-names are found in Norrland: Harv (i Harffs 1542, RÄ jb) in Forsa, Hälsingland, Harv (i Harfue 1451 15/3, UUB p or.) in Ättmar, Medelpad, Harcom (Harfföm 1535, RÄ ghj) in Indal, Medelpad and Harv (Harff 1535, RÄ ghj) in Torsåker, Ångermanland (See Rostvik 1969, 75 f.). These may all contain the profane meaning of 'stony terrain, rocks etc.', but at least for Hary in Torsåker the lack of stones in the terrain and the situation near Hov and the church in Torsåker makes a cultic interpretation interesting (cf. fig. 6).

484

STEFAN BRINK

5. The place-names of the Christian cult centres Until now, I have dealt with the names of pagan cult sites, but the names of Christian cult centres are of course also of great interest. The latter are now normally the names of parishes. In studying these parish-names from a typological point of view, we can obtain interesting information. Ä parish-name such as Torsdker obviously tells us that we have a continuity of cult site. This simple statement ought to make it possible to draw some conclusions about the conversion in this parish. The site was furthermore obviously found suitable as a gathering place by the clergymen of the church, too. In some cases it seems that the church acquired a different site to the pagan centre for cult and other gathering purposes, a new site probably regarded as more suitable for the medieval settlement situation. This is probably the case in the parish of Ärbrå, Hälsingland, where the church has been built some kilometres south of what obviously has been the old pagan centre in this district at Hov and Akre (see fig, 8). Ä conclusion from studying the Norrlandic parish-names is that, in contrast to parish-names from central and southern Sweden, these are far more often originally district-names. Änother rather larger number of parish-names in Norrland are those which have an origin as the name of the place where the church was built, e.g. Forsa, Alfta and Bollnäs in Hälsingland, Torsdker in Ångermanland and Brunflo in Jämtland. In southern parts of the country we nearly always find that the parish has taken the name from the hamlet or farm where the church was built. Óne may thus wonder why we do not find parishnames such as * Vi parish or *Hov parish in Norrland, i.e. where the parish has taken the name from the hamlet or farm were the church was erected.13 There must therefore have been some difference in the settlement structure and probably also in the territorial division of the areas when the church began the division into parishes during the early medieval period. Ä conclusion from this is that there is no obvious comparison between parish-names in Norrland and those we find further south in Sweden. There is instead a far more obvious parallel between the former and the older district "härad" found in Götaland, The latter names normally have an origin as a district-name or a name from the gathering- and thing-place for the "härad" (cf. Ändersson 1965), In the "härad" division advantage was taken of the old settlement groupings that existed, but these was normally far too large for a 13

One exception is however Torsåker in Ångermanland (see above).

Cult Sites in Northern Sweden

485

parish. In Norrland however, the settlement situation and the lack of older divisions such as "härad" probably made it natural for the church to use the old settlement groupings — which often had natural borders — in its new parish-division. This is why we find old districtnames and names of probable gathering- and thing-places in Norrland parish-names. During the last couple of years the department of onomastics in Uppsala has made some special studies of parish-names," These place-names can probably provide further information than what is known so far, By trying to ascertain what these names denoted at the actual establishment of the parish — whether a district, hamlet, gathering-site, or whether the parish-name was a new construction or simply the name of the church — we gain information about old gathering-sites, districts etc. Ä simple over-view of the parish-names of Sweden shows us, for example, that in Götaland nearly all parishnames are old hamlet or farm-names, whereas many of the parishnames of Norrland are old district-names, This fact can tell us that the churces in Götaland generally have an origin as private-churches; we furthermore obtain an interesting picture of different old districts in the provinces of Norrland, districts which ought to have a pagan origin and can hence be assumed to have had a pagan gathering and cult site. This gives us a foundation to stand upon for further analyses. I myself have made a special study of the situation in the province of Hälsingland and am about to present the results shortly. I believe that from the parish-names some prehistoric districts can be reconstructed and in that context more or less reliable gathering sites for cultic or legal matters can be established, In this connection, parish-names originating in the name of the church site are of utmost interest. 6. Concluding remarks This paper has been an attempt to present the positive evidence we possess of pagan cult in Norrland and to point out Norrland cult sites. I hope that an overview of this kind can stimulate fresh research which can expand our knowledge in this field; in this respect, the present paper has been less obviously problem-solving than — hopefully research-evoking or even research-provoking. It is obvious that the E. g. Andersson 1962; Andersson 1963; Wahlberg 1975; Falck-Kj5,11quist & Strandberg & Wallberg 1976: Öberg 1979; Lagman 1981: Andersson & Göransson 1982, 5 f.; Andersson 1984; Andersson 1987; for the present Brink 1984b, 30 ff.

14

486

STEFAN BRINK

paper is in no way complete or comprehensive in this matter. It is above all the more easily tangible settlement-names which I have debated. For further research one can specially recommend the study of place-name records and ordnance survey maps and documents for the possibility of locating settlement-districts, old centres and gatheringplaces — where normally but not always the church has been built and other potential sites in this context, to gain new information on the subject, Such investigations may probably lead to new indications of a pagan cult. This is indicated above, where reconstructed cult sites has been demonstrated from evidence mentioned here, i.e. t U//vi in Hackås, tHov in Lit, t Vi in Forsa etc.

Bibliography ABBREVIATIONS Goth. Gothic hd Swed. härad, a district or. letter in original OSwed. Old-Swedish OWN Old-West-Nordic RELu Registrum ecclesie Lundensis, from 1494, RA UNPUBLISHED SOURCES AND LITERATURE Stockholm RA Riksarkivet, Stockholm ghj Gärder och hjälper; a tax from 1535 jb Tax cadastrals p Parchment letter tl Tithe list Uppsala UUB Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek p Parchment letter

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PUBLISHED SOURCES AND LITERATURE

Ähnlund, N. 1948. Jämtlands och Härjedalens historia [1]. Stockholm. Andersson, Th. 1962. Det östgötska sockennamnet Kumla, Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala årsskrift. Uppsala. - 1963. Sockennamnen Hedheskirkia 'Heda' och Roskirkia `Rök'. Namn och bygd 51. Uppsala. - 1965. Svenska häradsnamn. (Nomina Germanica 14.) Uppsala. - 1984. Gammal territoriell indelning i ortnamnsbelysning. (Kulturhistorisk rapport 15. Länstyrelsen i Göteborgs och Bohus län.) Göteborg. - 1986. Germanisch Hof - Hügel, Hof, Heiligtum. Sprache und Recht. Hrsg. von K. Hauck et al. Berlin. - 1987. Olika typer av sockennamn. Klassiska problem inom finlandssvensk ortnamnsforskning. (Studier i nordisk filologi 67.) Helsingfors. Ändersson, Th. & Göransson, S. 1982. Forskning om äldre territoriell indelning i Sverige. Bebyggelsehistorisk tidskrift 4. Stockholm. Brate, E. 1918. Åker och Tuna. Fornvännen 13. Stockholm. Brink, S. 1984a. Ortnamn som källa i historisk forskning. Fornvännen 79. Stockholm. - 1984b. Ortnamn i Hälsingland. Stockholm. - 1986. Personnamn i de nordskandinaviska sta8ir-namnens förleder. Personnamn i stadnamn. [Ed. by] J. Sandnes & O. Stemshaug. (NORNArapporter 33.) Trondheim. - 1988. Ett försök till rekonstruktion av en förkristen kultplats. Ingemar Olsson 25 augusti 1988. (MINS 28.) Stockholm. Bucht, G. 1920. Hedniska kullorter i mellersta Norrland. Härnösand. - 1923. Kristendomens införande i Norrland. Från Ådalar och Fjäll, Härnösands sti ft s julbok. Härnösand. - 1935. Härnösands historia 1. Härnösand. Calissendorff, K. 1964. Helgö. Namn och bygd 52. Uppsala. DN Diplomatarium Norvegicum 1-. 1847 ff. Christiania. DS Diplomatarium Suecanum 1-. 1829 ff. Stockholm. Falck-Kjällquist, B. & Strandberg, S. & Wahlberg, M. 1976. Sockennamn. Ortnamn och samhälle. [Ed. by] V. Dalberg et al. (NORNA-rapporter 10.) Uppsala. Flemström, B. 1960. Ortnamn i Medelpad. Medelpad - drag ur bygdens historia. Sundsvall. - 1983. Ortnamn i Jämtland. Stockholm. Friesen, O. v. 1928. Runorna i Sverige. (Föreningen Urds skrifter 4.) Uppsala. Hanzén, J. J:son 1941. Järvs6 prästgård, dess hus och herrar under århundraden. Ljusdal. Hedblom, F. 1958. Gästriklands äldre bebyggelsenamn. Från Gästrikland 1957-58. Gävle. Hellberg, L. 1954. Studier i de nordiska torp-namnens kronologi. Namn och bygd 42. Uppsala.

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Hellberg, L. 1979. Forn-Kalmar. Kalmar stads historia 1. Kalmar. - 1984. Svetjud och Norrlanden. Florilegium Nordicum. (Umeå Studies in the Humanities 6I.) Umeå. - 1986. Hedendomens spår i uppländska ortnamn. Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala årsskrift. Uppsala. Hellquist, E. 1948. Svensk etymologisk ordbok. [3. uppl.] Lund. Hülphers, Ä. A. 1771. Samlingar til en Beskrifning öfwer Norrland [1]. Westerås. Jansson, S. B. F. 1977. Runinskrifter i Sverige. Stockholm. Jansson, V. 1951. Nordiska vin-namn. (Studier till en svensk ortnamnsatlas 8.) Uppsala. JHD Jämtlands och Härjedalens diplomatarium 1-. 1943 ff. Ostersund. Jonzon, B. G. 1899. Helsingarnes kristnande och deras förhållande till Gustaf Vasas befrielsestrid och kyrkoreformation. Upsala. Jonzon, I. 1973. Kring Hälsingland och dess gamla folkland. Ljusdal. JR Jämtländska räkenskaper 1564-1571 1-2. 1944-48. (Skrifter utg. av Jämtlands läns fornskriftsällskap 8-9.) Ostersund. Lagman, S. 1981. Östergötlands medeltida sockennamn. (Ortnamn och samhälle 7.) Uppsala. LDLV Libri memoriales capituli Lundensis. [Ed. by] V. Weeke. 1884-89. København. Liedgren, J. 1981. Major Johan Blanck och de gamla bren om Lingarö och Gackerön. Hälsingerunor. 1981. Norrala. Lind, E. H. 1905-15. Norsk-isländska dopnamn ock fingerade namn från medeltiden. Uppsala. Lindberg, C. 1933. Ulivi och Hov. Jämten. Ostersund. Lindén, B. 1954. Dalska namn- och ordstudier gällande särskilt Mora tingslag och Osterdalsområdet 1, 3. Svenska landsmål B, 57. Stockholm. Lindqvist, S. 1918. Åker och Tuna. Fornvännen 13. Stockholm. Lundberg, O. & Sperber, H. 1911. Härnevi. (Meddelanden från Nordiska seminariet 4.) Uppsala. Lundgren, M. F. 1878. Språkliga intyg om hednisk gudatro ż Sverige, Göteborg. Löfgren, E. 1922. Det nutida Njurunda 1. Sundsvall. Müller, G. 1968. Altnordisch VOW - ein Weihename. Festschrift für Otto Höfler zum 65, Geburtstag 2. Hrsg. von H. Birkhan & O. Gschwandtler. Wien. MAU Hellbom, A. 1972. Medelpads äldre urkunder. (Det gamla Medelpad 8.) Sundsvall. Nordlander, J. 1881. Minnen af heden fro och kult i norrländska ortnamn. Hernösand. -7 1903. Medelpads äldre bynamn. Norrländska samlingar 1. Stockholm. Oberg, A. 1979. Olika typer av sockennamn i Sverige. (Ortnamn och samhälle 6.) Uppsala.

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Olsen, M. 1915. Hedenske kultminder i norske stedsnavne. (Skrifter utg. av Videnskapsselskapet i Kristiania. 2. Hist.-filos. Klasse 1914, 4.) Kristiania. Olsen, O. 1966. Hørg, hov og kirke. København. Olsson, I. 1976. Gotlands Stavgardar. Gotlandica 10. Visby. Pamp, B. 1983. Ortnamn i Skåne. Stockholm. Palm, D. 1931. Torps bynamn - ett stycke kulturhistoria. Torps socken 2. Torp. - 1944. Bynamn och bebyggelse i Njurunda. ilista 19. Ålsta. Palm, Th. 1940. Stav och blotträ. Namn och bygd 28. Uppsala. Rostvik, A. 1967. Har och harg. (Studier till en svensk ortnamnsatlas 11.) Uppsala. - 1969. Ortnamnet Harv. Namn och bygd 57. Uppsala. Selinge, K.-G. 1974. Fångstgropar. (Fornvårdaren 12.) Ostersund. - 1976. Människan i landskapet. (Fornvårdaren 14.) Ostersund. SOVn Sveriges ortnamn. Ortnamnen i Västernorrlands län 1-4. 1955 L. Uppsala. Stahl, H. I980-82. Stav-. Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder 17. [København]. Vikingerne ved Volga. Ibn Fadlans rejsebeskrivelse. 1981. [Ed. by] J. Bæk Simonsen. Højbjerg. Vries, J. de 1956-57. Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte 1-2. (Grundriss der germanischen Philologie 12, 1-2.) Berlin. Wahlberg, M, 1975. Sockennamnet Sighridhakirkia. Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala årsskrift. Uppsala. Wessén, E. 1921-22. Forntida gudsdyrkan i Östergötland. Meddelanden från Östergötlands fornminnes- och museiförening. Linköping. - 1923. Minnen av forntida gudsdyrkan i Mellan-Sveriges ortnamn. Studier i nordisk filologi 14. Helsingfors.

Aschw. Lytis - in Ortsnamen Ein kultisches Element oder ein profanes?' VON LENNART ELMEVIK

Innerhalb eines verhältnismässig begrenzten Gebietes im östlichen Schweden treten an fünf Plätzen Órtsnamen auf, die als erstes Kompositionsglied mehr oder weniger sicher ein aschw. Lytis- aufweisen. Es handelt sich um folgende Namen: 1. Äschw. Lytisbærgh, Thingstätte bei Ö. Husby Kirche, Ksp. Ö. Husby, Kr. Östkind, Prov. Östergötland: (a) lytisbergh 1380 28/1 Lytisberg SRÄp Ór., (datum ... in placitis) lytisbergh 1381 22/6 SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 1592), (Datum ... in placitis) lytisbergh 1381 16/11 SRÄp Ór., (j) lyttisbergh 1381 7/12 Lytisberg SRÄp Ór,, (a) lytisberghe 1382 25/1 Lytisberg SRÄp Ór., (Datum placito) Lytisbærgh 1412 SDns 2, 515 Ór., (datum placito) lytisbærgh 1428 8/5 SRAp Ór. (vgl. Styffe 1911, 260), S. Lytisberg 1434 SMR Nr. 79 Ór., (oppa) lythisbær 1447 22/6 Lytisberg SRÄp Ór. 2. Janslunda, Herrenhof im Ksp. Överselö, Kr. Selebo, Prov, Södermanland: (Curiam meam,) LYtislund 1288 SD 2, 65 Ór., (hi) Lythyslundum 1348 SD 6, 65 Ór., (in) Lytislundum 1352 SD 6, 384 Ór., (in) lytislundum 1358 2/8 dverselö SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 381), (j) lyteslundom 1382 22/5 Kolhög SRÄp Ór., (super) lytislunda ib. a tergo (SRP Nr. 1719), usw.2. 3. Äschw. Lotis-, Lytislunda, verschwundener Name im Kr. Österrekarne, Prov. Södermanland: (ii) løtislundum 1357 13/7 Österrekarne Kreisthing SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 319), (in) løtislundum 1360 23/7 Österrekarne Kreisthing SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 467), (i) Lytislundom i Der vorliegende Beitrag baut auf zwei früheren Aufsätzen des Verfassers (Elmevik 1967a und 1967b) auf. Die Darstellung ist jedoch in vieler Hinsicht modifiziert worden; in ein paar Punkten sind neue Forschungsergebnisse beachtet worden. In seinem Vortrag auf dem Symposium hat der Verfasser auch eine andere Ortsnamengruppe diskutiert, die von sieben Namen im westlichen Schweden (Asaka, auf sechs Plätzen in Västergötland, und Asige in Halland) und vier im südöstlichen Norwegen (drei Asak und ein Åsdker) vertreten ist. Diese Namen sind nach der Meinung des Verfassers zur Kategorie der kultischen Ortsnamen zu zählen. S. hierüber Elmevik 1985. 2 Über den Grund der Umbenennung in Janslunda s. Elmevik 1967a, 52 Anm. 7.

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1405 SDns 1, 490 Ór., (i) Lytislundhum 1408 SDns 2, 8 Ór., (i) Litislundhum, -lundom 1409 SDns 2, 153, 163 Ór., (i) Lytislundum, -om 1409 SDns 2, 155, 157, 158, 162 Ór., (i) Lyalundom 1409 30/8 SSLBp Ór. 4. Litslunda, Dorf im Ksp. Lillhärad, Kr. Tuhundra, Prov. Västmanland: (j) lytislundum 1387 8/10 Tuhundra Kreisthing SRÄp Ór, (SRP Nr. 2341), (i) lytislundom (zweimal) 1399 16/10 Västerås DRÄpp Ór, (vgl. Styffe 1864, 96), lytislundom 1400 21/9 Dingtuna SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 3125). 5. Aschw. (Jn) litisbolstad Registrum ecclesie Upsaliensis (SD 5, 328), heute nicht mehr existierende Siedlung, wahrscheinlich im Ksp. Nysätra, Kr. Lagunda, Prov. Uppland3. Diesen Órtsnamen wurde in der Literatur nur wenig Äufmerksamkeit geschenkt. Die vier zuerst genannten sind von einigen Forschern mit dem heidnischen Kult in Zusammenhang gebracht worden und sollen einen Götternamen Lytir enthalten, der an einer Stelle in der awn. Literatur auftritt und zwar in einem fiáttr, Hauks battr habraar, in der Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar im Flateyjarbók4 . Die Episode, in der der Name vorkommt, ist folgende (Flateyjarbók 1860, 579 ff.): König Harald Schönhaar gibt einen Sommer zwei seiner Vertrauensmänner, Haukr und Vígharòr, den Äuftrag, sich nach Bjarmaland zu begeben, um Grauwerke einzukaufen. Zuerst lässt der König die beiden jedoch einen Besuch bei seiner zauberkundigen Pflegemutter Heiar machen, die "nordr vid Ganduik" wohnt. Heiar macht die beiden unverwundbar, worauf sie ihre Reise antreten. Von ihrem Vorhaben erfährt in der Zwischenzeit König Erik in Uppsala, der mit Harald Schönhaar in Feindschaft liegt. Erik beschliesst, zwei seiner Kämpen, BjQrn und Salgaror, Haralds Männern folgen zu lassen. Äber auch die Männer des Sveakönigs benötigen während der Fahrt den Schutz einer höheren Macht. "ok at sumre lætr Æirekr konungr uæitzlu bua at Uppsolum. sidan 1Qtr han aka .ij. uognum til stadarins bar sem hann blotade bat god er Lytir het. var sa sidr at uagnninn skyllde standa um nott ok kom han til vm morgininn. en nu kom Lytir æigi ut uanda sinum ok er betta sagt konungi at Lytir er nu ofus at fara. stod uagnn suo .ij. nætr at hann kom æigi. ba tok konungr at fremia myklu meire blot en fyrr ok hinn bridea morgininn uerda beir uarir vid at Lytir er kominn. er pa suo hofugr uagninn at S. weiter Elmevik 1967b, 17. Das Flateyjarbók ist zum grössten Teil Ende der 80er Jahre des 14. Jahrhunderts niedergeschrieben worden, s. Benediktsson 1956-78, 412.

3 4

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eykirnir springa adr beir koma med hann til hallarinnar. var sidan uagnninn settr a mitt hallargolf ok gek konungr ba at med horni ok fagnnade Lyti ok segir at hann uill drekka full til hans ok kikir nu myklu male skifta at hann radizst j ferdina ok kuetzst honum sem fyrr uwita mundu myklar giafir. Lytir suarar. kuetzst ofus gerazst beirrar ferdar, segir at hann kom eitt sinn nordr bangat. ok hitta ek bar firir suo mikit troll at sliku hefir ek æigi fyrr mætt en gamallt uar ba. ok æigi munda ek bar koma ef ek uissa at bat lifde ok uæntir mik at nu mune dautt vera. Konungr segir at suo mun vera. Lytir quad konung gods verdan fra ser ok kuetzst fara mundu." Haralds und Eriks Männer geraten bald in einen gewaltsamen Kampf miteinander. Lytir nimmt am Kampf in der Gestalt eines Drachen teil, der unfehlbare und tötende Pfeile schiesst. Trotz alledem behauptet schliesslich Haukr als alleiniger Sieger das Feld. Und die Geschichte endet: "En fra Lyti er bat at segia at hann korn aftr ok fann Æirek konung ok sagdizst honom alldri mega at lide verda badan af saker orkumbla beirra er hann kuetzst feingit hafa af hinu mykla trolli j Noregi." Mit diesem Götternamen Lytir haben sich mehrere Forscher auseinandergesetzt. Der erste, der — soviel ich weiss — zu der Diskussion beigetragen hat, ist Jón Jónsson (Jónsson 1899, 255 ff.). Jónsson sieht Lytir als eine Entstellung von * Lüsir an, was mit einem bei Saxo vorkommenden Namen Liserus identisch sei. Der Gedanke dass Lytir ein entstellter Name sei, kommt ebenfalls bei Moltke Moe (Moe 1906, 6655 ) zum Äusdruck, Lytir wird hier mit einem Zwergnamen Litr identifiziert, der in der Dórsteins saga Vikingssonar (Änfang des 14. Jahrhunderts) in einer Episode genannt wird, die ebenso ein Vorbild gewesen sei für die Schilderung der Schlacht zwischen Haukr und seinen Männern auf der einen Seite und denen des Sveakönings auf der anderen. In einer lediglich sieben Zeilen langen sog. vorbereitenden Mitteilung mit der Überschrift "Lytir. En hittills förbisedd fornsvensk gud" (Lytir. Ein bis jetzt unbeachtet gebliebener altschwedischer Gott) hat L. Fr. Liffler (Lialler 1910, 96) die Lytir-Episode in Hanks báttr hábrókar berührt. Läffler zufolge baut die Erzählung wohl zumindest teilweise auf alten historischen Sagen auf. Zum Wahrheitskern, den es in der Geschichte gebe, rechnet er die Erzählung, dass ein Gott namens Lytir von einem Uppsalakönig verehrt worden ist. Läffler Vgl. Moe 1926, 209.

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weist dabei auf die aschw. Órtsnamen Lytislund(a) und Lytisbærgh hin. Vorbehaltsios schliesst sich Elof Hellquist (Hellquist 1916, 144 Änm. 1) Läffler an. Vgl. Hellquist 1948, 595 (1 lund). Äuch Erik Noreen (Noreen 1921, 71) hat unsere Frage kurz berührt, Er charakterisiert Hauks báttr hábrókar als eine kleine "fornaldarsaga", ergänzt jedoch, dass dem keinesfalls entgegenstehe, dass die Saga möglicherweise etwas von historischem Wert enthalte, z. B. die Information über den altschwedischen Gott Lytir. Äm ausführlichsten ist die erwähnte Erzählung und im Zusammenhang damit unser Name Lytir von Dag Strömbäck (Strömbäck 1928, 283 ff.) behandelt worden. Hauks láttr als Ganzes betreffend schliesst sich Strömbäck der offenbar allgemeinen Äuffassung an, dass es sich um eine relativ junge, phantastische und bunt zusammengesetzte Schöpfung handele, welche gleichwohl Spuren von Wahrheit enthalte. Die Lytir-Episode betreffend konstatiert er, sich auf unterschiedliche Parallelen stützend, sicher zu Recht, dass diese "in hohem Grad Spuren christlicher Propagandaideen trage, welche [...] im wesentlichen darauf hinauslaufen, die alten Götter als eine Sammlung böser Geister zu deklassieren", doch dass sie trotzdem auch "uralte kultische Verhältnisse bei Uppsala widerspiegelt" (Strömbäck 1928, 288). Strömbäck zeigt überzeugend — und das scheint mir das wichtigste Resultat seiner Untersuchung zu sein — dass die Erzählung über Lytir in Verbindung mit der Verehrung des Gottes Frö (awn. Freyr) gebracht werden muss; er macht u.a, auf die zahlreichen Erwähnungen von Frö in der awn. Literatur als svíagoö und blótgod svía aufmerksam. In Lytir sieht Strömbäck jedoch nicht irgendeinen eigentlichen Beinamen Frös, sondern einen absichtlich herabsetzenden Namen für diesen Gott, der von einem Widersacher des Heidentums herstammt. Äls Stütze hierfür führt Strömbäck an, dass Thor und Ódin in einigen vergleichbaren Texten fjándinn bzw. djgfullinn genannt werden. Er denkt sich, dass der Name Lytir von dem awn. Verb lýta 'beflecken, entehren, schänden' gebildet und mit `Schänder, Verderber, Verwüster' 0.ä. zu übersetzen sei. Äuf die von Läffler als Stütze für seine These von einem nicht beachteten altschwedischen Gott Lytir angeführten Órtsnamen Lytislund(a) und Lytisbærgh nimmt Strömbäck wenig Rücksicht. (Hellquists Diskussionseinlage hat er augenscheinlich nicht bemerkt,) Er gibt zwar zu, dass man auf Grund des zweiten Kompositionsgliedes der Órtsnamen, -lund 'Hain' und -berg 'Berg' versucht sein könne, diese als Kultnamen eines bekannten Typus zu betrachten und sie geographisch mit eindeutig teophoren Namen zu kombinieren, findet es aber aus

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verschiedenen Gründen schwierig, diesen Weg einzuschlagen. Statt dessen meint er, dass die aktuellen Órtsnamen den aschw. Männernamen Litin enthalten, Zehn Jahre nach Strömbäck setzte F. R. Schröder (Schröder 1938, 85 f.) diese Diskussion fort. Schröder verhält sich nicht ganz abweisend gegenüber Strömbäcks Äuffassung von dem Namen Lytir — den er mit Strömbäck als zu Frö gehörig betrachtet — meint jedoch einen besseren Herleitungsvorschlag bringen zu können. Er konstruiert als germ. Ausgangsform *leutijaz oder *liitıjaz, eine Äbleitung direkt von der Wurzel *leut-, 'klein' (vgl. mit i in der Wurzelsilbe u.a. got, leitils, awn, will, schw. liten `ds.'). Der Name sollte 'der Kleine, Knirps' bedeuten und sich auf die Vorstellung von Frö als einem phallusähnelnden Däumling beziehen. Ferdinand Holthausen (Holthausen 1948, 186, 188) bringt unseren Götternamen in Zusammenhang mit -lot (n. Pl.) im awn. fkrlot `Nachstellung nach dem Leben' und mit aeng, lot 'Betrug, List', lytiğ `schlau, listig', meng. lote lauern', got. lutön, ndl. leuteren `betrügen'. Der Name hat somit nach Holthausen kurzen Stammvokal. Alexander Jóhannesson (Jóhannesson 1956, 746) schliesst sich vollständig Strömbäck an. Jan de Vries (de Vries 1956-57, 2, 280) stimmt in bezug auf den Namen Lytir am ehesten Strömbäck zu, Jedoch hält er gleichfalls Schröders Herleitungsvorschlag für möglich. Er understreicht darüber hinaus, dass die in der Diskussion einbezogenen Órtsnamen belanglos sind, wenn Strömbäcks Äuffassung richtig ist. Unklarer drückt sich de Vries in diesem Punkt in einer anderen Ärbeit (de Vries 1977, 371) aus. Er sagt dort, dass Lytir in schwed. Órtsnamen wie Lytislunda, Lytislıærgh eingeht, obgleich als einzige Erklärung für den Götternamen angeführt wird, dass dieser vielleicht zum Verb lğta (s. oben) gehört und ein herabsetzender Name für Frö ist, Wie aus der Forschungsübersicht ersichtlich, ist der Name Lytir auf unterschiedliche Weise aufgefasst worden. Einige der Theorien über seinen Ursprung sollten direkt als mehr oder weniger unwahrscheinlich verworfen werden. Das betrifft — trotz des Charakters der Quelle, in der der Name auftritt — den Gedanken an Lytir als die Entstellung entweder eines konstruierten *Lğsir (Jón Jónsson) oder des in der Pórsteins saga Vfkingssonar vorkommenden Zwergnamen Litr (Moltke Moe). Äuch Schröders Herleitungsvorschlag fällt unter diese Beurteilung. Er überzeugt weder sprachlich noch sachlich.

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Holthausens Herleitung von Lytir ist bloss eine sprachliche Konstruktion ohne — jedenfalls in der vorgebrachten Form — reale Änhaltspunkte. Die glaubwürdigste Erklärung des in Hauks káttr hábrÓkar vorkommenden Götternamens Lytir hat nach meiner Meinung Strömbäck geliefert, der ja, wie wir gesehen haben, meint, dass es sich um einen zufälligen, im christlichen Milieu zustandegekommenen herabsetzenden Namen für Frö handelt. Es wäre als recht überraschend zu beurteilen, wenn eine so spät entstandene Erzählung wie Hauks báttr — auch wenn sie in gewissen Teilen sehr alte kultische Verhältnisse widerspiegeln mag — einen neuen Beitrag zur Kenntnis von den Namen der heidnischen Götter unserer Vorväter geben könnte. Hinsichtlich der Deutung der Órtsnamen aschw. Lytislund(a) und Lytisbærgh muss ich aber mit Entschiedenheit von Strömbäck Äbstand nehmen. Zu Strömbäcks Verteidigung soll hervorgehoben werden, dass die 1928 bekannten Belege der hierhergehörenden Namen offenbar nicht so zahlreich gewesen sind. Wenigstens eine der von Strömbäck angeführten Schreibungen, 4tislund in einer Óriginalurkunde von 1288, ist jedoch mit dem Gedanken eines ursprünglichen *Litinslund unvereinbar. *Litins- kann nicht mit dem Hinweis darauf verteidigt werden, dass "in den mittelalterlichen Diplomen i und y gemischt auftreten" und dass n "in solcher Stellung" wegfällt (Strömbäck 1928, 293). Der Schwund von n vor s in unbetonter Silbe tritt nach Ädolf Noreen (Noreen 1904, 245) erst im Spätaltschwedischen (nach 1375) au f. Aus den ältesten Belegen der Órtsnamen, die hier diskutiert werden, geht hervor, dass man im Blick auf drei Namen von einem aschw. Lytis-, mit kurzem oder langem y, als erstem Kompositionsglied auszugehen hat6 . Den verschwundenen Namen im Kreis Österrekarne betreffend (Nr. 3 im obigen Verzeichnis) könnte man erwägen, ob dem Stadlum Lytis- nicht ein Lytis- vorausgegangen ist.7 Ich ziehe jedoch vor, die 0-Schreibungen nicht als Basis für eine Herleitung Die Quantität des Stammvokals dieses Lytis- lässt sich nicht bestimmen. Kein einziger älterer Beleg zeigt durch Doppelschreibung des Stammvokals, dass dieser lang gewesen ist. Die Form Lyttásbergh 1381 könnte als ein Indiz für ein kurzsilbiges erstes Kompositionsglied gedeutet werden. Wegen seiner Isolierung kann man jedoch nicht darauf bauen. 7 Dafür spricht zweifelsohne die Belegreihe: Lotislundum 1357 und 1360, Lytislundom u.ä. mehrere Male 1405-09. Wenn der Stammvokal lang gewesen ist, kann der Übergang von 0- > y auf unterschiedliche Weise aufgefasst werden. Ein Lfitis- kann sich im Zusammenhang mit Verkürzung von 0 als Folge von sog. "ordlängdsbalans" (s. hierüber Sahlgren 1930, 61 ff.; Sahlgren 1957, 91 ff.) zu 6

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zu betrachten, weil es kaum zwingende Gründe dafür gibt8 . Das erste Glied in dem gleichfalls verschwundenen Litisbolstad (1344) in Uppland als ein ursprüngliches *atis- zu erklären, bereitet keinerlei Schwierigkeiten. Der Übergang # > i in vor allem nebentoniger aber auch in haupttoniger Silbe, besonders wenn ein i oder it in der nächsten Silbe folgt, ist bereits aus dem klassischen Ältschwedischen bezeugt (s. hierzu u.a, Noreen 1904, 93 f.; Kock 1906-29, 1, 444 ff., 480 ff.). Selbst wenn wir von einem * Lgtis- ausgehen, muss die Deutung nicht als weniger wahrscheinlich angesehen werden. Bei einem so langen Namen wie diesem kann das g des ersten Kompositionsgliedes infolge "ordlängdsbalans" (vgl. Änm. 7 oben) verkürtz worden und erst danach zu i übergegangen sein, Das zweite Glied -lund(a) in drei der hier diskutierten Órtsnamen spricht nach meiner Meinung bestimmt dagegen, dass diese einen anLytis- entwickelt haben in gleicher Weise wie beispielsweise das Adv. snjipelika `schmählich' und das Subst. trist 'Trost' im Spätaschw. dialektisch in snyppelika und trysth resultiert hatten. S. Kock 1906-29, 2, 33. Ebenfalls gibt es zu einem Übergang Li3tis- > Lgtás- Parallelen. Beispiele bieten u.a. die Dorfnamen Tryninge (in ... trøningi 1298) und Syninge (in ... østsonungi 1317), beide in Uppland. S. Ståhle 1946, 268 f., 399 f. Den Übergang 13 > g- in Syninge vergleicht Ståhle (Ståhle 1946, 400) mit "den zahlreichen Namen der Gegend, die auf -bgle < enden". Vgl. auch Moberg 1950, 118 mit Anm. 16. Wie diese Schreibungen mit 0 aufzufassen sind, ist indessen ungewiss. Sie sind zeitlich nicht weit voneinander entfernt (1357 bzw. 1360), und sie kommen in Urkunden vor, die an ein und demselben Ort niedergeschrieben worden sind. Ob es sich in beiden Fällen um denselben Schreiber handelt, kann ich nicht mit Bestimmtheit entscheiden. Dies ist jedoch nicht unwahrscheinlich. Trifft dies zu, wäre es möglich, mit irgendeiner falschen Schreiberetymologie zu rechnen. Aber auch wenn es sich um zwei verschiedene Schreiberhände handelt, kann es mit Rücksicht auf die äusseren Umstände trotzdem einen Zusammenhang zwischen den 0-Schreibungen geben. Zwei Schreiber an derselben Thingstätte tätig können sich gegenseitig beeinflusst haben in bezug auf die Schriftformen gewisser Ortsnamen. Hinzufügen kann man, dass Lotislundum in den betreffenden Briefen in Verbindung mit der Aufzählung von sog. "fastar" (s. hierüber z. B. Hafström 1956-78, 191 ff.) erwähnt wird, und dass es sich dabei um dieselbe Person (genannt Jon und Johan) handelt, die in beiden Fällen zusammen mit unserem Ortsnamen auftritt. Wenn die aschw, Form Lgtás- gewesen ist, dann kann möglicherweise mit ein paar anderen Namen verglichen werden, bei denen Ø statt y sporadisch vorkommt. Der älteste Beleg des Dorfnamens ösnao im Ksp. Ösmo, Prov. Södermanland, ist (Jn) ... Groh (1281 SD 1, 578 Or.); im übrigen weist der Name y als Stammvokal auf (vgl. Olsson Nordberg 1926, 57). Der Kirchspielname Gryta, Kr. Hagunda, Prov. Uppland, wird 1316 (Jn parochia) grotum (SD 3, 264 Or.) geschrieben, sonst ist y der Stammvokal (vgl. Löfkvist 1976, 105). R. Otterbjörk (Otterbjörk 1958, 40; vgl. Löfkvist 1976, 358) hat hervorgehoben, dass die Urkunde, in der die Form gratin/ vorkommt, allerlei unbefriedigende und misslungene Schreibungen enthällt.

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sonsten unbekannten Männernamen * Lytir enthalten, Das gleiche gilt in gewissem Masse für die Schlussglieder in den zwei übrigen (mehr hierzu s. weiter unten). Es scheint mir klar zu sein, dass es sich um Kuitnamen oder um Namen, die Kuitnamen nahestehen, handelt. In erster Linie sollte geprüft werden, ob unsere Órtsnamen einen Äppellativ *lytir enthalten können mit einer Bedeutung, die sich mit dem Glied -lunda (und -bærgh und -bolstafier) vereinbaren lässt. Wenn * lytir ein ursprüngliches initiales /hat, sehe ich keine Möglichkeit, mit der Herleitung zurechtzukommen. Es dürfte dagegen weiterführen, wenn man annimmt, dass das Wort im Urnord. mit hl angefangen hat. Von diesem Äusgangspunkt halte ich es für möglich, *lytir mit u.a, schw, lott 'Los, Teil, Änteil' (aschw, luter, loter m., awn. hlutr) und (ablautend) got. hlauts m. 'Los, Erbteil', asächs, hlôt, ahd. (h)lôz, dt. Los zusammenzustellen. Diese Wörter gehören zum Verb germ. welches im modernen Schwedisch * hleutan (awn. hlióta, aschw. noch im Ausdruck ljuta döden 'den Tod erleiden' weiterlebt. Äschw. liüta wie dessen awn. Entsprechung bedeuten gemäss den üblichen Wörterbüchern u.a. `durch Los(en) erfahren, widerfahren, erreichen'. Die Bedeutung `durch Losen die Zukunft erforschen', die de Vries (de Vries 1956-57, 1, 417) für das awn, hlióta ansetzen will, ist allem Änschein nach vom nordischen Gebiet nicht zu belegen. In den westgerm. Sprachen verhält es sich indessen teilweise anders. Germ. *hleutan hat hier teils die gleichen Bedeutungen wie die oben aus den nord. Sprachen angeführten, teils andere und in unserem Zusammenhang interessantere: ahd. (h)liozan u.ä. `sortiri, loosen, das Los werfen, wahrsagen, zaubern' (Graff 1834-46, 1, 1122 f.; Schade 1872-82, 407), aeng. hléotan `to cast lots' (Bosworth & Toller 1882-98, 1, 542). Zu ahd. (h)liozan gehören die Substantive liozo, liozâri 'ariolus, sortilegus, Wahrsager' (Graff 1834-46, 1, 1123; Schade 1872-82, 562); vgl. auch mhd. liezen n. `das losen, teilung durchs los; das wahrsagen; das zaubern; heimliches gemurmel' (Lexer 1872-78, 1, 1914 f.). Verwandte Wörter für `Wahrsager' sind im Äeng. belegt: hlytta m.; hlgta, teinhlgta9 m.; tän-hlgtere m. (vgl. das Simplex hljtere 'clericus'). S. Jente 1921, 267. Es handelt sich hier um denominative Bildungen zu aeng. hlot n. (< *h/uto-nı) und Wet, hlgt, hlët m, (< *hlauti-z) 'Los, Teil, Anteil'. S. Jente 1921, 266 f., 269; vgl. betreffend hlytta (jan-Stamm) Kluge 1926, 8. 9 Das erste Glied des Wortes bedeutet 'a twig, sprout, shoot, branch; a twig used in casting lots; a lot; also a share that is determined by lot' Bosworth & Toller 1882-98, 2, 971.

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Dass die alten Germanen versucht hatten, Kenntnisse über bevorstehende Geschehnisse zu gewinnen, wird bereits von Tacitus in seiner Germania, Kap. 10, berichtet, Dort heisst es u.a. (Philipp 1926, 96): "Äuf Vorzeichen und Werfen des Loses legen sie, wie nur irgendeiner, viel Wert. Der übliche Vorgang beim Loswerfen ist einfach: den Zweig eines fruchttragenden (= glückbringenden) Baumes zerlegen sie in kleine Stäbchen, versehen diese dann mit gewissen Zeichen und streuen sie aufs Geratewohl über ein weisses Leinentuch hin. Sodann hebt wenn die Gemeinde das Schicksal befragt, ihr Priester [., .], wenn in kleinem Kreise, der Hausvater unter Gebet zu den Göttern und mit zum Himmel gewandtem Blick drei Stäbchen nacheinander auf und deutet sie auf Grund der vorher eingeritzten Zeichen [...]" In der altnordischen Literatur scheint das Loswerfen lediglich in Verbindung mit Beuteverteilung u.ä. genannt zu werden". Äuf der anderen Seite verfügt das Äwn. über ein Wort, das deutlich zeigt, dass das Verfahren in kultischen Zusammenhängen ausgeübt wurde und mit Ópferhandlungen verbunden war, nämlich hlaut n. `Blut des Ópfertieres'. Dass diese Bedeutung sekundär ist und dass das Wort zu * hleutan gehört und dasselbe Äblautstadlum wie got. hlauts usw. (s. oben) repräsentiert, ist zweifelsfrei. Man hat gewöhnlich und wahrscheinlich mit Recht angenommen, dass die sekundäre Bedeutung ihren Grund darin hat, dass Ópferblut beim Wahrsagen angewendet worden ist. Gestützt auf das oben herangezogene westgerm. Material — wie auch auf das awn. hlaut — lege ich den Vorschlag vor, dass aschw. *lytir entweder als eine Äbleitung zu aschw. luter, loter in der Bedeutung `Los beim Loswerfen angewendet' zu betrachten ist oder als eine Bildung zum Verb aschw. liüta mit einer Bedeutung, die der des ahd. (h)liozan und des aeng. hléotan entspricht. * Lytir würde dann `Losdeuter, Wahrsager' o,ä. bedeuten. Es scheint mir eine plausible Ännahme zu sein, dass eine solche Person in jedem Fall oftmals die Stellung eines Priesters (Ópferpriesters) innegehabt hatte (vgl. das Zitat von Tacitus oben und aeng. hlgtere 'clericus'). Unter solchen Verhältnissen ist es nicht erstaunlich, dass man das Wort als erstes Kompositionsglied in Órtsnamen auf -lunda findet." Unser Wort *lytir muss wie ein maskuliner ia-Stamm flektiert wor1° Vgl. awn. hlutr und dessen aschw. Entsprechung mit der Bedeutung `Los, das beim Loswerfen gebraucht wird'. ıı Im Hinblick auf Lytisbærgh als Thingstättenname karm daran erinnert werden, dass Ritus und Recht in alten Zeiten nahe miteinander verbunden waren. Betreffend bolstafier als zweites Kompositionsglied in einem mit dem Gen. von *lytir zusammengesetzten Ortsnamen s. unten.

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den sein. Meiner ersten Deutungsalternative zufolge (s. oben) hätten wir es mit einer Denominativbildung mit der Grundbedeutung 'der, der zu den Losen "gehört", sich mit den Losen befasst' zu tun". Semantisch nimmt sich eine solche Bildung ansprechend aus, Die Wortbildungsfrage erfordert trotzdem einen speziellen Kommentar. Es muss nämlich beachtet werden, dass wir hier mit einem wie ein maskuliner ia-Stamm dekliniertes Substantiv mit kurzer Stammsilbe laborieren. Inwieweit Parallelen hierzu aus dem Ältschw. aufgewiesen werden können, ist ungewiss. Ich will jedoch erwähnen, dass Elof Hellquist (Hellquist 1903-06) hinsichtlich zumindest folgender zwei Seenamen auf aschw. -ir mit Bildungen zu kurzsilbigen Stämmen gerechnet hat: Dovern, aschw. *Duwir oder *Dowir und Kylien, aschw. *Kylir (Hellquist 1903-06, 1, 92 f., 319)13 . Bessere Parallelen bietet das Awn. In erster Linie ist eine Gruppe Eigennamen zu nennen: Brimir, Gimir, Gymir, Hymir, Sinir, Ymir u,a.m. Diese Gruppe ist ausführlich von Eduard Sievers (Sievers 1894) erörtert worden; nach Sievers handelt es sich um Nominalbildungen auf germ. -aja-, -ëja-, Inwieweit das Ergebnis von Sievers Untersuchung allgemein Änerkennung gefunden hat, kann ich nicht sagen. Äuf jeden Fall dürfte es nicht bestritten worden sein, dass es sich wirklich durchgehend um kurzsilbige Bildungen handelt. In diesem Zusammenhang verdient es darauf aufmerksam gemacht zu werden, dass man bei der Herleitung mehrerer alter norwegischer Fjordnamen auf -ir von kurzsilbigen Substantiven ausgegangen ist, z. B. *Brimir, zu awn. brim n. 'Brandung' (NG 13, 329 f.) und *Gyrir, zu awn. gor n. lalbverdauter Mageninhalt' (NG 11, 171). Es soll keineswegs geleugnet werden, dass es im Hinblick darauf, dass wir unserem aschw. *lytir ein kurzsilbiges Äppellativ zugrundegelegt haben, eine gute Stütze der vorgeschlagenen Herleitung gewesen wäre, eine Personenbezeichnung des gleichen Typus aus dem Äschw. aufweisen zu können. Die eben genannte Gruppe von awn. Eigennamen, welche wahrscheinlich mehrere sehr alte Bildungen enthält", bildet jedoch nach meiner Meinung eine ausreichende, wenn auch geographisch etwas entlegene Parallele. 12 Vgl. hierzu u.a. Hellquist 1891, 21 f.; Olson 1916, 6; Kluge 1926, 5; Wessén 1971, 38. 13 Betreffend den unumgelauteten Stammvokal in dem erstgenannten Namen s. Hellquist 1903-06, 2, 13. 14 Dies gilt u.a. Gyrnir. Über verschiedene Vorschläge zur Herleitung dieses Namens s. Sahlgren 1928a, 213, 239 ff.; Sahlgren 1928b, 2, 10 f.

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Gemäss unserer Ännahme oben kann indessen aschw. *lytir auch einen langen Stammvokal gehabt haben, Wenn wir an der Bedeutung `Wahrsager' o.ä. festhalten wollen, miissen wir — soweit ich sehen kann — von einem urnord. *hliutiaR ausgehen, einer maskulinen iaAbleitung zu germ, *hleutan, awn, hljóta, aschw. liüta mit der aus dem Ahd. und Äeng. belegten Bedeutung 'Lose werfen, wahrsagen' o.ä, Zu fragen ist indessen, ob unser *hliutiaR aus der Wortbildungsperspektive verteidigt werden kann. Deverbative Personenbezeichnungen dieses Typus sind nämlich normalerweise an schwache Verben geknüpft. Äus dem Äwn. ist mir lediglich eine sichereAusnahme bekannt, der Eddaname Grípir (s. z. B. Holthausen 1948, 96; de Vries 1977, 189). Irgendein entsprechendes aschw. Beispiel lässt sich, soviel ich weiss, nicht mit Sicherheit aufweisen, Ich möchte jedoch in diesem Zusammenhang den Männernamen Birger, aschw. Birghir, Byrghir anführen. Der Name tritt im ganzen Norden auf, ist doch wohl ursprünglich schwedisch (Janzén 1947, 66; Hornby 1947, 196). Dieser Männername ist unterschiedlich erklärt worden. Nach Elof Hellquist (Hellquist 1948, '72) ist er am ehesten eine alte Kurzform, urnord. zu Namen die aschw. Bærgh-, Biærgh-, schw. Bergenthalten (vgl, z. B. aschw. Biærghulf). Ivar Modéer (Modéer 1955, 9 f.) wollte in Birger eine ursprüngliche Zusammensetzung mit -ger ` Speer' sehen, welche sekundär die ia-Stammbeugung angenommen hat. Vgl. Kristensen 1909, 128. Der häufigsten und nach meiner Meinung einfachsten und ansprechendsten Äuffassung zufolge gehört jedoch der Name als ein nomen agentis, urnord. *BerjiaR, zum Verb schw. bärga, aschw. biærgha (awn. biarga) 'bergen, helfen'. Die Bedeutung wäre dann 'der Helfer' o.ä. S. u.a. Munch 1876, 50; Støylen 1887, 18; Steenstrup 1918, 101; Hornby 1945, 11; Wessén 1971, 338; Ótterbjörk 1979, 80; NPL 121. Äuch Ivar Lindquist (Lindquist 1939, 10 f.) rechnet mit einer solchen urnord. Äusgangsform, ist aber der Meinung, dass es hier um die Substantivierung eines ia-Stammadjektivs mit der Bedeutung 'hilfreich' geht. Lindquists Begründungen dafür, dass ein solches Ädjektiv existiert hat, erscheinen mir jedoch nicht überzeugend. Das ursprünglich starke Verb schw. bärga wird jetzt schwach konjugiert. Im Äschw. wird es sowohl stark als auch schwach konjugiert, und auch in awn. Quellen finden sich Spuren einer schwachen Konjugation. Während der frühen Periode der nordischen Sprachentwicklung, als sich der Name mit der vorgeschlagenen Herleitung gebildet haben muss, ist jedoch bärga sicherlich ausschliesslich stark konjugiert worden.

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Die Herleitung des Männernamens Birger ist also umstritten. Ist indessen die verbreiteste Meinung über den Ursprung des Namens richtig, kann die Möglichkeit einer Bildung *hliutiaR nicht in Zweifel gezogen werden. Äuch in diesem Zusammenhang nenne ich eine mögliche Parallele aus dem Bereich der Órtsnamen, nämlich den nordnorwegischen Kreisnamen Tysfjord (Prov. Nordland). Hinter diesem versteckt sich ein nicht zusammengesetzter Fjordname auf -ir, wahrscheinlich ein awn. *Pýtir, vom starken Verb awn. fijóta leulen, stark lärmen' abgeleitet, S. NG 16, 275; Rygh 1896, 63; NSL 326. Wir müssen wohl zusammenfassend konstatieren, dass unsere beiden Älternativen zur Herleitung des aschw. *lytir an einem gewissen Mangel an wirklich schlagenden Parallelen leiden. Ändererseits dürfte behauptet werden können, dass keiner der Vorschläge mit so ernsten Mängeln behaftet ist, dass er als unrealistisch erscheint15 . Einer der hier diskutierten Órtsnamen, das verschwundene uppländische Litisbolstad (1344), erfordert einen speziellen Kommentar. Gibt es ausreichenden Änlass dazu, einen Äppellativ mit Anknüpfung an dell heidnischen Kult als erstes Kompositionsglied in einem Órtsnamen auf -bolstad anzusetzten? Órtsnamen mit dem hier vorliegenden zweiten Glied (aschw, bolstaber, awn. bólstaör) sind über das ganze nordische Sprachgebiet verbreitet. In Schweden trifft man jedoch ziemlich selten Namen dieses Typus an; sie scheinen vor allem in den Provinzen Uppland, Västmanland und Östergötland vorzukommen. S. Ståhl 1956-78, 68 f. In diesem Zusammenhang sind die folgenden von Interesse: Fröbbesta, Dorf im Ksp. Ódensvi, Kr. Åkerbo, Prov. Västmanland: (j) Frøbolset (?) 1403 SDns 1, 278 Ór,, (j) frøbolstadh 1432 21/1 "Eklöt" SRÄp Ór. Heljebolsta, Dorf im Ksp, Västeråker, Kr, Hagunda, Prov. Uppland: (i) helghabolstabum 1356 16/12 Åland SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 283), (ij) 15 Bei

einer Sitzung des Seminars für nordische Ortsnamenforschung der Universität Uppsala, wo ich Ende der 70er Jahre das hier dargestellte Problem diskutiert habe, hat Herr Lizentiat Svante Strandberg, Uppsala, vorgeschlagen, man könne bei der Deutung von *lytir von einem zu germ. *hleutan gebildeten Verbaladjektiv *hleutia-, aschw. *lgter 'was erhalten werden kann (als Los, beim Loswerfen), was einem zuteil wird (materiell, aber auch beim Wahrsagen, vom Schicksal)' ausgehen. Zu diesem Adjektiv hätte sich dann ein Substantiv urnord. *hliutiaR, aschw. */gtir bilden können mit der Bedeutung 'derjenige, der das Loswerfen (das Wahrsagen, die Verteilung von Losen) handhabt, daran teilnimmt oder es leitet', auf heidnische Priester, Opferpriester, abzielend.

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hælghabolstadhum 1376 10/6 Hagunda Thingstätte Pergamentbrief im Krapperup-Ärchiv Ór. Nalbesta, Dorf im Ksp. Munktorp, Kr. Snevringe, Prov. Västmanland: (ij) nærdebolstadh 1474 13/10 o. Ó. [Snevringe Kreisthing] SRÄP Ór., (i) nærdebolstadh 1483 2/10 Snevringe Kreisthing SRÄp Ór. Ulberstad, Hof im Ksp. Skärkind, Kr. Skärkind, Prov. Östergötland: (af) vilabolstak 1367 o. D., o, Ó. SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 799), (af) vllabolstap 1371 13/4 Skänninge SRÄp Ór. (SRP Nr. 986), (j) vllaboolstadhe 1375 25/3 o. Ó. SRAp Ór. (SRP Nr. 1135). Ullbolsta, Herrenhof im Ksp. Jumkil, Kr. Ulleråker, Prov. Uppland: (de) vllabolstad 1316 SD 3, 263 Ór., (in) vllabolstadh 1316 SD 3, 283 Ór., (de) wllabolstadh 1323 SD 3, 628 Ór. Ståhl (Ståhl 1956-78, 69) konstatiert zu diesen Namen, dass sie als Zusammensetzungen mit Männernamen gedeutet worden sind, er selbst findet es jedoch nicht undenkbar, dass sie statt dessen als eine Ärt Kultnamen aufzufassen sind. Daher könnte man Fröbbesta, Nalbesta, Ulberstad und Ullbolsta mit dem Namen der Göttin Fröja (awn. Freyja) bzw. der Götter Njord (awn. NjQrdr) und Ull (awn. Ullr) zusammenbringen". Nach Ståhl haben diese Órtsnamen vielleicht einst Eigentümer bezeichnet, die für die Heiligtümer der verschiedenen Götter und deren Unterhaltung bestimmt waren. Das uppländische Heljebolsta kann laut Ståhl mit dem norwegischen Namen (anorw.) Helghabolstadh zusammengebracht werden, welches auf zehn verschiedenen Plätzen in den Formen Helbostad, Helgebostad, Hellebost und Hægebostad auftritt" und das von norwegischen Forschern mit dem heidnischen Kult in Verbindung gebracht worden sind. S, z. B. NG 12, 291. Ståhls Vorschlag zur Deutung der jetzt genannten schwedischen Órtsnamen trifft zweifellos etwas Wesentliches, Man sollte beachten, dass Órtsnamen auf -bolstad in Schweden eine verhältnismässig kleine Gruppe ausmachen sowie dass das erste Glied dieser Namen sehr selten ein Personenname ist. Nach meiner Meinung sollte man vielleicht sogar so weit gehen, dass man generell in Frage stellt, ob es ein einziges absolut sicheres Beispiel gibt für einen bolstad-Namen mit einem Personennamen als erstes Glied. Ich kann hier nicht näher auf diese Frage In einer anderen Arbeit (S6111956, 311) deutet Ståhl das erste Glied in Nalbesta vorbehaltslos als den Götternamen Njord. — Es sollte erwähnt werden, dass die Gegend von Munktorp reich ist an Ortsnamen kultischen Ursprungs (s. Envall 1950, 87). 17 Hierher gehören auch zwei jetzt verschwundene Namen, s. NG 13, 125, 133. 16

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eingehen, sondern muss es damit genug sein lassen zu konstatieren, dass es ein höchst eigentümlicher Zufall wäre, wenn in der Mehrzahl der Fälle, bei denen es möglich ist, mit einem Personennamen im ersten Kompositionsglied zu rechnen, dieses Glied formell gesehen genausogut als ein Name für einen Gott oder eine Göttin aufgefasst werden könnte. Einem ansprechenden Vorschlag von Lars Hellberg (u,a. in Hellberg 1986, 63 f.) zufolge bezieht sich aschw. bolstafier in den betreffenden Fällen auf "abgesonderte Dienstwohnstätte für heidnische Priester, an Kultorte nahe angeschlossen". Ein Name wie Ullbolsta wäre nach Hellberg als ein ursprüngliches * Ullargudabolstaör 'Wohnstätte für einen Priester Ulls' (vgl. awn. godi, aschw. *guJ,j `heidnischer Priester') aufzufassen, das sich durch Ellipse zu Ulla(r)bolstafier entwickelt hat. Die in diesem Äufsatz diskutierten Órtsnamen enthalten also nach meiner Meinung ein Äppellativ aschw. *lytir 'Wahrsager, Ópferpriester' o.ä. Ich will aber hinzufügen, dass es vielleicht nicht ausgeschlossen ist, dass wir es statt dessen mit einem *Lytir zu tun haben. Wenn das der Fall ist, dürfte es sich um einen Beinamen eines der bekannten Götter handeln. In dem Zusammenhang kann daran erinnert werden, dass Magnus Ólsen (Ólsen 1915, 219 ff.) ausschliesslich mit Hilfe von Órtsnamen versucht hat zu zeigen, dass der Gott Ull innerhalb eines begrenzten Gebietes in Norwegen den Beinamen * Hringir gehabt hat. Vgl. hierzu Noreen 1920, 29. Welche Bedeutung kann dann ein Götterbeiname *Lytir gehabt haben, und um welchen Gott hat es sich gehandelt? Ich schlage als eine mögliche Lösung vor, dass der Name zu schw. lott, aschw. luter, loter mit der Bedeutung `Los, Teil, Änteil, was einem zukommt oder zufällt' gebildet ist, und dass die eigentliche Bedeutung 'der "Los-Gott", der Gott der über die Lose verfügt und damit die Lebensbedingungen der Menschen bestimmt' war. Ein solcher Beiname passt zweifellos am besten auf Frö, der als Gott der Fruchtbarkeit, des Erwerbs und des Reichtums bekannt ist. Formell wäre der Name auf die gleiche Weise zu erklären wie *lytir, als kurzsilbig aufgefasst".

Der von Strandberg vorgeschlagenen Wortbildungsalternative zufolge (s. Anm 15 oben) würde es sich um ein langsilbiges *Lgtir handeln mit der Bedeutung `derjenige, dem (durch Opfer) etwas zuteil wird'.

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